Abigail

The first of the winter storms hit us on Thursday. Most of these storms affect mainly the northern part of the island and here in Kerry we tend to get away lightly in comparison (until we don't). This one was somewhat cooperating in as much as it only struck properly once I had already finished my run on Thursday morning and mostly blew itself out before I went out again on Friday but I still had to deal with interesting conditions on both days. My standard procedure on particularly windy days is to run on the Ard-na-Sidhe road, where the trees give the advantage of providing some sort of wind shield but considering the amount of broken branches of all sizes on the road, this comes with its own dangers. I don't know how likely it is to be hit by a falling branch - clearly not very likely but it does happen and at times I do wonder.

Anyway, I got through it all without a scrape and a few more miles in the legs. I think my recent adjustments to my training worked very well. I still try to run a bit faster once a week but no longer at 7:10 pace and HR 160, more at 7:30 pace and HR 150, which leaves the body in much better condition and doesn't require two recovery days on stiff and tired legs. I'm pretty much back to the base training MC had me do - it only took me about 4.5 years to work that out for myself.

Abigail's yellow weather warning had only been in place until Friday morning but unfortunately the next one fit in seamlessly. The plan had been to run over the Windy Gap on Saturday but I was not sure how safe that would have been in those conditions and pored over the map for an alternative. I like to think I found a pretty good one - 4 loops of a hilly run with a very steep road for climbing and a gentler one for descending and the overall elevation change was similar to what the mountain run would have been like. Conditions were testing at times - at one point I thought it may have been hailstoning but it was just the rain being blown sideways with quite some force by the rather strong wind. The legs, however, handled it all pretty well - I must have been building up some decent amount of leg strength by now.

An unusual amount of procrastination brought some unexpected and undeserved rewards on Sunday. After looking out of the window for an hour until finally putting on the shoes and going for a run I realised that the rain had unexpectedly pretty much died down. The wind was still here, of course, but that was never going to go away today. I made it unnecessarily hard for myself by running too fast over the first half. Two or three times I consciously slowed down but each time the legs spun up again as soon as I stopped paying attention. I paid the price for that towards the end and the last 4, 5 miles sucked more than they had to.

Even so, it was a pretty good week of training. I managed over 83 miles and the pace is moving towards 8-minute miles on my easy runs.

12 Nov

10 miles, 1:21:10, 8:07 pace, HR 146

13 Nov

12 miles, 1:37:10, 8:06 pace, HR 144

14 Nov

12.6 miles, 1:43:59, 8:15 pace, HR 149

   very hilly

15 Nov

17 miles, 2:16:39, 8:02 pace, HR 146

The 12 Days Of Sparta

The mileage this week was a rather modest 56 miles. Just looking at that number you might think I was recovering from Dingle and/or have started my taper, but in actual fact you'd be wrong.

Almost every run this week was a stressor, though I made sure to stress different elements on consecutive days. As for the taper, since I haven't done any training that would require tapering, this will be a rather short one. I've still got one week of training left, though I won't be doing any mad stuff. I'll then take it easy the last few days before the race but that's it.

The legs felt surprisingly fresh on Friday when I would have expected them to be stiff and tired after Thursday's intervals. I did another heat adaptation run, hoping that it would work despite the heavy rain. I wrapped myself into 4 layers once more but tried to take it a tad easier than on Tuesday when I felt I had gotten into slightly dangerous territory. This work is exhausting! The heart rate shows how hard I had to work despite the slow pace and I was definitely glad to be back home. Once I stopped running I had the same lightheaded feeling as on Tuesday, despite thinking I had taken it easier. Also, my HR was actually higher than on Tuesday, so something in my body did not agree with the easy effort. However, I recovered quickly and had none of the confused state that had scared me a bit two days earlier.

I did my standard 10 mile run on Saturday, the same run that would be the run-of-the-mill run in my training, except that I had not done one in months due to the time out with injury. Despite all the progress I have made over the last few weeks it did show that I am still a big bit off top shape - I could have sworn I was moving faster than 7:55 pace, pushing sub-8 still requires more effort than I would have thought. I'm really surprised that I managed to run Dingle at that pace last Saturday and how easy that had felt - race day adrenaline is powerful stuff!

Probably the 2nd best sight in the world! - Photo by Nick Papageorge

To cap off the week I ventured into the mountains once again, despite the heavy rain. There were no views to be had this morning (what a shame!) but that's not what I had come for. I needed to get some more strength into those calf muscles. The left calf has felt very tight all week but some work with The Stick three times a day seems to have gotten me over the worst. Anyway, I took it very easy on that mountain, I wasn't out to break any records. The heavy rain has left its marks, I actually came across a spot where a very recent landslide (maybe as recent as last night, it looked rather fresh) has redecorated the road - I did wonder if it was safe to continue but thankfully the rest of the way was unaffected by anything. The plan had been to spend 2 hours on that mountain. I expected that road to take a few minutes less but due to the slow pace I hit the time almost exactly. Yes, I can run faster than that but today was all about time on feet and getting some strength into the climbing legs.

Sparta is getting close.

11 Sep

8 miles, 1:06:49, 8:21 pace, HR 154

   heat adaptation run

12 Sep

10 miles, 1:19:18, 7:55 pace, HR 146

13 Sep

12.15 miles, 2:00:13, 9:53 pace, HR 145

   Windy Gap x 2

Good Times In Cork

I have been pacing in the Cork City marathon for 5 years in a row now. I enjoy it very much and it would take quite something for me to miss that, and the small matter of a World Championship 7 weeks beforehand was certainly not reason to break that sequence. The pacers are always very well looked after in Cork and the pacing gear, which we get to keep, is always top quality. That's in contrast to Dublin where we are equally well looked after but the gear isn't always up to scratch.

Anyway, about a week before the race Niamh asked "are you staying in the River Lee hotel", and since that probably happens to be our favourite hotel in Ireland (not that we have sampled a lot of them) she more or less insisted on coming along. We then added daughter Lola to the mix and this quickly started to resemble a family outing rather than a pacing job. Family circumstances also dictated that I would miss the Expo entirely (a Frozen sing-along and dress-up is basically compulsory for Maia, no compromises) but I did manage to show up at the pacers' meeting point on Monday morning in time and it all worked out well.

I gave Grellan a bit of an earful for bailing out of the 3:15 pace group and leaving me to get the job done on my own but he didn't seem too bothered. It did deprive me of the chance to be part of the oldest 3:15 pacing duo in history but maybe we can do that next year as long as our creaking bodies hold up for another 12 months. Jo had organised for another lad to jump in at mile 10 to help out in case I wasn't quite up to the job for 26.2 miles, but until then I had the responsibility for the entire 3:15 group resting on my shoulders alone.

The weather forecast had been scary at times but seemed to improve slightly as the race date got closer. We knew that plenty of rain and wind were going to arrive at some stage, the question remained when. General consensus amongst the pacers was that we would be alright; we just hoped for dry weather at the start. Once you get moving, a bit of rain isn't too bothersome.

About to get going. Photo by Derek Costello

We started on time and got going. The first quarter mile was the usual game of dodging the idiots who had started right at the front and then proceeded to block the runners behind (I'm deliberately not mincing my words here. If you start right at the front and then run at 10-minute mile pace you're an idiot who is endangering yourself as well as the runners behind you), but thankfully we got past that stage quickly and without incident and from thereon settled into our pace, which I expected to be around 7:20 on my GPS device. I had done a few pacing miles on Thursday to get a feel for the pace and while it had felt manageable, it was definitely a bit challenging. I was therefore surprised how easy it felt on marathonday. I was basically jogging along perfectly relaxed and with very little apparent effort. So far so good.

Mile 1. Photo by Derek Costello

I missed the first 2 mile markers and at mile 3 found that we were 2 seconds behind. Ideally you want to be a few seconds ahead, and while the gap was too small to be a problem I realised that I had to up the pace slightly - 7:20 on the watch wasn't going to do it, 7:16-7:18 was more like it. That was faster than expected but I still felt perfectly comfortable at that pace. None of the pacees complained either, but the fact that the wind would have been at our backs at that point sure did help.

Passing the first relay exchange shortly after mile 5 provided a bit of excitement. Having a relay in a marathon can be a two-edged sword. There is always a big buzz at the relay stations and if you're feeling good, this is going to make you feel even better. If you're having a bad day, however, being overtaken by a new batch of fresh runners every 5 miles can be soul-destroying. Luckily, as a pacer I've never had that problem (yet!).

We went through the tunnel and after we had climbed out at the other side I could tell my group that they had already mastered the worst climb of the day. The next stretch was the first one to be a bit more challenging as we were running right into the headwind for a while and it clearly required an increase in effort. With only about a third of the race done everyone (at least everyone I could see) was still felt fresh enough to respond.

After 9 miles we were joined by our second pacer. I had been a bit dubious about the idea of having a new pacer jump in but have to admit that it was a good idea. It certainly took the pressure off me being solely responsible for the entire group and I knew the guys and lady would be taken care off even if I had to drop off for whatever reason.

Because the pace between the mile markers and the watch was so different, I had to keep a close eye on the markers to keep us on pace, because obviously it's the official markers that count, not the virtual miles on your watch. It wasn't a major issue but it made things a little bit more complicated. It certainly was a factor for miles 10 and 11 being a bit fast - not by much but closer to 7-minute pace than I would have planned. The fact that they were net downhill and with an increasingly strong wind at our back was undoubtedly the main contributor. I did apologise to the group but the main consensus was that having half a minute extra in the bag wasn't a bad thing with a few miles against that wind just about to come.

Photo by Doug Minihane

As we went around the sharp corner at Blackrock castle, one runner in the group had a fall. I don't know if he was tripped or stumbled over the kerb, but he executed a perfect side roll manoeuvre and got up quickly, having lost no time and luckily unhurt. I was actually quite impressed by the nimble reaction. I don't look anything like that when I take a fall!

Photo by Doug Minihane

The next couple of miles along the water, and right into the wind, were as challenging as expected. The group still held together well. The first casualty arrived just before mile 13, when a loud POP signalled that for the first time ever I was going to arrive at the end of a pacing job without my balloon. I'm sure some of the runners behind me weren't particularly sad as it meant no more balloon bouncing on heads or into faces in the windy conditions.

We got to the halfway mark about 40 seconds ahead of time, pretty much where I would have wanted to be. The next few miles were a bit of a breather, sheltered against the conditions on the old railway line. I really like that stretch and on the rare occasions when I'm in Cork for a training run I generally go there as it's ideal for running. Close to the 15 mile mark the other balloon popped as well. Luckily, at that point most of the runners recognised us as pacers even without the balloons, and we still had blue signs on our back identifying as as 3:15 pacers for anyone running behind us.

Photo by Kieran Minihane

After passing the marina, another relay point and a good crowd making plenty of noise, it was time to start working hard and getting the job done. Mile 18 especially was tough climbing up the South Link Road and once more right into a headwind that seemed to be getting stronger. It didn't get any easier after that because what followed were a few miles with rolling hills, still very much wind affected. This stretch was going to make or break your race.

For the most of it I was still feeling reasonably comfortable but on a few of those climbs I definitely started breathing hard and had to put in a real effort. Still, by that time I knew for sure that I was going to be able to finish the job.

Photo by Joe Murphy

The legendary Mary Sweeney had been just ahead of the group for quite some time and then ran with us for a while. Her pace had been so steady that at one stage I remarked that next year there was no need for 3:15 pacers, just follow Mary. Unfortunately she eventually did fall behind a bit but she finished not far behind me.

Just like last every year, these were the miles where the group fell apart. It always happens that way, the pacing group stays together until a few miles after the halfway point and then runners drop off one by one. If you're lucky, a fair few runners will manage to stay with you and you might add to the group when catching a runner ahead who will then be able to hang on. If you're unlucky you will cross the finish line on your own.

Thankfully, Cork is a big enough marathon to provide a sufficient number of runners to keep a core group together even for the later miles. A few runners would finish 2, 3, 5 or more minutes behind but as the 3:15 pacer you can expect to bring about half a dozen runners with you all the way.

Photo by Gearóid Ó Laoi

Shortly after passing the 22 mile point there is a downhill stretch followed by two right turns and that signals you're on the home straight. There are still 4 miles to be completed but the hills are behind you and on most days, including today, you have the wind mostly on your back. A group of 4 or 5 runners pulled slightly ahead of me and for a few minutes I ran at their pace before I realised that the guys had upped the pace a bit and I was going a little bit too fast. At that point I was about 40 or 50 seconds ahead of time and maybe 20 metres ahead of the other pacer so I eased up a little bit. Every time I caught up to another runner I encouraged them to stay with me. Only one of them let me know that there was nothing left, all others at least hung on for a while. Once they fell behind they got further encouragement from the rest of the group just behind me, which helped them again.

The rest of our group caught up to me just after 25 miles and we ran home together. A few guys and girls were struggling, cramps not helping, but everyone dug in deep and then, finally, we crossed the bridge and headed for the finish. I crossed the line in a official chip time of 3:14:38, which is pretty accurate pacing and I was rather pleased with that. Coincidentally, my gun time was exactly 3:15:00. I could claim to be a pacing genius but that was complete coincidence (and in fact, when I crossed the line I thought I had about 2 seconds in hand on gun time).

The watch showed 26.52 miles at the end, which is rather long but consistent with previous Cork marathons. Strangely enough, the difference between the official mile markers and the watch seemed to decrease over the last 10 miles after steadily growing for the first 16. I really had to keep a close eye on the markers today. Please note, however, that I do not question the accuracy of the course. I know the guy who measured it and have full confidence in him.

Due to my slow recovery after Turin I had been a bit nervous beforehand, but I had felt much more comfortable than I could have expected. However, once I stopped running my legs started feeling rather sore, more so than usual, and the walk back to the hotel was less than comfortable. The weather was also turning nasty at that point. We had been caught by a few rain showers and a few hefty gusts of wind on the road but until 12 o'clock it was still mostly okay, After that, however, it got worse by the minute and while the 3:15 pace group had clearly escaped the worst I felt sorry for the slower runners who had to battle some awful conditions.

Congratulations to all the runners in Cork, especially of course my own pace group. Thank you to everyone who said hello and who congratulated me on the run in Turin, either before, during or after the race, I was really flattered by the attention. I really enjoyed running this marathon, I hope you did as well.

Incidentally, my two ladies enjoyed being pampered in the spa of the River Lee hotel as well. I think they already booked themselves in for next year. I better be ready once more.

1 Jun

Cork City Marathon

3:14:38, 7:25 pace, HR 158, 3:15 pacer

2 Jun

5 miles, 47:25, 9:24 pace, HR 141

Autumn Blues

It is 6:40 am Friday morning, it is cold, dark, windy and raining heavily. My left Achilles is feeling rather stiff, as is my right knee. I can only move slowly and everything feels awkward. I am feeling distinctly uncomfortable and would definitely prefer a warm cosy bed to this. Heck, even a cold, hard bed would be better than this.

Half a mile later I am warmed up, feeling much better and running smoothly now. Another half mile later and the rain has stopped. Perfect. Just keep running. The next 7 miles pass by mostly on autopilot.

Saturday was a bit nicer. There was a shower while I got ready but I could see the blue skies in the west and did not dally. The last drop fell just after I had started my run and half an hour later even the sun came out to join me. Lovely. What surprised me even more was the pace on the Garmin when I gave it a quick peek. I'm not sure if I should be annoyed with myself for running a bit too fast on an easy day or if I should be delighted that 7:34 pace felt so remarkably easy.

It was downright miserable again on Sunday and this time I could see no break in the clouds, so out in the rain I went. And come to think of it, Met Eireann had promised us a dry morning; shows what they know. Anyway, it was a rather lousy day for being outside and somewhere around mile 7 or 8 I wished to be anywhere else, but felt better again after a while.

There is no such thing as bad weather. Just bad excuses. And it did occur to me that training in those kind of conditions was exactly what made me come second last year in Bangor amongst a group of amazing runners that I would not have a business competing against in normal circumstances.

The other thing I remembered was that last year it was at the middle of November that I finally started to feel good again after several months of recovery from running 126 miles. This year I "only" ran 100 miles five weeks later in the year, but I seem to be coming round exactly the same time again. Things are definitely looking good on the running front.

8 Nov

8 miles, 1:01:54, 7:44 pace, HR 139

9 Nov

8 miles, 1:00:34, 7:34 pace, HR 144

10 Nov

13 miles, 1:41:13, 7:47 pace, HR 139

So Near And Yet So Far

I went into this race with unclear targets. It was not a goal race, not even close. I don't run goal races 3 weeks after a marathon. I did not taper for it, just took it easy for two days, otherwise I was training right through it. Nevertheless I was very much looking forward to it. Tom Enright and his crew always put on a fantastic event.

And yet, last year I had somehow managed to win this race, and a repeat would be nice. The plan was to run it as a training run, and if there was a chance of winning (which obviously depended more on who would turn up rather than my own performance) then push that little bit harder and see what happens.

I arrived in Sixmilebridge in good time and all we talked about were the freezing conditions, but we were sure we would be fine once we started moving. Time passed quickly and before I knew it we were at the start line. There were many familiar faces around, but no fast guys that I would have recognised.

Right at the start I took off together with Deirdre Finn, running 7:30 pace, exactly like last year. The main difference was that one other runner in a yellow top and red shorts was doing 7:00 miles and quickly opened a gap. I was undecided if I should go with him, but decided to wait and see, which would save me from putting out an effort that would unduly set back my training for Tralee, because Tralee was and still is my actual goal race and I did not want to compromise my preparations for that race.

There were 4 races going on today, the double-marathon runners had already been out for 3 hours by the time we started and the marathon and half-marathon runners would join us later on. The race course was very unusual, a 1-mile loop through Sixmilebridge, and included a hill that climbs by 17 or 18 meters. Over 30 miles that adds up to over 500 meters of elevation change, a rather significant number. I find 30 small hills much easier than a long, sustained climb, but opinion amongst runners remained firmly divided on that matter.

Photo by Jason Fahy

I got a bit of feedback from the double-marathon runners as I passed them, some telling me that the "other guy" was huffing and puffing up the hill and would blow up eventually, but I mostly kept an eye out for him myself, seeing that he gained 10-20 seconds per mile, while I spent the first 3 miles mostly chatting with Dee. Eventfully, going up the hill the fourth time, I decided to push a bit harder to make sure the gap to the leader would not grow too big. I wasn't worried about blowing up myself - after all, at that point there was only  one marathon left.

I initially gained back some distance, but on the fifth lap (or was it the sixth) I spent a minute chatting to Ray, the leader and eventual winner of the double-marathon, and when I took up the chase up again the guy in front had dropped from sight. I was confused, I couldn't understand how he had opened up such a gap all of a sudden, but decided to just keep a steady pace; if he blew up I would catch him later, if he was able to genuinely keep at 7:00 minute pace for 30 miles then all kudos to him.

According to the weather forecast the rain was supposed to hold off until after midday. We had started at 10 o'clock and I hoped I would have done most of the race by the time the rain arrived. Unfortunately it started drizzling about 45 minutes into the race, and by the time the marathon started at 11 it was already getting seriously wet. For the rest of the day there was to be no respite, the conditions got progressively worse. With the rain came the wind and the cold, eventually big puddles formed and by the end parts of the course were basically flooded. But hey, living in Kerry means I'm used to that.

Photo by Jason Fahy

The average pace on my Garmin dropped steadily, from 7:20 early on down to 7:03, 7:02 and 7:01 after a while. Obviously that means that I ran a few sub-7 miles, which I always felt was a bit fast for an ultra, but I was always quite comfortable, though I might indeed have blown up myself had I run any faster. Looking at the splits from the race results now, I can see that my adversary steadily ran a few seconds per lap faster, gaining about 10 seconds each time.

Unfortunately it was far from plain sailing, my stomach started acting up even before the 10 mile point. It was manageable at first, more like hunger pains, but it started cramping badly later on as the race progressed. I took 2 gels and a couple of sports drink, which I could stomach easily enough, but any more would have been pushing my luck.

I went going through the halfway point still feeling pretty good but as I was nearing the 20 mile mark I started slowing down, and my stomach took a turn for the worse. I considered going to the toilet each time I passed the GAA ground, but each time felt it might settle again and hoped that I would be able to finish before a pitstop became required.

Running laps and laps and laps of the same course means all events become jumbled in your memory, and it all blends into one. Early on I was chatty enough each time I passed another runner, later on I became quieter and quieter, and eventually I basically stopped talking altogether. That happens every time in similar circumstances, I can use my willingness to exchange a few words as a gauge of how fresh I am.

Getting close to the marathon  point I was really starting to suffer. The legs, while tired, were still holding up but the stomach was in knots. At one point Niall Campbell, who was stewarding, told me I was about 4 minutes behind the leader and he was slowing down, but I told him it didn't matter because I was f*cked myself (excuse my language). And still I kept running past the GAA ground without stopping.

Just as I about to finish the 26th mile I realised that I was slowing down so much that the runners I had just overtaken were going past me again. I basically admitted defeat in the race, and this time I stopped at the GAA ground for a pitstop. To be honest, it was very much needed, I would not have lasted another half hour.

I lost about 90 extra seconds in there, but as soon as I started running again I realised that I had my running legs back. Apparently my stomach cramps had sapped much of my energy, now with that problem out of the way I was able to speed up considerably, from 7:33 in lap 25 to 7:16 in lap 27 and 7:04 in 28. I passed the marathon in 3:09, despite the emergency stop, which actually makes this one of my faster marathons, despite the fact that I still had almost 4 miles to run at that point.

Chasing victory seemed futile, but I gave the race my best shot, more for my own satisfaction than a real conviction that I could actually win. The announcer at the finish line noticed it as well, he commented that I was looking strong again all of a sudden.

Going into the last lap I still could not see the leader, which means I was more than a minute behind him. Pointless. I still ran as fast as I could. Then, halfway through the lap, all of a sudden I could see him, for the first time in 25 miles, halfway up the hill just as I was at the bottom. I gave it my best shot, ran as fast as I could, but when he turned the corner at the top he still seemed too far ahead. When I reached that point myself he was much closer than I thought he would be and I gave chase with seemingly all that I had left.

I caught him with less than a quarter mile to go. For a couple of seconds the thought that I was going to win the race after all was filling my head, but then I heard him, cursing loudly and coming after me. I'm not sure if he was swearing directly at me (which would have been a bit severe, considering the kind of language he used), or at himself, or if it was just his way to pump himself up for the finish, but he caught me again, still cursing loudly. I was slow to react and let him go past instead of trying properly to hold him off and all of a sudden I found myself a couple of meters behind again, with next to nothing left in the race.

29.99 miles into it. Photos by Sean Power

Sprinting was never my forte, I have absolutely no natural speed, and despite giving it all I was up against it. I can't say I didn't try, and I might even have managed to close the gap a little bit at the end but it was futile and now I know what it feels like to be losing out by a whisker.

I lay on the ground, completely exhausted and in utter disbelief of what had just happened. Ultra races are not decided in a sprint finish! But here we were, him celebrating, me sucking oxygen into desperately empty lungs as if through a straw. Eventually he helped me up and we gave each other a (manly) hug, each acknowledging the other's effort.

Race over, friends again!

All finish line photos kindly provided by Sean Power.

It was only then that I could ask his name and found out that my conqueror was called Fergus McCarthy, up to then he had just been that nameless competitor up front.

Obviously I was disappointed to have missed out on a rare victory by the smallest of margins, but I could live with that. I had a warm shower but started shaking and shivering. As I went back towards the tent at the finish, Tom Enright took one look at me and immediately dragged me off to the ambulance where I spent the next 10 or 15 minuted recovering from mild hypothermia. Eventually the shivering stopped and a few minutes later I was feeling sufficiently recovered to leave. I didn't hang around much longer, though. The freezing cold, rain and wind were still there and I was better off making an exit with the car's heating turned up full blast.

I had plenty of time thinking about the race since. This was a race I definitely could have won. I'm not blaming my lack of speed - I could have avoided a sprint finish. It was a tactical mistake to let Fergus go at the start. I have learned last year that holding a commanding lead in a race gives you a big boost, and I handed that boost to him on a plate. When I started chasing him I should have done so with more conviction rather that keeping a steady pace and hoping that he would eventually blow up.

Most of all, I should have set a clear target. Either treat a race as a training run and leave it at that, or decide that you are going for the win, but do not mix the two. Trying to win without giving it your best shot is a stupid tactic, and just because I managed to win last year did not mean a repeat performance was on the cards. In light of that, I'm happy enough that I came second - I did not deserve first place. If the opportunity will come again I do not know, but should it ever do so then I will be better prepared, tactically as well as mentally.

Sixmilebridge has not seen the last of me.

18 Nov

Eddie Murphy memorial race, 30 miles
3:35:46, 7:11 pace, HR 158, second place

Blame It On The Rain

This was certainly an interesting week. We had the cheating Frenchmen with plenty of fallout that is only just starting to subside, my office has moved yet again, for the third time in 6 years, and of course we've had the rain.

This time the weather Gods really mean business. When I had been whining about wind and rain in the past I had no idea what a week of sustained stormy weather is really like. We don't get hurricanes in these parts but this is the next best thing. Half the country is flooded (the western half, to be precise), half of Cork City is without running water for at least one week, and for once all that is not an exaggeration. When I drove to Killarney this morning the river Laune was so high you could only tell its original course by the trees lining it. The shore line itself has been totally washed out and everything close to it is under water.

I guess I was sorta lucky yesterday when I managed to get out early in the morning for 5 miles. It was raining buckets but there seemed to be a lull in the wind when I took the opportunity. Of course, had I waiting for 2 hours I would have enjoyed running in the unexpected sunshine. On the other hand, had I left it 2 further hours the thunderstorm would have surprised (and scared) me right in the middle.

Even so, I didn't feel great. The hamstrings were as tight as piano strings, and I cannot really explain why my heart rate was higher than on Friday, despite running only half the distance and a good bit slower. I cannot blame the Dublin marathon forever.

When I wrote last weeks race report, making out how I did not race, I had no idea that this would be followed by a far more literal non-race. I was already in Killarney this morning, doing a swim to practice for my next lesson when I got a text message that today's race was cancelled. Apparently all three possible race courses were under water, which didn't come as much of a surprise. At least I did not have to worry about racing after tiring myself out in the pool. There is something very unnatural about swimming for someone who is used to running: the fact that you basically have to hold your breath for half the workout doesn't come easily.

It was not a wasted trip as I had to go shopping anyway, but any hopes I had of sneaking in a run after my return were thwarted by the storm outside our window. Eventually I hooked up my bike onto the indoor trainer and spun for 45 minutes. That was my longest “bike ride” yet, and it's still nowhere near proper training. But it bet twiddling my thumps hands down.

They just promised some improvement for tomorrow morning. Great! Let's hope they are right. I might not be in training right now, but the low mileage is starting to worry me a bit. 26 miles this week, that's next to nothing. The last time I was was doing so few miles I was bed-ridden with pneumonia.

21 Nov

5 miles, 40:17, 8:03 pace, HR 156

22 Nov

0 miles. 25 min swim, 45 min bike, HR 155

If you add my weekend activities together it's almost a triathlon.

Fallout

As soon as I woke on Wednesday I realised that I would be reminded of Tuesday’s hill session for some time to come. I had expected the quads to be sore, but they were absolutely fine. Instead my calves were in pretty bad shape. I wasn’t exactly looking forward to running on that pair of stumps, but Wednesday is the easiest day of my week, and I guess that helped. I ran alongside Caragh Lake, and when the watch said 30:30, I turned around. I usually run the second part a bit faster than the first and expected to be back home in exactly one hour, but must have accelerated a bit more than expected, because I was back in just over 59 minutes. The calves did behave somewhat while out running, but were rather sore for the rest of the day. Walking from one part of the office to the next one without anyone noticing my funny walk was a challenge.

I could only hope that I would feel better for today’s first part of my long run double header, but expected to actually feel worse. This was confirmed at 4 o’clock in the morning when I was woken by Cian’s crying. I limped to his bed, and he eventually calmed down (he’d had a nightmare), but refused to go back asleep in his bed because he was scared. I carried him into our bed, but it basically meant the end of my night’s sleep – it’s almost impossible to sleep beside that boy, he keep trashing about. What little sleep I got after that was finally brought to an end by the alarm clock at 5:10 am. The heavy rain that had fallen all night had thankfully stopped, but the gale force wind had not, and I resolved to cancel my initial plans to run around Caragh Lake and do two devil’s elbow loops instead, where there is some shelter on the part of the road that heads into the wind. I was just about to leave when the rain returned with a vengeance, and waited for about 3 minutes until the worst of that particular downpour was over. I correctly suspected that I would have to deal with similar conditions later out on the road though. Most of the country had snow today. Kerry had torrential rain.

The course did include the steep climb up to the devil’s elbow not just once but twice, and boy, was it hard work. I have run it so often in the last few weeks that I no longer think of it as particularly challenging, but today it was hard work, especially on the second loop. Cresting the hill has never felt so good, and I celebrated by running the second loop a good bit faster than the first (1:10 for the first, 1:07 for the second). Considering how bad my calves felt I was surprised by my pace, especially the sub-8 pace for the second loop. I’m not complaining, but I do hope that I won’t have to pay for my exuberance on tomorrow’s second part of the double header.

The calves, especially the left one, are still dealing with the fallout from Tuesday’s hill session. I was so sore at lunchtime that I wondered if it really is DOMS or some more serious signs of injury, but I’ve stopped being paranoid since. I guess I’ll know more by tomorrow. I expect to feel better in the morning; let’s wait and see.

7 Feb: 7.5 miles, 59:02, 7:52 pace, avg. HR 149
8 Feb: 17 miles, 2:17:26, 8:05 pace, avg. HR 151

Sequence

Monday morning I finally got tired of the same 5-mile route to Ard-na-Sidhe and went on a different loop. I decided to circle one of the local hills beside Caragh Lake called the water-witch (the actual name is in Irish, of course, but I can’t remember it now. I might look it up, if someone’s interested). The road climbs quite a bit and passes between the water-witch and another, higher, mountain called Seefin. I guess the elevation gain is a bit more than 100 meters in just over a mile. Running uphill felt much easier than expected, and I tried to relax on the way down. Halfway down the mountain I came across a dirt road that I had planned to scout out, and headed that way. What had not taken into account was the fact that it had been raining for several days, and the dirt track had turned into a muddy mess; at 7 o’clock in the morning the light wasn’t exactly ideal, especially for someone as short-sighted as me. I originally tried to avoid the deepest puddles and gingerly found my around them, but of course I managed to step right into one eventually, and from then on I just ploughed my way through the ankle-deep mess. Once I nearly lost my shoe, but apart from that I didn’t encounter any problems. Eventually I ended up back on the road, right beside Caragh Lake, exactly 3 miles from home. That’s when the rain returned with a vengeance, but I guess coming off a muddy path a premature shower isn’t such a bad idea.

Today I nearly broke my sequence. No, not the one about running every day, the one about running in the rain every day. It had been raining all night, and when I initially woke at 6 I could still hear the wind and rain against the window. I got up about half an hour later. The boys woke as well, and after preparing some breakfast for them and getting ready myself I went out and was pleasantly surprised by the fact that the rain had stopped. It was time for another mundane Ard-na-Sidhe loop, but after about 3 miles my left hamstring started to tighten quite badly. I’m not sure what caused it, but I kept feeling “something” all day. I can’t tell for sure if it’s an early sign of an injury or just another twinge, but I’ll do the same as always – I keep on running and if it gets worse, I’ll think of something else. And I’ll ice it. Anyway, about a quarter-mile away from home the rain returned, thus keeping my sequence going. That makes eight rainy runs in a row. Let’s see how long I can stretch this one. Oh, I’m counting the hail as a rainy run as well; frozen water is still water.

20 Nov: 6.25 miles, 54:52, 8:46 pace, avg. HR 154, one big climb
21 Nov: 5 miles, 43:49, 8:45 pace, avg. HR 153