They say humans are unable to accurately remember pain. The acute sensation fades away and the mind can't recall the feeling. Famously, in women who have just given birth, the body releases chemicals into the brain to blur the memory of the pain, to ensure they'll have more kids.
This week has been a bit like that for me - as the days go by the memory of the last few miles of Manchester have faded, while the feeling of euphoria, pride and achievement remain.
I was relaxed and confident in the run up to the race - slightly different to last year. We travelled up on Saturday and stayed with our friends Phil and Clodagh in Altrinhcam...perfect for getting to the start line. Staying with friends allowed me to minimise any disruption to pre-run routine - food, sleep etc.
Come Sunday morning there was a decent number of fellow runners at Alty tram station an we picked plenty more up on the 20 min journey to Old Trafford. It felt quite strange to be walking down the Warwick Road, (as I have done countless times before to watch United), and not have swag men selling scarves, burger vans selling questionable meat and ticket touts looking for spares every 20 feet!
Manchester was a huge contrast to London last year....with only ~9000 runners instead of London's 35,000+ the scale is vastly different. There's only one race village for a start, and family and friends can wander round there too, and even walk up to the start with the runners. (Mine didn't, preferring some extra kip and a leisurely breakfast instead :))
Feeling confident pre race!
The loos queues didn't seem to be too bad (and there was ample opportunity for male runners at least to go, ermm, al fresco) and I even managed to get a cup of tea in about 30 mins before the start! All in all, much more relaxed and stress-free compared to the relative chaos of London1
I half expected the race to go off late (they usually do) but bang on 9.00 the gun went and the fast runners took off. According to the official stats I crossed the start line only 4 minutes and 13 seconds later, so a very smooth start. Now it was time to see if my pre race confidence was warranted....
The course starts off heading down the A56 chester road into Manchester before looping around by the Cornbrook tram stop (site of the now closed Pomona pub, where I may have imbibed an ale or two in past times) and then veering off for a section on the Quays, where you pass ITV studios (Corrie!) and the Imperial War Museum North. Quite a cultural first few miles really, and multiple opportunities to spot people ahead or behind you in two sections of "out and back".
I had my first sight of my loyal supporters around the 4 mile mark as we wound past Old Trafford before hitting the A56 again, but this time heading out of town on the long trek. I was hitting my target 9 minute mile pace almost perfectly which boded well! The net few miles were uneventful....a long stretch out to Sale before heading off the A56 finally via Sale Moor and Brooklands and then another long stretch down into the halfway point at Altrincham (during which you could again see the fast athletes on the other side, and I spotted the ED for Wycombe parkrun, Sam Amend, leading the woman's race)
Altrincham, for me, marked the start of the race in some ways. It was the halfway point which is always a key marker. It also marked the last sight of my supporters until the final stretch at best...luckily as the race loops through there I got to see them twice, and even managed to grab a kiss from my wife (coincidentally, I then set my fastest mile of the race with an 8:48!)
But from here in on in, the pressure would grow. My next mental and physical marker was the 16-17 mile section. Physically I knew that running 16 miles @ 9min/mile pace was doable given my half marathon paces, after that I was entering the realm of "do I need to drop the pace to finish?" - question I would ask repeatedly for the next 10 miles.
Mentally - this was around the point I struggled in London, and ran/walked for several miles, before recovering later on. This year I was determined to not have the same issues and decided that once I hit 16 miles I'd focus on getting to 20 as my next focus point - it seemed to work,
A point here about the public - while Manchester is a smaller event, the on course support is still superb....but it manages to avoid being over whelming. There are loads of areas where there is high concentrated levels of support...usually in the heart of the old villages that once sat outside Manchester (Sale, Timperley, Altrincham etc) but it was mixed with quieter areas. Still had people supporting but more spread out and less intrusive. I really like that tbh - and I've never seen so much food on offer at the side of the race from the public, from jelly-babies to cakes and everything in between. I think the fact so much of the race goes through residential areas had something to with it...
Anyhoo - back to the race. 18 miles in and I was still on pace and feeling OK. At this point going sub 4 hours started to seem realistic, and I busied my mind by calculating what buffer I had if I started to slow ....this meant every 9 min mile was a minute ticked off closer to the target. Miles 18-20 are the most isolated of the race as you go via Carrington Lane (proper country) and there was an additional issue of silage and manure smell to deal with!
Through Mile 20 in under 3 hours and I could start to taste that finish. Plus my sweat. And my gel. And the pain. There's an old adage that the marathon doesn't start till Mile 20......while I think that's a little untrue as you do see the finish on the horizon, there's no question it's a whole different section of the race.
We wound through Flixton, Urmston and into Stretford and I tried to focus on the next mile...and the next....and the next. My pace finally dropped from my 9 min/mile metronome........9:09. 9:16, 9;17 9:28. Then my final major marker - just a parkrun to go! I started berating myself in my head "C'mon Rory, you can do a parkrun in your sleep on one leg, there's no quitting now., imagine you're trotting round Bedfont Lakes"
24 miles went by, then I hit the A56 for the final time. "Oh fuck, Old Trafford looks so far away...shut up and keep moving" My legs by this point felt completely independent from my body and appear to be moving on sheet instinct alone rather than any input from my brain. The last 1.5 miles went on and on and on, but finally I saw my "almost there" marker of the Greatstone hotel and I knew it was nearly over.
Up to the Trafford bar and then it was one last turn into Sir Matt Busby Way. A few hundred yards more through a finish funnel that felt like a professional race, and then I was done - over the line in
3:56:27!!!!!!!
Sub 4 hours achieved - with some to spare as well. Even better, my supporters were waiting just behind the finish line to congratulate me. A quick (well, slow) passage through the finish area and I could meet them (in the VIP tent no less!) wearing a heavy medal, a huge grin and legs that were starting to violently complain about their treatment.
A happy, happy man
The rest of the day followed a familiar pattern........re-hydrate, then beer, then shower, then beer, then food, then beer, then bed!
So that was Manchester marathon.
Where I finally felt I achieved my marathon potential.
Where my training and lifestyle changes bore fruit.
Where I felt (strongly) the support of not just my wife and friends on the day but also all the others....my family and friends in Ireland, my co-workers in P&G, my fellow Run with Karen runners and, of course all my legions of parkrun friends.
And where I saw that, for a marathon, bigger is not necessarily better.
Now, what's my next marathon................? :-)
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