The final GATA

I can’t remember what GATA stands for, suffice to say that for some reason my brain always reads “Gator” and associates it rather furious and vicious activity. Effectively it is the second company running race series (the other being the running club’s Gallileo), set up (broadly speaking) as a competition between the Generation and the Trading businesses – or engineers vs. bean counters. Whatever it maybe, it is a fun and competitive, and a great place for me to gain experience.

So this was the finale, and after my recent performances I was billed as the favourite. That was until some dude named Ian Mc announced that he was going to take part. Now Ian, a top level club racer, is quite legendary for his speed. Excellent, a challenge!

It was a typically English autumn day; cold, damp and threatening to drizzle. I had a good warm up on the treadmill and then headed out to the start line, perhaps a little early. I stood around chatting and trying to stay warm, but soon enough the mob had arrived and we were just about ready to head off.

Once underway, I quickly worked out who Ian was; the skinny guy who seemed to skim along with effortless speed and was already pulling a gap after all of 15m. I shuffled in behind in and kept his pace. At first it was easy, but after a km or so he increased the pace and I started to struggle to keep up. Getting close to the red zone, I figured I’d slow a smidge and keep as close to him and my red line as possible.

So after that, the next 4-odd km was hell. I was hurting badly. My lungs were maxed out and were unable to take in any more oxygen. My legs were right on the edge too; I could feel the acids building up. Nudging my aerobic limits I watched as Ian gradually but surely opened a gap. At first I thought that I was again matching his pace, but slowly he pulled away.

Now the big challenge was all in my head; tap off for an easy 2nd, or keep pushing hard? I pushed. I noticed my shoelace had come loose, a good excuse to stop for a breath – but I rather chose to rely on the lace lock arrangement and press on. I was hurting, burning, but no way was I giving up.

The last few hundred metres of the route are very twisty and I had completely lost sight of Ian. By now I was rapidly filling my legs with lactic acid and greedily gulping every bit of air I could take in. I was flying. Through all the agony my stride felt effortless and I felt unstoppable. I think this is what athletes are addicted to – there really is nothing like it.

I crossed the line in 18:31.41 on my watch (the timekeepers had me at 18:29), easily a PB. I’m not sure what Ian did, but apparently he wasn’t that far ahead of me. It was a totally awesome run. I learnt so much about how far I can push, and how to pace myself. It was great to pick on “someone my own size”, if you know what I mean.

Afterward Ian admitted that I’d pushed him harder than he’d wanted to go, and that he was really hurting too. I took that as a great compliment.

I've put together a training program now, and look forward to Bathurst to get some good mileage in - can't wait for the Culham round of the XC series in the first week of December. 'Till then!