Trevor Richardson writes
Race day finally arrives. It's a bright but cold start, just 8.5 degrees, when I leave home to drive to Ealing Broadway. It's not yet 8am so I make it to the multi-storey car park before the road closures kick in. From here it's a 15 minute walk through Walpole Park to Lammas Park where the race starts. I'm worried about a niggle I felt in my left hip after my final training run a few days ago and as a precaution take two paracetamol with 45 minutes to go. There's already a lot of runners here, many with family and friends and there's a real buzz in the air. I browse the various refreshment stalls and retail outlets, buy a last minute pair of ergonomically designed running socks and deposit my bag at the baggage drop.
This is my second Ealing Half marathon, and third half marathon in total, having finished last year in 1hr 51 mins and 6 seconds. I beat last year's time by 5 minutes at a race in Richmond Park in May this year and am hoping to make it three personal bests in a row. A trifle ambitious a little voice whispers. A man asks me if I have a target finish time in mind and I say 'Yes, 1 hr 40 mins'. No backing down now. The great thing about this race is that it is so well organised. It's a big event that takes over half of Ealing borough for half a day and is only possible due to the commitment of hundreds of volunteers. Among the volunteers are the pacers, experienced runners who are there to help people achieve their target finish times. I spot a couple of 1.40 pacers and follow them with the drift of people towards the starting area.
There's a slight delay to the start due to a few cars obstructing the route that have to be moved. Meanwhile I'm feeling some apprehension – should I retreat to the 1.45 or 1.50 pacer? While the thoughts circle in my mind the man who founded the Ealing half marathon 10 years ago (this is the 10th anniversary) gives a funny but motivating talk. Then, suddenly the all clear is given and we're into the 10 second countdown. The mass of runners surges forward and we're away. I'm thinking that I'll stick with my pacer for the first mile or two and see how I feel. By mile two I'm breathing easily, no issues with my hip, all good so far. Then comes Park View Road, the first real challenge on the route. Now, hills are not my strong point. Walking up them is a breeze, but running them in a competitive race is another matter. However, this is early in the race and although breathing hard I manage to stick with the pacer all the way to the top.
As is always the case, thousands of local residents line the whole 13.1 mile route to wave, clap and cheer the runners along. As we all have our names emblazoned on our running vests, I'm hearing shouts of 'Come on Trevor, well done, keep going'. I'm wondering where all these friends have come from! Approaching the mid way point I'm still with the 1.40 pacer. On a stretch where the route bends back upon itself we see the lead athletes, the 'Olympic' runnners heading back on the return leg. Three men with around a 20-metre gap between them, running like gazelles, around half an hour ahead of us.
The mid point of this race is the real test and potential turning point. After around 6 miles the mountain of Greenford Avenue rises like a sheer wall of tarmac. I remember this well from last year, it could be make or break. Running, competitively or just for personal pleasure, is a learnt activity like most other things in life. Running 13.1 miles is not something you can just do. Everyone who finishes this race today, regardless of their time, has worked hard to achieve their goal. But it's not just about fitness and endurance. Race wisdom is also key. I know I could expend everything on this hill and have little left for the remaining 5-6 miles. So, I decide to let the pacer go and drop back, with my breathing still under control. Finally at the top, I see the two 1.40 pacers about a hundred metres ahead. Can I catch up? Sadly not. They remain in sight for another couple of miles only then never to be seen again. However, I am given some encouragement after hearing another runner say the 1.40 pacers were running at least 30 seconds ahead of time. I might just hit my target after all.
After the ordeal of Greenford Avenue the rest of the course is flat, although the occasional road bridge over railway lines still feel mountainous. For me, the second serious challenge of the race is the final quarter. It's when fatigue sets in. Although I've not increased my pace, in fact it feels like I'm slowing down, I'm breathing hard and it's becoming a real struggle. People are passing me and I'm thinking I must be the slowest person on the course. This is when it becomes mind over matter. Your body is telling you to stop, but you know you can't. I think of my sponsors, of the cause I'm running for, 'Friends of Puerto Morazan', and know I have to finish. The final mile is perhaps the most cruel. People along the route are shouting 'Well done, you're almost there'. I think the entrance to Lammas Park will be around the next corner, but then there's another corner, then another and another long stretch of road. Finally, we enter the park and it's just under a kilometre around the perimeter path to the finish. Now, I am on my last legs. People are sprinting past me but I don't care. Just to keep going is a major mental effort. At last the finish line approaches and I hear a final shout of 'Well done Trevor!'.
I finished in 1 hr, 40 minutes and 51 seconds.
I came 395 out of 2326 runners
I was 8th in my age category out of 79 runners
I was 10 minutes, 15 seconds faster than my time last year.