Great North Run 2022

If you’re not from Newcastle or South Shields, it might be hard to understand how big a place the Great North Run occupies in the collective consciousness. It doesn’t matter where I’ve travelled to race, or how far those races have been, for many people here the question is always; ‘are you doing the Great North Run?’

After route changes due to coronavirus restrictions in 2021, the world’s biggest half marathon returned to the traditional route this year. You start on the central motorway in Newcastle and you run to the sea in South Shields. Given I live near the start and was born near the finish, it always feels a little like coming home.

I know how I should pace a race but on a fast road race like this, I just don’t want to. I’d rather fail spectacularly knowing I gave it 110% than pace myself around to a reasonable time. I don’t want to end thinking there was anything more left in the tank. That’s not always possible, injuries have prevented me doing it in the past, but while not at peak fitness this year I didn’t have any big injuries. Time to hit the red line and then cling on as long as I could.

I’d been a bit disappointed to be in the orange zone at the start, given my predicted finish time, but not knowing where my fitness was I decided against switching and instead threaded through to start as close to the front of the zone as I could.

I was over the start line within a minute of the gun yet still found myself stuck behind a lot of people moving at a much slower pace. I have no idea why they don’t organise the start better. I had a pretty clear idea of my intended pace but couldn’t get moved. By the time my watch buzzed for the first kilometre, I was 40 seconds behind where I wanted to be.

I’d love to say I patiently chipped away at the deficit, but I didn’t. I blasted out the second kilometre substantially quicker than 5k race pace. From then on controlling my heart rate felt impossible, I managed to keep inside PB pace over the Tyne Bridge, the Felling Bypass and down past Gateshead Stadium, but I knew it was costing me too much energy.

I was fighting hard to keep the pace from slipping but it started to drift up towards Heworth. As I passed under the A19 and made my way to the bottom of John Reid Road I finally lost it. Effort no longer equated to return and my head dropped.

I passed my parents and uncle Bob, always a highlight to see them in the crowd, and kept pushing but felt like I was at my max. A few times over the next miles I tried to speed up again but each time was frustrated. I kept pushing past the free beers, the newsagents where I had my first job, and on by the Elvis impersonator.

Having given up not only on a half marathon best but also on coming in under 1:30, my inner monologue wasn’t positive. Until, that is, the 19km marker when my watch pinged and I glanced down to see that it was still possible. Suddenly I found an extra 25 seconds a kilometre, my heart rate was in zone five but my movement improved and I started to fly again.

Past the Marsden Inn, down the steep hill, and along through the crowds on the sea front. I kept things going, resisting the urge to start the final sprint too soon. I knew I only had one shot at a strong finish. 800 metres to go, hold the pace. 500, keep pushing steady. 400, not yet.

With 250 metres left I gave it everything I had in the tank. I passed the half marathon distance on my watch but the finish line remained tantalisingly ahead of me. As I pulled round onto the grass I could see that the 1:30:00 mark would elude me. The finish line photos show the grimace as I went all out for the line, but it wasn’t enough.

1:30:04. It’s a PB for the Great North Run for me. I’m satisfied that I got every thing I could out of the last couple of kilometres, but I know the crowded start and the struggle on John Reid Road cost me dearly.

Overall I’m pleased with the effort on an unexpectedly hot day. It’s hopefully a good sign that my fitness is starting to come back. A few years ago I couldn’t run a 1:30 half marathon, to do one now on a crowded and hilly course, with poor training in the build up, forces me to remember how far I’ve came.

We’ll call that par. Onwards.