Run 18: Flitwick 10km

Sunday, 17th April 2016 (10:30am)

 

Well advertised by Tesco

Run number 18 took me to the little town of Flitwick in Bedfordshire. The event itself was very well advertised locally; you couldn't walk in to a local shop without seeing the poster somewhere (in fact, I wouldn't have known about the run if not for the great advertising.) As serendipity would have it, I was in Aylesbury the night before for a birthday party, so combining the weekend with the Flitwick 10km was perfect.

The event itself is organised by the Flitwick and Ampthill Flyers who really outdid all expectations I had of the event. The collection point was incredibly well-staffed and the course was professionally marshalled by the many volunteers all throughout the winding run through nearby villages. Much like the Glynneath 5 Mile, there was an incredibly friendly atmosphere as if old (and new) friends were coming together for a fun little jog around the local villages.

Hordes of local running clubs catching up and chatting

While waiting for the run to start, I saw a great deal of uniform running shirts, different running clubs from the local area; Flitwick Flyers, Bedford somethings, Leighton Buzzard something elses, this and that A.C, and so on. I looked for the garish red, white and black striped running top of my own kind of but not really running club, the Saint Edmund Pacers but didn't see any. I had, in fact, in all the hurry to make sure I had my costume for the party the night before forgotten to pack my own Diabetes UK running top and wig. I was beside myself with panic. I felt naked running in my normal t-shirt. As a compromise and to affirm that I was still running for a good cause and not just running, I made myself a little sign to wear on my back.

Unfortunately not enough people run and text nowadays so I received no new donations!

There were over 700 participants in this year's Flitwick 10km and the race began with the similar mad scramble to get past all the slower runners. There was a lot of support in the streets too, before the run went out in to the back-country roads. I was worried - mostly because I'd bought shiny new trainers but also because it is my weakness - that the run would go cross-country and I would have to slip and slide in mud, but the course was entirely over roads (apart from the last 30 metres or so). These roads were well marshalled and diversions were expertly put in place during the event.


Beautiful day for a run said 700-odd people

Having been training for the London marathon at a slower pace, I pushed myself in to race-pace (closer to 7 minute miles than my 9 minute marathon training miles). Owing to an increase in training, a much slightly fitter body, new running shoes or an increase in adrenaline, I ran the first few kilometres with no problems at all. In fact, there were no problems to speak of - except the hills!

The route took us up and down quite a number of elevations and the hardest part wasn't running UP the hills per se, but controlling momentum on the way down. There were a lot of hills but for some reason, they didn't pose the same problems they would have a few months ago - were they nice hills? Maybe.

At 5k, I noticed I was hitting 23 minutes and, feeling my body wasn't in too much pain, decided to push myself to try and hit a good time. My marathon training has made me an energy gel junkie so I popped some of the good stuff at 6k and pushed on forward, hitting the last kilometre particularly hard and sprinting the last few hundred metres (being careful not to slip in the mud at the end).

As I rolled past the finish line, I forgot to look at the clock but shortly after completion (mere seconds after) I received a text message stating my time was 44:06 - which means I smashed my Personal Best by 22 seconds!

Surely the donations for Diabetes UK will come rolling in now?

My only gripe about the run was that there were no medals at the end - but I did get a shiny new running t-shirt (perfect for those runners who realise they left their running top at home!)



Well chuffed with my new t-shirt (and the PB is good too)!

Run 10: Glynneath 5 Mile (Fun Run)

Saturday, 26th December 2015 (11:00am)

Christmas Day is a day of excess; presents, food, chocolate, sweets, wine, mince pies, beer, more wine, turkey, and regrets. The day often ends slightly comatose on the sofa with some routine Christmas telly on the go.

Boxing Day is a day of either recovery from the day before or further excess. It's certainly not the day for running. Or so I thought.

I signed up to the Glynneath 5 because I wanted to do a run over the festive period, I didn't want to stray too far from home and it was the easiest one to fit in to my schedule.

Feeling fresh and festive!

As the run wasn't quite 10 kilometres, I looked at it as a fun run of sorts and made sure to acquire a Santa costume to complete the run in. Upon arriving at the registration HQ for the event I quickly realised that I was the only one who had opted for fancy dress. Appearances from a number of different running clubs suggested that this was an event people took quite seriously.


After getting my race number and making my way to the starting line, I handed my coat to my brother (who very kindly sacrificed a lie-in on boxing day to drive me to Glynneath) and started my warm-ups. A lone Santa amongst lycra-clad running pros attracted quite a bit of attention and one of the organisers applauded my efforts and very vaguely promised a trophy at the awards ceremony after the race (which unfortunately I didn't have time to stay for - so no trophy!).





The thing that struck me the most about this run was the community spirit of it. As an annual event, it is obviously very cherished by the community and lots of people knew each other and wanted to improve upon previous years times. In fact, the event was almost an advert for running clubs. They were everywhere, and everyone was having a great time. If my life weren't so fluid I'd love to join a running club but that's a story for a different time.

The run itself was flat and the scenery not as inspiring as other parts of Glynneath but it was a good run and it showed me that I was a little out of shape (or that running with a hot, sweaty, fuzzy Santa costume is out of my comfort zone).

Close to the end (Images courtesy of Glynneath 5's facebook account)

Everyone on the track (it was a 2.5 mile road run and then back) was very encouraging shouting inspired things like "Go on Santa" and "Now you've emptied your sack, you can do it!"

My average for a 10km is around 45 minutes.
My time for this 8km was 43:01 - rather disappointing in fact, but in my defense - IT WAS A FUN RUN! And it was, I had a great time, and I would really recommend this run.

Run 9: Odaiba Friendly Run (10km)

Saturday, 8th November 2015 (10:00am)

The 5th International Friendly Run took place in Odaiba, Tokyo, and as seems the case with Japanese races was a selection of either a 5km, 10km or 20km race. I opted for the 10km, simply because the 5km was not long enough and the 20km was 1km short of a half marathon. Given the dismal rain, I almost regret not choosing to run 5km.

A dismal day for running

The Statue of Liberty with my friend Paul

Odaiba is an artificial island constructed in Tokyo Bay, originally intended as a defensive fortress in the 19th century, which was later desired to be transformed in to a shining beacon of Japan's uber-technological and economic prowess when Japan's economy seemed like it would be unstoppable. Now, the island is home to shopping malls, theme-parks, and a replica statue of liberty.

The intention of the "International Friendly Run" was for foreigners and Japanese people to come together to become united with a common purpose. I think the run was designed with embassy staff in mind, or army people who had been stationed in Japan for a while. Either way, there was a very fun atmosphere, despite the rain. While queuing up to get my race number, I bumped in to lots of people from lots of different countries. The group that stuck out the most was a party of about 5 or 6 Canadian ladies, looking good in their 30s, all sporting bright red t-shirts proudly saying "Powered by Maple Syrup." They were loud and boisterous in all the best ways, encouraging others and shouting support to people they passed.

Standing at the start line and chatting to them, we had little chance to sync running apps and timekeeping devices as the gun fired with no prior countdown or announcement. We were on our way then it seemed. Fortunately, the race itself was chipped so there was no real need for accurate running time apps.

Soaking wet but happy to have finished.

The course itself was two laps, following parts of a promenade along the soggy beach (sand imported from China.) There were no elevations at all and it was all on paving, yet the dismal rain, which alternated between showering and hammering down, seemed to hinder my running somewhat. After one lap, braving looking at my phone in-between spells of rain, I noticed my time was 25 minutes. Unless I picked up the pace, this would result in a time of 50 minutes.

Well, to cut a long story short, because the only exciting things to happen in the run were my saying hello to the excitable group of Canadian women when passing them in between laps and my waving to the leader of the 10km group (a man dressed in a gold bodysuit), I ended up finishing with a time of 49 minutes and 19 seconds, very far from my best efforts.

To make matters more depressing, I found out afterwards that I had finished 4th in my age bracket and that to have finished in the top 3 would have yielded an award of sorts. Given that my time was 3 minutes longer than my usual, I'm certain had it not been raining and had I pushed myself hard, I may have finished in the top 3. This is something that will have to be rectified by adding a fourth run to my Japanese repertoire.

Run 8: Imperial Palace 10km

Saturday, 17th October 2015 (1:30pm)

For my second run in Japan, I was very excited. There were two reasons for this; first, I knew exactly where I would be going and the route I'd be running. Second, it was only 10km. Whenever I say that last part to people, they laugh and think I'm being arrogant. The me last year would have punched the me saying that now. 10km is a lot but after a half-marathon, it's a welcome respite. It also gives me the chance to really throw myself in to the running and push myself, where half-marathons' goals become just finishing the race.

The Emperor of Japan is in there somewhere...

The Imperial Palace run was perhaps the smallest race I have done so far (a close tie with the Wimbledon Common run) and made to seem even smaller by the fact that out of the small hundreds of participants, we were separated by four different runs; 5km, 10km, 15km and 20km.

The Imperial Palace is surrounded by gardens, walls, archaic-looking gates and a path that measures around 5km long. As such, each race's route merely differed by the number of laps the runner needed to do. I needed to do 2.

As an English teacher from a rather small English-speaking country (Wales), I feel a certain pride in displaying a big Welsh flag in my classroom. For this run, I thought it'd be a great idea to step up the costume from the diabetes wig by using the flag as a cape. Dressing up in bizarre costumes is usually common-place for Japanese cosplayers, but less so on the running scene. I attracted a lot of awestruck gazing and one Spanish fellow shouted "Scotland, Scotland!" at me. Though I didn't catch whether he was actually from Catalonia, he did introduce himself and talk at length (get it?) about ultra-marathons. He was incredibly athletic and wore a one-piece running vest that reminded me of that Simpsons clip.

Who's that strange Welsh guy in the wig?

After a group photo, we got ready for the four different waves; 20km went first, followed by 15km and then at 1:30 I got ready for my 10km.

I started well, overtaking most of the people who were there just for a little jog around the palace. One guy at the front was absolutely blitzing it so I decided not to bother trying to match his pace. Another guy in a blue shirt passed me quite early on and I decided he would be my target for the race.


I had been unable to do much training for this race but I felt good. Pushing myself to follow the guy in blue meant that I kept up a decent pace.

The Imperial Palace is a very popular walking and running spot for tourists and Japanese people alike. As a result of this and the four simultaneous races taking place around the grounds, there were a large number of runners. Everyone I passed, I checked out what colour bib they had so that I could determine how far in front I was.

Quite confident that it was just blitz-runner and blue-runner ahead of me, I convinced myself I was in third. More than likely though there was someone else ahead and being behind blue-runner, I was actually in fourth. There were prizes for the top 3, so I would have to come within that zone. There weren't many people in the 10k so it was certainly possible. I just had to beat blue-runner.

Conquering my first lap

Shortly after the first lap, blue-runner went off to the side to wave to his wife. I took this lull in his concentration to overtake him. I smiled encouragingly as I overtook him. From there he kept good pace with me but at the 7km mark I decided enough was enough and with 3rd place firmly in mind I pushed myself to run faster so that I could secure myself a prize.

At around 8km, Spanish Ned Flanders lapped me shouting words of encouragement. I grunted back at him.

As there were no timing chips, I kept a close eye on my phone timer towards the final kilometre. I was on a pretty good time, on track to do just under 47 minutes.

I finished at 46:20 and discovered to my horror that were many people already finished from the 10km. My dreams of 3rd place had been in vain. On the plus side though, two very good Australian friends, who were in Tokyo for a wedding, were waiting at the finish line to congratulate me and receive my incredibly sweaty embrace.




After the race I became something of a small celebrity as a group of Japanese lads, fervently practising their English before-hand, asked if they could have a photo with me (and my crazy wig and patriotic flag-cape). Shortly after this, I was approached by some Indian tourists who were in Tokyo for a naval exhibition.

Proudly showing off the colours of Wales with a random Indian Naval officer

Sadly no extra donations came but I did get to talk to people about why I was running; to raise awareness of diabetes and to help show people that pushing yourself to do a little extra can make a big difference.

Run 7: Arakawa Half Marathon

Sunday, 4th October 2015 (10:30am)

As this was my first run in the land of the Rising Sun and my first outside Europe, I came prepared to the run with a plethora of screenshots on my phone detailing exactly where I had to go, the route, my race number and everything that would be required of me to get the run off without a problem.

The site of many a sport

The race venue was just over an hour from where I was staying and three different metro lines away. Tokyo's railway system can be confusing as different lines are owned by different companies but when you get used to it, navigating isn't too scary. Fortunately, today was a good day as I arrived at my designated station with no problems at all.

Peace and quiet in the foreground, busy Tokyo in the background.

It is very typical of Japanese people to sleep on the train during their morning commute (and their commute home). I almost never do this (mainly because I never get a seat!) On my first leg of the train route I snoozed in and out. Not a very promising start!

The station in question was Higashi-Ojima, and it was a very short walk from here to an incredibly peaceful sports fields/riverside community area. The sun was shining and my walk through the park was incredibly. Old men were grouped together on one field, shooting paper aeroplanes in to the air and watching them glide around. Families were setting up barbecues and picnic areas. Joggers were gearing up for the run, and adorable akitas and other breeds of puppies were being walked.

Short and sweet. Japanese efficiency in action.

With my screenshots and very basic Japanese in hand, I nervously approached the race-pack collection tent. Western names in Japan are translated in to katakana, while Japanese names are written in kanji. The race staff had a list of names and as soon as they saw me and I said my name, they knew to look at one of the very very few katakana names on their list.

So, race number pinned to my top, shoe laces tied and checked, stretches done, I donned my Diabetes wig and got ready for the start of the race. Very few people seemed to look or care about my strange gaijin get-up. Perhaps, being Japanese, they'd seen people wearing stranger things or perhaps they were politely trying not to stare.

Blissfully unaware that a blue-wigged gaijin was waiting behind them.

I have very little to say about the race. It was baking hot (somewhere close to 28°) so I was sweating even before I started running. Given the heat I wasn't prepared to run to beat any Personal Best I have so went in with the mentality that I would just finish the race and do so under 2 hours. The course was a series of 4 laps along a promenade where kids and adults played baseball (Japan's favourite sport) and bicycles whizzed past. Every stretch of a lap was 2.5km and each side had a water station. I stopped and re-hydrated at every water stop - I did not want to be that ignorant Westerner who died of heat stroke during a run he wasn't prepared for.

All types of people were on the run, from all ages and shapes and sizes. It seemed a very inclusive run and had a very good spirit about it. For most of the run I was in my own little headspace, just wanting to finish and though I picked up my pace towards the end, it was an average of 5:30 per km. Lacking a big, bright finish line, two Japanese ladies held a strip of ribbon between them and runners were encouraged to run through it with their arms stretched upwards in salute of their victory.

Celebrating with my instantly printed certificate!

In true Japanese style of efficiency, immediately after completing the race I was presented with my certificate that congratulated me on my finish time, a cool 1:55:02

Invisible Illness Awareness Week

Today marks the end of Invisible Illness Week.

I have shared a lot about my running experiences but very little about my experience with diabetes. I do not have diabetes. Hopefully, I will never get it, but some members of my family do. They live normal, happy lives and are very rarely hindered by the disease (or so I am led to believe). Even being so close to the disease, I cannot fathom how it feels for them to have to live with the disease. What seems, from the outside, an easy ritual of injecting insulin daily is something I would never wish to endure, and something I would never wish on anyone. Yet, both my brother and my mother go through this every day. This is something I see as a close relative but something not many others see. From all outside viewpoints, they both live normal lives.

I cannot remember when I knew that my mother had diabetes. I cannot remember if I was ever "told". Certainly I don't remember being sat down and told about the disease. Just as she learnt to live with it, I never questioned it.

Hypoglycemic attacks can be very common for those suffering from diabetes. They occur as a result of low blood sugar. Throughout my life, there have been a number of times when my mother or my brother have suffered an attack due to very low blood sugar and myself or another family member have had to help restore the blood sugar to a normal level. This can be a very scary experience as the attack results in a kind of delirious state that makes it hard to communicate with the person and also difficult to cooperate with in order to restore the blood sugar to a normal level. At times, I feel frustrated with my brother when he has a hypoglycemic attack. I often blame him for not being careful with his diet and eating, but sometimes it is easy to forget that he has an invisible illness that was not brought on by anything in particular. It just happened, and he has had to deal with it, and I can imagine if I had had Type-1 diabetes, it would not be easy for me to deal with.

The first memory I have of witnessing a hypoglycemic attack was when I was 11. I was acting in a musical play, Oliver, at a stage show group somewhere I can barely remember. I made some new friends there and I was very excited to be part of the production. My mother, very patiently, drove me 30 minutes to the rehearsal every night. She was very encouraging. One night, as we were leaving, she asked me if I could pop to the bar (I guess we were rehearsing in a social club type place) and get some chocolate peanuts. I thought the request very strange indeed. They did not have any. I thought no more of it.

Shortly after, on the drive home, my mum started to act "weird". She was swerving while she was driving and acting, well...drunk. For a boy with no experience of drink driving or hypoglycemia, I was terrified. I had no idea what was going on. It continued for a while down some small streets before the busier roads. She would drive a bit, and stop. One time when she did stop, I ran out of the car and knocked on the door of one of the houses of the street. The old woman reluctantly let me use her phone (remember this was before mobile phones!) to call the police - why I called the police I do not know, I think perhaps my dad had taken my brothers to play football and I had no idea who else to call.

To cut a short story even shorter, the police arrived, kindly took us home, and were very understanding. The old woman irritably asked why of all doors I had knocked on hers and I politely informed her it was because she had been peeking through the curtains (presumably to see why a car had been stopping and starting outside) so I knew there was someone in. Though eternally grateful for her help, perhaps it taught her to be less nosy in the future.

From then on, I had a much better understanding of diabetes the disease, and my mum, the diabetes sufferer.

The point of this is that diabetes is an invisible illness. Nobody can see what the sufferers go through behind closed doors. There are no obvious symptoms from the every day observer. If you suffer from diabetes, talk about it. There is no stigma associated to having a disease. It is not your fault. If you have another illness, do not be afraid to share what it is you must endure.

Diabetes is not the only "invisible illness". For a much more eloquent take on what it means to be the sufferer of a disease that does not physically manifest itself, check out this incredible blog post: 

WHAT DO A THEORETICAL PHYSICIST, AN OLYMPIC ATHLETE AND AN ACTOR ALL HAVE IN COMMON?

Run 4：Cardiff 10km

Sunday, 6th September 2015 (10:00am)

The Cardiff 10km was a home-comfort. Only an hour away from my local Swansea, I got up at a reasonable time and caught the hour-long train to our nation's capital.

I was a little overwhelmed when I got there. I underestimated how popular it was going to be. As it was celebrating its 30th year, I shouldn't have been too surprised. Over 4000 competitors crossed the finish line and there were undoubtedly more still with spectators, officials, etc.

The base camp was large with a number of charities on show; Diabetes UK among them.

There were more people here than this photo does justice to. You should've seen the toilet queue!

It seemed to me however, that the base camp was not large enough. With thousands of people teeming around the camp, there were massive queues for portaloos and a steadily moving line for the bag-drop. In all the time it took to prep, I didn't get the chance to meet up with the Diabetes team before the race. This time there were a very large number of people who were wearing the silly hat that I'd been solo-ing for the first few runs.

At the starting line I bumped in to an old colleague and we did some catching up, did some stretching, and talked about running times. He was trying to get back in to running and was essentially training for the Cardiff Half Marathon. His time was not too far below my own. I kept this in mind and we both went under the mentality that we would say farewell at the start and run at our own pace.

It took 5 minutes to get from here to the start line once the starting gun went off!

Once the race kicked off, I noticed that my former colleague was storming ahead, while I was barely keeping up, weaving in and out of the throng that always accompanies the beginning of a popular race. In fact, for the first 3 or 4 kilometres, I found myself struggling to keep up and I'm very grateful (in hindsight) that he unknowingly pushed me during those first few kilometres to keep up with him.

The story goes like the others, as I pushed on I began to realise that I had been running quite a good time and to continue to do so could mean I'd beat my PB, or at least come close.

In Bute Park, at about 6km, I started to experience stomach cramps. It is very infrequently that I'll feel pain at running and truth be told I don't often push myself too hard. I ran at a pace I know I can maintain. However, I wanted to get a good time so I really pushed myself hard. I panted and puffed and grunted and ran. Eventually, the stomach pain subsided though this wasn't until about the 9km mark.

Happy and sweaty!

As I approached the finish line, I noticed that the clock had 51 minutes on it. I had remembered crossing the start line after 5 minutes, or I thought I had. Pushing myself that much harder had confused me, so though I was certain I hadn't beaten my PB, I knew I had done well - I just wasn't sure how well.

The run, despite the physical pain, really was a very good course. Flat and scenic, it seems like it could be a good run (were someone in peak shape) to beat a PB.


After the run, I asked a random stranger to take my picture at the finish line and the lady I asked turned out to be the daughter of the regional fundraising manager for Diabetes UK. This led me to meet all sorts of people associated with the charity and chat about what I'm doing, how they got involved and really learn about people who are doing amazing things for the charity.

Though I am but a small cog in a big machine, it's gratifying to know that I'm doing my part to help and that every little bit makes a difference.