Deteriorating Recovery

The official results from the half marathon were finally released, and I came 27th all in all (24th male), out of 629 runners. The pack of women that I had in front of me virtually the whole race were indeed the leading ladies, just like I'd thought. The weird thing about the official results is that they added 30 seconds to everyone's time. The timer clearly showed 1:27:57 when I crossed it, and my watch said the same; where those extra 30 seconds are coming from I really do not know. I'll stick by my original time, not that it matters. What the results did show is that I managed to overtake 8 runners on the second half of the race. That's pretty good, I reckon.

When I saw the photos from the finish I remembered that my statement that I had not been overtaken since mile 3.5 was incorrect. One of the guys I had overtaken over the last half mile managed to outkick me right on the line, which is probably why he looked so happy.

Instead of taking it easy on Monday, I followed my possibly flawed theory that running on tired legs is excellent endurance training. Therefore, less than 20 hours after crossing the line, I left home for a hilly 15-mile jaunt around Caragh Lake. The entire back of my left leg was a mess, my heel, my calf and my hamstring all hurt, and I made a deal with myself. I would run up to the Devil's Elbow ridge, until the t-junction. If my leg still hurt I'd go left for a 8.5 mile Devil's Elbow loop, otherwise I'd turn right for my original run around the lake. The legs came round surprisingly quickly, and by the time I reached the junction I was in full autopilot mode and turned right without even thinking. I only snapped back in consciousness half a mile later, and by then there was no doubt that I'd continue on. The run went surprisingly well, but my one concession to sanity was that I didn't try and push the pace over the last 5 miles, like I usually do; instead I was content plodding along at 8:30 pace. Usually my quads are the first things that start hurting late into a long run, but they were fine, instead my hamstrings got tighter as I got closer to home. I'm wondering if my quads have been strengthened by the 50 miles of cycling I do on my commute each week, or if that was just a once-off.

Apart from that run I was planning to recover, with lots of sleep, but alas, real life intervened. I did go to be early on Sunday, but Lola cried with pain in her legs. Niamh insisted on taking her to the doctor there and then (which I thought was entirely unnecessary, but Niamh doesn't share my mistrust of the medical profession), and the verdict was that it was lactic acid in her legs from running around all day. Kids these days, eh? Unfortunately, Maia was worse. She has the same sickness that had affected the entire rest of the family apart from me, and she was on antibiotics. Regrettably these seemed to really upset her, and we hardly got any sleep on Sunday and Monday night, her crying and our fruitless attempts to soothe her kept us awake for long hours. My bank holiday Monday was mostly spent carrying her around because she cried whenever I tried to put her down, and Daddy's shoulder is her Happy Place. It was clearly a case of the medicine being worse that the original problem, and Niamh finally managed to get a different prescription drug, which seems to agree with her. Let's hope that's the end of that particular episode.

I had originally intended to run long again today but opted for another recovery day instead, mostly to catch up on sleep; my legs are fine. As usually happens after a race, my heart rate drops a level in the aftermath, and that seems to happen again. I guess I'm getting into shape just in time for the Cork marathon, at least that's what I'm hoping for. There is one other problem though; my hay fever is really bad at the moment. I get this twice annually, once in April/May and a second, worse, time in June/July, and I don't think I've ever got the early bout as bad as this year. My eyes are itching like mad, and as much as I try to resist rubbing them, the urge to do so is overwhelming. In previous years I never had a problem while out running, but today I came home with tears streaming from my eyes. The one medicine that seems to help has the side effect of making me really drowsy, so I tend not to take it. I don't think falling asleep at work would be a good move. I can only hope this won't last much longer. It doesn't affect my training, but makes the rest of my day truly miserable.

5 May

15 miles, 2:06:34, 8:26 pace, HR 148

6 May

8.5 miles, 1:14:42, 8:47 pace, HR 135

7 May

6 miles, 51:32, 8:35 pace, HR 132