What Mr. Garmin says goes... for 12.1 miles

One year ago when I raced the Watford Half marathon it was a tough day, I went off like a rocket, died at half way and dragged my sorry ass round in 1.24. Today was the first opportunity to really see if I had come on at all. Although making it all the more difficult was the 93 mile ride on Saturday and the 40 mile ride to the event HQ. This Ironman lark can be quite time consuming.

With yesterday's ride graded as a B- and this morning's ride just about worthy of a C+ I wasn't holding out too much hope, coach's orders were keep the HR below MAF and DO NOT race it! (This instruction was very clear)

Despite the arctic chill and 25 mph winds I felt good as the first mile clocked, although the memory of feeling similarly invincible last year at this point was suprisingly fresh in my mind. I ran through the first 3 miles averaging about 6.10min/miles and felt sound. This continued until the half way point where I got my first warning from Mr. Garmin, too hard. I backed off and all was good, no angry pipping noise and a LCD sign which may as well have read "slow down tubs, you ain't that good". Mile 8 came around and, to my amazement I felt great, I was moving through the field and no more interruptions from my watch. At mile 9 Mr. Garmin piped up again but was quickly silenced by me holding back on the next hill.

I'd promised myself I wouldn't race and this plan was going great until mile 12.1 when I realised a 5.55 last mile would bring me in under 1.20, a 4 minute PB, I'd love to say I resisted and came home in a gentleman's 1:20.10 but couldn't resist. With the metaphorical duct tape on Mr. Garmin I went for home and crossed the line bang on 1.20, although Mr. Garmin claims it was a little under and I actually did 13.16m... on this occasion I choose to listen to him. All in all pretty pleased given the 130 odd miles of bike work 24 hours prior, something is going right!

Role on Bramley.