I could never resist the Scottish charm, and if she wants to read about a “'typical day' in the life of Thomas”, how can I refuse? But you should know that it puts you into a minority of one, Yvonne.
Monday, 5:55am. The alarm goes off and I immediately and silently curse myself for going to bed late once again last night. Every morning I swear that from tonight on I’ll hit the hay at 10 pm, and every evening the vow is broken. Anyway, 12 miles are on the program, and less than 15 minutes after getting up I’m out of the house. The run goes exceedingly well, and I’m on a high when I come back, a few minutes before my usual return time of 7:45. It’s early enough to catch my wife in bed with another man – but since he’s only 3 years old, I won’t cause a scene. The other boy, Shea, is up by now, of course, and demands porridge for breakfast. It takes longer to make than cereal, and by the time I’ve prepared it for him, Cian has extricated himself from mummy's bed and demands the same, so I go through the same procedure for a second time. Then I can finally have my shower, and after that I wake Niamh from her beauty sleep. Lola is more difficulty to wake, that girl is a real sleepyhead. After finally coaxing her out of bed we can have a family breakfast. While Niamh packs lunch boxes for the kids, I get them dressed. Lola can usually be persuaded to dress herself, Shea usually can’t (unless you’re prepared to leave a few hours late), and Cian obviously needs my help. By now it’s time to leave, I kiss mummy and the twins goodbye (which can take 5 minutes) and Cian and me head off towards Killorglin. I drop him off at the crèche, and arrive at work, usually a few minutes late. My boss isn’t reading this, so I can admit that work is the one place where I don’t feel under pressure to perform 100%. If fact, I sometime feel guilty about not being fully committed to my work. The managers higher up in the food chain seem to disagree though, why else would they have given me a promotion this year? Anyway, nine hours later (I tend to work late, which is why my late arrivals are tolerated, I guess) I’m a free man again. Today is Monday, and I’m off to the gym for an hour. This means missing family dinner, but we do eat together 5 days of the week, which isn’t bad, I suppose. Coming home the first thing to do is to load up the washing machine (Niamh is banned from doing the laundry. I don’t want any more pink running socks or t-shirts, thank you very much) then I can eat my dinner, because by now I’ve turned into the Ravenous Beast. I try to find some time to fold away the cleaned laundry from the day before, and then it’s already time to get the kids ready for bed. On Monday, it’s a shared job, which makes it easier. On Tuesday (Niamh’s evening course), Wednesday (Yoga) and Thursday (Niamh’s working) I’ve got to do it on my own, which is more stressful than a day in the office. Eventually we manage to give baths to Cian, Lola and Shea (in random order); we tried giving them baths together, but each time it ended in a fight/mess/major flooding, and this practise is now officially banned. I don’t know how, but by now it’s about 8:30 pm, and that means story time. Each kid may pick one story and we (that’s the 3 of them and daddy) sit together and read them one by one. After teeth and wee-wees it’s time for bed, but they usually read for a few more minutes on their own (well, the twins read, Cian looks at pictures). We used to have them in bed by 9 pm, but as summer draws closer it’s usually closer to 9:30. Then I finally have some spare time, which I more often than not spend in front of the computer, blogging or emailing. Oh, and don’t forget to hang up the laundry. Of course this takes longer than 30 minutes, and my promise to be in bed by 10 o’clock is long forgotten – until the next morning, when I will be cursing myself again.
What do we learn from that? No, apart from the fact that my weekdays are rather boring, I mean. Firstly, if I don’t go running early morning, I never will. There simply isn’t the opportunity to do so. Secondly, we managed to establish a routine. Maybe it makes the average day less exciting, but once you’ve got a bunch of kids to look after, it’s rather essential.
Monday’s run was great, as mentioned. My heart rate is dropping again. Just a few days ago Mystery Coach mentioned that that can be a sign of overtraining, but that’s definitely not the case here. I just felt really good. Today was less enjoyable, 7 miles on the day after 12 miles in the morning and a strenuous hour in the gym in the evening felt much tougher, but even so I can notice progress. I don’t have to push the pace any more to stay under 8:00 pace. In fact, if I push the pace I end up running 7:30. Things are looking up.
21 May: 12 miles, 1:32:21, 7:41 pace, avg. HR 147 (cool and sunny, felt great)
22 May: 7 miles, 54:21, 7:45 pace, avg. HR 152 (rain. not funny)
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Sunday, May 20, 2007
The Vortex
The question of mileage and/or intensity keeps creeping up. Michael questioned my decision to increase my mileage and advocates higher intensity instead. Well, as numerous comments have shown, nobody seems to be sure how the best training effects can be gained. To some respect I’m doing both, because not only am I planning on running higher mileage than ever before, I’m also covering those miles a bit faster than during my previous training cycle. And don’t forget, this is mainly my base training we’re talking about. Once I switch to the hills phase, and later the anaerobic phase, my mileage will surely come down again, in order to accommodate the increased intensity.
I ran 15 miles on Friday, and I expected it to be quite tough, because it was the first time I’d covered more than 13 miles since the ultra, seven weeks ago. I kept to the by now familiar sub-8 pace, and felt mostly comfortable. The weather was downright awful, very windy with gale force gusts, and rain. I ran three loops from my house to Ard-na-Sidhe, pretty much the only sheltered road I’ve got, but I managed just fine. There had been many days of worse conditions over the winter months. I tried to run each 5-mile segment a little bit faster than the previous one, but didn’t succeed, because the last one was a few seconds slower then the middle one. Still, it went pretty well. I felt quite tired at mile 12 but recovered to finish reasonably strong.
Yesterday’s run was still on the same stretch of road, because while the rain had subsided and the wind calmed down, it was still quite blustery. Running the Ard-na-Sidhe stretch of the road back-and-forwards three times (if someone watched me, they would probably think I’m completely nuts [they might be right]), I covered 9 miles. Since many strong runners seem to advocate finishing your runs strongly, I accelerated towards the end, and was surprised to find the last 3.5 miles had only taken 26 minutes (7:25 pace, but neither the distance nor the time were measured particularly accurate). I felt rather good about that run.
Today, just after finishing my preparations and on the verge of getting out of the house for my run, I got sucked into what Mike once very aptly called the vortex. Shea got hungry, and I made him a bowl of breakfast, then Lola demanded one too, then Cian joined in on the act, then Lola wanted a drink, and Shea a second bowl of cereal, and then a drink for Cian, … you get the picture. After half an hour the brood seemed to be getting satisfied and I managed to leave. I hoped they would get back to their games afterwards and let Niamh sleep, but apparently two minutes later Cian stormed into our bedroom shouting “Get up mummy, mummy get up”. So much for that, but it was nearly 9 o’clock by then and Niamh didn’t mind too much.
Oh yes, the run. After finally extracting myself from the flock I covered the first mile in what felt like reasonable pace (close to 8:00) when I glanced at the HRM to find it displaying some ridiculously low number, 137 or so, despite running up a small incline. I did speed up after that and held my heart beat about 15-20 beats higher for the rest of the run. As a result I covered the 7 miles in 52:20, 7:28 pace, which is much faster than any other run recently. And it didn’t feel like a tempo run, just a reasonably strong aerobic effort. I’m still not sure where my best training intensity would be. Obviously I don’t want to run so hard that I end up injured, but I don’t want to miss out on further improvement either. On the other hand, I’ve improved so much over the last 12 months that I probably shouldn’t second-guess my training too much, it obviously worked well.
Shouts go out to Mark, who is running his first marathon in years just as I’m typing this, and congratulations go to Jack who survived a tough 50 km crawl in the mud and Cindy who finished her (first?) half-marathon in a storming time of 1:31. But the man on the moment is undoubtedly Cindy’s husband Eric, who managed a second-place finish in 2:33 at his debut marathon in Fargo. The only problem is, he either doesn’t quite grasp the enormity of his achievement, or he is way too modest. Either way, I’m awed.
18 May: 15 miles, 1:57:50, 7:51 pace, avg. HR 152 (wind and rain, awful)
19 May: 9 miles, 1:09:48, 7:45 pace, avg. HR 150 (still windy)
20 May: 7 miles, 52:20, 7:28 pace, avg. HR 152 (calm and sunny. Go figure)
Weekly mileage: 65
I ran 15 miles on Friday, and I expected it to be quite tough, because it was the first time I’d covered more than 13 miles since the ultra, seven weeks ago. I kept to the by now familiar sub-8 pace, and felt mostly comfortable. The weather was downright awful, very windy with gale force gusts, and rain. I ran three loops from my house to Ard-na-Sidhe, pretty much the only sheltered road I’ve got, but I managed just fine. There had been many days of worse conditions over the winter months. I tried to run each 5-mile segment a little bit faster than the previous one, but didn’t succeed, because the last one was a few seconds slower then the middle one. Still, it went pretty well. I felt quite tired at mile 12 but recovered to finish reasonably strong.
Yesterday’s run was still on the same stretch of road, because while the rain had subsided and the wind calmed down, it was still quite blustery. Running the Ard-na-Sidhe stretch of the road back-and-forwards three times (if someone watched me, they would probably think I’m completely nuts [they might be right]), I covered 9 miles. Since many strong runners seem to advocate finishing your runs strongly, I accelerated towards the end, and was surprised to find the last 3.5 miles had only taken 26 minutes (7:25 pace, but neither the distance nor the time were measured particularly accurate). I felt rather good about that run.
Today, just after finishing my preparations and on the verge of getting out of the house for my run, I got sucked into what Mike once very aptly called the vortex. Shea got hungry, and I made him a bowl of breakfast, then Lola demanded one too, then Cian joined in on the act, then Lola wanted a drink, and Shea a second bowl of cereal, and then a drink for Cian, … you get the picture. After half an hour the brood seemed to be getting satisfied and I managed to leave. I hoped they would get back to their games afterwards and let Niamh sleep, but apparently two minutes later Cian stormed into our bedroom shouting “Get up mummy, mummy get up”. So much for that, but it was nearly 9 o’clock by then and Niamh didn’t mind too much.
Oh yes, the run. After finally extracting myself from the flock I covered the first mile in what felt like reasonable pace (close to 8:00) when I glanced at the HRM to find it displaying some ridiculously low number, 137 or so, despite running up a small incline. I did speed up after that and held my heart beat about 15-20 beats higher for the rest of the run. As a result I covered the 7 miles in 52:20, 7:28 pace, which is much faster than any other run recently. And it didn’t feel like a tempo run, just a reasonably strong aerobic effort. I’m still not sure where my best training intensity would be. Obviously I don’t want to run so hard that I end up injured, but I don’t want to miss out on further improvement either. On the other hand, I’ve improved so much over the last 12 months that I probably shouldn’t second-guess my training too much, it obviously worked well.
Shouts go out to Mark, who is running his first marathon in years just as I’m typing this, and congratulations go to Jack who survived a tough 50 km crawl in the mud and Cindy who finished her (first?) half-marathon in a storming time of 1:31. But the man on the moment is undoubtedly Cindy’s husband Eric, who managed a second-place finish in 2:33 at his debut marathon in Fargo. The only problem is, he either doesn’t quite grasp the enormity of his achievement, or he is way too modest. Either way, I’m awed.
18 May: 15 miles, 1:57:50, 7:51 pace, avg. HR 152 (wind and rain, awful)
19 May: 9 miles, 1:09:48, 7:45 pace, avg. HR 150 (still windy)
20 May: 7 miles, 52:20, 7:28 pace, avg. HR 152 (calm and sunny. Go figure)
Weekly mileage: 65
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Don't Mention the B Word
I should never have mentioned Boston. Now look what you’ve done! All of a sudden I really want to go there, but I can already imagine the conversation with Niamh come October. “Honey, I know you have just given birth to yet another baby, but would you mind if I crossed the Atlantic for a few days to run a marathon on the other side?” I can guess the answer, and it’s most likely going to be unprintable, but it probably could be summarised as “yes, actually, I do mind”. To top it all off, the whole scenario is based on the assumption that I’m indeed be able to run the required time, which isn’t a given, considering that it’s 13 minutes below my current PR.
Yvonne’s comment had me smile when she mentioned that the audacity to state such a goal in public must be down to male confidence. Yvonne, I think it’s more down to dumbness, male or not. After all, I’m setting myself up for failure here.
The one thing that’s mostly on my mind is the worry that yet another increase in my training could leave me injured. That isn’t exactly a new thing. When I upped my training from Pfitzinger’s 55 miles to his 70 miles plan last year, I was worried about getting injured. In the end, I was fine. For the following training cycle, when I increased from that level to 85 mpw, I was worried again, and once again, I was just fine. Now I’m going for yet another increase, and again I’m a bit worried. Ron Daws said it best in his book “Running Your Best”. I haven’t got the book here with me, but he’s saying something like “you won’t know how much is too much until you actually do too much”. I now know for sure that 85 miles isn’t too much, in fact, after several weeks of that volume it started feeling downright comfortable. That’s why I think 100 miles might be ok. But there’s only one way to find out for sure.
Our office building has several car parks, and the one I always use is on top of a small hill. When I started my previous training cycle I always noticed how heavy the legs felt when walking up that little incline. After several weeks of training that heavy feeling went away. Instead of congratulating myself on how fit I was, I should have taken it as a sign to move on to the next training phase. My body didn’t get particularly stressed anymore, and all the next few weeks of training did was to keep my level of conditioning at that level. Now I think I should have started hill training at that point, just to give the body something different to adapt to. If the base training goes well, I’ll try to take clues like that to decide when to move on. Live and learn.
I’m slowly building up my mileage, but at the same time I’m trying to stay under 8:00 pace at all times. This can get a bit stressful. I’m a slow starter, and it means I’m usually trying to catch up after the first mile or so. Each of the last few runs felt mildly strenuous. I did question myself if I would be able to keep that level of pressure on at all times, but then I had another thought. According to Lydiard, you are supposed to keep the pressure on at all times, and maybe that means I’m hitting the right pace after all. I’m not exhausting myself. Each run is reasonably challenging, but after each run I know that I could have run a little bit faster if I had to. But I’m only at the start of the training cycle, and I’ll find out soon enough if I’m making or breaking myself.
I had another bizarre encounter yesterday. I thought I was hallucinating as I turned a corner, but there were indeed a dozen or so cows coming towards me. Initially I thought they must have broken out of their field, but I eventually I spotted the farmer following 100 meters behind them. Since they were coming the other way, at least that didn’t interfere with my workout, in contrast to last Friday.
16 May: 11 miles, 1:26:40, 7:52 pace, avg. HR 154 (very windy and drizzly)
17 May: 7 miles, 54:32, 7:47 pace, avg. HR 151 (still windy, but better)
Yvonne’s comment had me smile when she mentioned that the audacity to state such a goal in public must be down to male confidence. Yvonne, I think it’s more down to dumbness, male or not. After all, I’m setting myself up for failure here.
The one thing that’s mostly on my mind is the worry that yet another increase in my training could leave me injured. That isn’t exactly a new thing. When I upped my training from Pfitzinger’s 55 miles to his 70 miles plan last year, I was worried about getting injured. In the end, I was fine. For the following training cycle, when I increased from that level to 85 mpw, I was worried again, and once again, I was just fine. Now I’m going for yet another increase, and again I’m a bit worried. Ron Daws said it best in his book “Running Your Best”. I haven’t got the book here with me, but he’s saying something like “you won’t know how much is too much until you actually do too much”. I now know for sure that 85 miles isn’t too much, in fact, after several weeks of that volume it started feeling downright comfortable. That’s why I think 100 miles might be ok. But there’s only one way to find out for sure.
Our office building has several car parks, and the one I always use is on top of a small hill. When I started my previous training cycle I always noticed how heavy the legs felt when walking up that little incline. After several weeks of training that heavy feeling went away. Instead of congratulating myself on how fit I was, I should have taken it as a sign to move on to the next training phase. My body didn’t get particularly stressed anymore, and all the next few weeks of training did was to keep my level of conditioning at that level. Now I think I should have started hill training at that point, just to give the body something different to adapt to. If the base training goes well, I’ll try to take clues like that to decide when to move on. Live and learn.
I’m slowly building up my mileage, but at the same time I’m trying to stay under 8:00 pace at all times. This can get a bit stressful. I’m a slow starter, and it means I’m usually trying to catch up after the first mile or so. Each of the last few runs felt mildly strenuous. I did question myself if I would be able to keep that level of pressure on at all times, but then I had another thought. According to Lydiard, you are supposed to keep the pressure on at all times, and maybe that means I’m hitting the right pace after all. I’m not exhausting myself. Each run is reasonably challenging, but after each run I know that I could have run a little bit faster if I had to. But I’m only at the start of the training cycle, and I’ll find out soon enough if I’m making or breaking myself.
I had another bizarre encounter yesterday. I thought I was hallucinating as I turned a corner, but there were indeed a dozen or so cows coming towards me. Initially I thought they must have broken out of their field, but I eventually I spotted the farmer following 100 meters behind them. Since they were coming the other way, at least that didn’t interfere with my workout, in contrast to last Friday.
16 May: 11 miles, 1:26:40, 7:52 pace, avg. HR 154 (very windy and drizzly)
17 May: 7 miles, 54:32, 7:47 pace, avg. HR 151 (still windy, but better)
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
My Decision
I have signed up for my next marathon, and Loch Ness it is. From what I’ve heard I have to take back anything I said about it being a fast course, apparently it’s quite hilly. I still went with that instead of Berlin, because I’m allergic to Big City events, I much prefer smaller races. It’s not exactly tiny either, last year they had over 2000 participants for the marathon alone. My major concern about Berlin was that I might get stuck in the crowd, and I hate having to weave around people, it feels like such a waste of energy. In any case, the flight connections from here to Scotland are better than to Germany, and I might be able to meet some friends while I’m over there.
As I’ve said, I’ve now signed up and I’m very much looking forward to it. I’m dumb enough to publicly mention a time goal, and it will be 3:10, which equates to 7:15 pace. I definitely think that I will be able to pull that off five months from now, and if I miss that then a fallback will be 3:15:59, which is the Boston qualifying time for someone of my increasingly advanced age. I don’t actually plan on running Boston, but I would love to have the BQ badge. And if I do manage to qualify, then who knows, I might change my mind. It might be an experience to run close to someone wearing a pair of shorts with a maple leaf and protruding stem, as Andrew pointed out so succinctly.
The last two runs were rather contrasting, Monday’s 10 miles just flew by as I managed to tune into the easy zone and let the feet do their own thing. I did add some strides on the backstretch, which slightly upset my rhythm, but I still ran the second leg faster than the first one. But after Monday evening’s strenuous gym session I felt a lot worse today and had to strain to keep at sub-8 pace. I know I said only one post ago that I would not force the pace if the legs don’t feel like it, but the lungs felt fine, the heart rate was low, it really was only the legs that didn’t play ball. I'll have to think about the gym; running 100 high mileage might be tough enough, to add some additional exercise could prove too much. The overall pace of about 7:50 is not particularly out of the ordinary, but I did the first 3 miles in 8:20 and the home stretch in 7:20, which isn’t exactly even pacing. I probably should have slowed down and just accepted an 8-plus overall pace. One day I’ll learn that lesson.
14 May: 10 miles, 1:19:02, 7:54 pace, avg. HR 149, incl. 10x100 strides
15 May: 6 miles, 47:03, 7:50 pace, avg. HR 152, sluggish feeling
As I’ve said, I’ve now signed up and I’m very much looking forward to it. I’m dumb enough to publicly mention a time goal, and it will be 3:10, which equates to 7:15 pace. I definitely think that I will be able to pull that off five months from now, and if I miss that then a fallback will be 3:15:59, which is the Boston qualifying time for someone of my increasingly advanced age. I don’t actually plan on running Boston, but I would love to have the BQ badge. And if I do manage to qualify, then who knows, I might change my mind. It might be an experience to run close to someone wearing a pair of shorts with a maple leaf and protruding stem, as Andrew pointed out so succinctly.
The last two runs were rather contrasting, Monday’s 10 miles just flew by as I managed to tune into the easy zone and let the feet do their own thing. I did add some strides on the backstretch, which slightly upset my rhythm, but I still ran the second leg faster than the first one. But after Monday evening’s strenuous gym session I felt a lot worse today and had to strain to keep at sub-8 pace. I know I said only one post ago that I would not force the pace if the legs don’t feel like it, but the lungs felt fine, the heart rate was low, it really was only the legs that didn’t play ball. I'll have to think about the gym; running 100 high mileage might be tough enough, to add some additional exercise could prove too much. The overall pace of about 7:50 is not particularly out of the ordinary, but I did the first 3 miles in 8:20 and the home stretch in 7:20, which isn’t exactly even pacing. I probably should have slowed down and just accepted an 8-plus overall pace. One day I’ll learn that lesson.
14 May: 10 miles, 1:19:02, 7:54 pace, avg. HR 149, incl. 10x100 strides
15 May: 6 miles, 47:03, 7:50 pace, avg. HR 152, sluggish feeling
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Rebuilding
My first week of the new marathon-training block is over and done with. The first half of the week was dominated by the need to recover from the half-marathon that left me much more stiff and tired than I expected to be. It wasn’t until Thursday that I felt ready to let the legs go properly again. But the last few runs have all been pretty decent and I feel ready to build up my mileage again.
My last training cycle was heavily influenced by Lydiard’s training methods, though I made a few changes that I thought were beneficiary for an ultra, like the back-to-back 20-20 runs. In fact, those blocks were so effective that I toyed with the idea of keeping them even for a standard marathon, but I have gone off that idea by now. I will try and follow the classic Lydiard build as demonstrated and documented so brilliantly in Mike’s blog. I’ve also written down a few notes from his Mystery Coach, which I found all over the place in Mike’s blog, his comment section as well as cunningly hidden gems in Eric’s training diary. That includes explanations of the stamina-building back-to back efforts and other gems of wisdom.
Using one of the coach's formula I gathered that for an estimated marathon pace of 7:15 the steady state pace that I should follow for most of my runs would be in the 7:28 – 7:58 segment, though I think it’s pretty save to round that up into more even numbers 7:30-8:00. I’ll try and stay within those parameters, but I won’t force it. If my legs feel too heavy to go sub-8 I’ll just back off and let them recover. One other formula gave my 3/4 effort at 7:00 pace, which is slower than I thought it would be. It’s certainly a good bit slower than the pace I used for my tempo runs in the build-up for the half-marathon, and the occasional tempo efforts I did before the ultra.
My weekly mileage maxed out at 86.5 miles last time round, and of course one of the classic Lydiard fundamentals is the 100-mile week. I’ll wait and see how I feel. If I added a mere two mile to each run, it would turn a 86 mile week into a 100 one, which doesn’t sound too outrageous. I know that Andrew is a great believer in that mileage, but then again his injury record doesn’t inspire 100% confidence. Interestingly enough, Mike seems to have dropped his mileage ever since the Mystery Coach took him under his wing, and is concentrating more on faster efforts, In fact I think I could do worse than blindly follow Mike’s training schedule but add one minute to each of his paces (e.g. run 7:40 when he does 6:40), but I’d be better off listening to my own body rather than trying to slavishly follow someone else’s training, modified or not.
Of course I did some more running since my last post. My pace has been steadily dropping until it reached sub-8 pace without pushing. I’m pretty happy with the way it’s going, apart from one run-in I had yesterday. I was slightly over 11 miles into a supposed 13-mile effort when a farmer chose that time and place to move his humungous herd of cows from one field into another. There was no way past, and I had no option but to come to a stop and walk behind the stinking creatures while trying to avoid stepping into a fresh spattering of manure (yuck!). I even swore loudly, but quickly apologised when the farmer shot me a filthy look. That went on for about half a mile, after which I ran the last (uphill) mile home in about 6:50, hammering the road in sheer frustration.
My hay fever is bothering me as well at the moment, but strangely enough it's never an issue while running, just before and afterwards.
11 May: 5 miles, 39:08. 7:49 pace, avg. HR 149
12 May: 12.5 miles, 1:35, 7:36 pace, avg. HR 155
13 May: 7 miles, 55:04, 7:52 pace, avg. HR 149
Weekly mileage: 52.5
My last training cycle was heavily influenced by Lydiard’s training methods, though I made a few changes that I thought were beneficiary for an ultra, like the back-to-back 20-20 runs. In fact, those blocks were so effective that I toyed with the idea of keeping them even for a standard marathon, but I have gone off that idea by now. I will try and follow the classic Lydiard build as demonstrated and documented so brilliantly in Mike’s blog. I’ve also written down a few notes from his Mystery Coach, which I found all over the place in Mike’s blog, his comment section as well as cunningly hidden gems in Eric’s training diary. That includes explanations of the stamina-building back-to back efforts and other gems of wisdom.
Using one of the coach's formula I gathered that for an estimated marathon pace of 7:15 the steady state pace that I should follow for most of my runs would be in the 7:28 – 7:58 segment, though I think it’s pretty save to round that up into more even numbers 7:30-8:00. I’ll try and stay within those parameters, but I won’t force it. If my legs feel too heavy to go sub-8 I’ll just back off and let them recover. One other formula gave my 3/4 effort at 7:00 pace, which is slower than I thought it would be. It’s certainly a good bit slower than the pace I used for my tempo runs in the build-up for the half-marathon, and the occasional tempo efforts I did before the ultra.
My weekly mileage maxed out at 86.5 miles last time round, and of course one of the classic Lydiard fundamentals is the 100-mile week. I’ll wait and see how I feel. If I added a mere two mile to each run, it would turn a 86 mile week into a 100 one, which doesn’t sound too outrageous. I know that Andrew is a great believer in that mileage, but then again his injury record doesn’t inspire 100% confidence. Interestingly enough, Mike seems to have dropped his mileage ever since the Mystery Coach took him under his wing, and is concentrating more on faster efforts, In fact I think I could do worse than blindly follow Mike’s training schedule but add one minute to each of his paces (e.g. run 7:40 when he does 6:40), but I’d be better off listening to my own body rather than trying to slavishly follow someone else’s training, modified or not.
Of course I did some more running since my last post. My pace has been steadily dropping until it reached sub-8 pace without pushing. I’m pretty happy with the way it’s going, apart from one run-in I had yesterday. I was slightly over 11 miles into a supposed 13-mile effort when a farmer chose that time and place to move his humungous herd of cows from one field into another. There was no way past, and I had no option but to come to a stop and walk behind the stinking creatures while trying to avoid stepping into a fresh spattering of manure (yuck!). I even swore loudly, but quickly apologised when the farmer shot me a filthy look. That went on for about half a mile, after which I ran the last (uphill) mile home in about 6:50, hammering the road in sheer frustration.
My hay fever is bothering me as well at the moment, but strangely enough it's never an issue while running, just before and afterwards.
11 May: 5 miles, 39:08. 7:49 pace, avg. HR 149
12 May: 12.5 miles, 1:35, 7:36 pace, avg. HR 155
13 May: 7 miles, 55:04, 7:52 pace, avg. HR 149
Weekly mileage: 52.5
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Breeding Like Rabbits
If I ever write our family history, I might have to give it the same name as this post. Now that the twins are starting to develop some sense and Cian has mostly stopped destroying the house twice-a-day we obviously decided that life was getting much too easy, we were getting too much sleep and we’re not enough in debt yet. So, Niamh is expecting another baby (admit it, you thought running was my only physical activity). She thinks it’s a girl, I’m convinced it’s a boy, and the existing children, especially Lola, are very excited about the new arrival, though Cian obviously is in for a shock once he realises that he is no longer the baby of the family.What has that got to do with my running, and with the cryptic comment I made at the end of my previous entry? Glad you asked. See, the due date is October 31. If you check a marathon calendar then you will find that this year’s Dublin marathon will be held on October 29. My first, and obviously brilliant, suggestion was that she should come with me, and if she happens to go into labour on marathon day then book into Holles Street Maternity Hospital, where Cian was born, and which happens to be just beside the finish; let me know and I’ll continue running for an extra 5 minutes after crossing the line and join her for the rest of the proceedings, no need to thank me. Despite the obvious beauty of that plan it was rejected out of hand, and apparently I’ll have to find a different marathon.
Of all the possibilities there are two that appeal to me: the Berlin marathon at the end of September, and the Loch Ness marathon on October 7. Niamh already sanctioned those dates; apparently she’s not worried about going into labour prematurely. I think I favour the Loch Ness one; I might be able to combine it with visiting friends in Glasgow over the weekend. The course is supposed to be fast apart from a monster hill on mile 17. The entry ballot is already closed but since I would count as an overseas runner that does not apply to me. I’ll think about it a bit more, but I most definitely want to run a marathon this autumn. Who knows when I will be able to train seriously again.
9 May: 6 miles, 50:36, 8:26 pace, avg. HR 146
10 May: 9 miles, 1:13:45, 8:11 pace, avg. HR49
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
Reflections
As always, I’ll bore you some more after the race, even though I’ve said more than enough in the actual report. How did I manage to get it so long? I had no idea anyone could write so much about a mere 13.1 miles.
I even left out a few things. Like at mile 5, when I started to feel my blisters developing. That’s a standard feature with those shoes. My feet and the Asics-DS trainers just don’t get along. Initially I thought I would just have to get used to the shoes, but by now I’ve covered over 220 miles in them and developed at least two dozen blisters in the process. In fact, each time I cover 5 miles, my left foot starts blistering, and the right one usually follows suit within a mile or two. You could argue that I should have chucked those shoes a long time ago. I swore as much at mile 5 on Sunday, and not for the first time. But come on. I made it by 3 seconds. Heavier shoes would most likely have cost me just a bit more than that (though, of course, I will never know for sure). Btw, does anyone know how many miles those shoes are supposed to last? I’d love to finally toss them out and replace them with a pair that actually suits my feet without feeling guilty for wasting money.
I had a little banter after the race with Yellow Shoes, who, btw, isn’t actually called Yellow Shoes. His real name is Der Moloney, and he came third in the M40 age category. I told him that he was just that little bit too fast for me, and he mentioned how I had kept coming back again and again. Apparently he had to dig deep to hold me off, which is always nice to know, even if he did finish 15 seconds ahead of me.
There’s even a series of shots of me crossing the finishing line, even though I look like each mile added a year to my face. Those are the photos I would have loved to see at the end of the Connemara Ultra. Sigh.
I never had any soreness after previous half marathons, but I’m still stiff and tired now, two days after the race. Apparently my body has developed a faster pair of legs in the last few months, but its ability to withstand that sort of torture hasn’t increased by the same amount. I had two slow and awkward runs on Monday and Tuesday, and I decided to skip the gym today. I might make up for it tomorrow, but only if I feel better. At the moment I still wished I could just lie on a soft bed of feathers without being disturbed.
I know Eric and Bruce were only teasing me with their comments, but I’m definitely not in shape to run another 13.1 miles at the same pace. I couldn’t resist temptation and inserted my time into one or two of those race predictor calculators, and they came up with a marathon time of 3:08 or 3:09. Past experience has told me that I’m always a few minutes slower than the predicted time, so I guess I’m in about 3:15 shape. Still, that would be fast enough for a Boston qualifier. On the other hand, Joey Keillor once said there’s no such thing as being in shape for a certain time. You either do it, or you’re not in that kind of shape.
A few things led me to believe that I wasn’t quite in peak form anymore on Sunday. I think I was in my best shape ever for the 10k in Adare back in March, and – not entirely surprising – the ultra has dragged me down a peg or two. Not by much, but I think back in March I would have been able to run a minute faster given the same circumstances.
That concludes my racing season. Is it still a season if it only consists of three races? I’m starting to rebuild for a marathon this coming autumn, as soon as I feel recovered from the race. I initially planned to rest for a week or two, but we’re going away on a two-weeks holiday to Slovenia and Austria in three weeks’ time, and I will most likely end up “resting” then (I’ll bring my running gear, but I doubt I’ll be able to sneak out every morning). There are one or two things I should mention about my next marathon, but I’ll keep you in suspense until my next post.
7 May: 5 miles, 44:00, 8:48 pace, avg. HR 145
8 May: 8.1 miles, 1:10:10, 8:39 pace, avg. HR 141 (notice the drop in HR)
I even left out a few things. Like at mile 5, when I started to feel my blisters developing. That’s a standard feature with those shoes. My feet and the Asics-DS trainers just don’t get along. Initially I thought I would just have to get used to the shoes, but by now I’ve covered over 220 miles in them and developed at least two dozen blisters in the process. In fact, each time I cover 5 miles, my left foot starts blistering, and the right one usually follows suit within a mile or two. You could argue that I should have chucked those shoes a long time ago. I swore as much at mile 5 on Sunday, and not for the first time. But come on. I made it by 3 seconds. Heavier shoes would most likely have cost me just a bit more than that (though, of course, I will never know for sure). Btw, does anyone know how many miles those shoes are supposed to last? I’d love to finally toss them out and replace them with a pair that actually suits my feet without feeling guilty for wasting money.
I had a little banter after the race with Yellow Shoes, who, btw, isn’t actually called Yellow Shoes. His real name is Der Moloney, and he came third in the M40 age category. I told him that he was just that little bit too fast for me, and he mentioned how I had kept coming back again and again. Apparently he had to dig deep to hold me off, which is always nice to know, even if he did finish 15 seconds ahead of me.
There’s even a series of shots of me crossing the finishing line, even though I look like each mile added a year to my face. Those are the photos I would have loved to see at the end of the Connemara Ultra. Sigh.
I never had any soreness after previous half marathons, but I’m still stiff and tired now, two days after the race. Apparently my body has developed a faster pair of legs in the last few months, but its ability to withstand that sort of torture hasn’t increased by the same amount. I had two slow and awkward runs on Monday and Tuesday, and I decided to skip the gym today. I might make up for it tomorrow, but only if I feel better. At the moment I still wished I could just lie on a soft bed of feathers without being disturbed.
I know Eric and Bruce were only teasing me with their comments, but I’m definitely not in shape to run another 13.1 miles at the same pace. I couldn’t resist temptation and inserted my time into one or two of those race predictor calculators, and they came up with a marathon time of 3:08 or 3:09. Past experience has told me that I’m always a few minutes slower than the predicted time, so I guess I’m in about 3:15 shape. Still, that would be fast enough for a Boston qualifier. On the other hand, Joey Keillor once said there’s no such thing as being in shape for a certain time. You either do it, or you’re not in that kind of shape.
A few things led me to believe that I wasn’t quite in peak form anymore on Sunday. I think I was in my best shape ever for the 10k in Adare back in March, and – not entirely surprising – the ultra has dragged me down a peg or two. Not by much, but I think back in March I would have been able to run a minute faster given the same circumstances.
That concludes my racing season. Is it still a season if it only consists of three races? I’m starting to rebuild for a marathon this coming autumn, as soon as I feel recovered from the race. I initially planned to rest for a week or two, but we’re going away on a two-weeks holiday to Slovenia and Austria in three weeks’ time, and I will most likely end up “resting” then (I’ll bring my running gear, but I doubt I’ll be able to sneak out every morning). There are one or two things I should mention about my next marathon, but I’ll keep you in suspense until my next post.
7 May: 5 miles, 44:00, 8:48 pace, avg. HR 145
8 May: 8.1 miles, 1:10:10, 8:39 pace, avg. HR 141 (notice the drop in HR)
Sunday, May 06, 2007
By the Skin of my Teeth
Unusually for me, I did go out for a run the day before a race. I just felt the legs needed a bit of an outing, and subsequently I had the worst run in ages. 4 slow miles with a sky-high heart rate left me wondering what was going on. I sure wouldn’t be able to run a decent race with legs like that. I did come to the conclusion that tempo runs followed by complete rest days are not the ideal preparation. I spent the rest of the day trying to convince myself that I’d be fine by tomorrow.
Race Day started early, at 6am. I had a hard time waking the kids, because, understandably, they weren’t overly keen on getting up early, on a Sunday no less. However, they perked up soon enough and we left on time. We had our seven-seater filled to the brim, with me, Niamh, 3 children and my mum and her husband. That’s the biggest support team I’ve ever had. The weather looked promising, overcast but not too cold, a little bit of wind with the occasional bout of rain.
The drive went better than expected and we got to Glengarriff earlier than anticipated. But we managed to find a playground to ensure that the brood was happy. I got changed, collected my timing chip and started warming up with half an hour to go. Time passed quickly, and we soon lined up at the start. Some local politician took the microphone and started waffling on and on and on, until he was shut up by a deliberate round of applause from 728 runners and walkers. The gun sounded and off we went. I started close to the line, maybe 3 deep, and crossed it within a second. One guy took off like a rocket and was soon out of sight (he won in 1:07, extremely impressive on such a hilly course). After waving to my personal fans about a minute after the start I tried to settle into a conservative pace to start with. I latched on to a big group and ran well within myself. A voice in my head told me to speed up because I was losing time on my 1:30 goal already but I managed to steady myself. There’s a big climb from miles 3 to 5 and I wanted to make sure I wouldn’t be knackered even at the base of the hill. The first mile marker came into sight soon enough, and what did I read? 6:30! Holy sh*t! I couldn’t be sure if the marker was accurate, but I was glad I hadn’t set off any faster. The second mile had some climbs in it as we passed through the Glengarriff nature reserve (stunning, btw, and well recommended, but I was in no position to enjoy my surroundings), and I clocked it in 7:01. Ah well, that’s probably closer to my realistic half-marathon pace. What comes up must come down, and since we were passing the starting line again close to the 3rd mile marker, but going in the opposite direction, it meant some downhill sections and I ran the next mile in 6:49. I was about 15 second ahead of my target time, but the moment of truth was approaching fast. The race website mentions a one-mile climb out of Glengarriff. That’s a barefaced lie. It’s very nearly two miles (I measured it twice by car last year), and it’s also pretty steep. Of course I lost my entire cushion as the next 2 miles passed in 7:57 (ugh) and 6:58. I had a difficult decision to make at that hill. A pack had formed, and I was just about hanging on to the end of it. There was a slight headwind, and I had the option of either dropping back and battling the wind on my own or to run slightly faster than felt realistic to seek some shelter in the group. That’s new territory for me, I’ve never run in a pack before, and I felt like I was playing in the big league all of a sudden. Anyway, I chose the second option and clung on to the back of that group, which held about a dozen runners. One or two people got spat out at the back but I managed to hang on until the top of the climb. There a big guy in bright yellow shoes drew level with me and cheerfully remarked “that’s the worst behind us” and it took me a few seconds to find enough breath to respond with something silly like “let’s roll with it”. He also made a strange slapping sound with each stride, which made it easy to figure out how far ahead or behind him I would be for the reminder of the race. As I’ve mentioned before, what comes up must come down and the next 3 miles were all gradual downhill and passed in 6:45, 6:29 and 6:26. The pack had broken up by then, and I reckon I had left the majority of them behind me. I kept battling with two guys in particular, a guy in white shirt and dark shorts, and the yellow shoe guy. We kept passing each other, and each time someone would answer with a surge of his own. Eventually this wore me out, and by mile 8, back at sea level, I was feeling pretty exhausted. White Shirt and Yellow Shoes formed a group with 2 more runners, and I followed maybe 20 meters behind. I remembered most of the course from last year; it’s never flat, after the big hill there is a series of slight up- and downhills all the way to the end. I was hurting pretty bad at that stage and kept wishing for it to be over, but was determined to give the 1:30 target a good shot. I started to feel better eventually, and by mile 9 (6:53 split) the group in front of me had broken up and I had drawn close to 2 of the guys. I surged again to leave them behind, but started to feel the strain again soon enough and had to slow down a little bit. I knew I was pretty much on target, but I also knew I was very close to the edge. On each hill I started gasping for air, which, according to Mike, is a sign that you’re too fast for a half-marathon. I did recover on the downhills, and this went on for another mile, in 6:55. White Shirt and Yellow Shoes must have slowed down, because quite unexpectedly I found myself right behind them. I went past White Shirt, but Yellow Shoes kept ahead of me. On the next hill I pushed really hard with all I had and went past. I gained a few meters on him, and I could her the slap-slap sounds of his strides falling further behind, but then disaster struck: stitch! I’ve experienced this once before in a race; strangely enough it was the very race I was running now, just one year earlier, and at the same point, too. If I were Haile Gebreselassie I would chuck it in right now, but unlike him I still have a few thing to prove and fought on. I tried to change my breathing pattern, but eventually I had no choice but to slow down a little bit until I was able to breath properly again. The slower pace coupled with a more controlled breathing pattern soon got the better of the stitch, but the damage had been done. Yellow Shoes had past me again, and this time I knew that it was for good. Remember back in March, when after a long battle I went past a guy in the Adare 10k, and he had complimented me on it? It was time to repay a debt, and I spent what little breath I had spare to say “Good Man” as he went by. He mumbled something in return, I guess he was at the edge himself. Having repaid my debt to the universe I hoped to be rewarded with mercy from the Running Gods, but I had covered mile 11 no faster than 7:13, which meant kissing Good Bye to 1:30, maybe another time. I was really disappointed, but kept battling on, mainly to protect my place in the field. I could hear White Shirt not far behind me, but there was quite some gap to the front, where I could witness Yellow Shoes going past one more runner.
I know I’ve mentioned that I remember the course from last year, but I had forgotten all about the climb on mile 12. Maybe my memory is deceiving me now, but it all seemed to be uphill. Of course I was already knackered at that stage, as well as disappointed with my time, but I found some reserves and pushed on once more. Despite my own advice of never looking back I could not resist temptation. White Shirt was about 10 meters behind me, while I was some 50 meters behind the runner in front. It seemed a hopeless task to close the gap, but I was determined not to lose my place and pushed as hard as I could dare without risking disaster again. Eventually the road levelled out again and I saw the 12th mile marker. I expected the time to be somewhere in the sevens, but in fact it was 6:49. Since the last mile was downhill again I sensed some faint hope. I thought a 6:30 mile would get me there or thereabouts, and maybe all was not lost yet. I pushed on as hard as I could. Just a few minutes more, then I can relax. The legs filled with lactic acid and I felt the burn, but the gap in front of me was shrinking rapidly and I closed in on my last victim. I also made the mistake of looking behind me for a second time, but was reassured by the fact that I had nothing to fear from there. I shot passed the runner and tried to hunt down Yellow Shoes, but I already knew that it was futile – he had accelerated himself by now. I passed a point where there had been a sign last year “400 to go” and started to sprint all out. However, as I turned a corner, already gasping for air, I could see the actual point where the sign had been. My memory must have failed me somehow. There was nothing to do but to push on as hard as I could, and the last mile marker came into sight, 6:26. I wasn’t sure if that was sufficient, but the line was already in sight.
About 10 years ago Niamh and I had gone to Australia and witnessed the Canberra marathon as spectators (that was years before I took up running). I very clearly remember that the biggest cheer of the day had not gone to the winner. Instead, when the clock read about 3:59:45, one guy started sprinting all out. It was clear that he was desperate to beat 4 hours. He must have been in agony, his face was a grimace and tears were streaming down his face, but he never gave up, ran his heart out and made it with a second or two to spare. He got celebrated like a world record holder. I’ve felt jealous of him ever since.
By the time I could make out the clock it read 1:29:52. I only had a few meters to go and sprinted as hard as I could. Unlike that Australian guy I didn’t cry in pain, and I knew soon enough that I would make it, but I got a big cheer from the crowd all the same. I passed the line in 1:29:57. Oh the sweet smell of victory.
-----
PS: I got a post-race massage, and Ye Gods, did it feel good. Well, maybe not at the time. In fact at one stage he had me yelping in pain. But my calves felt so much better afterwards. He also remarked that I probably don’t stretch enough. I laughed and said that may well be the case.
Result: I came 26th, out of 568 runners, and 7th in my age group. It sounds rather impressive, doesn’t it? Maybe I have indeed moved up into the Big Boys’ league.
----
5 May: 4 miles, 33:00, 8:15 pace, avg HR 156(!!!), incl. 5x100 strides
6 May: 15 miles, including Bantry Bay Half marathon in 1:29:57, 6:51 pace. 26th overall, 7th in age group
Race Day started early, at 6am. I had a hard time waking the kids, because, understandably, they weren’t overly keen on getting up early, on a Sunday no less. However, they perked up soon enough and we left on time. We had our seven-seater filled to the brim, with me, Niamh, 3 children and my mum and her husband. That’s the biggest support team I’ve ever had. The weather looked promising, overcast but not too cold, a little bit of wind with the occasional bout of rain.
The drive went better than expected and we got to Glengarriff earlier than anticipated. But we managed to find a playground to ensure that the brood was happy. I got changed, collected my timing chip and started warming up with half an hour to go. Time passed quickly, and we soon lined up at the start. Some local politician took the microphone and started waffling on and on and on, until he was shut up by a deliberate round of applause from 728 runners and walkers. The gun sounded and off we went. I started close to the line, maybe 3 deep, and crossed it within a second. One guy took off like a rocket and was soon out of sight (he won in 1:07, extremely impressive on such a hilly course). After waving to my personal fans about a minute after the start I tried to settle into a conservative pace to start with. I latched on to a big group and ran well within myself. A voice in my head told me to speed up because I was losing time on my 1:30 goal already but I managed to steady myself. There’s a big climb from miles 3 to 5 and I wanted to make sure I wouldn’t be knackered even at the base of the hill. The first mile marker came into sight soon enough, and what did I read? 6:30! Holy sh*t! I couldn’t be sure if the marker was accurate, but I was glad I hadn’t set off any faster. The second mile had some climbs in it as we passed through the Glengarriff nature reserve (stunning, btw, and well recommended, but I was in no position to enjoy my surroundings), and I clocked it in 7:01. Ah well, that’s probably closer to my realistic half-marathon pace. What comes up must come down, and since we were passing the starting line again close to the 3rd mile marker, but going in the opposite direction, it meant some downhill sections and I ran the next mile in 6:49. I was about 15 second ahead of my target time, but the moment of truth was approaching fast. The race website mentions a one-mile climb out of Glengarriff. That’s a barefaced lie. It’s very nearly two miles (I measured it twice by car last year), and it’s also pretty steep. Of course I lost my entire cushion as the next 2 miles passed in 7:57 (ugh) and 6:58. I had a difficult decision to make at that hill. A pack had formed, and I was just about hanging on to the end of it. There was a slight headwind, and I had the option of either dropping back and battling the wind on my own or to run slightly faster than felt realistic to seek some shelter in the group. That’s new territory for me, I’ve never run in a pack before, and I felt like I was playing in the big league all of a sudden. Anyway, I chose the second option and clung on to the back of that group, which held about a dozen runners. One or two people got spat out at the back but I managed to hang on until the top of the climb. There a big guy in bright yellow shoes drew level with me and cheerfully remarked “that’s the worst behind us” and it took me a few seconds to find enough breath to respond with something silly like “let’s roll with it”. He also made a strange slapping sound with each stride, which made it easy to figure out how far ahead or behind him I would be for the reminder of the race. As I’ve mentioned before, what comes up must come down and the next 3 miles were all gradual downhill and passed in 6:45, 6:29 and 6:26. The pack had broken up by then, and I reckon I had left the majority of them behind me. I kept battling with two guys in particular, a guy in white shirt and dark shorts, and the yellow shoe guy. We kept passing each other, and each time someone would answer with a surge of his own. Eventually this wore me out, and by mile 8, back at sea level, I was feeling pretty exhausted. White Shirt and Yellow Shoes formed a group with 2 more runners, and I followed maybe 20 meters behind. I remembered most of the course from last year; it’s never flat, after the big hill there is a series of slight up- and downhills all the way to the end. I was hurting pretty bad at that stage and kept wishing for it to be over, but was determined to give the 1:30 target a good shot. I started to feel better eventually, and by mile 9 (6:53 split) the group in front of me had broken up and I had drawn close to 2 of the guys. I surged again to leave them behind, but started to feel the strain again soon enough and had to slow down a little bit. I knew I was pretty much on target, but I also knew I was very close to the edge. On each hill I started gasping for air, which, according to Mike, is a sign that you’re too fast for a half-marathon. I did recover on the downhills, and this went on for another mile, in 6:55. White Shirt and Yellow Shoes must have slowed down, because quite unexpectedly I found myself right behind them. I went past White Shirt, but Yellow Shoes kept ahead of me. On the next hill I pushed really hard with all I had and went past. I gained a few meters on him, and I could her the slap-slap sounds of his strides falling further behind, but then disaster struck: stitch! I’ve experienced this once before in a race; strangely enough it was the very race I was running now, just one year earlier, and at the same point, too. If I were Haile Gebreselassie I would chuck it in right now, but unlike him I still have a few thing to prove and fought on. I tried to change my breathing pattern, but eventually I had no choice but to slow down a little bit until I was able to breath properly again. The slower pace coupled with a more controlled breathing pattern soon got the better of the stitch, but the damage had been done. Yellow Shoes had past me again, and this time I knew that it was for good. Remember back in March, when after a long battle I went past a guy in the Adare 10k, and he had complimented me on it? It was time to repay a debt, and I spent what little breath I had spare to say “Good Man” as he went by. He mumbled something in return, I guess he was at the edge himself. Having repaid my debt to the universe I hoped to be rewarded with mercy from the Running Gods, but I had covered mile 11 no faster than 7:13, which meant kissing Good Bye to 1:30, maybe another time. I was really disappointed, but kept battling on, mainly to protect my place in the field. I could hear White Shirt not far behind me, but there was quite some gap to the front, where I could witness Yellow Shoes going past one more runner.
I know I’ve mentioned that I remember the course from last year, but I had forgotten all about the climb on mile 12. Maybe my memory is deceiving me now, but it all seemed to be uphill. Of course I was already knackered at that stage, as well as disappointed with my time, but I found some reserves and pushed on once more. Despite my own advice of never looking back I could not resist temptation. White Shirt was about 10 meters behind me, while I was some 50 meters behind the runner in front. It seemed a hopeless task to close the gap, but I was determined not to lose my place and pushed as hard as I could dare without risking disaster again. Eventually the road levelled out again and I saw the 12th mile marker. I expected the time to be somewhere in the sevens, but in fact it was 6:49. Since the last mile was downhill again I sensed some faint hope. I thought a 6:30 mile would get me there or thereabouts, and maybe all was not lost yet. I pushed on as hard as I could. Just a few minutes more, then I can relax. The legs filled with lactic acid and I felt the burn, but the gap in front of me was shrinking rapidly and I closed in on my last victim. I also made the mistake of looking behind me for a second time, but was reassured by the fact that I had nothing to fear from there. I shot passed the runner and tried to hunt down Yellow Shoes, but I already knew that it was futile – he had accelerated himself by now. I passed a point where there had been a sign last year “400 to go” and started to sprint all out. However, as I turned a corner, already gasping for air, I could see the actual point where the sign had been. My memory must have failed me somehow. There was nothing to do but to push on as hard as I could, and the last mile marker came into sight, 6:26. I wasn’t sure if that was sufficient, but the line was already in sight.
About 10 years ago Niamh and I had gone to Australia and witnessed the Canberra marathon as spectators (that was years before I took up running). I very clearly remember that the biggest cheer of the day had not gone to the winner. Instead, when the clock read about 3:59:45, one guy started sprinting all out. It was clear that he was desperate to beat 4 hours. He must have been in agony, his face was a grimace and tears were streaming down his face, but he never gave up, ran his heart out and made it with a second or two to spare. He got celebrated like a world record holder. I’ve felt jealous of him ever since.
By the time I could make out the clock it read 1:29:52. I only had a few meters to go and sprinted as hard as I could. Unlike that Australian guy I didn’t cry in pain, and I knew soon enough that I would make it, but I got a big cheer from the crowd all the same. I passed the line in 1:29:57. Oh the sweet smell of victory.
-----
PS: I got a post-race massage, and Ye Gods, did it feel good. Well, maybe not at the time. In fact at one stage he had me yelping in pain. But my calves felt so much better afterwards. He also remarked that I probably don’t stretch enough. I laughed and said that may well be the case.
Result: I came 26th, out of 568 runners, and 7th in my age group. It sounds rather impressive, doesn’t it? Maybe I have indeed moved up into the Big Boys’ league.
----
5 May: 4 miles, 33:00, 8:15 pace, avg HR 156(!!!), incl. 5x100 strides
6 May: 15 miles, including Bantry Bay Half marathon in 1:29:57, 6:51 pace. 26th overall, 7th in age group
Friday, May 04, 2007
ZZZZZZZZZZZZ
God, I’m tired. And that’s while tapering. Just imagine what would happen if I had gotten up running at 6am instead of sleeping in for another 2 hours. Well, one hour; Shea woke me at 7 am, and I couldn’t get back to sleep after that. The reason for that tiredness is that I had to drive the 90 miles plus to Shannon last night to collect my mum from the airport. It was a late flight anyway, and then it was delayed by 30 minutes. It could have been worse, I guess, they had taken off an hour late, but apparently the pilot had managed to cut that deficit by half. Of course I had to drive all the way back home, and didn’t get to bed before 2 am. That’s so far past my usual bedtime it’s unreal.
I did manage yet another tempo run on Thursday. I’ve done so many of them in the last two weeks that I’ve lost count (no, I haven’t, actually. I’ve managed 6). This one followed the sequence of improvements like all its predecessors, and I managed to slice a few seconds of Tuesday’s time. During the first two warm-up miles the legs felt seriously tired, and I resolved to cut the tempo segment from 4 to 3 miles. Except that when I got to the point in question I just continued on for another half mile, and ran my usual 4 fast miles. It made it easier to compare the effort with all the previous ones, I guess. I’m quite pleased with the way my pace has improved over the last 2 weeks, and I think I’m ready for sub 1:30. I don’t know yet how much those hills will cost me, but my training routes aren’t exactly flat either, and I believe I’ll be fine.
The weather has been really nice the last couple of weeks, which is great news for mum, because she’s never seen Kerry in really nice weather before. It’s a slight worry for my race on Sunday, but would you believe it, that’s the day for which they were forecasting rain. They have since retracted that prediction, and their latest guess is overcast, 13C/55F. Perfect! No excuses. Just go out and run. I’ll let you know how it went.
3 May: 8 miles, 59:12, 7:24 pace, avg. HR 162, incl. 4 miles in 26:25 (6:36 pace)
I did manage yet another tempo run on Thursday. I’ve done so many of them in the last two weeks that I’ve lost count (no, I haven’t, actually. I’ve managed 6). This one followed the sequence of improvements like all its predecessors, and I managed to slice a few seconds of Tuesday’s time. During the first two warm-up miles the legs felt seriously tired, and I resolved to cut the tempo segment from 4 to 3 miles. Except that when I got to the point in question I just continued on for another half mile, and ran my usual 4 fast miles. It made it easier to compare the effort with all the previous ones, I guess. I’m quite pleased with the way my pace has improved over the last 2 weeks, and I think I’m ready for sub 1:30. I don’t know yet how much those hills will cost me, but my training routes aren’t exactly flat either, and I believe I’ll be fine.
The weather has been really nice the last couple of weeks, which is great news for mum, because she’s never seen Kerry in really nice weather before. It’s a slight worry for my race on Sunday, but would you believe it, that’s the day for which they were forecasting rain. They have since retracted that prediction, and their latest guess is overcast, 13C/55F. Perfect! No excuses. Just go out and run. I’ll let you know how it went.
3 May: 8 miles, 59:12, 7:24 pace, avg. HR 162, incl. 4 miles in 26:25 (6:36 pace)
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Tapering
After the monster weekend (Friday: party, Saturday: Disney on Ice, Sunday: Ballet) I was in dire need of recovery, even if it was not running related. I therefore declined to run on Monday morning, which also enabled me to sleep for 8 hours straight, a rather unusual occurrence these days. As I’m tapering for Sunday’s race, the 0 mileage is definitely not a problem.
I’m trying a new tapering method this time. I’m still trying to find the best values for length and training intensity for the last few weeks before a marathon (who isn’t!), and came across this article. They basically suggest cutting the mileage quite radically, but increasing the intensity of the runs. The most radical approach is cutting the mileage by 90% and running the rest at fast interval pace. I won’t try to emulate this, but the plan is to do a tempo run on Tuesday, another one on Thursday, and to rest every other day. If I feel like it, I might run 2 or 3 easy miles on Saturday to loosen up the legs. Who knows, this may well be a stupid way to prepare for the race, but I decided that this half would be the perfect opportunity to test it out. I won’t have too many regrets if the race falls flat, it certainly means a lot less to me than a marathon or ultra. On the other hand, if the experiment goes well I might apply the same strategy for my next big race. Of course what works for a half-marathon might not be such a clever idea for the full distance. Whatever the result, I’ll know more after the race.
So, I did another tempo run today after resting on Monday. Well, resting is relative; I didn’t do any running, but I spent an hour in the gym. The new gym, that I mentioned a few weeks ago, has opened, and my employers are paying half the fee for the first three months as a special bonus, making this a rather cheap option. The trainer, Áine, gave me a set of drills to improve core strength and endurance. Between you and me, I think she's trying to kill me. I did an hour last night, and expected to be really sore in the abs, chest and shoulders today, but I'm fine so far. Of course, the DOMS might still hit tomorrow.
Where was I? Oh yes, today’s tempo run. Those efforts are going very well indeed, every run is faster than the previous one, and they also feel easier. My paces have nearly dropped to the same speed that I had before the ultra, and I wished I had another one or two weeks to prepare for the race, but that’s obviously not happening. I’m quite looking forward to the race. My goal is to beat 1:30, and I’m feeling very optimistic. The fallback target is my half-marathon PR of 1:35:40, and as long as I don’t suffer some serious setback, I’ll definitely beat that. Funny, it cost me blood, sweat and tears to get that time just half a year ago, and now I regard it as a seriously soft target. Times are a-changing.
1 May: 8 miles, 59:27, 7:25 pace, incl. 4 miles in 26:29 (6:37 pace)
Monthly mileage for April: 220
I’m trying a new tapering method this time. I’m still trying to find the best values for length and training intensity for the last few weeks before a marathon (who isn’t!), and came across this article. They basically suggest cutting the mileage quite radically, but increasing the intensity of the runs. The most radical approach is cutting the mileage by 90% and running the rest at fast interval pace. I won’t try to emulate this, but the plan is to do a tempo run on Tuesday, another one on Thursday, and to rest every other day. If I feel like it, I might run 2 or 3 easy miles on Saturday to loosen up the legs. Who knows, this may well be a stupid way to prepare for the race, but I decided that this half would be the perfect opportunity to test it out. I won’t have too many regrets if the race falls flat, it certainly means a lot less to me than a marathon or ultra. On the other hand, if the experiment goes well I might apply the same strategy for my next big race. Of course what works for a half-marathon might not be such a clever idea for the full distance. Whatever the result, I’ll know more after the race.
So, I did another tempo run today after resting on Monday. Well, resting is relative; I didn’t do any running, but I spent an hour in the gym. The new gym, that I mentioned a few weeks ago, has opened, and my employers are paying half the fee for the first three months as a special bonus, making this a rather cheap option. The trainer, Áine, gave me a set of drills to improve core strength and endurance. Between you and me, I think she's trying to kill me. I did an hour last night, and expected to be really sore in the abs, chest and shoulders today, but I'm fine so far. Of course, the DOMS might still hit tomorrow.
Where was I? Oh yes, today’s tempo run. Those efforts are going very well indeed, every run is faster than the previous one, and they also feel easier. My paces have nearly dropped to the same speed that I had before the ultra, and I wished I had another one or two weeks to prepare for the race, but that’s obviously not happening. I’m quite looking forward to the race. My goal is to beat 1:30, and I’m feeling very optimistic. The fallback target is my half-marathon PR of 1:35:40, and as long as I don’t suffer some serious setback, I’ll definitely beat that. Funny, it cost me blood, sweat and tears to get that time just half a year ago, and now I regard it as a seriously soft target. Times are a-changing.
1 May: 8 miles, 59:27, 7:25 pace, incl. 4 miles in 26:29 (6:37 pace)
Monthly mileage for April: 220
Sunday, April 29, 2007
Relax? Don’t do it.
Where to begin? Well, firstly, the race is not until next Sunday. Does “Sunday week” have a different meaning on the other side of the Big Pond? Over here it means “Sunday in one week”. Therefore I still have seven day to get ready (and faster).Secondly, the house is still standing after Friday’s invasion. The barbarian hordes come through, ate the kitchen dry, and left with very little damage. A garden light is broken, and I think that’s all of it. The weather was absolutely gorgeous and the twins truly had a day to remember. Despite all this, Niamh has decided that next year they both can invite a finite number of friends, maybe 6 each. I’ll bet you she’s forgotten by then, though.
We had a big bouncy castle in the garden, and of course I had to test it with Shea (ahem). Let’s call it plyometric exercise. I was knackered after two minutes on it. I don’t know how the kids managed to bounce for the whole afternoon.This is a running blog, you say? Oh yes, I might have forgotten temporarily. I did another tempo run on Friday, with very heavy legs initially. I did question the wisdom of playing an hour of soccer on the evening before a tempo effort, but somehow felt very good once the faster section started. I managed to surprise myself with 4 miles in 27:20 (6:50 pace), despite not pushing all out. Like on Tuesday I still felt good after 4 miles, but opted to slow down for the cool down anyway.
Saturday called for a slower recovery effort. After all I’m supposed to be tapering now. 5 miles in over 42 minutes were all I had time for, because we had to drive to Millstreet for a “Disney on Ice” show. It’s a birthday present for the twins, especially for Lola. They loved it, even though we had told them they could not have any of the overpriced merchandise. They just enjoyed the ice dancing. Lola was really funny. When she saw Minnie Mouse, she said "That’s just a person dressed up". But when the princesses came on, she commented “so that’s what Princess Jasmine looks like in real life.”
Remember last Sunday’s tempo effort? I wasn’t too pleased with the result. After 5 miles of tempo I felt like lying on the side of the road. Today I repeated the exercise, and was much happier about it. I’d still like to be faster, of course, but I did three tempo runs this week, each one faster than the previous one. The sequence more or less continued (same pace, but on a hillier course), and I felt much better after 5 fast miles than seven days ago, despite running a bit faster (lower heart rate though). The times for the 2.5 mile segments were 17:44 and 16:56 (6:53 and 6:46 pace respectively), giving me a total of 34:10 (6:50 pace) for the entire tempo section. My improvement this week has been quite remarkable. I don’t quite know if it’s because the tempo efforts are getting my body used to the higher effort, or if I’m just shaking off the last effects of the ultra, but I’m pleased all the same.I still can’t rest, after the birthday party on Friday and the Disney show yesterday we have to go to Killarney where Lola is taking part in a ballet performance (two actually), and we’re making it a family day with picnic and all. I’m sure I’ll get some rest, somewhere and somehow. I just don’t know quite when yet.
27 Apr: 8 miles, 59:27, 7:25 pace, avg. HR 154, with 4 miles in 27:20 (6:50 pace)
28 Apr: 5 miles, 42:12, 8:26 pace, avg. HR 146
29 Apr: 9 miles, 1:05:40, 7:17 pace, avg. HR 160, with 5 miles in 34:10 (6:50 pace)
Weekly Mileage: 56 miles
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Watch that Foot
After Tuesday’s tempo run it was time for another long(-ish) effort on Wednesday. In fact, this was my last long run before the race, because, as I’ve mentioned in a previous post, I intend to have some taper for this race. I originally intended to do 15 miles, but then changed my mind, because I’m pretty sure that a lack of endurance will not be my problem during a half-marathon. So I cut it down to 13, mainly because it meant another 15 minutes of sleep.
The legs just took off, and I went along for the ride. My mp3 player got fried during Monday’s rain (it did that before and recovered eventually), and I've rejoined the silent masses, at least temporarily. I felt surprisingly good, Tuesday’s tempo effort didn’t seem to have much effect on the legs. The turnaround point is on top of a big hill, so the second half was always bound to be faster than the first one, but I still didn’t expect to cover the 6.5 return miles in about 49 minutes (7:32 pace). Wow! I wasn’t even trying to push the pace. The whole run took a few seconds over 1:41, which is pretty much the time I ran for the race last year, and that was my PR back then. Sure, the workout was a bit shorter than 13.1 miles, but it certainly bodes well for Sunday week.
There had to be a drawback to such a run, and it came with less than 2 miles to spare. All of a sudden my right foot started acting up again. It was a different pain than last time, all of a sudden my toes started to feel sort of numb, which brought back all kinds of worries about a neuroma. I didn’t get the sharp pain with every toe-off, just a weird sensation in my foot. And it was while wearing my favourite Asics Nimbus, so it’s definitely not just the Nike 360’s who are to blame. I’m a little bit worried about this, but not really for the race. If I get a pain with 2 miles to go I can always grind my teeth together and push through it. Even if it slows me down, it won’t cost too much.
Since that run had been much faster than originally intended I decided to take it easy again today, with 8 miles at a slower pace, plus I added a few strides to the second half. After a few rainy days the weather has turned very nice again and I ran in glorious sunshine. That should bode well for tomorrow – it’s the twins’ birthday, and with about 30 kids invited the bouncy castle and the climbing frame in the garden will be vital. I hope the house will still stand by the time the festivities have ended.
25 Apr: 13 miles, 1:41:17, 7:46 pace, avg. HR 154
25 Apr: 8 miles, 1:04:05, 8:00 pace, avg. HR 150, including 8x100 strides
The legs just took off, and I went along for the ride. My mp3 player got fried during Monday’s rain (it did that before and recovered eventually), and I've rejoined the silent masses, at least temporarily. I felt surprisingly good, Tuesday’s tempo effort didn’t seem to have much effect on the legs. The turnaround point is on top of a big hill, so the second half was always bound to be faster than the first one, but I still didn’t expect to cover the 6.5 return miles in about 49 minutes (7:32 pace). Wow! I wasn’t even trying to push the pace. The whole run took a few seconds over 1:41, which is pretty much the time I ran for the race last year, and that was my PR back then. Sure, the workout was a bit shorter than 13.1 miles, but it certainly bodes well for Sunday week.
There had to be a drawback to such a run, and it came with less than 2 miles to spare. All of a sudden my right foot started acting up again. It was a different pain than last time, all of a sudden my toes started to feel sort of numb, which brought back all kinds of worries about a neuroma. I didn’t get the sharp pain with every toe-off, just a weird sensation in my foot. And it was while wearing my favourite Asics Nimbus, so it’s definitely not just the Nike 360’s who are to blame. I’m a little bit worried about this, but not really for the race. If I get a pain with 2 miles to go I can always grind my teeth together and push through it. Even if it slows me down, it won’t cost too much.
Since that run had been much faster than originally intended I decided to take it easy again today, with 8 miles at a slower pace, plus I added a few strides to the second half. After a few rainy days the weather has turned very nice again and I ran in glorious sunshine. That should bode well for tomorrow – it’s the twins’ birthday, and with about 30 kids invited the bouncy castle and the climbing frame in the garden will be vital. I hope the house will still stand by the time the festivities have ended.
25 Apr: 13 miles, 1:41:17, 7:46 pace, avg. HR 154
25 Apr: 8 miles, 1:04:05, 8:00 pace, avg. HR 150, including 8x100 strides
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Better
We’ve had some very nice weather over the last few weeks, which is very unusual for this part of the world in April, to say the least. Of course everyone agrees that we deserve a nice spell after the lousy winter, and that it probably means we’ll have a lousy summer, too. Anyway, all good things come to an end, and yesterday was when the nice weather ended, at least for now.
I had planned 10 miles and accordingly set the alarm for 6 o’clock, but when all I could hear was wind and the rain outside I did something I haven’t done in a long, long time: I reset the alarm and went back to bed. I did get up 40 minutes later for a 5-mile run, and somehow the weather didn’t seem as bad then. It was still windy and rainy, but it was definitely manageable. My legs felt very stiff, not surprisingly after Sunday’s tempo run. I tried to run as easy and relaxed as I could. Niamh was still asleep when I got back home, and after breakfast I told her how I had gone back to bed because of the weather. She started praising me for finally showing some sense, but when I told her that I actually had been running, just a bit shorter, she could only roll her eyes. I guess it means it’ll take some more time to develop some sense for me.
Today’s conditions were much more agreeable; the wind was still there but the rain was absent, and I went out for another tempo run. Not as fast as Sunday, I tried to do what I think Lydiard would call a ½ effort in contrast to Sunday’s ¾ effort. The legs still felt stiff during the 2 warm-up miles, but felt amazingly fresh once I started the tempo section. It was quite remarkable, by keeping the effort just a tiny bit lower than on Sunday, with heart rates in the lower-to-mid 160s (Sunday’s were in the high 160s/low 170s, and up to 180 on a steep climb), it felt so much easier! I felt better the longer it went on and I guess I could have pushed for more than the 4 miles, but decided not to overdo it and backed off. I was surprised when I calculated my pace, despite seemingly putting in a lot less effort I was just a handful of second slower than on Sunday.
I feel a lot better about this effort than I did two days ago. As Mike correctly guessed, I’m shooting for 1:30 (how did you know that? Are my training paces so easy to read?), and after Sunday’s run I really did not think I would be able to do it. Today I’m a lot more optimistic. The legs seem to come round to that pace very quickly, and I still have some time to get them up to speed. I’m quite sure I’ll be in 1:30 shape on a flat course, but unfortunately the half is rather hilly. I’m not sure how much that will cost me.
23 Apr: 5 miles, 41:56, 8:23 pace, avg. HR 146
24 Apr: 8 miles, 1:10:12, 7:39 pace, avg. HR 156, including 4 miles in 27:44 (6:56 pace)
I had planned 10 miles and accordingly set the alarm for 6 o’clock, but when all I could hear was wind and the rain outside I did something I haven’t done in a long, long time: I reset the alarm and went back to bed. I did get up 40 minutes later for a 5-mile run, and somehow the weather didn’t seem as bad then. It was still windy and rainy, but it was definitely manageable. My legs felt very stiff, not surprisingly after Sunday’s tempo run. I tried to run as easy and relaxed as I could. Niamh was still asleep when I got back home, and after breakfast I told her how I had gone back to bed because of the weather. She started praising me for finally showing some sense, but when I told her that I actually had been running, just a bit shorter, she could only roll her eyes. I guess it means it’ll take some more time to develop some sense for me.
Today’s conditions were much more agreeable; the wind was still there but the rain was absent, and I went out for another tempo run. Not as fast as Sunday, I tried to do what I think Lydiard would call a ½ effort in contrast to Sunday’s ¾ effort. The legs still felt stiff during the 2 warm-up miles, but felt amazingly fresh once I started the tempo section. It was quite remarkable, by keeping the effort just a tiny bit lower than on Sunday, with heart rates in the lower-to-mid 160s (Sunday’s were in the high 160s/low 170s, and up to 180 on a steep climb), it felt so much easier! I felt better the longer it went on and I guess I could have pushed for more than the 4 miles, but decided not to overdo it and backed off. I was surprised when I calculated my pace, despite seemingly putting in a lot less effort I was just a handful of second slower than on Sunday.
I feel a lot better about this effort than I did two days ago. As Mike correctly guessed, I’m shooting for 1:30 (how did you know that? Are my training paces so easy to read?), and after Sunday’s run I really did not think I would be able to do it. Today I’m a lot more optimistic. The legs seem to come round to that pace very quickly, and I still have some time to get them up to speed. I’m quite sure I’ll be in 1:30 shape on a flat course, but unfortunately the half is rather hilly. I’m not sure how much that will cost me.
23 Apr: 5 miles, 41:56, 8:23 pace, avg. HR 146
24 Apr: 8 miles, 1:10:12, 7:39 pace, avg. HR 156, including 4 miles in 27:44 (6:56 pace)
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Tempo Limits
First things first, I did indeed run the 12.5 mile Kerry Way loop on Friday morning, and to my relief my right foot held up just fine. The thought of a neuroma was just paranoia on my part, and I guess the ones amongst you who commented that it was just bruising were probably right. The run went pretty well for the most part, but there is a long climb, starting at mile 5 and going for, I guess, three miles, climbing over 250 meters (800 feet) in the process. That was seriously hard work, and I kept thinking, “This used to be easier”. However, once the worst of the climb was behind me I really started to enjoy myself; running up there with the view across Caragh Lake and towards the mountains is just magical. I even brought the camera to capture some of the magic, but it was a dreary, cloudy day and the lighting conditions weren’t right. Besides, I got such a good rhythm going that I felt loath to stop for a photo.
Niamh had to go off early on Saturday morning, and I decided to take a rest day. I didn’t fancy getting up early on the weekend, and running in the evening doesn’t appeal to me any more. However, I woke at 6:20, and I was still awake at 6:30, 6:40 and 6:50, and then I got fed up with tossing and turning, and went for a short run after all. I tell you, there’s a part of my subconscious that really doesn’t want me to rest. I kept it easy enough, because I didn’t want it to interfere with Sunday’s planned tempo run.
Today is exactly three weeks after the ultra and two weeks before the half, and since I really wanted to get the legs used to running at a faster pace, it was high time to do so. I haven’t done too many tempo runs through my ultra training; the long run double-headers didn’t leave much room for faster running. Of course I haven’t got much time before the half to get my legs used to the desired pace, and I guess I won’t be at my very best. I’ll still try to do as well as I can. Anyway, the day didn’t start too well; I woke with a sore throat and a chesty cough. That’s supposed to be a sign that I should run at all, but after taking some medicine and hanging around for two hours I convinced myself that I was well enough to run. I used the first two miles to gradually up the pace, and the following 2.5 miles out and then back again constituted the main part of the run. The warm up miles took just under 15 minutes (~ 7:30 pace) and the 5 mile tempo effort took 34:22 (17:38 and 16:44 respectively), which equates to a pace of 6:52 (7:03 and 6:41 for the two halves). To be honest I’m slightly disappointed with that. The headwind on the outward stretch had been pretty strong, so much so that I kept thinking that I should have opted for mile repeats on the more sheltered Ard-na-Sidhe road instead. But I kept going, and obviously the return leg was wind-assisted. I had planned to decide at mile 7 if I fancied two more miles at tempo pace or if I would slow down to a cool-down effort instead, but I was seriously hanging on at that point and two more miles of torture didn’t seem palatable. The calves had been singing the ode to pain for quite some time and by that point the quads had joined the choir, and I just had to slow down. The final two miles went by in a comparatively pedestrian 15:52, giving me a combined time of 1:05:12 for the entire 9 miles; not my best by any means, but all I had in me today.
I’ll have to decide if I can add one or two more tempo efforts before the race. It’s a balance between getting the sustainable pace up (or the aerobic threshold, even though that’s physiologically incorrect) and being well rested for the race itself. I usually don’t taper for anything less that a marathon, but since this will be my last race of the “season” I don’t have an incentive of training all the way through.
20 Apr: 12.5 miles, 1:41:18, 8:06 pace
21 Apr: 6 miles, 50:12, 8:22 pace, avg. HR 147
22 Apr: 9 miles, 1:05:12, 7:14 pace, avg. HR 166, with 5 miles in 34:22 (6:52 pace)
Weekly mileage: 57.5 miles
Niamh had to go off early on Saturday morning, and I decided to take a rest day. I didn’t fancy getting up early on the weekend, and running in the evening doesn’t appeal to me any more. However, I woke at 6:20, and I was still awake at 6:30, 6:40 and 6:50, and then I got fed up with tossing and turning, and went for a short run after all. I tell you, there’s a part of my subconscious that really doesn’t want me to rest. I kept it easy enough, because I didn’t want it to interfere with Sunday’s planned tempo run.
Today is exactly three weeks after the ultra and two weeks before the half, and since I really wanted to get the legs used to running at a faster pace, it was high time to do so. I haven’t done too many tempo runs through my ultra training; the long run double-headers didn’t leave much room for faster running. Of course I haven’t got much time before the half to get my legs used to the desired pace, and I guess I won’t be at my very best. I’ll still try to do as well as I can. Anyway, the day didn’t start too well; I woke with a sore throat and a chesty cough. That’s supposed to be a sign that I should run at all, but after taking some medicine and hanging around for two hours I convinced myself that I was well enough to run. I used the first two miles to gradually up the pace, and the following 2.5 miles out and then back again constituted the main part of the run. The warm up miles took just under 15 minutes (~ 7:30 pace) and the 5 mile tempo effort took 34:22 (17:38 and 16:44 respectively), which equates to a pace of 6:52 (7:03 and 6:41 for the two halves). To be honest I’m slightly disappointed with that. The headwind on the outward stretch had been pretty strong, so much so that I kept thinking that I should have opted for mile repeats on the more sheltered Ard-na-Sidhe road instead. But I kept going, and obviously the return leg was wind-assisted. I had planned to decide at mile 7 if I fancied two more miles at tempo pace or if I would slow down to a cool-down effort instead, but I was seriously hanging on at that point and two more miles of torture didn’t seem palatable. The calves had been singing the ode to pain for quite some time and by that point the quads had joined the choir, and I just had to slow down. The final two miles went by in a comparatively pedestrian 15:52, giving me a combined time of 1:05:12 for the entire 9 miles; not my best by any means, but all I had in me today.
I’ll have to decide if I can add one or two more tempo efforts before the race. It’s a balance between getting the sustainable pace up (or the aerobic threshold, even though that’s physiologically incorrect) and being well rested for the race itself. I usually don’t taper for anything less that a marathon, but since this will be my last race of the “season” I don’t have an incentive of training all the way through.
20 Apr: 12.5 miles, 1:41:18, 8:06 pace
21 Apr: 6 miles, 50:12, 8:22 pace, avg. HR 147
22 Apr: 9 miles, 1:05:12, 7:14 pace, avg. HR 166, with 5 miles in 34:22 (6:52 pace)
Weekly mileage: 57.5 miles
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Ouch
A few days ago, maybe Sunday or Monday, just as I was finishing my run I stepped on a stone outside our driveway and felt a very sharp pain in my right foot. Because I was just 20 seconds away from the end I didn’t think much of it, especially since the pain went away as soon as I stopped running.
I ran 10 miles on Wednesday, and all went very well, until 2.5 miles from the end. All of a sudden the pain in my foot was back, and I was in absolute agony. With each toe-off a sharp pain would shoot through my foot. I tried to adjust my stride, and to run mostly on the right instep, but that’s not really a good idea if you want to avoid follow-on injuries. I eventually got back home, and again the pain disappeared the second I stopped running. Walking was absolutely fine; it was only running that caused the problem. I did what most runners would do nowadays and googled the assorted wisdom of the Internet. From the symptoms I found the closest match would be Morton’s Neuroma, which I certainly can’t rule out. It could be caused by the shoes, I was wearing Nike 360’s for that 10-miler, and the toe-box in those is definitely tighter than in my beloved Asics Nimbus. But I have covered over 700 miles in two identical pairs of 360’s without troubles, and would be surprised if all of a sudden I’m struck with such an injury.
Actually there was a second problem with that run, namely my heart rate was much higher than expected. Sure, I ran at a decent clip, but at one stage I happened to glimpse the number in my HR monitor and was shocked to see it at nearly 160; the effort felt like 10 beats less. Each time I doubt my HR monitor I eventually come round to the idea that the reading was most likely correct, so I assumed that my heart rate was indeed pretty high, even though it didn’t feel like that.
The strange thing is that the run itself went very well. I covered the return leg in 37:42, which equates to 7:32 pace, despite being in agony for the second half of it, and without really pushing the pace.
The combination of yesterday’s problems caused me to opt for a short and slow recovery run today (yes, I know, I could have rested completely), in a different pair of shoes and at easy, easy, easy effort all the way. It worked, the heart rate was pretty low and the foot was absolutely fine, and now I’m unsure on how to proceed. I was planning a 12.5 miler on the Kerry Way tomorrow, which I most likely will still attempt, but if the foot problem strikes at the farthest point from home I’ll have to hobble for a very long way. On the other hand the softer surface of that dirt road should help me avoid any problems. At least that’s what I’m banking on.
18 Apr: 10 miles, 1:16:49, 7:40 pace, avg. HR 156
19 Apr: 6 miles, 52:16, 8:42 pace, avg. HR 144
I ran 10 miles on Wednesday, and all went very well, until 2.5 miles from the end. All of a sudden the pain in my foot was back, and I was in absolute agony. With each toe-off a sharp pain would shoot through my foot. I tried to adjust my stride, and to run mostly on the right instep, but that’s not really a good idea if you want to avoid follow-on injuries. I eventually got back home, and again the pain disappeared the second I stopped running. Walking was absolutely fine; it was only running that caused the problem. I did what most runners would do nowadays and googled the assorted wisdom of the Internet. From the symptoms I found the closest match would be Morton’s Neuroma, which I certainly can’t rule out. It could be caused by the shoes, I was wearing Nike 360’s for that 10-miler, and the toe-box in those is definitely tighter than in my beloved Asics Nimbus. But I have covered over 700 miles in two identical pairs of 360’s without troubles, and would be surprised if all of a sudden I’m struck with such an injury.
Actually there was a second problem with that run, namely my heart rate was much higher than expected. Sure, I ran at a decent clip, but at one stage I happened to glimpse the number in my HR monitor and was shocked to see it at nearly 160; the effort felt like 10 beats less. Each time I doubt my HR monitor I eventually come round to the idea that the reading was most likely correct, so I assumed that my heart rate was indeed pretty high, even though it didn’t feel like that.
The strange thing is that the run itself went very well. I covered the return leg in 37:42, which equates to 7:32 pace, despite being in agony for the second half of it, and without really pushing the pace.
The combination of yesterday’s problems caused me to opt for a short and slow recovery run today (yes, I know, I could have rested completely), in a different pair of shoes and at easy, easy, easy effort all the way. It worked, the heart rate was pretty low and the foot was absolutely fine, and now I’m unsure on how to proceed. I was planning a 12.5 miler on the Kerry Way tomorrow, which I most likely will still attempt, but if the foot problem strikes at the farthest point from home I’ll have to hobble for a very long way. On the other hand the softer surface of that dirt road should help me avoid any problems. At least that’s what I’m banking on.
18 Apr: 10 miles, 1:16:49, 7:40 pace, avg. HR 156
19 Apr: 6 miles, 52:16, 8:42 pace, avg. HR 144
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Achoo!
The heavy legs that I had feared on Sunday arrived a day later. As soon as I headed out for Monday’s run, I felt like dragging a concrete weight behind me. Despite looking carefully I couldn’t find it, and just had to drag on. The second problem was that I generally didn’t feel too well. I had woken up with a sore throat and a general feeling of feebleness. The run went by, but the fatigue carried on through the day. I thought I had the beginnings of a cold, and it wasn’t until later on the evening that I realised that it’s the first of my two annual bouts of hay fever. I get that twice every year, once in April, and a second, worse, one in July. The timing is right, and the symptoms match. There isn’t much I can do about it; the only anti-histamine tablets that seem to have an effect are also making me drowsy, and that’s not an option during the day. Falling asleep in the office wouldn’t make a good impression, and doing the same on the commute doesn’t even bear thinking about.
However, I felt better today. While the hay fever symptoms are still there the heavy legs have gone and I managed 8 miles at a decent pace with 8x100 strides in-between. I’m quite pleased with the way my pace is developing again, even though the heart rate is still a few beats high. I’m almost half-way between the ultra and the half-marathon in Bantry, and I have high hopes for another PR. I did run that race last year, 5 weeks after running 26 miles in Connemara, and I felt just about recovered by the time I stood at the start line. This time I’m running it 5 weeks after running 39 miles in Connemara, and I’m actually hoping for a quicker recovery. We will see.
16 Apr: 6 miles, 49:08, 8:11 pace, avg. HR 148
17 Apr: 8 miles, 1:02:11, 7:46 pace, avg. HR 152, including 8x100 strides
However, I felt better today. While the hay fever symptoms are still there the heavy legs have gone and I managed 8 miles at a decent pace with 8x100 strides in-between. I’m quite pleased with the way my pace is developing again, even though the heart rate is still a few beats high. I’m almost half-way between the ultra and the half-marathon in Bantry, and I have high hopes for another PR. I did run that race last year, 5 weeks after running 26 miles in Connemara, and I felt just about recovered by the time I stood at the start line. This time I’m running it 5 weeks after running 39 miles in Connemara, and I’m actually hoping for a quicker recovery. We will see.
16 Apr: 6 miles, 49:08, 8:11 pace, avg. HR 148
17 Apr: 8 miles, 1:02:11, 7:46 pace, avg. HR 152, including 8x100 strides
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Faster? Longer? Both!
After all those easy 5-mile recovery runs I couldn’t resist temptation any longer and upped the pace over the last few days. This isn’t with an eye to the half-marathon that is just 3 weeks away, I just got bored with easy running and wanted to feel a higher effort level in my legs.
I gradually increased the pace on Friday, but it still felt easy enough. In fact I was surprised to come home in less than 40 minutes. Truth to be told it might have been a tad shorter than 5 miles, but not by much. And then I certainly increased the pace (and effort) on Saturday. It was still only 5 miles, but noticeably faster. I was surprised how heavy the calved felt after 3 miles, especially on any incline, no matter how small. Having said that, I ran the second half of that run in 18:41(7:28 pace), and while it wasn’t quite a tempo run it was a lot faster than anything I’ve run in several weeks. I started to feel better towards the end, which gives me hope for the coming weeks.
Today I ventured out for double-digit mileage for the first time since the ultra. Of course I haven’t completely recovered yet, but I feel fine, and today’s run went very smoothly. After running the faster effort on Saturday coupled with 5 strenuous hours of gardening I expected it to be tough, but within half a mile the legs felt great and took off. I kept the effort in check, but a strong headwind made the outward section pretty hard work. I expected some assistance on the home leg, but somehow the wind managed to come pretty much from the front no matter which way I turned. At least the big black cloud that I had spied early on didn’t manage to catch up with me. The run seemed to get easier the longer it went on, and I was almost disappointed when I got home. I really enjoyed myself out there on the road. That must be a good sign. After all the training I did for the ultra I still can’t wait to get out again, each and every day.
Weekly mileage: 47 miles
13 Apr: 5 miles, 39:34, 7:54 pace, avg. HR 149
14 Apr: 5 miles, 38:24, 7:40 pace, avg. HR 156
15 Apr: 10 miles, 1:18:21. 7:50 pace, avg. HR 149
I gradually increased the pace on Friday, but it still felt easy enough. In fact I was surprised to come home in less than 40 minutes. Truth to be told it might have been a tad shorter than 5 miles, but not by much. And then I certainly increased the pace (and effort) on Saturday. It was still only 5 miles, but noticeably faster. I was surprised how heavy the calved felt after 3 miles, especially on any incline, no matter how small. Having said that, I ran the second half of that run in 18:41(7:28 pace), and while it wasn’t quite a tempo run it was a lot faster than anything I’ve run in several weeks. I started to feel better towards the end, which gives me hope for the coming weeks.
Today I ventured out for double-digit mileage for the first time since the ultra. Of course I haven’t completely recovered yet, but I feel fine, and today’s run went very smoothly. After running the faster effort on Saturday coupled with 5 strenuous hours of gardening I expected it to be tough, but within half a mile the legs felt great and took off. I kept the effort in check, but a strong headwind made the outward section pretty hard work. I expected some assistance on the home leg, but somehow the wind managed to come pretty much from the front no matter which way I turned. At least the big black cloud that I had spied early on didn’t manage to catch up with me. The run seemed to get easier the longer it went on, and I was almost disappointed when I got home. I really enjoyed myself out there on the road. That must be a good sign. After all the training I did for the ultra I still can’t wait to get out again, each and every day.
Weekly mileage: 47 miles
13 Apr: 5 miles, 39:34, 7:54 pace, avg. HR 149
14 Apr: 5 miles, 38:24, 7:40 pace, avg. HR 156
15 Apr: 10 miles, 1:18:21. 7:50 pace, avg. HR 149
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Back to Life, Back to Reality
The long weekend is over, and I’m back in the work routine. The congratulations for the successful ultra have died down, people have stopped asking me how it went, and even the charity money has been collected in full. I guess it’s time to move on.
I originally planned to have a rest day at some stage this week. However, I never felt tired, and I just kept running every morning. Maybe I’m just addicted to running.
The pace for my runs keeps dropping to roughly the same level it was before the ultra. The last two runs were all at easy effort, and sure enough, they were at 8:00 pace. The one thing that’s not dropping is the heart rate, and it’s especially high on any climbs. It’s a daily reminder to take it easy, and even though I might feel recovered, there is still some repair work going on in my body.
Yesterday was my last run in Valentia, and I did the usual loop through the centre of the island. I ran it counter-clockwise, so that the last 2.5 miles would be flat to give me some room for strides. I managed 7 before I got close to home, and after the fourth one my left calf developed a twinge. It went away soon enough, but I think my left calf is the one muscle that needs the most recovery. It was the sorest one the day after the race.
Today I was back at Caragh Lake, and ran 8 miles alongside the lake. The scenery is just as beautiful as ever. In fact, it reminded me of Connemara. The eight miles flew by, and I still felt fresh towards the end. At mile 3 I got the same twinge in my left calf as yesterday, and again it went away after a few minutes. I’ll keep an eye on it, but I’m pretty sure it will go away all by itself.
I adjusted my chair in the office in the hope that a different seating position might have a positive effect on my hip. It’s too early to tell if it made any difference.
A new gym has opened in Killorglin, and my employer will pay half the fee for the first 3 months. I guess I’ll give that one a go. There are two other gyms, one is crap and the other one is for women only (discrimination!), which rather limits my choice. The new one looks nice though.
11 Apr: 5.7 miles, 45:43, 8:01 pace, avg. HR 152, including 7x100 strides
12 Apr: 8 miles, 1:02:48, 7:51 pace, avg. HR 152
I originally planned to have a rest day at some stage this week. However, I never felt tired, and I just kept running every morning. Maybe I’m just addicted to running.
The pace for my runs keeps dropping to roughly the same level it was before the ultra. The last two runs were all at easy effort, and sure enough, they were at 8:00 pace. The one thing that’s not dropping is the heart rate, and it’s especially high on any climbs. It’s a daily reminder to take it easy, and even though I might feel recovered, there is still some repair work going on in my body.
Yesterday was my last run in Valentia, and I did the usual loop through the centre of the island. I ran it counter-clockwise, so that the last 2.5 miles would be flat to give me some room for strides. I managed 7 before I got close to home, and after the fourth one my left calf developed a twinge. It went away soon enough, but I think my left calf is the one muscle that needs the most recovery. It was the sorest one the day after the race.
Today I was back at Caragh Lake, and ran 8 miles alongside the lake. The scenery is just as beautiful as ever. In fact, it reminded me of Connemara. The eight miles flew by, and I still felt fresh towards the end. At mile 3 I got the same twinge in my left calf as yesterday, and again it went away after a few minutes. I’ll keep an eye on it, but I’m pretty sure it will go away all by itself.
I adjusted my chair in the office in the hope that a different seating position might have a positive effect on my hip. It’s too early to tell if it made any difference.
A new gym has opened in Killorglin, and my employer will pay half the fee for the first 3 months. I guess I’ll give that one a go. There are two other gyms, one is crap and the other one is for women only (discrimination!), which rather limits my choice. The new one looks nice though.
11 Apr: 5.7 miles, 45:43, 8:01 pace, avg. HR 152, including 7x100 strides
12 Apr: 8 miles, 1:02:48, 7:51 pace, avg. HR 152
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Like a Fish Out Of Water
If you ever wondered what I look like after running 39 miles, here’s your chance to find out. I used the broadband connection at work to dig through some more photos (beats working, believe me) and came up with a few hits, including that sequence from less than half a mile before the line. Why they positioned a photographer so close to the end yet have no shots of the actual finish line is beyond me.
The family is still in Valentia, and I’m commuting the 30 miles each way for today and tomorrow before coming back to Caragh Lake. It meant getting up reasonably early this morning, but not outrageously so. The runs are still short enough to be over quickly, allowing me to sleep until 6:30.
I ran slightly longer on Monday, and on a much hillier route than any other training run from the last few weeks. I have been cautious with hills recently because my hip is still feeling funny. It’s not really hurting, but something isn’t quite right. Also, the exact location of the discomfort seems to be shifting slightly every time I try to locate it. What’s certain is that sitting for hours in a chair seems to be the worst. I managed to run 39 miles without any real reaction, but give me 5 hours of sitting in the office chair and I’m shifting my weight every 30 seconds due to some pain that refuses to go away. Has anyone got an idea what it could be?
My pace is picking up gradually without me even trying. The 8 miles from Monday had be hanging on towards the last 2 miles, showing that I’ve still got some recovering to do. I’m still taking it easy, but I hope to be able to get some mileage done this week, and maybe a tempo run or two next week, to remind the legs what a faster pace feels like.
8 Apr: 5.7 miles, 46:10, 8:05 pace, avg. HR 151
9 Apr: 7.8 miles, 1:01:14, 7:51 pace, avg. HR 156
10 Apr: 5.7 miles, 46:45, 8:12 pace, avg. HR 151
The family is still in Valentia, and I’m commuting the 30 miles each way for today and tomorrow before coming back to Caragh Lake. It meant getting up reasonably early this morning, but not outrageously so. The runs are still short enough to be over quickly, allowing me to sleep until 6:30.
I ran slightly longer on Monday, and on a much hillier route than any other training run from the last few weeks. I have been cautious with hills recently because my hip is still feeling funny. It’s not really hurting, but something isn’t quite right. Also, the exact location of the discomfort seems to be shifting slightly every time I try to locate it. What’s certain is that sitting for hours in a chair seems to be the worst. I managed to run 39 miles without any real reaction, but give me 5 hours of sitting in the office chair and I’m shifting my weight every 30 seconds due to some pain that refuses to go away. Has anyone got an idea what it could be?
My pace is picking up gradually without me even trying. The 8 miles from Monday had be hanging on towards the last 2 miles, showing that I’ve still got some recovering to do. I’m still taking it easy, but I hope to be able to get some mileage done this week, and maybe a tempo run or two next week, to remind the legs what a faster pace feels like.
8 Apr: 5.7 miles, 46:10, 8:05 pace, avg. HR 151
9 Apr: 7.8 miles, 1:01:14, 7:51 pace, avg. HR 156
10 Apr: 5.7 miles, 46:45, 8:12 pace, avg. HR 151
Saturday, April 07, 2007
Bounce Bounce Bounce
I can’t believe how well I’m feeling. Just six days after running 39.3 miles my quads seem absolutely fine, and there is just a little residue of soreness in my left calf. Apart from that I feel like I could run another marathon at short notice. I guess being well prepared pays off, big time. Keep that in mind for any running adventures you’re planning.
I’m back on the road regularly now, but all my runs are recovery runs, and no longer than 5 miles. I feel fine, but even so, it’s not even a week after my ultra, and there’s nothing to be gained from being too adventurous. I did basically the same run today and yesterday, my trusty 5-mile loop to Ard-na-Sidhe. My mind keeps going back to Connemara, and the legs do their own thing. They know that route so well they don’t need any input from the brain.My feet are in sensational shape. No blisters, no black toenails, nothing; they’re pristine. I should frame those Asics Nimbus; they’re worth their weight in Gold. Instead I’ll most likely chuck them away like all their predecessors once their mileage is up.
The company that took the photos in Connemara are absolutely useless. Hardly any photos on ultra runners are available from their search, none came up for my bib number of course, and there are no finishing line pictures at all. How crap is that? It’s like they don’t want to make any business. Anyway, I used to work as a web developer for several years and still know a few things, so I managed to dig in manually, and came up with three photos of myself. None look particularly flattering (and in one I’m heel striking badly), but looking good is not the point of long distance running, is it?We’re off to Valentia Island over the Easter weekend. The weather is stunning, not a cloud in the sky and it’s predicted to stay like that for several days. It makes up for the ruined Paddy’s Day celebrations I guess.
6 Apr: 5 miles, 43:02, 8:36 pace, avg. HR 149
7 Apr: 5 miles, 43:04, 8:36 pace, avg. HR 148
Thursday, April 05, 2007
Utterly Random Thoughts
I usually do a bit of analysing after each race, to see what went well and what didn't, but I can't think of much to say about Sunday's race, not least because I haven't got anything to compare it to. So spare me while I just type whatever comes into my mind.
I'm generally a slow starter but strong finisher, so I usually pass plenty of runners in the later stages of a race. I expected this to happen again, but no such luck. I overtook the last ultra runner around mile 14. Since we carry our numbers on the front, it's quite easy not to notice that you're passing a rival from your own race, unless you look at the colour of the number pinned to their front as you go past. However, as far as I know I didn't pass anyone in the last 25 miles, but was passed by 3 runners myself. Two I mentioned in my race report. The third one was no other than Aisling Coppinger, the winner of last year's women's race (she came second this time), and she went past me like a rocket at mile 35. Aisling, your pace was unworldly, and I profoundly apologize for completely forgetting about you in my original report.
I got quieter and quieter as the race went on. I had a sentence for every marathon runner I passed early on, and I had a bit of a chat with the ultra runner that went past me on mile 27. Later on I only had the energy for a 'hi' or something like that, and from mile 30 on even that was too much.
Unsurprisingly I felt like death on Monday, but recovered amazingly quickly. On Monday I winced in pain as I inadvertently stepped into a pothole that wasn't more than 1cm/half an inch deep. On Tuesday I was able to walk down a staircase without too much trouble. I did toy with the idea of going out for a run on Wednesday, but decided against it; I was still too stiff.
The weather for the race was incredible. Connemara is well known for its wind and rain, but we saw hardly a cloud on Sunday. They can run that race for another 100 years and might never again have as gorgeous a day as we had. The temperature was around 15C/60F, which isn't a lot really, but it sure felt hot to a runner who hasn't run in more than 7C/45F over the winter. I even got a slight sunburn on my shoulders, but compared to the pain in my quads it wasn't noticeable. In fact I didn't realise it until Niamh pointed it out to me the next day.
We drove the course from mile 10 to the finish on Monday, still in the same weather. That's when we took the photos. As we passed mile 10, Lola asked me to show her where the finish was. At mile 11 she shouted, "Daddy, you forgot to show me the finish!" She didn't quite believe me when I said that the race had been even longer than that. By the time we reached Maam's Cross she had long lost interest, but she did acknowledge that I had indeed run a very long race.
Will I do it again? Probably. Will I do it again next year? I haven't decided yet. I have one or two other ideas, and I will have to decide which one is the most appealing. No, don't ask yet. It's a secret.
I finally went out for a run today, Thursday. It was only 4 miles, and very, very slow ones at that. I felt ok yesterday, but running is still stiff and awkward. I can't remember the last time I ran as little as 4 miles, and therefore nearly missed my turnaround point. Running longer than that wouldn't have been the smartest thing today. The heart rate could have been worse, but it was over 10 beats higher than it would have been for such a slow run before Sunday's race.
I definitely want to run the half-marathon in Bantry, 5 weeks after the ultra. But first I must recover fully, and I can't tell yet how much time I will have left to train properly. I want to do well there and lower my PR if possible, but I will see how quickly I can bounce back first.
--- update ---
I checked my watch the next morning and realised that Thursday's run had only taken 37:15 rather 38:15. That brings the HR more into the expected range, though it is still elevated.
5 Apr: 4 miles, 37:15, 9:18 pace, avg. HR 144
I'm generally a slow starter but strong finisher, so I usually pass plenty of runners in the later stages of a race. I expected this to happen again, but no such luck. I overtook the last ultra runner around mile 14. Since we carry our numbers on the front, it's quite easy not to notice that you're passing a rival from your own race, unless you look at the colour of the number pinned to their front as you go past. However, as far as I know I didn't pass anyone in the last 25 miles, but was passed by 3 runners myself. Two I mentioned in my race report. The third one was no other than Aisling Coppinger, the winner of last year's women's race (she came second this time), and she went past me like a rocket at mile 35. Aisling, your pace was unworldly, and I profoundly apologize for completely forgetting about you in my original report.I got quieter and quieter as the race went on. I had a sentence for every marathon runner I passed early on, and I had a bit of a chat with the ultra runner that went past me on mile 27. Later on I only had the energy for a 'hi' or something like that, and from mile 30 on even that was too much.
Unsurprisingly I felt like death on Monday, but recovered amazingly quickly. On Monday I winced in pain as I inadvertently stepped into a pothole that wasn't more than 1cm/half an inch deep. On Tuesday I was able to walk down a staircase without too much trouble. I did toy with the idea of going out for a run on Wednesday, but decided against it; I was still too stiff.
The weather for the race was incredible. Connemara is well known for its wind and rain, but we saw hardly a cloud on Sunday. They can run that race for another 100 years and might never again have as gorgeous a day as we had. The temperature was around 15C/60F, which isn't a lot really, but it sure felt hot to a runner who hasn't run in more than 7C/45F over the winter. I even got a slight sunburn on my shoulders, but compared to the pain in my quads it wasn't noticeable. In fact I didn't realise it until Niamh pointed it out to me the next day.
We drove the course from mile 10 to the finish on Monday, still in the same weather. That's when we took the photos. As we passed mile 10, Lola asked me to show her where the finish was. At mile 11 she shouted, "Daddy, you forgot to show me the finish!" She didn't quite believe me when I said that the race had been even longer than that. By the time we reached Maam's Cross she had long lost interest, but she did acknowledge that I had indeed run a very long race.Will I do it again? Probably. Will I do it again next year? I haven't decided yet. I have one or two other ideas, and I will have to decide which one is the most appealing. No, don't ask yet. It's a secret.
I finally went out for a run today, Thursday. It was only 4 miles, and very, very slow ones at that. I felt ok yesterday, but running is still stiff and awkward. I can't remember the last time I ran as little as 4 miles, and therefore nearly missed my turnaround point. Running longer than that wouldn't have been the smartest thing today. The heart rate could have been worse, but it was over 10 beats higher than it would have been for such a slow run before Sunday's race.I definitely want to run the half-marathon in Bantry, 5 weeks after the ultra. But first I must recover fully, and I can't tell yet how much time I will have left to train properly. I want to do well there and lower my PR if possible, but I will see how quickly I can bounce back first.
--- update ---
I checked my watch the next morning and realised that Thursday's run had only taken 37:15 rather 38:15. That brings the HR more into the expected range, though it is still elevated.
5 Apr: 4 miles, 37:15, 9:18 pace, avg. HR 144
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
Hell Hath No Mercy
Disclaimer: I apologise for the delay. The Internet café in Clifden was closed yesterday, and we spent all day today travelling back to Kerry. Now it’s nearly one o’clock in the morning, and I haven’t got the energy to proofread what I’ve just typed, but I figured I shouldn’t let you wait any longer. And I hope you’ve got time - this is long.
It’s 9 am, 1 April 2007. I’m standing in the middle of nowhere, together with about 100 otherfeckin’ eejits highly trained athletes. The longest race of my life is about to commence, and I’m ready. Before we know it, the claxon sounds, and off we go. If you’re used to shorter races then you’re in for a surprise, because apart from the 3 or 4 top runners, everyone else is starting at jogging pace. We pass Maam Cross one mile later, where the finishing line will be many hours later. I immediately settle into a rhythm that seems reasonable, easy enough to be sustainable, but fast enough to feel comfortable. The first mile markers are out of place. According to them, I ran the first mile in 9:20, the second one in 8:00 and the third one in 7:30 – I don’t think so. But, on average, they should be about right, because I fall into 8:00 pace, and I’ll be stuck in that gear for a long time to come. At the briefing the day before the race director recommended running in small groups, and I attach myself to two guys running at my pace. We spend the first 6 mile closely bunched together, until one of them takes a break on the side of the road, and all of a sudden I’m running on my own. To be honest, that suits me just fine. I want to run my own race, at the pace that feels best for me, rather than adapt my running to suit someone else’s needs. I pass the first water station, at mile 5 in 40:37, 8:08 pace, just about perfect.
I’ve been told that it’s best to mentally split such a long race into smaller junks. For this one, two obvious splits come into mind, namely three equals chunks of 13.1 miles (start/marathon start/half marathon start/finish) or the 4 parts of the road. The loop forms a misshapen rectangle, 10 miles on the southern side, 9 miles on the west, 7 miles on the north and 13 miles on the east, back to the start. However way you split it, it’s a bloody long way to run. (We drive the course the next day, and it takes us about an hour). At mile 10, I pick up my secret ingredient. We were allowed to drop up to 5 items into any of the service stations along the course. I only have two things to deposit, but it took me a long time to decide where to put them. I eventually went against my original plan to drop them at the regular intervals of 13 and 26 miles and put them at miles 10 and 22, because I thought it would be better to ingest some carbohydrates early on. Anyway, my secret weapon is rice milk, with an added scoop of slim fast powder. The taste is revolting, but it contains carbohydrates to sustain the running effort and a bit of protein to help with the digestion – at least that’s my theory. Unfortunately I’m too greedy and take too big a gulp – half of it ends up going the wrong way, and I spend the next 3 miles coughing up that tincture, drop by drop. I do learn my lesson, and just take little sips from then on, which find the way down to my stomach, and, hopefully, into my bloodstream.
At mile 11 I clearly see someone on the side of the road, relieving himself in full view of every one else. Then I look again. What the? Am I hallucinating? There’s nobody here, just a traffic sign. To be fair, it’s probably more down to me being shortsighted than my brain misfiring. Still, it’s weird.
At mile 12 I catch up with another runner. As soon as I draw level he accelerates. The last thing I want to do is getting sucked into some private race between the two of us with 27 miles still to go, and I let him go. Half a mile later, still running at the same pace, I draw level again, and this time he lets me go. I pass the marathon start, 13.1 miles into my race, at 1:43 (7:52 pace). It’s a two minutes faster than planned, but I feel good, the pace so far was relaxed and easy and I wouldn’t change a bit. I even find the time to look around me. The scenery is stunning, with the Maumturk mountains to my right and the Connemara National Park to my left, and there is not a cloud in sight. The temperature is about 15 degrees, hotter than what I’m used to, but a slight headwind ensures I’m feeling cool enough. I’m wearing a flimsy singlet, perfect for these conditions, though I’m a bit worried about getting sunburnt, several hours in the sun will do that to you. At the 14-mile mark I pass another runner, and from then on I’m on my own. I do some calculations in my head. The marathon started 90 minutes after our race, which means I crossed the marathon start line 13 minutes behind them. I’m running 8:00 pace, and if the slowest marathon runners are doing 10:00 pace, I’ll catch up with them in – oh dear, 7 miles to go. It’s not quite as lonely as that, there are a few walkers on the course, the first ones of which I overtake within less than 2 miles. I do notice that my brain is getting affected though. At the 16-mile mark I try to figure out how far I have left to go, and try as you might, I can’t work it out. 39 minus 16 makes what? 13? 19? 15? No, can’t be, cause I’m not at the halfway point yet. The way I finally figure it out is that: 16 miles, that means I’m 3 miles into the marathon, and 26 minus 3 is 23. That’s it! Well done. And it only took about 5 minutes.
I get a bit confused at the 19-mile pit stop, because it’s half a mile late (or early? I can’t remember). As with all the other stations I refuse all offers of fig roles, biscuits, bananas or whatever else they’ve got available and just take water. One minute later I start cursing myself; Thomas you idiot, you forgot to pick up your second bottle. Turning around is not really an option, and I spend the next 10 minutes trying to convince myself that it was a stupid mixture anyway, it wouldn’t really to anything for me, and it doesn’t matter a bit. I’m just about to accept that idea when I finally realise that my second drop-off bottle is still waiting for me ahead at mile 22. Doh! My cognitive abilities are dropping like a stone.
Mile 19 also sees the first real climb of the day. Up to now the course has been relatively flat, with just a small few hills on the way. I guess you could call it undulating, because flat roads don’t really exist in that part of the country. Last year I suffered badly on this hill, even though I only did the marathon, and was only 6 miles along the road. Today I feel like flying. My previous estimation of taking about 7 miles to catch up with the marathon runners isn’t too far out, it’s here that the trickle of runners turns into a steady stream. I do get a few compliments from those that realise that I’m running the ultra, and the help you get from that is great. Let’s not kid ourselves – the ego plays a big part, and to be told that you’re doing something amazing is one big boost. Mile 20 sees me in 2:40:44, 8:02 average pace, and all the miles around here are within seconds of 8:00 pace; I’m running like a clockwork. From what I remember from last year, that climb I mentioned should be followed by a drop towards Killary Harbour, Ireland’s only fjord, and another spectacular piece of scenery. What I can’t remember are the 3 miles at the top of a plain, and with the most brutal headwind I’ve encountered so far. I guess the valley in front of us works like a funnel, and we get the result of that straight into our faces. The road keeps winding along, and when the promised descent finally comes along I’m still struggling with the wind. I had expected this bit to be relaxing, especially in preparation of what is about to come, but no such luck. At least I manage to pick up my second bottle on the way at mile 22, just as planned. The sugary concoction feels rather heavy in my stomach though. I can only take tiny sips at a time, and it takes me about 7 or 8 miles to finally finish it. I do think it helps though. In addition to that I keep taking one bottle of water at each station, and alternate between taking sips of that with my own private mixture.
We finally enter Leenaun (also spelled Leenane on one sign), where the half-marathon had started 35 minutes earlier. It’s here that I pass the 26.2 miles marker, in 3:35. Even if I collapse here and then, at the very least I have managed to produce a very respectable marathon time, and all in a relaxed and easy fashion. However, if you’ve ever studied the topography of the Connemara Ultra, you know that the real fun is about to begin. It starts with the steepest climb of the day, up a hill called the Devil’s Mother for about 1.5 miles, and believe me, it’s a challenge. For the first time in hours I see an ultra runner. Unfortunately he’s passing me rather than the other way round. However, I resist the temptation of getting into a race. The next 13 miles are going to be hard enough. I had originally planned to walk up that hill in order to preserve energy for the miles ahead. However, I fear that if I walk even one single step I will be unable to start running again. So I run, step after step after step. My left calf muscle starts going into spasms. I think I’m about to cramp, but a very subtle change in my stride wards off the danger. I don’t even know what I’m doing, it’s just a tiny change in my running pattern, but it does the trick. I finally crest the hill only to feel really good all of a sudden. I run the next mile in 8:00, which is amazing, considering I’ve covered 29 miles already. Unfortunately I’m not able to sustain that, and the next mile takes 8:58 if the mile markers are accurate. They probably are, and my pace starts dropping to 9:00 pace and further. There’s nothing I can do about it. I’m stuck in one gear; I can’t go faster, and I can’t go slower, the legs are disconnected from my mind and just keep turning over and over and over. To my surprise the ultra runner that passed me a few miles earlier comes into sight again. Inch by inch I’m getting closer, and by mile 32 or 33 I’m right behind him, but I don’t go past. At that point the wheels start falling off, and I’m merely fighting against myself. Other runners don’t come into the equation. The road keeps going up and down, and at each ascent I’m close to cramping, and each time I manage to somehow avert that by changing my stride with the same miniscule alteration. Just before the 35-mile marker we turn right for the last time and enter the home stretch. However, I’m not rejoicing. I’m just dreading what’s ahead.
The Hell of the West is the most notorious stretch of road amongst Irish runners. No matter if you do the half, full or ultra marathon, the last 4 miles are going to hurt. It’s almost two miles of steady climbing. It’s not as steep as the climb out of Leenaun, but it’s higher (90 meter elevation), it’s later in the course, and, worst of all, you can see every single blasted meter ahead of you, with a long line of struggling, stumbling, hurting runners, walkers and ex-runners who are now walkers in your sight. And guess what. I’m in pain. Lifting the feet hurts. Pulling them in front of the body hurts. Setting them down back on the road hurts. And it climbs and climbs and climbs. And the calves scream and scream and scream. Against all odds I make it to the half-way point of the Hell, but then it hits. I can feel it coming. It’s deep down inside my calf muscles, and with each step it’s growing. I’m just about to experience the worst cramp of my entire life when I finally relent. I’ve covered 36 miles, running each and every step along the way, but that’s where it ends. I walk. It feels strange. Stiff. I probably look ridiculous. But the cramp goes away. I don’t know how long I’m walking for. Probably a minute. Then I dare again. Run. One more step. It’s ok, the calves are holding up. I run a bit faster. Still good. I manage maybe half a mile that way, then the cramps hit again and I’m reduced to walking once more. Shorter this time, maybe half a minute. Or maybe it’s longer and my timing is off. Whatever, I run again. The worst is behind me, the climb is not as steep anymore, and I can manage.
There’s an ambulance ahead of me. Someone is on a stretcher with several medical professionals around him. Oh no, please God, not again. Last year a young man died on exactly that spot. But the ambulance crew look relaxed, they even laugh. I guess he’s not too bad then. They load him into the ambulance as I pass the scene, and a minute later it goes past me again. I’m glad to feel ok myself, but I have to admit there is a tiny bit inside me that’s jealous of the guy inside – I have to run on my own and the lucky bastard is getting a lift back home. My music player has stopped; it has played every single song that was stored. Originally I had planned to use this opportunity to switch to pure Iron Maiden at that point, to blast me home. However that would require me to take the mp3 player, turn off the shuffle mode, select the album folder, find the correct album and select it for playing. I can’t even think about doing that. Just pressing the play button to restart a song, any song, is a challenging task for my brain. I’ve dropped down several notches of the evolutionary ladder during the last few hours.
After cresting the Hell, the road drops for one mile, and then there’s just one mile of flat, winding road left. One more ultra runner goes past me, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m ever so slightly annoyed about getting passed so close to the end, but I don’t really care. I’m racing myself today, not anyone else. In marked contrast to last year there are plenty of spectators on that stretch of road. And that’s good. “Come on, ultra!” “Fantastic effort, ultra!” “Nearly there, ultra!”. Apparently I’ve got a new name. But once again, the shouts help, a lot. With half a mile to go I somehow find some little bit of energy deep inside me, and speed up. It’s probably pathetically slow, but I feel like I’m flying. There’s the line ahead of me, and then I’m done. “5 hours 40 minutes and 33 second. Outstanding effort” says someone I can’t even see. I’m in a haze, someone puts a medal around my neck, and someone else puts a finisher shirt into my hands. For a few minutes I stumble around, unable to comprehend what I’ve just done.
I’ve conquered the ultra, the longest road race in Ireland.
Final note: my times for each 13.1 mile section were 1:43 (the Good), 1:52 (the Bad) and 2:05 (the Ugly). Before you condemn my pacing strategy keep in mind that each section is significantly hillier than the previous one.
Very final note: I’ve come 20th, out of 86 finishers. I don’t know how many people started, and if any of those dropped out of the race. I’m more than happy with both my time and my placement. I had only hoped to finish. Since crossing the line I've got the same question again and again from countless people. “Will you do it again?” The answer is always the same. Ask me again in a few days time.
It’s 9 am, 1 April 2007. I’m standing in the middle of nowhere, together with about 100 other
I’ve been told that it’s best to mentally split such a long race into smaller junks. For this one, two obvious splits come into mind, namely three equals chunks of 13.1 miles (start/marathon start/half marathon start/finish) or the 4 parts of the road. The loop forms a misshapen rectangle, 10 miles on the southern side, 9 miles on the west, 7 miles on the north and 13 miles on the east, back to the start. However way you split it, it’s a bloody long way to run. (We drive the course the next day, and it takes us about an hour). At mile 10, I pick up my secret ingredient. We were allowed to drop up to 5 items into any of the service stations along the course. I only have two things to deposit, but it took me a long time to decide where to put them. I eventually went against my original plan to drop them at the regular intervals of 13 and 26 miles and put them at miles 10 and 22, because I thought it would be better to ingest some carbohydrates early on. Anyway, my secret weapon is rice milk, with an added scoop of slim fast powder. The taste is revolting, but it contains carbohydrates to sustain the running effort and a bit of protein to help with the digestion – at least that’s my theory. Unfortunately I’m too greedy and take too big a gulp – half of it ends up going the wrong way, and I spend the next 3 miles coughing up that tincture, drop by drop. I do learn my lesson, and just take little sips from then on, which find the way down to my stomach, and, hopefully, into my bloodstream.
At mile 11 I clearly see someone on the side of the road, relieving himself in full view of every one else. Then I look again. What the? Am I hallucinating? There’s nobody here, just a traffic sign. To be fair, it’s probably more down to me being shortsighted than my brain misfiring. Still, it’s weird.
At mile 12 I catch up with another runner. As soon as I draw level he accelerates. The last thing I want to do is getting sucked into some private race between the two of us with 27 miles still to go, and I let him go. Half a mile later, still running at the same pace, I draw level again, and this time he lets me go. I pass the marathon start, 13.1 miles into my race, at 1:43 (7:52 pace). It’s a two minutes faster than planned, but I feel good, the pace so far was relaxed and easy and I wouldn’t change a bit. I even find the time to look around me. The scenery is stunning, with the Maumturk mountains to my right and the Connemara National Park to my left, and there is not a cloud in sight. The temperature is about 15 degrees, hotter than what I’m used to, but a slight headwind ensures I’m feeling cool enough. I’m wearing a flimsy singlet, perfect for these conditions, though I’m a bit worried about getting sunburnt, several hours in the sun will do that to you. At the 14-mile mark I pass another runner, and from then on I’m on my own. I do some calculations in my head. The marathon started 90 minutes after our race, which means I crossed the marathon start line 13 minutes behind them. I’m running 8:00 pace, and if the slowest marathon runners are doing 10:00 pace, I’ll catch up with them in – oh dear, 7 miles to go. It’s not quite as lonely as that, there are a few walkers on the course, the first ones of which I overtake within less than 2 miles. I do notice that my brain is getting affected though. At the 16-mile mark I try to figure out how far I have left to go, and try as you might, I can’t work it out. 39 minus 16 makes what? 13? 19? 15? No, can’t be, cause I’m not at the halfway point yet. The way I finally figure it out is that: 16 miles, that means I’m 3 miles into the marathon, and 26 minus 3 is 23. That’s it! Well done. And it only took about 5 minutes.
I get a bit confused at the 19-mile pit stop, because it’s half a mile late (or early? I can’t remember). As with all the other stations I refuse all offers of fig roles, biscuits, bananas or whatever else they’ve got available and just take water. One minute later I start cursing myself; Thomas you idiot, you forgot to pick up your second bottle. Turning around is not really an option, and I spend the next 10 minutes trying to convince myself that it was a stupid mixture anyway, it wouldn’t really to anything for me, and it doesn’t matter a bit. I’m just about to accept that idea when I finally realise that my second drop-off bottle is still waiting for me ahead at mile 22. Doh! My cognitive abilities are dropping like a stone.
Mile 19 also sees the first real climb of the day. Up to now the course has been relatively flat, with just a small few hills on the way. I guess you could call it undulating, because flat roads don’t really exist in that part of the country. Last year I suffered badly on this hill, even though I only did the marathon, and was only 6 miles along the road. Today I feel like flying. My previous estimation of taking about 7 miles to catch up with the marathon runners isn’t too far out, it’s here that the trickle of runners turns into a steady stream. I do get a few compliments from those that realise that I’m running the ultra, and the help you get from that is great. Let’s not kid ourselves – the ego plays a big part, and to be told that you’re doing something amazing is one big boost. Mile 20 sees me in 2:40:44, 8:02 average pace, and all the miles around here are within seconds of 8:00 pace; I’m running like a clockwork. From what I remember from last year, that climb I mentioned should be followed by a drop towards Killary Harbour, Ireland’s only fjord, and another spectacular piece of scenery. What I can’t remember are the 3 miles at the top of a plain, and with the most brutal headwind I’ve encountered so far. I guess the valley in front of us works like a funnel, and we get the result of that straight into our faces. The road keeps winding along, and when the promised descent finally comes along I’m still struggling with the wind. I had expected this bit to be relaxing, especially in preparation of what is about to come, but no such luck. At least I manage to pick up my second bottle on the way at mile 22, just as planned. The sugary concoction feels rather heavy in my stomach though. I can only take tiny sips at a time, and it takes me about 7 or 8 miles to finally finish it. I do think it helps though. In addition to that I keep taking one bottle of water at each station, and alternate between taking sips of that with my own private mixture.
We finally enter Leenaun (also spelled Leenane on one sign), where the half-marathon had started 35 minutes earlier. It’s here that I pass the 26.2 miles marker, in 3:35. Even if I collapse here and then, at the very least I have managed to produce a very respectable marathon time, and all in a relaxed and easy fashion. However, if you’ve ever studied the topography of the Connemara Ultra, you know that the real fun is about to begin. It starts with the steepest climb of the day, up a hill called the Devil’s Mother for about 1.5 miles, and believe me, it’s a challenge. For the first time in hours I see an ultra runner. Unfortunately he’s passing me rather than the other way round. However, I resist the temptation of getting into a race. The next 13 miles are going to be hard enough. I had originally planned to walk up that hill in order to preserve energy for the miles ahead. However, I fear that if I walk even one single step I will be unable to start running again. So I run, step after step after step. My left calf muscle starts going into spasms. I think I’m about to cramp, but a very subtle change in my stride wards off the danger. I don’t even know what I’m doing, it’s just a tiny change in my running pattern, but it does the trick. I finally crest the hill only to feel really good all of a sudden. I run the next mile in 8:00, which is amazing, considering I’ve covered 29 miles already. Unfortunately I’m not able to sustain that, and the next mile takes 8:58 if the mile markers are accurate. They probably are, and my pace starts dropping to 9:00 pace and further. There’s nothing I can do about it. I’m stuck in one gear; I can’t go faster, and I can’t go slower, the legs are disconnected from my mind and just keep turning over and over and over. To my surprise the ultra runner that passed me a few miles earlier comes into sight again. Inch by inch I’m getting closer, and by mile 32 or 33 I’m right behind him, but I don’t go past. At that point the wheels start falling off, and I’m merely fighting against myself. Other runners don’t come into the equation. The road keeps going up and down, and at each ascent I’m close to cramping, and each time I manage to somehow avert that by changing my stride with the same miniscule alteration. Just before the 35-mile marker we turn right for the last time and enter the home stretch. However, I’m not rejoicing. I’m just dreading what’s ahead.
The Hell of the West is the most notorious stretch of road amongst Irish runners. No matter if you do the half, full or ultra marathon, the last 4 miles are going to hurt. It’s almost two miles of steady climbing. It’s not as steep as the climb out of Leenaun, but it’s higher (90 meter elevation), it’s later in the course, and, worst of all, you can see every single blasted meter ahead of you, with a long line of struggling, stumbling, hurting runners, walkers and ex-runners who are now walkers in your sight. And guess what. I’m in pain. Lifting the feet hurts. Pulling them in front of the body hurts. Setting them down back on the road hurts. And it climbs and climbs and climbs. And the calves scream and scream and scream. Against all odds I make it to the half-way point of the Hell, but then it hits. I can feel it coming. It’s deep down inside my calf muscles, and with each step it’s growing. I’m just about to experience the worst cramp of my entire life when I finally relent. I’ve covered 36 miles, running each and every step along the way, but that’s where it ends. I walk. It feels strange. Stiff. I probably look ridiculous. But the cramp goes away. I don’t know how long I’m walking for. Probably a minute. Then I dare again. Run. One more step. It’s ok, the calves are holding up. I run a bit faster. Still good. I manage maybe half a mile that way, then the cramps hit again and I’m reduced to walking once more. Shorter this time, maybe half a minute. Or maybe it’s longer and my timing is off. Whatever, I run again. The worst is behind me, the climb is not as steep anymore, and I can manage.
There’s an ambulance ahead of me. Someone is on a stretcher with several medical professionals around him. Oh no, please God, not again. Last year a young man died on exactly that spot. But the ambulance crew look relaxed, they even laugh. I guess he’s not too bad then. They load him into the ambulance as I pass the scene, and a minute later it goes past me again. I’m glad to feel ok myself, but I have to admit there is a tiny bit inside me that’s jealous of the guy inside – I have to run on my own and the lucky bastard is getting a lift back home. My music player has stopped; it has played every single song that was stored. Originally I had planned to use this opportunity to switch to pure Iron Maiden at that point, to blast me home. However that would require me to take the mp3 player, turn off the shuffle mode, select the album folder, find the correct album and select it for playing. I can’t even think about doing that. Just pressing the play button to restart a song, any song, is a challenging task for my brain. I’ve dropped down several notches of the evolutionary ladder during the last few hours.
After cresting the Hell, the road drops for one mile, and then there’s just one mile of flat, winding road left. One more ultra runner goes past me, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m ever so slightly annoyed about getting passed so close to the end, but I don’t really care. I’m racing myself today, not anyone else. In marked contrast to last year there are plenty of spectators on that stretch of road. And that’s good. “Come on, ultra!” “Fantastic effort, ultra!” “Nearly there, ultra!”. Apparently I’ve got a new name. But once again, the shouts help, a lot. With half a mile to go I somehow find some little bit of energy deep inside me, and speed up. It’s probably pathetically slow, but I feel like I’m flying. There’s the line ahead of me, and then I’m done. “5 hours 40 minutes and 33 second. Outstanding effort” says someone I can’t even see. I’m in a haze, someone puts a medal around my neck, and someone else puts a finisher shirt into my hands. For a few minutes I stumble around, unable to comprehend what I’ve just done.
I’ve conquered the ultra, the longest road race in Ireland.
Final note: my times for each 13.1 mile section were 1:43 (the Good), 1:52 (the Bad) and 2:05 (the Ugly). Before you condemn my pacing strategy keep in mind that each section is significantly hillier than the previous one.
Very final note: I’ve come 20th, out of 86 finishers. I don’t know how many people started, and if any of those dropped out of the race. I’m more than happy with both my time and my placement. I had only hoped to finish. Since crossing the line I've got the same question again and again from countless people. “Will you do it again?” The answer is always the same. Ask me again in a few days time.
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