Hartlepool Marina 5

 It was the last Sunday in April. With the recent arrival of Mollie, the Tulip killer (puppy), we were pretty much all up early. I was in the driving seat and it was the dark destroyer and Ant who joined me for this jolly charabang to Hartlepool, home of 'canoe man' who faked his own death, West Hartlepool, a very good rugby team in days gone by, (the football team not so much) and the Hartlepool Marina 5. I have done this event some time in the distant past and I recall a small cannon being used to start the runners.  

There used to be quite a big field, but this year around 200 early risers coagulated around the Mecca bingo hall for the numbers and free t shirt. Me and Speedy Joe had been exploring the delight of the Howgills at Sedbergh the day before and very nice it is as a hilly running venue. All cropped grass and pathways and rolling hills. However, I wasn't feeling the love and plodded around the car park warming up, all the while looked down upon by the Napoleonic frigate HMS Trimcombalee, her icy stare, crows nest and rigging resplendent in the early morning sky.  The North Easts answer to the Cutty Sark or the Discovery. 

We kicked off at 10.30 and the conditions were mild, calm, near perfect. After things settled down I found myself tucked in behind 2 women who were running a 6.30 pace. I was struggling after a mile though. As I ran wondering how long I could keep this up, one looked behind and took a step to the right. The other did something similar, but to the left, and both made for me to pass. I said I was trying to keep out of the wind. There was a slight headwind. Sunderland girl then made some comment about 'feeling the drag' of me behind them. I said 'it wasnt a thing and it didn't work like that' and 'that when she was old she'd be doing something similar'. Sunderland then responded saying she was forty and suggested that she was old already. Far too much chatter. I didnt last long after this however, and the pace dropped to 6.45 for mile 3. And so it remained as I looked for shelter on the way back. But shelter from what?..,there was a slight tailwind and nothing to do but just run back up the pan flat prom. I was passed by a couple of lads, but was too far gone to stay with either,  and there was nothing left at the end but a PW of 33.11 and the cold embrace of a dry boak. However, I was sweaty and sanguine. It wasnt too much more than the 33 minute ceiling that I had given myself before the event. 

The Dark destroyer had had a great run and won, and Ant delivered a time to match his old PB and was 2nd m40, so all in all, it was a decent morning.  The victors celebrated with a McDonalds. Decadent, I know.