Cambridge Half Marathon, 5th March 2023
Having grown up in a small town 15 minutes drive away, Sunday’s Cambridge Half Marathon is probably the closest I’ll get to a ‘homecoming’ race. Ironically, I had signed up with friends from my current home of Newcastle, who are temporarily based down there.
There had been developments in the 7 months since. I had subsequently entered my first marathon, taking place at the end of April, so had shifted my training focus to that, with over 70k in the legs already in the last week. I’d also had some recent time off due to injury, so didn’t imagine my fitness would be quite back to where it was. To cap it all, I’d been experiencing an irritated/sore throat since Wednesday. Nothing overly debilitating, but I woke up almost unable to speak, so gave myself a vague time goal of ‘solid but unspectacular’.
Standing with my friends on Midsummer Common an hour before the start, it was uncomfortably, miserably cold, even wearing the extra layer I intended to discard at the clothes-drop.
Eventually, my wave set off around 8 minutes after the elite runners, following a minute where we were encouraged to all do the Icelandic ‘Huh’ clap, popularised at Euro 2016.
It was a steadfastly overcast day, but thankfully dry and basically wind-less. The course started by winding around various city streets, with a few instances of bottlenecking in the first couple of km. I was frequently struck by nostalgic childhood memories. The ‘centerpiece’ of the race came about 6km in, when we headed through the Kings College entrance and around the impressive grounds.
In due course, the city started to thin out as we made our way over the Fen Causeway to the outskirt villages of Grantchester and Trumpington. The more rural setting was a nice contrast, and there were still plenty of onlookers cheering us on in these sleepy hamlets.
Heading north, the final part of the race took us back through the heart of the city, with some fairly narrow and twisty turns, returning us from whence we’d come.
For my part, my 4th half marathon was an enjoyable one, ranking up there with Edinburgh. Despite my conservative pre-race expectations, I opted for a comfortable pace that I managed to stick to (and often a bit under) for pretty much the whole run, rather than haring off far too fast and then collapsing (not literally) later on, as I had in the Great North Run. Perhaps the marathon training had also built up a bit of extra endurance, and the flat course naturally lent itself to potentially fast times.
So it was that I crossed the line in 1:33:24, shaving almost exactly 3 minutes off the PB I set in Edinburgh. I treated myself to coffee, and apple & cinnamon cake (delicious, but not quite up to Gills’ standard) while I waited for my friends to arrive, and not even a 4 hour drive back up to County Durham could dampen my spirits.
Bring on the marathon…