The Freckleton Half Marathon has been a fixture on the road running calendar for the past 52 years. It’s easy to see why: a flat course and great organisation is always a good starting point. Add to that some good course support, a carnival-like atmosphere at the start and the finish, and it becomes a very attractive way to spend a Sunday afternoon. Oh yes, it’s a 2 o’clock start time too.
So it was with a positive sense of expectation that we made our way over to Freckleton on Sunday. I had spent time in the week thinking about a target time for the race and had settled on 1:35:00. I was looking forward to a solid run.
My body had other ideas. I ran a disappointing 1:36:39 (93/488). Not disappointing for missing my target time by 90 seconds; disappointing because of the manner in which I missed it. Once again, like Manchester in April, I felt empty. From the outset this race was a real struggle: breathing, legs, and stomach all seemed out of sync and I felt like I lumbered along the course. I really do need to reflect on why this is the case, but even summoning the energy to do this properly seems like a step too far.
Perhaps I need a break.