Return (Part 1)

Well, well.

That’s really all I can think to say, to begin this latest blog.

Last time we met, I was on the point of pulling out of the British Masters Indoor championships, in order to rest my injured right calf, ahead of the European Masters in Madrid, beginning a week later. I did indeed pull out of the British championships, though I needed to force myself to leave my kit and shoes at home, in order that I didn’t change my mind when I got there.

I grabbed a chance of a very thorough leg massage by one of the British Masters Medical Services team before photographing the Sunday competitions got underway. I was told that if I’d torn something in my calf, I’d have hit the roof during that treatment. As I hadn’t, what I had was more likely the result of some kind of cramping syndrome, which would probably be helped by careful application of some kinesio tape when (if) I raced in Madrid. 

I spent all that weekend on my feet, photographing the events , and had sore legs anyway when I’d finished, but I think it was the right thing not to race. Events proved me right, as you’ll see if you read on.

I can’t say I really saw much improvement in the four days between the British and my departure for Madrid. I had a useful session as usual with Jesper, my chiropractor, and got some good advice about protective kinesio-taping my leg. Jesper confirmed that it was his view too, that I’d not actually torn anything in the calf. That was encouraging.

Madrid was in the middle of its coldest spell of March weather for 20 years when we arrived. On the Sunday that I went to the excellent Gallur Stadium to register for the Championships, get my numbers, etc, I took the opportunity, along with a dozen or so other athletes, to use the track’s warm up area for a practice run-out. I felt this would be “make or break” because I was due to race two days later. I’d taped my calf, and generally felt pretty comfortable. The warm up area was much colder than the name would imply, but I went through a complete pre-race warm-up drill, followed by half a dozen practice starts using starting blocks.

To my surprise, nothing hurt. I seemed to be able to run comfortably, in flats and in spikes. Rather than tempt fate, I stopped and returned to the hotel. I was due to race at about 5pm on the Tuesday, in the heats of the 60 metres. If I ran well (BIG if), the semi-final was just after 10pm that same evening. Ah well, at least I’d get most of the day to rest in the hotel.

Actually, I wasted that opportunity, and visited the huge Prado art gallery and museum on the Tuesday morning. Culturally, it was a great experience, but probably not my wisest move, if I was wanting to play things safe. In the back of my mind, there was the constant nagging thought that the last time I’d raced at 60 metres was two whole years earlier, at the European Masters in Ancona. I’d not had to run fast out of starting blocks since August 2016 either. Suffice it to say that warm up for my 60 metres heat was a nervous time.

I had lane 2 on the track, with no one in Lane 1. I got a brilliant start, and at 30 metres, there was no one in my peripheral vision. I finished second in the heat. The guy who won it set a Spanish national age group record to beat me! I’d qualified easily for the semi-final, and was overall 5th fastest of all who had raced in the heats. Better than expected? You bet!

(One photo below is by Bob Douglas, the other by the stadium photographers)

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Five hours later, at a time I’d usually far rather be in bed, I was warming up again for the semi-final. This was crunch time. I ran well from Lane 6, although I was so focussed that I wasn’t entirely sure where I’d finished. The big screen flashed up a list of names, and mine had a 6 against it. I was really disappointed, because I thought I’d done better. However, just as the eight of us in my race were being escorted from the track, the screen changed. What they’d shown first was simply a repeat of the lane draw, not the race result. I’d actually finished 4th in the semi-final, and had done enough to make the final next day! Wow. After a whole year away from competition!

(Below: 1) A good practice start in the semi-final. 2) Me looking very unsure where I’d finished. 3) The moment I realised I’d made it to the final.)Screen Shot 2018-03-30 at 14.27.21





Screen Shot 2018-03-30 at 14.28.01Screen Shot 2018-03-30 at 14.28.44

I re-ran that race in my head endlessly that night. I knew I hadn’t really sustained my running right through the finish line in both the heat and the semi-final. Some video my wife had shot confirmed this. Nevertheless, here I was again, in a European Masters 60 metres final, where I’d been in both of the two previous European Championships. 

We were due to race at 6.30 on the Wednesday evening, and everyone had timed their warm ups around this. However, some other events in the stadium unexpectedly over-ran on time, and when we reported, at the required 20 minutes before race time, the call-room officials turned us away and told us they were not able to say when we’d be racing. Highly unsatisfactory. We all mooched around the warm-up area, trying to hold a balance between being warmed up and not over-doing it. We were finally admitted to the call room, but then told there would be a further delay. At least the call room was warm.

Some time after 7pm we were eventually led out on to the track. I’d got lane 2 again, once more with no one in lane 1. Well, it had been lucky for me in the heats…

Someone false-started, but we settled down, and the race went at second attempt. I felt that I flew – for 40 metres at least – and video confirms I got another great start. However, Europe’s very best were too strong.

As I ran through the line, a glance to my right suggested I’d finished 6th. I was disappointed to begin with. I’d been sixth in the 60 metres in Ancona, two years before, in a race where one hundredth of a second had covered third place to sixth place. This time, I was a bit further adrift of the action.

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However, there I was, standing with the others in the line for the obligatory group photos. Still nothing hurt! I was sixth fastest in Europe in my event, and more than a few demons had suddenly been conquered.

Screen Shot 2018-03-30 at 14.31.53

No rest for the wicked, as they say. The next morning the 200 metres heats were due to begin. I needed to get a meal and a good night’s sleep, and come out fighting once more.

To be continued….


One Response to “Return (Part 1)”

  1. Ride On | Blog from a Faster Master Says:

    […] indoor racing season this year was, as you will have seen from the previous episodes of this blog, fairly short, and fairly fraught, although eventually not a lot less successful than […]

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