Small victories, big feelings

It’s turning out to be the year of the relay. After finishing second on the Cornish coast with the Dashing Dandies of Dartmoor, I was back to short, sharp racing this week at the South Devon Relays: 4 x 3km on a pan-flat course, running for my club Torbay Tri.

Last year, we’d won the MV50 race (the male over-50s category), and we had almost the same team back to defend our title - except for Rich, who had since moved away. Instead we had Matt on the team, a slightly unknown factor since he was new to the club.

I’d been put on the last leg again - as I was last year. If it’s not broke, don’t fix it, right? Except I didn’t feel quite as fit as last year. I’ve been averaging around 25 miles a week since the beginning of June, which anyone who trains fairly seriously will know, isn’t very much. I’d also gone too hard in training on Tuesday.

Parky - our coach and also part of our MV50 team - had set Tuesday’s session with the relays in mind. It was 1km, then 10 x 300m, then 1 km. But the 1km reps at the start and finish were supposed to be controlled, and we were only supposed to push hard on every second 300m effort. Which is easier said than done when a bunch of about 30 runners shoot of at the start of each rep like we’d just hit the bell in an Olympic track final, everyone jostling for position, elbows out, running wide, fighting for space.

The result was legs that were still tired come race day on Friday. I shook my head at my stupidity, but then reminded myself it was only the South Devon Relays MV50 race - not exactly life and death. If my legs were a little tired, so be it.

Both Parky and Andy, our third-leg runner, were returning from injury, so no one on the team, it seemed, was as strong as last year. Could we still reclaim the title? Matt was certainly pumped for it when I saw him before the start. “How are you feeling?” I asked him.

“I’m pumped! I can’t wait!” He almost bellowed at me. “This is what it’s all about!”

Then I saw Parky, who was running the first leg. He zipped by on his warm up, barely stopping to say hello, a nervous look on his face. He was clearly getting into the zone. Suddenly it all felt a little more serious.

I went off to do my warm up, hoping my legs could wake up a bit. My back was also feeling creaky from a day sitting at my laptop. I tried a few short sprints but felt like I was running through tar.

I got back to find the race already underway. It was a hot evening, and Parky was red-faced as he came around the final bend, straining every fibre. He was in about fifth place overall, but we were really only interested in the teams with an MV50 sign on their backs. Parky, it turned out, was the first one home, although the Teignbridge Trotters’ first MV50 runner was only a few steps behind.

On the second leg, within a 100m, the Trotters’ MV50 runner had moved into the lead.

“Hang on to him,” we called to Matt, who was doing everything he could, but who also looked very hot. I grabbed myself a drink as I jogged up and down.

Matt managed to keep the gap down to about 50-metres, before Andy shot off in hot pursuit.

From the changeover zone, you could see the whole course, with the runners twice passing close by, before they did the final loop out and back. At the first pass, Andy had closed the gap to about 20 metres. By the second pass, he was neck-and-neck with the Trotters’ runner. Oh boy, I thought. I was going to have to fight for it on the final leg.