Malakoff 5km

Something had gone wrong somewhere. I had been quite excited and looking forward to this event, but something had snapped, almost literally, and all the expectant pleasure had all but disappeared for the event yesterday. There were two reasons to be excited about this race: firstly, it was the opener for the challenge with Nico. Although, I didn't really fancy my chances against him on such a short distance, I tought that I would give it a good shout and that anyway I would be able to achieve a PB and beat my objective of 17:45 (or even 17:30 in my wildest dreams). Secondly, I had managed to persuade, convince and cajole a dozen other guys from work to participate in their first ever (for most of them) running race situated in the same town as work. I just couldn't pull out now but was my achilles really up to it.

The answer to my last question was resolved almost as soon as we arrived. Laurence, Nico and I jogged from the office to the main square to pick up everybody's bibs for the race. Laurence was looking at me expectantly as we jogged, knowing that it wasn't sensible to take part and trying to convince me to run with her instead and 'take it easy'. After those first few steps, I realised immediately that she was right but didn't want to tell her as I'd put myself into a position that I couldn't readily back down from now. My achilles pulled hard and was very uncomfortable. the pain wasn't enough to convince me to stop but sufficient to inform me that I was doing myself no good at all. Still, I'd got this far, I wasn't going to back down now.

We ran back to the office with the bibs and met everybody who was taking part. We were 9 in all. The three off us, sporting our St Germain tracksuits and 6 almost complete novices to running. Nico asked if we shouldn't go for a warm-up so I told him that he should but that for the others, 5kms in itself would be sufficient challenge, let alone a couple of extra kilometres to get the muscles warm. We lined up at the start, Laurence and I thankful that the weather was far warmer than last year when we'd stood in the very same spot, freezing cold waiting for the gun. I joked with Nico about my shape and told him that the guy who finished just ahead of me in Conflans, Fred who was also there, would take my place in the challenge as I wasn't up to it.

The gun went and we set off. 2 weeks without running meant that I had plenty of energy from the start. I told myself to take it easy and after 500m, I was wondering where Nico was when I saw him just to my left as I was on his shoulder. This didn't last long though as I saw Nico move ahead and was unable to respond with Fred following him just afterwards. When we went through the first kilometre they we already 30 metres ahead of me. My Garmin beeped a little early and I saw 3:15 for the first km. There was a clock visible too so I was able to see that the actual time was closer to 3:25 but it was still fast.

There is then an uphill section in the second kilometre as we ran up to the stadium and around the track before leaving the stadium on the far side. The Garmin beeped again, showing 3:49. This was understandable that the time had slowed but I was losing my energy and from then on I just lost the fight to push it. My achilles was a constant nag, not actually hurting but pulling. It would be easy to say that this caused me to slow, but I think it was the lack of go from 2 weeks running abstinence that was the bigger problem. The achilles didn't help.

I settled then into an uncomfortable dissatisfaction: not happy with my pace and not really able to do anything about it. The Garmin beeped 3 times for kms 3, 4 and 5 all showing 3:50 or just faster than my half-marathon pace. Nico and Fred had long since disappeared and the final blow was being overtaken by a guy in the final kilometre and not responding and then by another 2 with 300 metres to go. I lost 3 places in the space of 2 minutes with no reponse available or forthcoming. Total depression. My final time was 18:47 in 26th place, a minute slower than where I wanted to be and almost 30 seconds down on last year. Nico had finished in 17:43 and in 14th place. I would have been thrilled to achieve that.

The real satisfaction was in hearing Laurence's name being announced at the finishing line, crossing the line in 22:29 a full minute faster than last year. She was chuffed to bits, quite rightly and had beaten all the other guys from work. She delighted in telling me afterwards how they'd all gone out fast and then she picked them off one by one throughout the race. She was over the moon.

We went back to the office for some drinks and a chat over our respective races and it was then that I realised exactly how bad the achilles was again. The ache was back and now matter how much Voltaren I rubbed in this wasn't going to disappear. This is perhaps why it took me a day to write this blog as I worry about how long this will now take to mend. My marathon in London now strikes me as being very close if I'm to prepare for this properly. I was supposed to start the 10 week preparation this week. It'll now be an 8 week preparation at best. All other objectives are now out of the window as I concentrate on getting over this injury. 'Damn and blast' for lack of a stronger expression. Depressed, miserable and full of self-pity. Luckily Laurence is understanding as I'm not much fun today.