The Great North Run 2009: Miles 1-2
I was conflicted before deciding to run the Great North Run this year. I was preparing myself to defer my entry to next year because my ongoing groin strain problem was not fully healed (though I could run on it without any problems). I decided that I needed an independent opinion, so I visited my physiotherapist, who gave me the all clear.
I still didn’t feel 100% confident about my ability though. My confidence usually comes from the training I put in and I don’t skimp on training. I always do more than enough to run the distance. This time, though, my groin strain meant that I hadn’t put in nearly enough training. The furthest I’d run beforehand was just six miles.
Getting to the start was a challenge in itself. My father dropped me and my brother off in central Newcastle and we walked the rest of the way to Claremont Road, where the start line was. I was a bit worried that I hadn’t drunk enough water beforehand, so I managed to work my way through the crowds to get a bottle. Then I walked down onto the Central motorway.
It was already after 10:00am and the race started at 10:40, but I was taken in by the atmosphere and waited at the start line to watch the start of the disabled and women’s races. Unfortunately, this left 15 minutes to walk half a kilometre to my pen before it closed (the entire start area was over a kilometre long!). I got there, but there was no point rushing – the pens were all already full. So I had no choice but to walk to the very back of the start area, another half a kilometre away.
I was not impressed with my timekeeping here and I saw it as something of a bad omen. The race started on time, but it was so far away I didn’t even realise it until the crowd started inching forward about ten minutes later. The stop-start movement continued fora good half-hour before I could even see the start line. This was truly a race of epic proportions.
After finally crossing the start line around 11:15am, I deliberately moved over to the left to high-five the celebrity starter and the announcer (hoping to get on TV – no luck though). I later discovered I’d high-fived Steve Harmison, but I’m not a cricket fan, so I didn’t know who he was.
The first two miles involved running along an unexpectedly hilly section of carriageway and through two short tunnels. I started my negative-split strategy immediately. My plan was to run the first 6-7 miles at 13 minutes per mile (a minute slower than my usual pace), then pick up speed after the half-way point. By doing this I was hoping to avoid the mistake of getting carried away with the atmosphere and racing off at the beginning, wasting energy which would be needed around mile 10 to finish the race comfortably.
As soon as I had slipped into my rhythm, the iconic Tyne Bridge came up – though the Red Arrows had long gone by the time I got there. They flew over whilst I was still queuing to cross the start line. After that there was a steady incline and the second mile marker. I was annoyed to see that, because I’d missed the first one, so would have to estimate the split times for the first two miles.