"Each step forward has a sacred meaning of its own"   Sri Chinmoy

Plym Trail Half Marathon - December 9th, 2023 - Colyton, Devon

November's race on the Sugarloaf told me I was just about mended after the working-over I'd given myself on the Black Mountains Fell Race, so I decided to up the distance and get myself to the start line of a half marathon. That's with the idea of a full marathon and maybe an ultra next Spring/Summer. Endless scouring of race websites didn't bring up anything I could get myself to on a weekend when I was free, until I spotted the Plym Trail races offering a choice of distances on a flattish course in gorgeous surroundings on both 9 and 10 December. Sure that was 2 hours plus driving each way, but I signed up anyway and got myself out of bed at half past four for the expedition to the far west of Devon.

It was wet and windy but mild, putting me in the usual quandary over what to wear for the race. Half marathon is a bit long for being wet-through and cold, but also a race you run at threshold/max heart rate so you don't want to overdress and suffer from overheating. Fortunately I've got myself some decent kit over the years including the windstopper gilet and prendas arm warmers that I'm sporting in that picture - that proved a winning combination. After meditating in the car and warming up well (easy jog, strides, walk breaks, 25 mins or so) I felt pretty buoyant at the start (think you can see that!) and I told myself that anything under 1:40 would be a good personal result. I also fancied my chances, in such a small field, of nabbing a place in the results for the Sri Chinmoy Marathon Team.

20 people lined up for the start, plus some opting for a full marathon - there was a 10k starting later and an ultra available too. With nobody else looking keen to take up the pace, I went off at my target speed (around 7 to 7.30 per mile) and found myself front-running. Not something I am used to at a public race, even a small, friendly one like this. The course went up the lane through the ample surface water to a bridge at the top of a rise above the village of Clearbrook, then back down to the start and down another lane to the entry point of the Plym Valley Trail. I had warmed up on this section, so I knew it was downhill to start with, but I hoped it wasn't downhill for too long as what goes down must come up (and who wants a race where all the climbing comes after the half way mark?). As I spashed past the start and on to the trail I realised I was well ahead and nobody so far was seriously chasing - that meant for the second time in 2023 I found myself leading a race and hoping to hold on to that first place for pretty much the whole duration. Suddenly I felt as if I was channelling Paula Radcliffe. I reminded myself this was a local friendly, with less than two dozen runners but still, being out front is quite a feeling, even at 7.10 pace. The trail was tarmac all the way, but with a thick covering of leaf-sludge in places and lots of surface water from the endless December rains that were still falling. I had got the kit choice right and was running comfortably, a solitary figure off the front of the race in the mild, windy and wet weather. The route passed through beechwoods, oakwoods, steep-walled cuttings and a dark tunnel, then out over viaducts where the views opened out to hillsides covered in misty pines. It was similar to the Tarka Trail I had run on in the past, not a million miles from the more familiar Bristol and Bath Railway Path, but for woodland scenery and deeply peaceful forest vibes it beat both.

As usual I was running in symbiosis with my watch, all the more so as I was alone out front and having to balance the dual temptations of taking it easy as I was in the lead versus overcooking myself in the excitement only to crash later. I was planning to run at threshold HR which my watch tells me around 151-166 but I kept drifting up to over 170 and had to rein myself in. As the miles went by I worried I may have taken a wrong turn, but I did spot the components of an aid station (folded table, crated drinks - obviously due to be in action for the return leg) and later a hi-viz sign, to reassure me that this was the way. When I came into Plymbridge Woods there was an arrow pointing off the trail and some marshals in purple bibs, but when I shouted to ask if that arrow was for the half marathon they directed me straight on - I think it was the local Parkrun? There were also some walking events on so I saw a handful of others out on the trail braving the rain and puddles, as well as a few cyclists who were mostly heading north out of Plymouth.

The path descended to a station and switched across a road - there was no arrow here but the race organiser had said to stick to the cycleway until we found the turnaround so that's what I did. Here the water was ankle deep and after splashing through it at race pace I was sodden up to my knees and carrying plenty of weight in the form of wet shoes, wet tights and wet calf-guards. My watch had me at nearly 50 minutes and I was anxious that I was going too slowly to hit the 1:40 target - eventually after more sub-aqua splashing I emerged into a car park and made the turn with around 1:51 and some loose change on the clock. Only then did my race-spaced brain register that we'd started with the out and back section to a bridge above Clearbrook, so the turnaround was beyond half way. Looking at my lap times I was still on target, so long as I didn't blow up. In line with my race plan I sucked down a caffeine energy gel and fumbled my water bottle out of my bumb bag to get some electrolye drink. Getting it back in was quite a faff.

I passed my nearest challenger 2 mins after the turnaround, which I figured made me 4 mins ahead, but my pace was slowing - after laps at 7.11 or 7.20 pace I was down to 8.01. I hoped that was the usual dip I get after swallowing a gel (and tackling a brief climb back up to the path after the turnaround) but still I felt I could lose that lead very easily. Summoning up some determination I threw in another 7.11 paced half mile, then dipped again as I encountered a slight slope or two to find myself at 7.45 ish per mile. As I'd feared, the second half was all uphill. The downward slope had not been that obvious on the outbound leg (just like you don't notice a tailwind sometimes on the bike) but the uphill struggle was noticeable for sure. Later when I checked my watch it registered a descent from 490 feet down to 10 feet above sea level then back up, so that's a fair difference. In the later stages, as I came back across the viaducts to receive yet more stunning and uplifting views of the wooded hills and deep valleys of the edge of Dartmoor, I started to catch runners from the 10k and target them one by one to keep myself on pace. The sky cleared and as the blue broke overhead and the clouds receded the colours of the trees brightened, every shade of bronze and copper and gold. My watch revealed the usual story that you get late in a race - that my target was still achievable, but only if I really pushed myself to the max. Push myself I did, relieved that the steep slope I knew I'd encounter up to the lane was only around half a mile long and by then my target was in the bag. I struggled over the line in 1:39:11. Both targets achieved - a very rare first place and just under my target time for the distance. With both of these I was very happy.

Sacred Steps Home