greatnorthrun

Great North Run 2025

notbuilttorun, , 1 Comment

“You couldn’t run an egg and spoon race Eric.”

Jack Carter, Get Carter

Is it that time of year already?

Who doesn’t love the Great North Run eh?

Well, lot’s of people actually. I’ve mentioned before in my previous reviews that it’s a proper Marmite of a race. Some people love it, some people hate it with a passion.

I’ve also talked in past posts about my relationship with it. I fall in and out of love with it. Like a girlfriend who one minute tells you you’re the one, and the next minute has left you for their Strictly dance partner. Or was that a dream I once had.

At this point in our relationship, we’re currently loved up. I’ve enjoyed the previous two years, I’m running well at the moment, and getting my sub 1:45 in July means there is no pressure to run this fast.

I think part of the problem in the past is that I used to take this race far too seriously. Nowadays I approach it far differently. I always do this for a local charity rather than in Club colours, and that is my main motivation.

Having said that, I do have a Race Plan. This is the fifteenth time I’ve run the GNR, and I’m yet to sub 1:50 it. In July, I posted a 1:44 Half. I’m therefore fairly confident I can finally duck under 1:50 – whilst still having ‘fun.’

Wanker Weather Watch Moment (I need a sponsor for this) – it looks like it’s going to be warm and windy. Warm as in 21 degrees, windy as in a slight noticeable head wind at points.

So to the day. I’m up early, get the usual runner wankers breakfast into me (Porridge, Toast, and a Banana) before being picked up by my Mother in law, who is as the tradition now, going to dump me somewhere near the start.

Not before my wife makes me pose for a photo. Ffs.

Good God

That hostage photo aside, the day starts well. I manage to get dropped off quite near the Town Moor with no problems at all. It’s the next part I’m interested in – getting from Exhibition Park onto the Town Moor.

The last two times they’ve tried this at the start, they’ve royally fucked it up. Just go back and read my 2024 rant about it. This year though…they’ve listened. They’ve opened the gates. It’s a non-Christmas miracle.

I’m a fair man, so here goes…

Well done GNR organisers. Well done for listening to feedback. Well done for opening those gates. I apologise for calling you dip shit crayon eaters.

As a result, the atmosphere in the holding area is much better. In fact, it’s the most chilled I’ve ever known it. There are only Orange Wave runners in here at the moment – we’re the first four pens of the race – there’s loads of room and loads of toilets. Bliss.

I pop my baggage on a bus and…well…I’m sorted. Far earlier than usual. So I sit on the grass and relax for a bit. The sun is out and it’s a nice rather than too hot kind of warmth.

After a bit, I head for the Pen. This is also much better this year. They’ve made the gate onto the Central Motorway wider and it’s another minor but simple change that makes a huge difference.

In a weird bit of deja vu, I see my mate as I pass one of the front pens and chat to him through the fence. Exactly the same spot and time as last year. Spooky. We wish each other luck, and I get into my Pen.

Last year, Heart FM did the pre-run ‘atmosphere’ stuff and it was truly awful. This year, another big improvement. They only have one of the annoying DJs on duty, and he’s far less irritating on his own. Plus, he’s not on often.

Instead, they blast lots of 90s Dance, which I hugely approve of, and just go to him for short interviews with local ‘celebrities.’ Unfortunately, one of those ‘celebs’ is a guy I’ve had the misfortune to encounter in a race before.

I’m probably going to sound like a right miserable bastard here, but I can’t stand run influencers. Or runfluencers. Or bellends. Or whatever you call them. Basically, anyone running with a fucking selfie stick shouting into it. The sooner races start barring these things the better.

It wouldn’t be the GNR without at least one rant. So there you go.

Mass warm up done, gun fired, and we do the usual walk and stop to the start. I feel like this year we move towards the start a lot more, but it takes us longer to get there. Which makes no sense at all, I know.

It takes 32 minutes to get over the Start Line. And I’m classed as being at the front. See why some people hate this race? As is the tradition, I always try to high five the celebrity starter.

Being a long time Newcastle United season ticket holder, I’m blessed with having the choice of two players this year. Having already touched the magnificent Eddie Howe a couple of years back, this year I smash a huge high five on our keeper Nick Pope.

I understand that those of you who don’t know/like football are a bit lost right now, but it was a big deal for me.

Anyway, we’re off! As always, stick right and go over the Central Motorway. Some bloke was trying to persuade first timers in my pen to go left and under. Don’t listen to these people. They’re wrong. Right and over, every time. The Elite always go right, and they do this stuff full time, so who do you believe?

Mile 1 is an 8:05 anyway. Lovely, that’s what I want. Sub 8:10 miles and I’ll be happy as a pig in shit. Just before the Tyne Bridge I see my family and veer off to high five them. Not as exciting as slapping Nick Pope, but always grateful for their support.

Taking of support, because the weather is nice this year, it feels like there are shit loads of people out. For those of us who love this race, that’s what it’s all about.

Mile 2 sees me post an 8:08, whilst I hit the 3 mile mark at Gateshead Stadium with an 8:02. Beautiful. This is going well, despite the fact I don’t honestly feel like I’m 100% with it today. I think I was in the Pen too long and, as a result, don’t feel like I’ve really got going.

Miles 4 and 5 are always a bit of a slog anyway. This is the part of the course you climb a fair bit, despite lots of people claiming this is flat. It absolutely isn’t flat. Bet that left hand side choosing prick in the Pen reckons it’s flat.

I do an 8:10 and an 8:07 for Miles 4 and 5. Then, I suddenly wake up. The energy levels lift, the grogginess or whatever it was disappears. As such, my Mile 6 is a 7:56. I’m enjoying this now.

See, look, I’m loving it.

Shit Terminator

I take my only gel at 6.5 miles and instantly feel the benefits. It could be science, it could be the placebo effect, but it does its job.

After an 8 minute flat Mile 7 and an 8:04 Mile 8, the next tester arrives just after this point – the John Reid Road. I’ve spoken about this part of the course many times before, but it’s always my bench mark to whether the last 5 miles of this race are going to be sunshine and lollipops or a world of pain.

You take a hard right on the roundabout, then it’s climb time. It’s a steady but what feels like long climb here. I reckon it’s only about 0.4 of a mile, but it can feel like forever.

I attack it, as I did last year, and get up it no bother, despite there being a stinker of a head wind. I also see this as a real morale booster as well. Get over this swine, you can get round the rest of it no bother. At least, that’s what you need to tell yourself.

Mile 9, with this climb, is still a rather healthy 8:05, and I hit the golden 10 mile mark with an 8:06. It’s at this point the sponsors take your photo and let you have it for free afterwards. Should have run in a better place…

An even shitter Terminator

5k left now and one thing is for certain – this is going to be my fastest GNR ever. Barring alien invasions, hurricanes, or any other unforeseen interruptions.

An 8:09 Mile 11 – then a very surprising 8:02 on the notorious climb at Mile 12 – it’s time to drop onto the coast and enjoy the run along the sea front to the finish.

As soon as I plonk onto this part of the course, I can feel a decent tail wind. That’s what we like. I feel great on this last mile, and have the energy to put my foot down.

It’s a very enjoyable end to the race, the crowds are huge and noisy. This factor, plus that lovely tail wind, means I unsurprisingly post my quickest mile of the day – a 7:53.

I get those Tom Cruise arms going again as I cross the line, coming over in 1:46:20. Sub 1:50 mission accomplished. Not only my quickest GNR of all time, but also my second fastest Half Marathon ever. Canny.

I’m still not paying £30 for this

I’ve never been at the end this early before, and it’s like a whole different experience. I get my medal and swag bag quickly, get out to pick up my bag from the bus even quicker, and I’m at the Charity village before I know it.

The amazing St Oswald’s volunteers at the Charity Tent give me some fantastic home made sweet and savoury, which I demolish. I’m offered a massage, but I know this will only make me more stiff. Or send me to sleep.

They do insist I have my usual finishers photo taken. I always think I look a bit shit in these. I need a new ‘I’m finished but I’m trying not to look fucked’ pose.

Medal Wanker

The Red Arrows shoot over as I head off for the Ferry. I pass the Metro queue and notice, well, there isn’t a Metro queue at all. I really am much earlier than usual.

Even more proof of this is seen when I get to the Ferry. Again, no queue, I get straight on it, and I’m on the ‘proper’ North side within minutes.

Loads of time for a Pint before I go home then! Don’t mind if I do. I pop into the Low Lights Tavern and meet up with a couple of other club members for a well deserved and refreshing Guinness.

And there you go. Another Great North Run successfully completed – my best and fastest. Can’t sniff at that.

That’s not the end of the racing this year however. I’ve still got three Grand Prix races, the North Tyneside 10k, the Coxhoe 10k Trail Run (whoops) and the fantastic Brampton to Carlisle 10 miler all before the end of December.

And, breaking news – I’ve signed up for another Marathon in 2026. More on that one in the New Years special.

Phew.

The Great North Run 2024

notbuilttorun, , , , , 1 Comment

“I’m fine, okay? I mean, as fine as someone who’s hurtling toward a gruesome death can be”

Max Mayfield, Stranger Things

That’s right, I’m playing catch up. Again. Its been MANIC. It’s fair to say I’ve probably never been busier. Personally, professionally, and runningally. Yes, I’m aware I posted the Kielder review in July, even though it took place last October. Only God can judge me you bunch of bastards. The plan is that the 2024 Christmas Special will cover most of this year’s running journey. In the true spirit of the season, this update will be ‘bumper’ and include some special guest stars. Only one part of that statement is true.

In the meantime, whilst you’re licking your lips at that prospect, let’s have a good old fashioned Race Review. It’s Great North Run 2024 time. Cue Local Hero.

I have reviewed the GNR quite a few times now and run it even more than that. 13 times now to be precise. The only one I’ve missed since 2011 is the one everyone missed, the Plague hit 2020 one. I ran that one Virtually on the day though, so let’s claim 14 if I really want to be one of those wankers.

I didn’t review it last year. The reason for that was that I paced someone who was running it for the first time. It was their story to tell, I was just their wing man, so I decided to take a fallow year. However, the one thing I will say about the 2023 GNR is this; for the first time in ages, I actually really enjoyed it.

Yes, I know, I was pacing someone who was running a 2:20 half. That’s 25 minutes slower than my usual target. However, I genuinely wasn’t arsed about my time. The goal was to help them hit 2:20 and finish not only their first GNR, but also their first Half. In the end, we got over in 2:21. Considering the heat, that was a cracking effort.

The big take away though was the aforementioned enjoyment. I’d started to lose a bit of my love for it in past years. It was also starting to become a bit of an effort. I would train for it but then struggle on the day, get a bit bored of it as an event and a course. Last year though, I think I got the whole essence of it again. It’s a Fun Run. Have fun. And I did.

Now that’s all well and good when you’re running with someone. I had taken all the pressure off myself to hit my Par time or better, so of course I was having fun. Going back to running it on my own was going to be different gravy. Therefore, my plan for the GNR 2024 was simple. Run it comfortably and enjoy it. Easy right? Let’s find out.

Training for this years GNR has gone well. Very well. As you’ll find out in the Christmas Special, 2024 so far has been a Lazarus running year. I’ve PBd the shit out of everything. My fitness has increased, I’m carrying less timber, I’m running quicker. So, the signs are good. A month before the GNR I do my last ‘big’ training run and decide to do the full 13.1. I feel great and smash out a 1:50:24 PB. For context, that’s 5 or 6 minutes faster than my Half times the year before. I wasn’t lying when I said this had been a good year.

In the interests of the ‘fun’ and ‘enjoy’ bit I was going on about, I decide that I won’t be trying to hit that 1:50 pace again. Instead, my plan is to go out and run at a nice comfortable 1:55 pace. Nowt daft. Train hard, run easy.

So, to the day. You may remember my rant about the 2022 start, which they colossally fucked up. That year, they decided it was a really good idea to put everyone on the Town Moor, then get them to squeeze through tiny gates onto the Start. It was a complete shit show, caused bottle necks galore, lots of runners couldn’t get into their allotted pens.

They put the adults back in charge last year and it returned to its usual issue free start. But not content with that, they decided to let the kid who eats crayons and start fires to have another go at organising this years. 

‘Hey, Charlie, remember that thing that didn’t work in 2022? Let’s do it again. It’ll work this time. Honest. Pass me another crayon. And a lighter.’

Luckily, I did bother reading this year’s Guide and pre-empted this clusterfuck. So, I decided to go early. Already there were queues to get onto the Town Moor. This happens when you’re trying to squeeze several thousand people through one tiny kicking gate, just like you did in 2022 you clowns. Now, because I got there early, I was able to easily go to the toilet and get stuff on the Baggage buses, granted. However, reading and hearing stories from those that got there just a bit later, both things got far too busy and very painful.

I’m early, I’ve peeded about 17 times, and my stuff is on the bus. So I think, sod it, let’s just get into my Pen. Again, as I’m early, I walk straight through the Orange Wave gate they have set up. In the days after the event, I see some pictures taken of how crowded and dangerous this gate got, with runners trying to squeeze through it. 

It didn’t work in 2022, it hasn’t worked in 2024, don’t do it in 2025. Stay away from Crayons.

Now we’re past the bad bits, let’s get to the good stuff! I’m in Orange Wave D. Quite near the front. I’m almost Elite. Not quite. My mate Phil is in Wave B and I spot him through the fencing, so we have a good catch up which kills a bit of time. I then get into my Pen and I’m feeling pretty good. It’s misty. Rain is forecast. You fucking beauty!

Alright, hang on, I know I said that was the end of the bad stuff, but there is one more thing at the start I wasn’t a fan of. I found the atmosphere as flat as a fart. Over the past couple of years they’ve brought onboard Heart FM to do the pre-run entertainment. I’ve nothing against Heart FM, it’s not my bag, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t stick on Heart 90s every so often and sing along to some SVW. But by Christ they are crap at this.

It used to be that once the Starter Gun went, they would blast up-tempo music to keep everyone motivated, while we wait the 30 minutes (or much longer) before getting to the start line. This year, silence. Total silence, other than some tedious Heart FM DJ air filling chats. I counted one of them say ‘look out there at all those smiling faces’ about 30 times. God help those at the back in the Pink Wave.

Anyway, I only have to endure 29 minutes of Smashy and Nicey talking shite and I’m over the line and off. Special mention to my long term Nemesis and local DJ Alan Robson at this point. His shouting of random diseases was missing this year in the Pen. I’ve slagged him off no end for this in the past, but I kind of missed him. I realise just past the line though that he is still doing it, just we now can’t hear him till we get past the Heart FM shit patter lads. He’s a welcome sight for once, apart from the Man Bun. You’re 70 Alan. It’s not a good look mate.

Ah yes, running. Already I feel like this is going to be a good run. I feel loose, have energy, and I’ve already settled into my target pace (8:40ish). That rain that was forecast has started. It’s good rain as well. Not torrential, not cold, no wind. The running Gods are finally looking down favourably on me. 

As always, I stay right, so I go over the Central Motorway rather than under it. I’ve written about this in the past, but it’s the best starting side. Not just because it’s the one the Elite prefer either. I’m not trying to be a fat Kipchoge cosplay, there is a sensible reason for it. If you choose left and go under, the GPS on your device goes completely doolaly tap. You have no idea what your pace is. You don’t know whether you’re pushing yourself or walking. This goes on for nearly 2 miles. Up and down like the Mackems. The danger of going out too fast is very real. Stay right, go over kids, ok?

I’m on the Tyne Bridge now and it feels far less congested than usual. I think this is down to having a good starting Pen and getting in fairly near the front of it. It does make all the difference at the GNR. The further back you are, the more crowded the field is. I mean, it’s already crowded at this point, but nowhere near as bad as it will get further back.

So we’re past the fun bit and onto the beige bit. From here to the Coast, it’s dual carriagewaytasticwith lots of small climbs. Flat course my arse. However, it feels different this year. Easier? That’s a bit of a wanky word. More comfortable I would say. It doesn’t seem as hard work as usual. It’s mile 5 and…well…I think I might be enjoying the GNR again.

Despite the rain, the crowds as always are fantastic. They cheer you on, they spur you on, rain or shine, they’re out and they support everyone. I am biased, I was born and raised round here, but we’re great at this. Criticise the GNR all you want. It’s too expensive, yep. Too many people run it, yep. It’s too corporate, yep. They are always trying to find ways to fleece more money out of you by selling tat, yep, yep, yep.

But I will die on a hill defending it as the People’s race. Not just for the crowds, but also for those who take part. It’s the start of so many running journeys (mine included) and its importance to the North East can’t be underestimated. Is it a huge money-making machine? Absofuckinglutely. But I couldn’t give a shite. 

Now I’ve got that off my chest, back to the run. My least favourite part of the course is coming up. Mile 9. Anyone who has ever run the GNR before will know this part of the course. It’s the start of the John Reid road. I’ve never really found out who John Reid is. Possibly a masochist if his road is anything to go by. 

This is the part of the course where usually I tend to die a little. Physically and mentally. It will be the tester to see if I really am running as well as I think I am. It will be the part of the course that will let me know if I’m going to continue enjoying this till the end.

You take a right turn at the roundabout and suddenly you’re hitting the climb of John Reid road. It’s not a steep climb. It’s just long and constant. It’s a busy part of the course as well. Littered with water stations and toilets, you have to be careful dodging discarded bottles, as well as runners cutting across the course to grab a drink/take a shit. Basically, the Bigg Market on a Saturday night.

I decide to attack it. I know, what an idiot. However, that’s a good sign. I’m not as knackered as I usually am at this point. I start at the bottom. Feel good. Halfway up. I’m still feeling good. Get to the top. By cracky, I’m alive. Not just alive, like not really that tired. I’m going to enjoy the last 4 miles. I’m going to enjoy the GNR.

Even the climb up Prince Edward road before we drop onto the Coast, usually a real slog after the John Reid road has half killed me, is far more bearable than any previous year. I am feeling it a bit, I’m not going to lie. But it’s a good tired, not a fucked tired.

I drop on to the Sea front for the last mile and again, this is the best I’ve ever felt on this last stretch. I even up the pace a bit as I feel like I’ve got it in me. I get over the line in 1:53:47. The quickest I’ve ever run the GNR. I hit the real Half Marathon time in 1:52 ish. So all in all, a good day. I went out with a target pace of 8:40, I managed to keep it comfortable at 8:36.

Free photo tastic

Now to the most important bit. Eating my weight in shite at the Charity Tent. As always, they put on a cracking spread, and I don’t need a second invite to eat it. Race run. Money raised. Face filled. Job done.

I’m on the Ferry back before you know it and in the house before tea. It really couldn’t have worked out better or gone more to plan. Even my race pictures are pretty good this year. I especially like this one of me BEASTING it over the line at the end. 

Beast

The only negative? It’s bound to be shitter next year.

The wanky stat bit

Great North Run 2022

notbuilttorun, , 1 Comment

‘You wanted me back… I’m back!’

John Wick, John Wick

God, this review was going to be far more simpler. The Great North Run is back to it’s proper course, I trained for and completed it, we all had shits and giggles along the way. Then things got a bit complicated. Anyway, let’s make a start and see how we get on shall we.

This is Great North Run number 11 for me. I’ve run everyone since 2011. I did it ‘virtually’ in 2020 when it was cancelled, but didn’t sign up for it officially as the amount GNR wanted to charge you for a medal and t-shirt would have left my family hungry and homeless. I’ve written about the whys and hows of running this event in previous blogs, so feel free to go back and look them up. Really, I could do with the clicks.

When the GNR returned in 2021, it was so shit scared of being cancelled or accused of COVID super spreading that it changed the whole start, finish, and route. And you know what, it was excellent. The start was the most chilled and easiest experience I’d ever had at the GNR and I applauded them for it in my review. We’ll talk about the 2022 shit show version of this start a bit later.

Training for this GNR had gone quite well. I’m now working fully remote in my job (side note, remember that twat who wrote in his blog that working remotely was shit and he would never do it full time? Whoops) so sticking to a training plan and routine going into this GNR has been a piece of piss. I was also, for the first time in yonks, injury free. Even my grumbling Achilles has given it a rest.

My biggest pain in the arse this year is probably the same as everyone else; the bastard heat. I live on the North East coast and even we’ve had 30 odd degrees spells, so god help you all down south (which is pretty much everyone to me). I don’t do the heat or humidity. It is my Kryptonite. It is the Tommy Lee to my Pamela Anderson. I’m absolutely shit in it.

I run a half 4 weeks before the real thing and come home in 1:54:19. Honestly, give me the medal now, I’m flying. Then, during the week leading up to the run, something strange happens. The left side of my face starts to hurt and then swells up. Interesting. Being a man, I take the appropriate action – I ignore it and just hammer Ibuprofen all week. It’s not the worst thing to happen that week though.

The elephant in the room. On the Thursday the Queen dies. Now, let’s all be honest with each other. I’m not a royalist. The Queen seemed like a lovely lady and it’s very sad when anyone dies, but I’ve never been a fan of the idea of the royal family and the privilege that comes with it. It’s my Grandads fault I think like that. Bloody socialists. Anyway, we’ll leave it at that. RIP.

Having said that, the GNR then issue an absolutely crazy statement on the Thursday night hinting that the run might be off and an announcement would be made Friday morning. Nonsense, to quote Roy Keane. Sense finally prevails on Friday lunchtime when they confirm it’s on, but it will be a more subdued and respectful event. I’m all for compromise, it makes the world go round. Sensible decision.

Some knacker on my Charities FaceBook page announces he can no longer run for the charity due to ‘events of the past 24 hours’ and bails out. I resist replying on the page out of respect for the charity. I also, after many rewrites of this blog I can tell you, decide not to say anything about it here. Honestly, if you could see the state of my bottom lip being bitten right now. Anyway, I’m many things, but disrespectful I’m not. I’m currently thinking of fluffy white kittens and rainbows and leaving it at that.

Right, if you’re still there, on to the race itself. And well, I’m definitely not biting my lip now. The start this year was a complete change from the norm and if you’re the person from the Great Run company who came up with this plan, you can fuck off into Cunt Corner with my mate from Facebook (shit, I’ve slipped). What a shambles.

This year, they obviously must have run a competition for under 5s to design the start. Yeah, just draw it in crayons and stick snot on it and the one we think is the cutest we’ll go with. I jest but I bet I’m not far off. From the moment I saw the map I knew it was in trouble. Let’s get a bit Poirot and take a look at the evidence shall we.

Clusterfuck number 1. Shut off the slip roads onto the Central Motorway to only certain bibs and make everyone from the Orange and White waves head to one entrance into Exhibition Park.

Clusterfuck number 2. Once in Exhibition Park, make all of the people from the Orange and White Waves squeeze through a tiny gate onto the Town Moor.

Clusterfuck number 3. Once you’ve squeezed everyone though that, stick the toilets in a really bad place just to the left of that whilst also providing far less of them than usual.

Clusterfuck number 4. Get everyone from the Orange Waves to squeeze through a small exit off the Town Moor and onto the Central Motorway. Even better, stick the small exit for the White Wave RIGHT NEXT TO IT.

Carnage. I hope whoever came up with this plan was not only sacked on the Monday morning, but also forced to listen to The Cheeky Girls greatest hits on repeat all week whilst simultaneously made to watch Liz Truzz’s Cheese speech.

Absolute shower.

Due to all of the above, I get into my pen just as it’s about to close, despite attempting to do this 45 MINUTES BEFOREHAND. Honestly, my blood pressure. I am in though in time for two important things. The minutes silence and the National Anthem. I respect both magnificently. Did I really? 1:06 and 1:46 into the below says I did mofos.

https://www.bbc.co.uk/sport/av/athletics/62872029

Basically, here I am.

Where’s Wally

Fame over with, it’s time to start. It literally really is time to start as I got into the pen so late. I’m in Wave 5, which is classed as being near the front ish, but it seems to take me much longer to get over the line this year. Don’t worry though, he’s back, the dulcet tones of local celebrity and top Accidental Partridge wanker DJ Alan Robson keep me company. As if today wasn’t depressing enough. This years top pick quotes from Alan:

”DIABETES UK! Guilty as charged love!’

“Here come the ladies with Breast Cancer!’

Alan haunts me in my dreams. Back to the race and it becomes obvious very early on ladies and gents that this year I really am going to have a shitter. My face swelling and smashing of Ibuprofen hasn’t helped my last minute prep and from the get go I’m feeling like this is going to be a right leggy slog. And by Christ it is. Even worse, my heart rate on mile 2 is already sitting at 170bpm. What? Am I having some sort of cardiac incident? Normally on a half it splits between the aerobic 150 and the more stressful 160bpm. Today though, it’s like I’ve taken an E.

This really isn’t going well. I settle into it a little bit, but my pace is crap. When I say crap, I mean crap for me. I run the Half Marathon distance in around 8:40-45 pace. Today I’m puffing around at well over 9 minute pace with no sign I can push harder than that. Yes, it’s a bit hot and humid (18C) but I’m bored of using that as an excuse for myself.

At mile 8 I do something I NEVER do. Ever. When I get to the Water Station, I grab a bottle and come off course to drink it. That’s right. I stop. I’ve never done that before. I feel dirty. But you know what? I’m not an idiot. Water and a good talking to is what I need, and I give myself both. After that I’m back on track and whilst I definitely still feel like it’s all far too hard work, I push myself through the rest of the run and finish in 2:03:39.

Am I disappointed? Yes and no. I run sub 2 hour Half’s for breakfast, and here I am struggling my way to one 8 minutes off my usual pace. However, it’s not about me. It’s about the charity. It’s still the 4th fastest I’ve run this course. I soon get over myself and head off to the Charity tent, where the wonderful St.Oswald’s Hospice give me sausage rolls and Vimto and take my photo.

Elephant Man

So, a hard but rewarding GNR. In 2011 I ran this course in 2:15. Here I am 11 years later slightly disappointed in a time 12 minutes quicker whilst raising £500 for charity. First World Problems.

The painful swollen face? The day after the run it suddenly went pain free and down to normal size, like a cruel joke. A week later I knock out an enjoyable and comfortable 11 miler in 1:36 – with a normal heart rate. Such is the life of a runner.

I still love the GNR, it will always be my race. But please for the love of all things holy, change the start back for next year.

Hilariously, I leave you with this. I’ve joined a running club. I really am a walking (or running) contradiction. Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.

The Post Apocalyptic Great North Run

notbuilttorun, , 2 Comments

‘Normal. Extra Normal.’

Mac MacIntyre

I’ve posted a blog about the Great North Run before. It’s here is you want something to help send the kids to sleep. If you can’t be arsed to read that, and who would blame you, to summarise: I basically run the GNR every year and am a great fan. And there are lots of hipster twats who hate it. Because they’re hipster twats.

You may have noticed that shit loads of things got cancelled in 2020 due to the Panny-D. The GNR was one of them. Quite rightly too, when you think about that time in September it should have been on we were having a second wave big enough to down a Japanese Nuclear Power Plant.

So the big question for 2021, apart from why have we not publicly guillotined most of the Tory Cabinet by now, was if and how the GNR would be on. Early on, it looked a bit ropey. Noises were being made in the local press in the Summer that the uncertainly of the Viralshitshow we were currently in meant no-one was willing to insure the event, in case it got cancelled or hit by a falling Russian satellite or something.

Eventually though, we got the news we’d all wanted. It was on. Usual date. Different course. And oh man did the predictable bed wetting whingers bash their keyboards.

Beholdeth the new course

They changed it to staggered start times, with a there and back route that finishes feet from where you start. As a one off. During a Pandemic. And people lost their shit.

‘It’s not the real course.’

‘This is Brendan Forster trying to move it out of South Shields and keep it in Newcastle. The bastard.’

‘My (insert child’s age) year old will be so disappointed, even though they weren’t running it as they’re only (insert child’s age) years old. It’s ruined Christmas to be honest.’

Wankers.

After the year and a bit we’ve had, coupled with the fact that the GNR looked more doomed (spoiler alert) than Bradley Coopers character after the first 10 mins of A Star is Born, then I think the whinges and criticisms probably need a nice cup of shut the fuck up.

Anyway, it was on, and I was ready. Well, I was ready, until potential disaster struck exactly two weeks before. Dog owners, I’m not picking you on here. I come across a lot of Dog walkers on my runs, the vast majority are spot on. But if I ever have any problems out on a run, it’s usually with a dog. And this particular Sunday, I did.

I went out for a gentle recovery run, with my daughter on her bike, where we encounter on one of the paths through the fields a lady talking on her phone with a rather bouncy dog in tow. Said dog takes one look at us, flies full pelt in our direction, and goes smashing into me. I feel my ankle go straight away. As I lie on the ground groaning in agony, it was lovely to see the dog walker lady continue her phone conversation, quickly put her dog on the lead, and scarper away.

Not a ‘sorry’. Not a ‘are you ok?’ Nowt. She was obviously embarrassed by what her dog had done and therefore decided to deploy the tory voter protocol of ignorance and avoidance. I ‘thanked’ her for her concern (‘you absolute arsetwat’) as I lay prolapsed and in pain.

The ankle was not good. I hobbled home and it swelled up. To say I was pissed off, would be a huge understatement. The positives though – I had done the training. Plus I’m a Northern Male. My stubbornness knows no bounds and I would have run the GNR with a limb hanging off claiming it was merely a slight muscle strain.

2 weeks rest, 3 layers of strapping, several packets of Ibuprofen, and prayers to various forms of religion (even Satanic) and it’s GNR day.

The instructions for the day were exactly as I expected. I was in the Orange Wave with a 10:45am to 10:55am start, and told I must get into the new Holding Area part (the Town Moor) at least an hour earlier. Very much military precision.

As I’ve mentioned before, the great thing about the GNR is that the start is just round the corner from my Mother in Laws. Because of the out and back, this year the Finish would be as well. Result. Baggage area? Ha! In I strutted ready to run. I knew I had to head in the direction of Cow Hill and wait to be let on the course, so even though I was 45 mins early, I plodded off (the strut had faded) in that direction.

When I got there it was very Hunger Games, lots of eager folk disgusted they weren’t in the earlier Waves staring at the electronic board hoping the whole thing can just crack on a bit quicker. And wouldn’t you know, my Wave was up on the board. The strut, was back.

Through the gate onto Cow Hill (it’s usually a Hill with Cows on ok?) I hear the familiar dulcet tones of Alan ‘Get to the those phones!’ Robson. Local DJ. Local ‘Legend’. Local Bellend. He’s been relegated from the start line this year, and instead they’ve plonked him on Cow Hill doing his usual shtick of shouting out diseases and looking like he dressed himself blindfolded.

I avoid eye contact and suddenly realise I’m about to get on to the Central Motorway and therefore head for the start line – a full half an hour early. A bloke saddles along side me and asks if this is right. He’s got the same start time as me and he’s worried this is all a trap and we’ll be kettled into a pen and beaten for coming down too early. ‘Fuck it, let’s find out?’ I say, so we head to the Start Line.

On the way I see my family on the bridge above. They take this amazingly artistic photo of me with Trap Guy who keeps mumbling ‘this isn’t right’, so I decide to ditch him by pretending to tie my shoelace.

Arty iPhone shot – I’m the one in blue, next to the chap who wants to glow in the dark

We get to the start line – like literally at the start line – and it’s pretty strange. There are about 30-40 people sort of hanging around waiting. Being British and unable to think for myself, I hang about for 5 minutes. I then realise this all seems a bit off, so approach a Steward to ask him what the craic is. Apparently, this is going much better than they thought and I can just start. So, at 10:32am, about 15 minutes before I was supposed to, off I fucked.

The course is really quiet. I mean dead quiet. I’ve never had so much room on a GNR. It appears that the start went so well, they just said ‘fuck it’ and let all of the Orange wave just go. So by the time I get on it, it’s just the last dregs of the Wave going through. There are also very few supporters by the side of the road. As the start is staggered, there are still a couple of more hours until everyone goes, so there’s no rush for people to get down here and cheer.

The ankle meanwhile is holding up. I had already decided that I would be slowing the pace down slightly. It was all about the line and not the time. Finish in one piece and pain free were this years GNR goals.

The first 6 miles go as normal as any GNR does. Although, it’s the same route so it should do. I feel great, the ankle is grumbling a little but nothing that is worrying me. To be honest, I wasn’t even sure how far I would get on it, so every mile completed is a bonus. My pace is steady but despite the clear route this won’t be anywhere near a PB for reasons already explained.

We turn at 6 miles and this is where it gets interesting. I know quite a few people who completed this GNR, from the real speed demons to the middle of the packers (current member) to the happy plodders and they all said the same. Christ that last 7 miles was a killer.

Having said that, it was all going swimmingly up until mile 9. I got past Gateshead Stadium, then it suddenly dawned on me. The Felling Bypass has a geet big dip in it at the start. We went down that dip at about 2.5 miles. What comes down, must go up. Now my ankle starts groaning, more like the whining my daughter does when I announce it’s time for bed, but definitely letting me know it’s unhappy.

The last 3 miles are the best and worse part of the run. This year, for the first time ever, we’re actually going to run through the City Centre. But we’re going through it from the River back to the Town Moor and, if you know Newcastle, that’s uphill baby. The last part of the Central Motorway into the centre is a killer and defeats quite a few people, but I battle on despite the ankle pain that’s now getting worse. We then head past one of the City’s most iconic landmarks, Grey’s Monument, and I turn on beast mode for the camera.

Beast Mode Activated

We get onto John Dobson St and the ankle is seizing up now, so I pull to the side of the road and stretch it out for 10 seconds then kick on. We’re now coming round the Civic Centre, past Haymarket, past my match day drinking den of the Crows Nest (clamming for a pint) and onto the Great North Road for the last straight mile. My ankle is proper knacking now and I’m running through the pain rather than it being a niggle. I have to slow down but I’m really not arsed, I’m about to hit 13 mile where really I’ve only had to stop once to stretch it, when at 10am that morning I wasn’t sure if it had 5k in it.

As I close in on the finish I spot the family in the crowd. Seeing them at the start and at the finish is usually unheard of. They take another arty shot of me. Sorry, of my back.

‘Quick, quick, take a photo of hi…shit.’

Note to the right of me in that photo is the 1:55 pacer. I spot him and can’t believe I’ve managed to sub-1:55 this. And that’s because I haven’t. He started later than me. I cross in 1:58:08 and I’ll take it all day. I note my Garmin says I’ve run 13.32 miles. So technically, if you’re a picky bastard like me, I actually hit 13.1 miles in 1:56:17. Either way, it’s a miracle.

It’s a beautiful thing

We’re funnelled (although the guy at the start probably thinks this is the kettling he feared) into the Finishers Village and I head to be fed and watered at the wonderful St Oswald’s Hospice tent. Job done.

Can I be controversial here? Of course I want the old ‘normal’ back. All starting together, having the proper course back, finishing at the iconic South Shields sea front. But you know, this had a lot of great things going for it. The staggered starts were great. Although, if you were in a later Wave I imagine it might be frustrating to wait so long to start. Plus, volunteers put in a long shift. The course being less congested was great. To finish where I started and be able to see my Family easily at the start, during, and end was great.

But you know, this wasn’t really the GNR. It was in name, but it wasn’t really. They did a great job to get it on and I enjoyed the novelty of running through the City Centre. Maybe we can have a Newcastle Half Marathon in the Spring?

The point is though, like a lot of things over the past 2 years, I just want Normal back. Extra Normal.