NorthTyneside10k

North Tyneside 10k 2025

notbuilttorun, 1 Comment

“Son, you got a panty on your head.”

Hayseed, Raising Arizona

Another month, another 10k race. I’m like Mo Farrah. If he’d been a lot slower and chunkier.

I’d actually forgotten about this one. Which is strange, as it’s the only one besides the Great North Run that I do every year. It wasn’t until my Race Bib dropped through the post the week before that I thought – ‘Shit. Oh yeah.’

However, this is not entirely my fault. The NT 10k always takes place on Easter Sunday. Which usually happens in the Spring. Or whenever Jesus feels like it. I know we get ‘late’ Easter some years, but even that would be taking the piss.

In this instance, it has nothing to do with God and everything to do with the local Council. Unless of course the Archangel Gabriel appeared to the Mayor in a vision, demanding she build a cycle lane on the sea front.

Because that’s what they’ve spent the last two years doing. Plopping down nearly 4 mile of shiny new cycle route. Personally, despite how long it has taken them, I approve.

Back during Covid, where we all needed a bit of space (2 metres to be exact), they built a makeshift one down there. They basically just coned a bit of the path off. And it was great for everyone. So they applied for some cash, got it, and now they’ve built a proper one.

Predictably, it created quite a lot of whinging online. Caps Lock obsessed boomers, the unemployable, and people who hang flags off lampposts mainly. Anyway, now it’s finished, and great, all of this has gone quiet. It’s like they didn’t even know what they were complaining about in the first place. Which they didn’t.

Aaaaanyway. They didn’t finish it till the Summer, so they delayed the race till the September. Sensible decision. Me and running in the vicinity of traffic cones is a dangerous combination.

Political and logistical issues now behind us, it’s finally race day. Let’s be completely predictable and start with the weather. Early in the week, it’s not looking good. Not only is it predicted to rain, there will also be the double whammy of a head wind.

The day before, on the Saturday, it absolutely pisses down. And I mean, pisses down. Torrential rain all day, shit loads of wind. Basically, proper awful running conditions.

Thankfully, the next morning the Weather Gods are smiling. The rain is gone and the sun is out. There is still going to be a head wind, but compared to yesterday it’s like the Med out there.

As usual, the start of the race is at the Parks Leisure Centre in North Shields. My original home town, where I was raised, where I’d probably still be living if I hadn’t have married well. I always do that joke. It’s true by the way.

It’s a 10am start, but I have to get down early to chuck my stuff on the baggage bus. Far too early in my opinion – the busses will leave by 9:15am.

I see someone I used to work with and we catch up on gossip, occasionally character assassinating some of the knackers we used to work with. It’s quite cathartic to be honest.

I’ve reviewed this race a lot, so went back to reread what sort of drivel I’ve posted in past years. The below, my description of the start area one year, especially tickled me..

“As per usual, there are a lot of Running Club vests kicking about. All tribally hanging out together like a shit West Side Story.”

Because can you guess what I’m doing at this point? That’s right, I’m wearing my Club vest, hanging out with my tribe, and singing I Want to Live in America. I’m such a fucking hypocrite.

Club mingling done, it’s time to head into the Pen. I say Pen, we all just squeeze onto the very tight Dock Road round the corner. I manage to get much nearer the front than usual – a sign of how I’m feeling about my running at the moment. I used to be a bit sheepish about going too far forward. Today, balls of steel.

My race plan is that I don’t really have much of a race plan. Besides run it as fast as possible. It must be said, this is traditionally not a great course for a 10k PB, due to a few factors at play.

Firstly, the start. I said we’re all squeezed in on this road. That can make the start line a little crowded and slow, meaning you’re already chasing your tail pace wise early doors.

Secondly, this is not a flat fast course. Not really. There is a big drop at the start, but what comes down, must go up. At 2 miles you have to climb up from the river to the Sea Front via the notorious Priory Road. It’s steep and it can slow you down – not only during, but once you’re up and over. What with it leaving you completely fucked.

Lastly, is the Weather. Once you do hit the Sea Front, it’s 4 miles straight North to the finish. Get a day with a northerly head wind and it’s a right bastard.

Today, we are predicted that head wind. How bad it will be we won’t know till we hit the coast. It’ll be a lovely surprise I’m sure.

Anyway, we’ll worry about that later, we’re off.

Antisocially elbowing my way nearer the front may not have won me many friends, but it’s definitely made a difference to my start. I don’t feel like I get held anywhere near as usual and I’m off to a flyer.

It’s downhill this first part – a quick check of my pace shows I’m doing about 6:50. Talk about getting carried away. Once we reach the bottom I level it off a bit, as any attempt to try and maintain this pace will see me laying in a pile of my own vomit by mile 4.

This first mile follows the river towards its mouth vis the Fish Quay. It’s always crowded this part of the race, but I do feel like I’m doing less ducking and weaving of runners – another sign I’m nearer the front.

Someone from the club takes a picture at this point, where for once, I don’t look completely shit/tired/weird/like I’m having a stroke.

The Fish Quay. Yes, it does smell how you’d think

Mile 1 down, 7:12. Fast for me. I blame the hill. Next up, we’re heading along the Prom. This bit always separates the men from the boys/women from the girls as we see who likes/trained for an uphill and who wishes they’d stayed in bed with the cover over their head.

It’s a double climb up from the river to the coast. We get one short climb (where we hit Mile 2 – a 7:20) before it mocks us by levelling off before the much worse climb up Priory Road.

I used to despise this climb. However, those of you who read my Marathon Training blogs (both of you) will know I used this road a few times for my Friday Hill repeats. So going up it once rather than ten times feels like redemption.

I ‘fly’ up it, the hard part done, and now we’re on the Coast. You do get a reward for that climb – a drop on the other side. Again, here’s another not completely shite photo of me on said drop. I must have had my photogenic head on today.

Catching my good side

We’ve levelled off again and I’m at the halfway mark. It’s a 7:23 mile – not bad when you consider we had two bastard hills in it. We’re now into Cullercoats and yet ANOTHER photo of me is taken. This one is very hi-res. Did I say I was looking photogenic earlier? I lied.

Smile you miserable bastard. This is fun.

To be fair, I feel far better than I look in this picture. I know I’m over the worst bit when it comes to climbs. It’s the weather that comes into play now.

Remember that head wind we talked about earlier? Well, it’s here, but it’s not bad. More of a tickle than a punch. For now.

More importantly, something else has quietly happened that I don’t realise till later – I’ve just broken my 5k PB. In the middle of a 10k. With a hill in it. Into a head wind. 22:24. Odd stuff.

And the hits keep on coming. I’m on familiar territory now, bombing along the coast on paths I must have run over 100s if not 1000s of times before. I feel great, and that’s reflected in a 7:11 mile 4.

Just before the Spanish City at mile 5, I feel my heels get clipped, and I nearly go flying. I instantly look behind me for the culprit – not to kick off by the way, but to reassure them I’m ok and that accidents happen. Because they do.

A very nice lady from another club instantly starts apologising and looks mortified, and I make sure she knows I’m really not upset and there’s no damage done. Later, when I relay this story to my club colleagues, they reckon she’s done it on purpose and was trying to kill me. Like some sort of Assassin. Cynical bastards.

Anyway, she slows me down by a huge 2 seconds as I clock a 7:13 mile 5, so there really wasn’t any harm done. We’re into the last mile, and that head wind is either starting to get stronger or I might just be tiring a bit. Here I am anyway, on the last incline that I’d completely forgotten about and am cursing under my breath.

Nearly there

One last push now, at a slightly slower 7:18, and I’m over the line in 45:26 – my 10k PB falling for a remarkable third time this year. It really isn’t my plan to do this when I set off – I really am just going out there to run as fast as I can whilst still ‘enjoying’ it.

PB Tastic

The goody bag is as always exactly what I’m after – a t-shirt and some socks. Who doesn’t need more running socks?

The other bonus of this race is the finish. Mainly, its proximity to my house. Within 30 minutes, I’ve walked home. No recovery jog. I can’t be arsed.

Next up, it’s the Coxhoe 10k Trail run where I can guaranfuckingtee you that my PB won’t tumble again. That’s nothing to do with being humble, and everything to do with the 3 mile hill you have to climb.

Can’t wait.

North Tyneside 10k: The Competitive Edition

notbuilttorun, , 1 Comment

“You know what *else* could draw a crowd? A golfer with an arm growing out of his ass.”

Shooter McGavin – Happy Gilmore

North Tyneside 10k anyone? I’ve reviewed this race a couple of times before. It’s my favourite child and I do it every year. Well, except it didn’t happen in 2020 as we were in the middle of a Plague. And I didn’t do it in 2022. I completely forgot to enter it until it was full. I know, what a tit.

It’s a great run. It always takes place on an Easter Sunday, which means it’s part of a long weekend off work. Afterwards, I usually reward myself with a big Lunch and shit loads of Chocolate. It’s what Jesus would have wanted.

This year though is going to be slightly different. I’m running, for the very first time, in the Club Vest. Fully fledged Club Wanker. I’m not actually sure how I feel about this. I’ve always seen Club Vests as a target on someone’s back. I’ll hold my hands up here, if I pass someone in a Club Vest, I absolutely love it. The pointless satisfaction I get from it is like no drug you’ll ever take. I am very much aware that this year non-club runners will be eyeing me up with the same blood lust and sense of smarm.

Of course, I need a Club Vest first. Getting my hands on one was very much an episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm. It involves a Club Shop that is open for approximately 3 and half minutes two days a week, staffed by a lady who appears to have sniper rifles pointed at either herself or close family members.

The Vest saga sorted, it’s race day. The first bit of good news is that the weather is going to be perfect. Cloudy, dry, and with a decent coldish tail wind. Beautiful. 

The run always starts at the Parks Leisure Centre in North Shields. This is technically an area called the Meadowell, a rather ropey council estate famous for rioting in the 90s. I like to think they start it there as motivation to run as fast as you possibly can away from it. As a Shields boy, I’m allowed to say that.

Usually, pre Club Wanker days, I would mull around the start pretending to stretch, stink eyeing the Vegan Runners, and basically try to remain as inconspicuous as possible. This year though, like flies to shit, we’re all drawn together by our vests. I’ve been a member for 7 months now, so I do know the odd body to talk to. Whilst not fully in the inner circle of the greater good, I am welcomed slightly into the fold to join in the usual pre-race shit run craic. What time you aiming for, the weather, any niggles, the weather again, etc.

This year they’ve changed where the start line is, as well as the route itself for around the first half mile. I knew about this in advance and approve of both. Rather than start right outside the Parks then head towards the town centre, dodging traffic islands and zombie locals off their tits on Spice, we’re going to start on a side road that takes us straight down to the Fish Quay. 

It’s a bit tight as the road isn’t as wide, so I kind of get squashed in with the crowd and realise I’m in a crap position. It reminds me of the time I got right in the middle of the mosh to see Ocean Colour Scene and really needed a piss. I won’t tell you how that story ends. Anyway it’s 10am, and we’re off.

This new start also means we avoid Borough Bank, an extremely steep hell of a hill that usually drops us down on the Quay. I climb this bank following every Great North Run after getting off the Ferry and usually want to die around a quarter of the way up it, looking and sounding like Arnie in that scene from Total Recall when he’s on Mars with no oxygen.

I know what you’re thinking, this prize prick is complaining about running downhill. Is he nuts? Not when the gradient is so steep that one wrong foot will have you cartwheeling into the Tyne minus your ankle ligaments. I’m not a masochist. Or a member of Diversity.

Instead, we’re going to drop down a much calmer and wider road. Lovely. We hit mile 1 and I clock that my pace is pretty good – 8:21. I like that. I nod to myself in approval and seemingly outwardly to the guy next to me. He looks at me a bit scared and sprints off.

I also pass one of my neighbours at this point, and in one of the most Accidental Partridge things I’ve ever done, fist bump him. Jesus wept. A week later, this still wakes me up screaming at 3am and I can now never interact with him again.

It’s time for my first decision. Stay at that pace or slow it down? We hit the Prom to head towards Tynemouth and this option is cruelly snatched from me. There are a lot of bodies about and I’m boxed in. I think about windmilling people, channelling myself as a little tank whilst I smash people out the way like a fat Richard Ashcroft. Maybe not. My pace drops to 8:41.

Later, when I check the results, there are just over 1,800 finishers. That’s about 400 or so more than usual years and it feels like it. Still, can’t be helped. This is the NT10K, not Olympic Qualifiers. Whilst it’s a little frustrating, it’s not the end of the world.

The 2 mile mark also coincides with the worst/challenging/shittest part of the course, the climb from the River to the Sea Front. I always compare this bit to a battlefield. Screams of pain, bodies everywhere, runners telling their buddies dramatically to ‘leave me, you go on and finish’.  This year is no different. It’s a swine, but I always seem to get up it without stopping. Selfishly, I also like this part as it opens up the course and I’m no longer boxed in. I like to think of it as one of the rounds in Squid Games. 

4 mile left, I’ve done the hill, I’m at the Coast at Tynemouth, the wind is on my tail. Previously I’ve mentioned that I have a setting in a race called ‘Fuck It Mode’. I like to think this is self-explanatory. In my head I say ‘Fuck It’ and then up the pace. The CBeebies version is ‘Beast Mode.’ I shout this out loud several times to other runners around me whilst beating my chest. Not really.

Rather than having more regrets than the morning after a night spent posting on social media drunk, the ‘Fuck It’ strategy is going well. This seems quite fast for me. I run the last 5k in 24:34. I don’t run a normal 5k as quick as that, never mind the second half of a 10k. I’m going fast and comfortable. 

Passing the Spanish City is usually the stage at which I start to tire. Not this year. In fact, a picture taken by someone from the club at exactly this point appears below as Exhibit A that I ran it and didn’t get a backer off a mate.

Club Wanker

The finish is always on the road that leads to the Lighthouse. I take the right turn and notice they’ve moved it back about 100 yards, the absolute swines. This is probably due to the start changing and the organisers realising it had knocked some of the distance off. That’s fair enough. There is no angrier beast than the runner robbed off a PB because someone measured the distance short. People lose their shit.

I cross the line and another first happens. The bloke doing the shit craic on the mic mentions me by name. Wha? Apparently this is another ‘perk’ of being a Club Wanker. They spot a vest, check your number from their huge list, read your name out. I kind of miss being anonyous. Disco Stu does not advertise.

I stop my watch and this feels like a good time. It is. 51:51. That’s a 10k PB. Even better news, my Chip Time comes in at 51:47 to give me 4 more seconds. Personally I think that latter time is lies. I started and stopped my watch bang on the timing mats. Still, 51 seconds off my previous PB. Have it. Even better, the distance was slightly further than 10k. A further dip into the stats shows that I hit the EXACT 10k mark in 51:16. 

I’ll be honest, I’m surprised but not surprised. 7 months turning up twice a week for sessions at the running club I hoped, but never assumed, would push me my running up a notch. And well, it has. I’ve run a race faster than I ever have before.  This is no coincidence or fluke. 

Something else to mention here as well. I notice that I feel surprisingly great. I didn’t feel uncomfortable or struggled coming in, even with the push of the extra pace. I recover pretty quicky, I’m not really out of breath and I’m certainly not knackered. In fact, I’m kind of annoyed with myself that I didn’t push myself harder to try and duck under 50 mins. Who would have thunk it. 

All that is left to do is pick up this year’s horrendous bright yellow race top. In the Winter, it will be great as a hi-viz. In the Summer, every Insect in the area will be landing on me. To book end this nicely, I spot some of my fellow club runners and join in the post race shit craic. How did you do, happy with it, the weather again. 

Then it’s time to walk back home. I have an epiphany during this. You could break 50 minutes you know, if you worked a bit harder. So, it’s on. The 49:59 challenge is on. Straight after my Easter Egg demolition. Obviously.