Looking Back, Looking Forward

When I looked at the official results page I realised I made a mistake in my race report; since I stopped the Garmin several seconds after crossing the finish line, the last mile was actually a good bit faster than the 7:13 I reported – it was closer to 7:00, which comfortably makes it my fastest mile of the day. Being able to pull off a 7:00 mile without even pushing the pace at the end of a 30 mile race is a good place to be.

Despite the fact that I let my competitive instincts get the better of me, I don’t regret a single thing. Given the chance I’d do it again, without a second thought. Winning feels great, even in a non-competitive event like Sunday’s. Of course it goes without saying that a) if it had been a competitive event I would not have won and even so, b) the single most important factor in me winning the 30 mile race was the fact that Mick Rice had decided to “only” run the marathon.

I had not mentioned it, but in Dublin quite a few people told me that I looked a lot younger in real life than in the pictures from my blog. I got the same comments again on Sunday, with the clear suggestion to change my profile picture. The funny thing is, right at this moment I am actually 3.5 years OLDER than my profile picture, which was taken around mile 15 in the 2008 Cork marathon. I guess the 15 miles have added a few years to my face. Problem is, this is a running blog and I'm struggling to find a photo of me running where I don’t look like Quasimodo’s less handsome older brother. Just like that one from Sunday:


I also need a haircut.

I remember standing in the pub in Sixmilebridge before the prize ceremony, when they brought out a few plates of sandwiches. They made the mistake of putting one right in front of me. Without thinking and without noticing what I was doing, I gobbled up almost the entire plate on my own. I was genuinely embarrassed when I realised what I had done – not embarrassed enough to not grab yet another sandwich from another plate on my way out, though. I must have been craving that food after the race, and I firmly believe that the time immediately after such a run you should give in to those cravings; your body knows what it needs. Apologies to all the other runners who might have been left starving after my binge are in order, though.

Let’s move on. Every time I got asked on Sunday if I would go to Clonakilty in 3 weeks, I responded with “if I get permission”, elegantly shifting the blame to my lovely wife should I be unable to make an appearance. Actually, and reluctantly, I have now decided to give this a miss and it has nothing to do with Niamh and all to do with me trying not to overtrain.

The evaluation I ran last Thursday clearly showed some deep fatigue lingering in my system, and that was even before I added 30 miles at 7:23 pace on top of it. As much fun as I had on Sunday, my goal remains Connemara and I want to get there in the best possible shape and right now that means stepping back a bit and giving the legs a break. It’s not just the evaluation, ever since Dublin my running log has been filled with comments “fine”, “bad”, “good”, “legs like concrete pilars”, “fine again”, and so on, a complete mix of good and bad days without any noticeable pattern, and I can’t go into the next training phase like that. Sixmilebridge was a magic day, but I don’t want it to be a once-off, and for that I need to step back and relax for a while.

Following that, and in marked contrast to my days post Dublin, I have not run a single step yet this week, despite not feeling tired and not feeling sore at all; even walking down a staircase does not provide any discomfort whatsoever. That’s good, but I prefer erring on the side of caution for once, and my former coach, who still has an eye on my training, is very much in agreement.

Still, easy running will resume shortly and I'm looking forward to it.

21 Nov

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22 Nov

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23 Nov

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