The Cookson 10k 2026

June 5, 2026 notbuilttorunCookson 10k, RunningLeave a comment

“When you grow up, your heart dies”

Allison Reynolds, The Breakfast Club

What do Dolly Parton and running have in common? This is not a boob joke, by the way. The answer is – absolutely nowt.

Until now.

It’s Cookson 10k time again. The most local race to me, organised by my running club. First run waaaay back in 1921, it’s had a chequered history, including a few years off and a complete change of course. But the current incarnation is flying. Every year, the feedback is the same – it’s everyone’s favourite race. People love it. I love it.

It’s also famous for having a music-themed finisher’s T-shirt that’s kept secret until the very last minute. I think you’ve guessed where the Dolly Parton connection comes in. In the past we’ve had Joy Division, The Happy Mondays, RUN DMC, The Velvet Underground, to name a few.

While nobody knew exactly what this year’s T-shirt would look like until the race was over, we did get a hint the week before. Race numbers were posted out and, unless you were born and still living on the moon, it wasn’t difficult to guess this year’s artist.

When I say this race is local, it really is. The start and finish are less than a mile from my front door.

You could probably catapult me there. Sadly, I’m not currently in possession of that particular piece of medieval weaponry, so I settle for a nice walk instead.

It’s a lovely evening for it. It’s late May, so we’re finally getting an increase in temperature. It’s going to be a balmy 17°C when we set off, which I’m not too bothered about. The biggest issue tonight is going to be the wind. There’s a fairly decent headwind when we hit the hill. Twice. Have I mentioned we do the hill twice? Well, I have now.

On the plus side, it’s a warm wind. And it doesn’t have rain in it. Or sleet.

As this is a race organised by my club, there are a lot of us running it. Red vests scattered everywhere, lots of faces I recognise. I’ve been at the club long enough now to have reached peak wanker status. As in, I seem to know who loads of people are now. Although there are still quite a few I’ve never seen before in my life.

These are the people you never see at any of the training sessions but who are quite obviously club members. They also tend to be the really fast people. I imagine this is because they’re off doing far more hardcore stuff – kicking trees, hanging upside down for six hours, that sort of thing.

I’ve got two slight equipment changes being tested this evening for the very first time.

Firstly, I’ve moved down to a medium-sized running vest. I know – skinny queen. It feels a tiny bit weird, as I’ve always gone for big and baggy, but it’s definitely not too tight. It’s right tight, if that makes sense. Although I do have a feeling it may emphasise my moob bounce, giving off very much a Baywatch vibe when I run full pelt.

Secondly, I’ve recently purchased some running shades. I got these primarily for my summer marathon training. I’m going to be out on long runs through June, July and August, so they’ll be a must. I also look cool as fuck in them, which is all that matters.

It’s time to head to the starting pen. I say “pen” – it’s really just a path outside a school. It’s always a bit of a squeeze at the start. There are around 500 people running this (I’m bib 502, as I’m apparently being alphabetically discriminated against), and that’s a lot of people to squish together on a pavement.

***Off to the Start, like a shit Reservoir Dogs***

A brief safety message from the Run Director about potentially having to give way to cars on one section of the course (fuck that – I’m commando rolling over the bonnet if it means a PB), followed by the usual “good luck and enjoy” to my fellow club runners, and away we go!

Talking of PBs, I’m unashamedly after one tonight, which is quite rare for me. Normally, I’m not really bothered about them and then end up getting one by accident. Not tonight though. Tonight, I’m after my first ever official sub-45 minutes.

I’m running quick and feeling good at the moment. I also start marathon training in three weeks, so this will probably be my final shot at one for a while.

However, I’ve already mentioned a couple of factors that might royally screw that goal up: those hills and that wind.

Now, the hill I can handle. I grew up at the top of it. My mother still lives at the top of it. I’ve walked, cycled, run, and staggered legless up this hill probably a thousand times. Okay, maybe not a thousand, but you get the wildly exaggerated gist here. So I’ve got no fear of it.

But I hate wind. It’s a motherfucker.

We’re about to find out anyway, because you pretty much start right at the bottom of the hill and then spend the next mile running up it. I’ve done some ducking and weaving through the ‘masses’ at the start line, but it still feels a bit more crowded than usual.

Just because I said I was used to getting up this hill doesn’t mean it isn’t tough. That headwind is also pretty strong, but I proved recently at the Grand Prix and the NT10K that I’ve found a way to battle through it and still hit a decent pace.

On the final stretch, I actually get boxed in a bit and feel like I’m being slowed down. Mile 1 is down though, and it’s an on-target 7:20.

As soon as we hit the flat, I feel a sudden burst of energy and put my foot down. I’m now heading along the street I grew up on and past my old house. I give my old gatepost an acknowledging slap as I pass it and get a sharp ping of nostalgia. Always better than a sharp ping from a hamstring.

I’m feeling really good now, even though there’s still a headwind. We soon get some respite though, as we take a right turn into the Lonnen. I mentioned the Lonnen during my review of this race last year, but it’s basically an old road that’s still unspoilt by development and surrounded by fields.

As I also mentioned last year though, not for long. It’s being slowly encroached upon by “progress” in the shape of 5,000 houses. My nostalgia bubble pops. Or was that my kneecap?

Anyway, at least we’re going downhill now, with the wind on our arses. As predicted, the field has opened up and the old “I got boxed in” excuse is now down the kazi.

Part way down, my watch flashes up for 2 miles and informs me I’ve just done a 6:50. That’s obviously excellent, but also quite frightening on the second mile of a 10K.

I… er… might have gone off a tad too fast here.

We’re now out of the fields and back into civilisation. As in, we’re in a housing estate. We’ll cut through here and then be back to where we started.

I’m back on the flat and still feeling quite good as I complete Lap 1. Our club coaches are stationed at this point, so I compose myself and try to look as unfucked as possible as I pass them. I think I got away with it.

***Feigning beast mode for the coaches***

Lap 1 done, Mile 3 completed – it’s a 6:58.

Piece of piss this isn’t it?

Well, not necessarily, because it’s time to do all that again. Lap 2 of the Cookson is always sink-or-swim time.

I’m back on the hill and back into the headwind. This time round, I’m definitely feeling both. I’m not boxed in either, which, now I think about it, might actually have helped me the first time round as I got a bit of protection from the wind. Now I’m completely exposed to it.

It’s hard graft, but I’m battling through it. Later, I find out from someone I know who was marshalling at this point that they had a few spewers. I’m definitely not going to be hurling chunks, anyway.

As this is Lap 2, the top of the hill is also where we hit Mile 4. This time round, I clock a 7:28, which, if you’re keeping up, is 8 seconds slower than the first time round.

This doesn’t worry me though. I’m not struggling, and these are by far the two fastest times I’ve ever done going up here. I’m also not regurgitating my lunch, so it’s all positives.

However, this time when I hit the flat at the top, I don’t have that previous spring in my step. Who knew a second sprint up a hill would start to tire you out a bit?

I’ve been running pretty much side by side with one of my club colleagues for the last mile or so, and we had a bit of mutual motivational chat on the way up, which helped ease the pain for both of us.

Well, he might not agree.

I know he’s faster than me, so the plan for the final two miles is simply to try and stay with him.

We’re back on the Lonnen now, hitting the downhill and enjoying that arsewind again. I feel like I’m in a good place and realise that, unless something catastrophic happens in the universe right now, I can get my PB without absolutely caning it.

Mile 5 is a 7:09 – 19 seconds slower than the first time round – but I’ve got plenty in the bank. Plus, I need to remind myself of this: that’s massively quick for me in a 10K.

I’m now firmly locked in behind my club colleague and just making sure I stay with him. I let him know I’m using him to pace, but not to worry – his young son could outkick me in a sprint finish, so he’s guaranteed to finish ahead of me.

Self-deprecating bantz. Always a winner.

Mile 6 is a decent 7:05, and I know I could probably limp the last 0.20 and still get a PB. I do not want to test this theory.

As we hit the final straight towards the finish line, my colleague, as predicted, sprints away from me.

Hey, he’s done his job – paced me in exactly as agreed. I do manage to catch a straggler from another club on the way in though, which is always a good feeling, I won’t lie.

I stop the watch and it’s a 44:36, so 7:07 pace. Yup. That’s a PB.

Later, my chip time comes in as 44:32. Even better. Success.

I can now officially call myself a sub-45 10Ker.

Get me.

Now comes the coup de grâce, the crème de la crème, the pièce de résistance, and any other sexy-sounding pigeon French you can think of: the finisher’s T-shirt.

Look at it. It’s a beautiful thing.

I share it around Instagram and Bluesky that night and people rave about it. Quite right too – it’s superb. Dolly would approve. And if she doesn’t, there’s a lawsuit coming.

I think we can call this a good night’s work. Race plan executed perfectly, a new PB, a beautiful T-shirt, and I can roll myself home in 15 minutes.

Not before I’ve bought some cake though.

I’ve earned that cake.

Next up, the Blaydon Race. Oh, and 16 weeks of Marathon training.

Fame

April 23, 2026 notbuilttorunPodcast, RunningLeave a comment

“I’m about as flamboyant as a bagel”

Doris Finsecker, Fame

It’s time for another non-race review quick one from me.

Hot off the heels of my debut in the podcasting world, the fantastic guys from the Snot Rocket Podcast asked me to come back for another episode.

They mustn’t have listened back to the first one.

I’m not sure if they’ll ask my back for a third time, but it’s been a really great experience whatever happens and I’ve enjoyed my probable short lived brush with fame.

I was asked by a family member to describe what the podcast is about. I would say, think of it as the Running version of Drunk History.

Anyway, Episode 130 was about Coe, Ovett and Cram’s dominance of middle distance running in the 80s. Listen here: (or wherever you find your podcasts)

Apple Podcasts – https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast/the-snot-rocket-podcast/id1692259218?i=1000762640247

Spotify – https://open.spotify.com/episode/7bbnyVGaDOpsx3RVDHcgS5?si=qlyyOyYASk-bJxQIM-hNig

Almost Famous

March 5, 2026March 5, 2026 notbuilttorunPodcast, RunningLeave a comment

“I don’t see anyone asking for autographs, do you? Huh?”

Apollo Creed, Rocky IV

Something slightly different (and mercifully brief) for this post.

Andrew and Tommy of the Snot Rocket Podcast invited me on to their show as a guest, to chat primarily about Parkrun.

I’ve been a regular listener for a couple of years now, so was more than happy to accept.

I wasn’t sure how it would go. I’ve never been on a podcast before. I thought there might be a large possibility that I was utter shite.

However, after downing two quick Brown Ales, my nerves were soon settled. Although, it also helped that the guys were so welcoming and put me at ease.

It ‘dropped’, as I believe the kids would say, a couple of days ago and, to be honest, I wasn’t sure if I was going to listen to it. Like in that way that actors say they don’t like watching themselves on the tele. I’ve gone full diva already. Please, no photos.

I’m glad I did listen though. Because I wasn’t as shit as I thought. Plus, the hour itself went over in a blur, and I had forgotten just how much fun I had with the guys.

So, ladies and gentlemen, I give to you my Podcast debut..

Apple Podcasts – https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast/the-snot-rocket-podcast/id1692259218?i=1000752862266

Spotify – https://open.spotify.com/episode/0y8RYivOSR5rMO2mXNdG2r?si=WS-SJ8yDT4GI1Yi4hRMohw

Smalltown Boy

January 1, 2026 notbuilttorun2026, RunningLeave a comment

“1,000 years from now there will be no guys and no girls, just wankers. Sounds great to me”

Mark Renton, Trainspotting

2026 is rubbish number isn’t it? It’s neither nowt nor something as we say round here. Look at it written down. Rubbish. Say it out loud. Rubbish. At least 2025 sounded a bit sexy. Like we were in the future.

But 2026 it is. Maybe it will be a grower. Like a bands difficult second album.

Running wise, it’s set to be another busy year. It will also be a year of plateauing and managing expectations. As I mentioned in the bumper Christmas Special, 2025 was the best running year I’ve ever had. PBs tumbled in every distance. I expect that in 2026 they won’t – and that’s ok.

I also got lucky in 2025 with things like the weather, plus a lack of either injury or illness. The stars seemed to align.

Just like 2025, I’m keeping my goals for 2026 simple and (hopefully) achievable. The main one being a sub 4 hour Marathon. Project 3:59 if you want to give it a wanky name.

Where do I hope to achieve this epic feat? After much deliberation and research, I finally decided on the Solway Coast Marathon in June.

It ticks lots of boxes for me. I did the ‘big city’ Marathon as my first one because I wanted the ‘happening’ around the run. The Expo, the atmosphere, the crowds. It was brilliant and massively added to the experience.

Second time round, I’m going for the complete opposite. There will be no crowds here – it’s all country road – and last year only 72 runners did it. It’s almost going to be like a very scenic long training run, but someone will give me a medal at the end.

It’s also only an hour and a half drive away. So no big epic effort in time, logistics, or money to get there. As it’s June, I won’t have to start the training cycle till March – Spring instead of manky January.

Sounds great doesn’t it? Lots of pros. There is one potential con though, and it could be a biggie – the weather.

In particular, the heat. Because running a Marathon in the middle of the summer might not be a brilliant idea. Yes it’s the UK, yes it’s Cumbria, but the chances of it being warm are much higher than a Spring/Autumn one.

So that might put the kibosh on a 3:59. But you know, if it is warm, then bollocks to the sub 4 hour. I’ll just have a nice summer plod around it, enjoy the scenery and work on my tan. I’m philosophical about these things.

Other than that, I have other races lined up throughout the year. Already confirmed and signed up for are the North Tyneside Trail run in January (idiot), the North Tyneside 10k in April, the Cookson 10k in May, and the Great North Run in September. I’m pretty sure that there will be more as the mood takes me.

So, 2026, here we come. Lots of good running to look forward to, another Marathon cycle to complete, and hopefully the magic sub 4 hour will be delivered.

Happy New Year, whatever your goals are in the next 12 months. Whether it’s returning to running, staying injury free, or completing a Half or Full Marathon for the first time.

Just remember the golden rule that I bore everyone with on here – enjoy it.

Because if it was easy, everyone would do it.

Brampton to Carlisle 10 Mile Road Race 2025

December 14, 2025 notbuilttorunBrampton, Carlisle, Running2 Comments

“I got a full-on robot chubby”

Evil Ted, Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey

And so we arrive at the final race of 2025. It’s been quite a year. I’ll be reflecting on it all in the Christmas Special. The perfect read for when you need to hide in the bog and avoid Uncle Flagshaggers’s 17th monologue about ‘the boats’.

It seems only fitting then that I finish the year with my favourite race on the calendar – Brampton to Carlisle. Not only is it a well organised 10 mile road race through rolling countryside, it’s also a club trip piss up.

So I’m treating this one as an end of season celebration. Enjoy the day and the run, with the only real aim being that I would like to match or better my time from last year.

First off though, a couple of days before, it’s the Club’s Presentation Night. I always get myself a ticket for this. Despite sitting firmly marooned in the mid pack when it comes to races, with zero chance of winning anything but plaudits, I do like to go to this for the buffet and the craic.

And the alcohol.

Ok, mostly the alcohol.

After several trips to the bar, and only a couple to the buffet (honest), it’s time for the business part of the night – 20 minutes of award giving with polite applause. Then I can get back to the drinking. And whatever hasn’t been eaten.

My daydream – making a chip butty from whats left- is broken by something quite odd.

My name being read out.

That’s right. I’ve won an award. A Coach’s Award. I can’t decide whether I’m delighted or mortified. It’s overwhelmingly delighted by the way.

I know I’ve had a good year. In fact, 2025 has been the year of records. Fastest everything, furthest everything. But still, I’m not in it for the glory, so this is a lovely surprise. It also gives my 5 seconds in the Crystal Maze.

So, being an AWARD WINNER, I stay longer and drink more than I had planned. Eventually staggering home at around midnight, waking my wife, as I stumble into the bedroom wafting a crystal in the air whilst mumbling ‘iwonaaward’. Popular, I wasn’t.

The next day, I’m a tiny bit rough. It’s a rest day thankfully. Well, it is now.

36 hours or so after my night of glory, it’s race time. I mentioned at the start that I was going to approach this as a celebration. Well, now I’m an AWARD WINNER, let’s fucking celebrate.

It’s an early start on the Sunday. There are 40 odd of us from the club getting a coach to the start – Brampton is around 50 miles/just over an hour away.

It’s not a great start. Our coach doesn’t turn up on time. In fact, it’s 40 minutes late. ‘Technical Issues’ apparently. The way it splutters over the first roundabout we get to doesn’t bode well. However, it soon gets its shit together, and we’re at the start with about 35 minutes to spare.

Just enough time to dump my crap on the baggage bus, do a warm up, take a piss in a random field, and have the obligatory ‘why are we all up so early on a Sunday in November’ group photo.

I feel great on the warm up and – WANKER WEATHER KLAXON – it’s text book running weather. No wind – about 7 degrees. Beautiful.

It’s a perfect storm to smash the shit out of this race – I feel great, the weather is spot on, it’s my last race of the year, and I’m an AWARD WINNER.

So fuck it. Let’s go for it.

Last year I did this in 1:19:35. It was my 10 mile PB, the first time I’d ever run a double figure distance at sub 8 min mile pace. After my sub 1:45 half marathon in July, I’m confident I can easily beat that.

I’m not a cocky twat though. I may be AWARD WINNING, but I’m not the kind of idiot to go out there gung ho.

Until the Starter Pistol goes and I fly out gung ho.

Last year, the non-AWARD WINNING and far less confident version of myself popped himself near the back at the start. This resulted in being caught in congestion – meaning the first mile was slow going.

Not this year. I get myself much nearer the front and find far more room from the off. So much so, that mile 1 is a 7:43.

The first 4 miles follow this pattern. Two 7:46s then another 7:43. I feel great. Really loose, full of energy, like I can handle this pace no problem for the last 10k.

I’m really enjoying this. I said in last year’s review that I like this course a lot. It’s pretty much flat, give or take a couple of climbs, nice countryside running without having to do anything daft like go across a field of mud. I don’t do that Cross Country nonsense. I might have mentioned it.

I’m at the half way point now, and rather than starting to tire, I’m feeling stronger. My mile 5 is a 7:38, my fastest so far.

I notice that I’m also passing quite a few runners. This spurs me on even more. Whether it’s psychology or adrenaline, it’s amazing the energy boost you get from moving up the field in the latter parts of a race.

I take a gel at the halfway point, and it may as well have been spinach to Popeye. Miles 6 and 7 (sIx sEvEn!) are both 7:35s. I’m getting faster and feeling stronger as the race goes on. AWARD WINNING.

I’m aware we have a couple of those gentle climbs coming up near the finish, but the way I’m feeling at this point I couldn’t give a toss. Only injury is going to stop me now. Spoiler: it doesn’t.

I attack the two climbs at miles 8 and 9 whilst hitting a 7:25 and a 7:24. Honestly, I feel like this race could go another 5 mile and I wouldn’t get tired (I have no doubt though that isn’t true, and I’d be blowing out my arse on mile 11).

Mile 10 involves one last climb into Carlisle, before we drop over the other side for a lovely downhill sprint finish.

There is someone in front of me heading into the finishing straight, so I decide to try and catch him. But the gap is too big and he also finishes like a beast, so I accept defeat. However, just the thought of me trying to ‘attack’ the line makes me chuckle. You’ve come a long way baby.

I do cross it in 1:15:56. Knocking a whopping 3 minutes 37 seconds off my 10 mile PB – set in this same race last year. Well, I did say I wanted to better last year..

I’m absolutely delighted. And what better way to celebrate, than a trip to the Pub. Which is exactly what the 40 of us do. I find an All Day Breakfast washed down with several pints of Guinness is great for recovery.

3 hours later, we zig zag back to the coach ready for our journey back home. It’s fair to say the bus is a lot more ‘excitable’ than on the way out. Music, more drink, and jelly shots help keep the mood high.

Three pee stops and a couple of hours later, we’re dropped off. At the Pub. Hey, one for the road and all that.

Eventually, I head off home. To wax lyrical to the family about my awesome run, before spending an hour stroking my Award. That is not a euphemism.

On reflection in the days after, I come to two conclusions. The first is, I can’t recover from day drinking as well as in my younger days. The second is this is now officially my favourite race of the year.

My racing in 2025 is officially done.

The blogging is not however. See you for the Christmas Special on December 24th.

Tally Ho!

North Tyneside 10k 2025

October 8, 2025October 8, 2025 notbuilttorunNorthTyneside10k, Running1 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.

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.

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.

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.

Great North Run 2025

September 19, 2025September 20, 2025 notbuilttorungreatnorthrun, halfmarathon, Running1 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.

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.

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…

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’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.

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.

Running in London

September 12, 2025September 12, 2025 notbuilttorunLondon, Running1 Comment

“Fucking Northern Monkeys!”

Barry the Baptist, Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels

London turns your snot black.

My granny used to say that to us when we were kids. She also made the worst dumplings on the face of the earth. Honestly, the Dambusters could have used them to take out half the Ruhr Valley.

I’ve never touched a dumpling since and never will again. So I didn’t give much credence to her snot statement. I don’t think she had any scientific data to back this up – this was pre internet. But this was a woman who couldn’t properly mix flour, water and salt.

Anyway, I’ve been to London many times since, and my snot stayed clean as a whistle. Time to test her shit theory once again though, as I’m off down to the Capital for a few days.

This is my second time in the city this year. In March, during the peak of Marathon training, I came here for a Cup Final, and spent three days in an alcoholic stupor.

This is a very different trip though. Business rather than pleasure. I’m here with work, visiting our London office with some quite important things to do while l’m here. So it’s professional head on time.

I haven’t been to the London office in a couple of years. Last time, I got a few runs in from Blackfriars to Westminster. It was great to take the chance to run along the Embankment (the bits that weren’t dug up) as this is the last section of the London Marathon.

Having said that, the A3211 road the Embankment runs alongside is busy as a bastard, even early in the morning, which made it quite noisey – not exactly a serene plod along the river. So this time round, I’m aiming for the other side of the Thames, the South Bank.

I arrive early Sunday evening, check into my hotel, then head out for a walk to stretch the legs and get in some recce for a route.

I’m right next to St Paul’s, so I cut through it on my way to the river. Quite nice innit.

I walk along the Embankment side first to see if it’s any better than two years ago. Meh, not really. They still haven’t finished the work and, crucially, you can’t get under Blackfriars Bridge, which means crossing the busy bridge road instead.

I follow this all the way to Westminster Bridge and cross to the South side. It’s a Sunday evening, but it’s heaving with tourists. I’ve therefore made two easy decisions – I’m not running the Embankment this week, and I’m not running in the evenings.

South Bank is also rammed full of people. However, this side of the river is all pedestrianised. So there will be no traffic to negotiate or avoid getting hit by. Also, at 6am it won’t be teaming with people.

Right. Recce done, mind made up, time for an early night.

I’m up and out for 6am and, this being London, 6am here is very different from 6am anywhere else. It’s a nice morning, although we’re starting to feel that slight chill in the air now the days are getting shorter. Winter is coming.

There are two busy roads to cross over, one before St Paul’s and another after. However, both are quiet and I safely get over without stopping or getting hit by angry Black Cab driver or a Lime bike.

Dangerous part over, I’m on the Millennium Bridge. I look left and the view is iconic. I’m running over the Thames, with Tower Bridge just in the distance. Straight ahead of me, sits the Tate Modern.

I’m now on the South Bank and, as predicted, it’s quiet. There are still a few runners about though for 6am – I’ll pass quite a few between now and when I finish.

I’m heading West, towards Westminster Bridge. The plan is to turn when I get there and head back to where I started, making it 3.5 miles ish. I think.

I’m really enjoying this run. I feel great for a start. The lack of traffic and people makes this a far better experience than when I ran on the Embankment the last time. I mentally back slap myself for making this decision.

I pass under and through Blackfriars Bridge, the OXO building, Waterloo Bridge, the Jubilee Gardens, the London Eye, before I arrive at Westminster Bridge. I feel so good, I decide to carry on for a bit. Why not?

So rather than turning, I continue through the tunnel under Westminster Bridge. Out the other side, to my right, I have the Houses of Parliament.

Much more interesting and poignant however, is what is on my left. The Covid Wall. An at first unofficial memorial wall where relatives could leave hearts and tributes for their loved ones in plain sight of Parliament, it is now officially recognised and here to stay.

I’ve seen it on the news, but it’s far more powerful seeing it in the flesh. I decide to run to the end of it, just before Lambeth Bridge, before turning and going back the way I came.

My initial plan was to stop once I get over the Millennium Bridge and then walk back up the hill to my hotel, but I feel so good that I run back all the way. It’s a 5 miler in the end, further than initially planned, but a very enjoyable run.

Remembering that I’m actually here to work, I demolish a well earned Premier Inn breakfast, and have a very productive rest of the day in the Office.

I repeat this run over the next two mornings, cutting it slightly shorter on the Wednesday as it’s forecast to absolutely piss down, which it does a mere seconds after I finish.

It being London, I do see some odd sights over those three runs. One morning there is a very pretty and very nice dressed young lady sitting on a bench overlooking the Thames, doing some knitting whilst smoking a huge spliff.

Another morning I pass a guy dressed very boho and, for some unknown reason that I wish I had asked, carrying a Bugle. I’m not sure if he was off somewhere to announce the sunrise.

There is also the sad and bad of London. I do pass homeless people hunkered under the bridges, trying to keep dry and warm. Stuff like that keeps you humble.

Then there was the guy, and remember this is 6am, just sitting on a bench and very loudly watching porn on his phone. Just to clarify, he wasn’t doing anything lewd to himself or anyone else, just watching porn on full max volume. Amazing stuff.

All in all, a great work trip. 13 miles of iconic running along the South Bank to keep me ticking over for the Great North Run at the end of the week.

Shame it turned my snot black.

Newcastle Half Marathon

July 15, 2025 notbuilttorunhalfmarathon, Running2 Comments

“Why does this keep happening to us?”

Holly Gennaro, Die Hard 2

Running 13.1 miles, with the sole aim of hitting a PB, bang in the middle of Summer, during a heatwave. Welcome to the Newcastle Half Marathon, next race on the Notbuilttorun 2025 Grand Tour of stupidity.

To be fair, when you sign up to any race between May and September in the UK, you’re asking for trouble. Our weather here is both predictable and unpredictable. It’s pretty boring and mundane mostly, but occasionally it does something where, we as a nation, let out a collective ‘holy shit.’

This weekends ‘holy shit’ comes in the form of another mini heatwave. Thankfully, this is the North East of England, so you can always minus off 5 degrees from the rest of the country.

But we’ll come back to the weather later.

So, the Newcastle Half. I’ve done this one before, last year, its debut year. It’s not very exciting if I’m honest. A long out and back along some ordinary looking country roads. It’s in the Newcastle Post Code, but doesn’t pass any points of interest. Apart from the Airport Runway. If that kind of thing floats your boat.

However, I’m not criticising or being a dick about it. It was really well organised and, as unexciting as the course was, I knew that it was perfect for a PB attempt.

Last year, I didn’t even entertain a PB. I entered solely as a favour to someone to help pace them to a 2:10 PB (mission accomplished). This year, I had the freedom to attack it, if I fancied it.

I do have the Great North Run in September. But it’s the biggest Half Marathon in the world, which also means the most congested Half Marathon in the world. It’s a Fun Run with 50k people in it. It’s like going to Tescos for your food shop three days before Christmas. Chaos.

But far more enjoyable than going to Tescos. Obviously.

No, if I want to use my Marathon fitness to score a PB, then doing this one is a no brainer. Local to me, a straightforward course, and with a field of only 800 runners. Plenty of space to put my foot down.

I said we would come back to the weather, so let’s get it out the way. Leading up to the weekend, they are predicting another heat wave for the UK. Even us peasants in the North East won’t escape. Early forecasts indicate it could be in the low 20s at the 9am start.

That’s not good. Thankfully, the good old North East coast has other ideas. By the Friday, it’s predicting that it will drop to a much more manageable cloudy 17c. Although it will ‘feel like 20c.’

I’ll take it.

True to its word, when I get up on Sunday, it’s noticeable cooler and the sky is a thick blanket of grey cloud. I’m not falling for that one though. The Sun is definitely going to pop its head out, and it’s definitely going to get warmer.

As such, I lather myself in sun cream, have a runners breakfast (the trusted Porridge, Banana and Protein bar combo) and I’m out the door to catch my old friend The Bastard Metro.

Remarkably, as I have to catch two of these to get to the Start, it doesn’t let me down. Miracles can and do happen. I’m at the Start with about 45 minutes to spare.

The Start (which will also be the Finish) is Kingston Park Rugby Stadium. Quick confession, I’ll watch and appreciate any Sport. The only big one I do neither with is Rugby. It’s like Roller Coasters to me. Does nothing. Leaves me dead inside. Each to their own though, it’s probably just me.

Rugby slagging aside, it’s a good venue, and one of the main reasons I think this is a well organised race. Clean and plentiful toilets, loads of room to sit, warm up, or just chill beforehand. If it did rain, we also have cover.

***Kingston Park Stadium. For those who like that sort of thing.***

Baggage dumped, Banana and Gel consumed, and short warm up completed, the Start comes around in no time.

They have a good system for the Start here as well, that I remember from last time. They get Pacers to stand by the side of the Stadium with huge placards showing finishing times, and then ask you to stand in position, before leading everyone out in a procession to the Start. Clever.

It’s not completely perfect though. I stand between the 1:40 and 1:50 placards, next to two fairly loud girls who chat about how they’re hoping to get under 2:10. Which is all very commendable, don’t get me wrong – no criticism here. Except GO AND STAND IN THE SUB 2:10 PEN AS INSTRUCTED THEN. I needed to get that out, I’ve been bottling it up for days.

Time to head back for a weather check. It’s still cloudy – grey cloud – but it’s noticeable got quite humid. Something important to point out at this juncture – I’m not wearing my Club Vest. I know, outrageous. Two reasons for this.

Number one, I wanted to do this one incognito. Despite being a local race, very few of my club colleagues are interested in doing it. I think I saw two club vests. In fact, you see very few of any club vests. This very much feels like a non-club runners run.

Second reason, is the heat. I have a much more lightweight Puma vest that I wear for my summer weekend long runs that is far more airy, loose, and comfortable in the heat. As soon as there was a whiff of a heatwave, I made a decision I was going with it.

With the warmth and mugginess already being felt at 9am, it’s a good decision. The gun goes, and we’re off..

I mentioned at the start that this isn’t the sexiest of courses, and from the start we’re out onto a straight country road. I forgot to mention that there is also a 10k going on – they will all turn back at 3 mile (obviously) – so it’s difficult to gauge paces.

Having said that, the sub 1:50 pacer flies past me and moves ahead. Which is really not right, as I’ve started quite quick and am currently doing a sub 1:45 pace. He may just be a bit excited, or forgotten what he’s meant to be doing. Either way, if I was someone after a 1:50, I’d be pissed with him.

After about a mile, I pass him and never see him again. My first mile is a rather tidy 8:06. For reference, to hit my PB, I just need to come in under an 8:20 average pace. With one eye on the heat, my plan was to aim for around 8:10-8:15.

My next two miles are 7:59 and 8:00 respectively. So, I’m kind of fucking this up already. However, that’s because I’m not feeling the heat. At Mile 3 we lose the 10k runners, the field opens up, and I’ve settled into a rhythm.

At Mile 4 we take a sharp right turn, and for the next 2 miles we have a constant and steady climb. That’s reflected in my next times – an 8:05 and an 8:08. Still, nicely below my target time, and I cope with the hill with little problems. In fact, look how much I’m enjoying it.

We take another sharp right at mile 6, but we’re now going downhill for half a mile, before yet another sharp right. This is the halfway stage (good at maths me), so I take a gel.

We’ve now got a couple of miles of steady down hill, which has the opposite effect from the two we climbed, by giving me two 7:53s on mile 7 and 8.

Two quick lefts, and we’re back on the straight road that will take us to where we started. 4 miles left, but there are a couple of quick climbs to contend with in there.

Still, I seem to have really hit my stride now. Miles 9 and 10 are a 7:53 and a 7:54. I’m suddenly now very much aware that, barring any kind of disaster, I’m pretty much guaranteed a PB.

I come into civilianisation at Mile 10, the village of Dinnington, and I feel great. Aware of my time, I’m in good fettle, and the people that come out to cheer start to spur me on.

At 10.5 miles though, I feel the heat for the first time. The Sun has come out and it’s roasting. 2 and a half miles left, but I’m suddenly feeling the effort I’ve put in.

Despite this, I push on. Mile 11 turns out to be my fastest of the day – a 7:50. Mile 12, despite now feeling the heat, is a 7:55. I haven’t gone over an 8 minute mile since mile 6. At around the mile 12 mark, there is another official photographer, so I pretend to look like I’m pissing it.

We’re back in Kingston Park now, and it’s just a bit of road then into the Stadium for the finish. Mile 13 is a 7:52. More interestingly though, I clock that I’ve just hit 1:43:56. Hold the phone. I suddenly realise that sub 1:45, which I had no expectations of doing, is on.

So I put on the jets and see what I’ve got left. Surprisingly, quite a bit. I sprint finish, passing two other runners, and stop my watch on 1:44:50. Boom motherfuckers.

Well, what a turn up for the books that is. I came for a sub 1:50, I left with a sub 1:45. Whilst the weather behaved itself to a certain extent, and we didn’t get the heat a lot of the rest of the country was experiencing, it was still warm. And I’m usually shit when it’s warm.

Not today though.

I do feel knackered when I’m finished. I sit in the shade to take on fluids and eat some snacks. I then head straight off for the Metro and don’t have to wait long for either, meaning I’m back in the house before midday. Everything is coming up Milhouse.

That’s it. Every distance, from 5k to Marathon, I have set a PB in this year. I still have more races planned to see out the year, but I’m done with PB slaying. It’s fun running from now on.

Next up, I’m off on Holiday to the South of France, and my running gear will be coming with me. You wouldn’t expect anything less.

Tynedale Pie and Peas 10k

July 12, 2025July 14, 2025 notbuilttorunReview, Running1 Comment

“I get it, you’ve caught the scent of a lesser stag in your nostrils”

White Goodman, Dodgeball

One of the biggest pieces of advice I was given after completing my Marathon, other than walk up stairs backwards (this works by the way) was to sign up to as many races as possible.

The idea being twofold. Firstly, it’s a great way to maintain your running mojo, keep away the post marathon blues, and give yourself new goals to hit.

The second reason was that Marathon training should give you levels of fitness you’ve never experienced before. Make use of those newly acquired super powers by smashing out fast times in races.

I have to say, both of those schools of thought have been spot on. I haven’t hit what many call the dreaded Marathon Blues. I’ve still got my mojo. The two races I have completed since, both around 10k, have been fast and enjoyable.

So with that in mind, here we are once again, a third 10k race, 7 weeks post Marathon. It’s the Tynedale Pie and Peas 10k. Not a race I had planned on doing if I’m honest, but they had me at ‘Pie.’

Well, kind of. My mate has started running again, felt like he’d got a 10k in him, and I noticed this one was close to where he lives. So I thought, why doesn’t he do it, and why don’t I do it?

It’s not one I’ve done before, but I do know it’s a beautiful part of the world – a mixture of Countryside and Riverside. But let’s be honest, its real selling point is the plate of pie and peas you get when you finish. Winner.

It is one of those pesky mid week evening races however. A Wednesday evening, with a 7:30pm start. This is also a rare one that I’m going to need to drive to. All for Pie.

Is it time to mention the weather? Course it is. In summary, it’s pretty fucking weird. When I leave the house, it’s windy and pissing down with rain. More like January than July. Halfway on the drive there, the clouds clear, and its glorious blue skies. Make your mind up.

After a slight detour to pick up my mate on the way, I find somewhere to park, and we’re off to the Pub. Sadly, not to get smashed and call the whole thing off, but to pick our numbers up.

The pub is busy and full of club runners huddled together. I’m in my Club Vest, but I’m aware there are only about half a dozen of us signed up for this one, and even then, there is only really one guy that I know to talk to. The others are all those Mythical Beasts in the fast groups. I’m with my mate anyway, so it’s a good excuse not to join in with the club tribalism.

Number easily picked up, we’re off to the start. Which is a mile and a half from the pub. Warm up run anyone? Nah thanks. We take a nice leisurely stroll there instead. The weather has now settled on blue sky and calm. It’s a typical warm English Summer evening. The walk to the start is also up a scenic and quiet country road. So far, so good.

The start is at Ovington, a normally quiet little village, but now with 300 runners jamming the only road that runs through it. None of the locals appear to be out, other than four women standing by the side of the road quaffing wine. Fair play ladies, fair play.

The Race Director addresses us all with instructions, which everyone goes quiet to listen to. Well, apart from the two blokes behind me, who chat loudly to each other during the whole thing. I’m sure it wasn’t anything important.

Anyway, it’s 7:30pm, and we’re off. I wish my mate good luck and shoot away. That sounds like a dick move, but this is his first 10k in a while, so his plan is to run the whole thing in under an hour. Me, I’m going to race the fucker. Because, why not.

The first mile is on the road we walked up and is all downhill. Lovely. The pace is quick and I pass quite a few runners. It’s a 7:27 mile, and before we know it, we’re in the neighbouring village of Ovingham. I know, they didn’t have much imagination when they named shit round here.

Here, we’re climbing for the first time, but it’s short and over quickly. We’ve now got a very scenic mile and a half of riverside running until we hit the next village of Wylam.

The field has opened up, it’s far less crowded, and it’s another down hill section. I could get used to this. As such, I’ve really hit my stride now. Mile 2 is a slightly slower 7:34, but spoiler alert, this will be my slowest one of the night. When I enter Wylam at Mile 3, I clock a 7:28. We’re halfway, and this is going rather well.

Wylam is lovely, I know it and have run and cycled through here a few times. It’s famous for two things – a Brewery, and George Stephenson. The latter, the father of the Railway, was born here. Well, sort of. The house is slightly further down the river, but Wylam claim him.

Due to the Brewery, you won’t be surprised to hear that Wylam is full of lovely pubs. Tempting on a warm evening when you’re sweating your bollocks off.

***The Boathouse. Just one of the temptations in Wylam***

We wind around Wylam, avoiding the beer (I recommend a pint of the Jakehead, if you’re ever in the area) and onto the old Wagonway as we pass Mile 4, which is a 7:25.

Here, a guy who’s been around me since around Mile 2, tells me he thinks my keys might be falling out of my pocket. Which is a bit random, seeing as I’m not carrying any.

I’m confused as first, but then I get it. I don’t pin my race number on with safety pins. I use magnets. I can’t recommend this enough. I’ve been doing this for a few years now, and my Bib and magnets stay intact every time.

However, it makes my Bib really noisy. Other runners have passed comment on it. Some of them jokingly, some of them passive aggressively. This is what he’s talking about, he thinks the noise of my Bib is keys jangling. I mean, this could actually be a dastardly ploy to get me to stop and check, but I thank him anyway.

Next up, the most scenic part of the course. We’re going to cross the Tyne via the old Hagg Bank Railway Bridge. Think of it as a smaller version of the Stand By Me one.

Once over the Bridge, we’ve got about a mile and a half left of flat riverside trail that will take us to the Finish which is…er…back at the Start. My Mile 5 is a 7:26, meaning my pace is still good and I must be hovering somewhere around a cheeky PB.

The last mile is a lovely run in by the River, and it really is quiet now. I can see a couple of runners in front of me, but when I look behind I can’t see anyone. I could be lost like.

I cross the line, with my last Mile a 7:17. Hit the jets on that last one. My coaches would be proud. It’s also a 46:06, knocking 4 seconds off the 10k PB I set at the Cookson in May. I have to be honest, I never expected that, so it’s a nice surprise.

The Mythical Beasts from my club are at the finish and I have a quick chat, before making sure I stay on the line to cheer my mate home. He comes in, looking good, with a 56:47. Well under an hour, he’s massively happy with that, as he should be. A good nights work for both of us.

Therefore, there’s only one thing left to do. Pie and Peas. We head to the Pub and get in the queue. When we reach the front, there is even a selection. Meat, Veggie, Gluten Free, or Vegan. Something for everyone, I think you’ll agree. To say we demolish said Pie and Peas would be an understatement. Hey, I’ve earned it.

You’ll note the lack of Race Photos in this Review. That’s because there aren’t any. There didn’t seem to be anyone taking them, either Amateur or Professional. Which is odd these days, but just goes to show how small a race this was. In a way, there is something quite nice about that.

So, another post Marathon race completed, another PB, and another enjoyable evening. Mark this as one I will definitely do again.

Next up in what is turning out to be the 2025 Grand Tour, it’s Half Marathon time. Now that one, I am planning to attack and hit my PB. Fingers crossed…

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