The Iliad

I had heard of the Spartathlon well before most people. A magazine had a feature about the race from 1983, detailing the run of the athlete who ended up in fourth place. It must have been the first time I had become aware of the fact that there were races longer than even a marathon. I never once imagined I would ever be on the startline of any such race but the fact that I still remember the article 30 years later shows that it must have left a deep impression on me.

We were following in the footsteps of Pheidippides, an Athenian messenger who had been sent to Sparta to ask for help fighting the Persian invasion in 490 BC (and he did NOT drop down dead at the end). The race route was a reconstruction of his original route and even the fact that there was a 36 hours cut-off was down to the historical connection as Pheidippides had left Athens in the morning of one day and arrived in Sparta the evening of the next, which was interpreted as no more than 36 hours,

Thomas B, Thomas K, Don, Anto, Brian. Photo by Sparta Photography Club.

As you might now, my preparation had been severely hampered. Just as I was about to increase the intensity of training I injured a muscle in my hip that meant I missed all of July and half of August. I did a fair amount of cycling but as soon as I was able to start running again I realised just how much fitness I had lost and the 4 or 5 weeks or training I had left were never sufficient to make up for the lost time. Still, 5 or 6 weeks ago I was convinced the race would start without me but the next few weeks went very well, so making it to Athens with a reasonably trained body was actually a minor miracle in itself.

With Stelios. Photo by Niamh Swan.

There were plenty of Irish and Austrian team mates (I'm never quite sure what I can count as "my" team so I just include both - it's even better this way) and I knew a fair few of the British contingent as well, plus my friend from Taiwan, and I really hoped the best for every single one of them. We arrived at the foot of the Akropolis about half an hour before the start and upon seeing the fuss that was made about the runners commented to Brian and Don they should enjoy the celebrity lifestyle for the next 20 minutes. 10 seconds later a local man approached me, introduced himself as Stelios and told me that he had been following my running career for years and knew me better than any of the Greek runners. Talk about receiving an ego boost just before the start!

The start itself was rather low key (something like 3-2-1-go) and we went off without much fanfare. I hung back towards the end of the field and took it very, very easy. I had a few words with Anto but soon found my own rhythm. The first mile took 9:30 despite being rather steep downhill - excellent! One full mile into the race and I still had not done anything stupid!

The first few miles lead us straight through the centre of Athens. The police had stopped the morning commute traffic for us and if the drivers minded then we did not notice it. Some people waiting at bus stops shouted "bravo, bravo" for encouragement while others had that typical commuter-zombie stare into nothing.

Photo by Niamh Swan.

The elevation profile for the first 50 miles looks reasonably flat but that is entirely misleading. There is an early hill, still inside the Athenian suburbs, that is higher than the Hell of the West, though with fresh legs nobody was having any troubles yet. After the residential areas came more industrial ones and then the major dual carriageway leading us out of the Greek capital. So far the scenery had not been much to look at but after 10 miles it gradually changed into a much more idyllic landscape, we got off the motorway onto the old coast road and things improved significantly. Local school children were waiting along the road, excitedly holding out their hands for a high-5 and shouting encouragement. I had heard that this race means a lot to the Greeks - it sure showed!

Of course the sun rose behind us and after a couple of hours the rise in temperature became very much noticeable. The forecast had been for 28 degrees, and while this wasn't too bad for this latitude it sure seemed rather hot to someone used to half that during the lousy Irish summer we've just had. What was a problem for everyone was the unusually high humidity of 80%. It had been raining a couple of days before and now we got to feel the aftermath.

When running a race I never make pace charts. I always run by effort and with so many years of running in the legs know my body pretty well. I kept things very easy. Looking at the chart I can see that I never ran faster than 9 minutes for a while except for one single downhill mile that felt even easier. I don't know where I was in the field but I'm sure it was well inside the lower half. I had done the same in the World Championships in Turin before gradually working my way forward, and the field today consisted to a very large degree of the very same runners, with the overall quality being very much comparable.

Somewhere around the half-marathon point I caught up with an old friend, Ken Zemach from California, who 5 years ago had used a holiday in Ireland to run the inaugural Dingle Ultra (as you do) and we ended up running most of the first 30 miles either together or in close proximity to each other before he pulled away to finish strongly. It was really cool to run into him again in this race and we chatted for a little bit before I went ahead again on the next climb (just like the old times!). I was reasonably sure I would see him again soon enough.

Photo by Niamh Swan.

Just before the marathon point Niamh was at CP10, her bus taking a little break. I was feeling pretty good but the heat was starting to get to me. Cyril, Anto's dad, was here as well before they had to jump into the bus as it was leaving. CP11 in Megara marked the first marathon in 4:09, pretty much what I had expected, maybe a couple of minutes fast. It was at that point that I noticed that my shoe choice might not have been 100% ideal. My Skechers GoRun shoes are very light with very little cushioning, the way I prefer it, but as I found out here on dirt roads they let grit come into the shoe itself. I had only every used them on roads where that is not a problem. As I did not have a second pair (I never change my shoes in a race), I just had to get on with it. A mile or two outside Megara there was an empty portaloo and I went inside. I wasn't desperate for a pee but I sat down and got rid of the unwanted little stones inside my shoes - a blister was the last thing I needed at this point with 200k yet to come! Since I was in here anyway I did use the loo and noticed that my urine was rather dark (and if you think that is TMI then you don't know the first thing about ultra running - monitoring the colour of your urine is just about the most crucial thing you do outside running and nutrition). Most runners ran with either a backpack or a water bottle. I did not. I hate running with extra weight and every ounce counts, so I ran without. The CPs were on average 2 miles apart and I figured I could easily make do with what the race provides at these points. In the heat of Friday, however, I was obviously getting dehydrated and I resolved to drink more from here on.

Eddie Gallen. Photo by Niamh Swan.

The course was getting very hilly but I really enjoyed this jog along the beautiful Mediterranean countryside. I did, however, look left a few times across the Aegean sea and had to think of those poor people who were paying with their life savings and far too often their lives to cross that very stretch of water. Was what we were doing here entirely self-indulgent? Was the pain we were about to go through voluntarily a sign of being pampered by too many trappings of civilisation? Well, there are worse things than trying the lead a fit and healthy lifestyle (ok, healthy apart from when we're running an ultra, probably) and there is nothing shameful about trying find your own limits. And anyway, just by running here in this country we were supporting people that needed and deserved support in rather troubled economic times. I put my mind back to the race.

I had an ingenious idea to deal with the heat by putting ice cubes into the bandana I was wearing. They usually lasted until the next CP where I would replace them with new ones, at least on those CPs that had ice. Apart from that trick, I could feel that the heat training I had done in the previous 3 weeks was working - Ireland might have been cold but running with 4 layers had simulated hot and humid conditions very well and I could see that I was coping with the heat better than many others around me.

On a downhill a lady running just a few metres ahead of me stumbled and fell over. Three of us helped her up and she was fine, just said "that was rather silly of me" in a very English accent. It wasn't until the CP just around the corner that I saw her name on her bib - this was Mimi Anderson, the record holder for the run from Malin Head to Mizen Head. I told her I was a fan of her since that run and she thanked me but when I mentioned that I would have expected her to be far ahead of me she said how much the heat was getting to her. To be honest, she did not look good and I did not feel too optimistic about her finishing.

Just a few minutes later I passed an older runner walking/running rather slowly and his bib gave him away as Eric Clifton. Wow, imagine, meeting two legends within a few minutes of each other! He told me that he was used to the temperatures but the humidity was killing him. The fact that we were over half an hour ahead of the cut-offs clearly did not fill him with too much optimism. He made it to CP28 before sadly having to end his race.

The cut-offs. Spartathlon is often described as the toughest race on Earth. It's not the terrain, though that is indeed challenging. It's not the heat, though it is indeed hot. It's the cut-offs. There are 75 CPs along the way and every single one has a closing time and if you're late at even just one of them your race is over. To make things worse, considerably worse, the cut-offs during the first third are particularly tough, leading to many runners ruining their race by storming off far too fast and running out of energy well before the end. To be honest, I was never too worried about having to cover the first 50 miles in 9:30 even in the heat and humidity, and then having over 27 hours to cover the final 100 (ok, 103) miles seemed eminently doable. But I was well aware that the average finisher rate is about 30% and that just about everyone who has run both Badwater and the Spartathlon has said that finishing the Spartathlon is tougher.

Photo by Niamh Swan.

As we were nearing Corinth we had to run past another industrial area and the oil smell from the
refinery wasn't particularly pleasant. Here I passed Harald, an Austrian team mate. He was suffering from cramps and I gave him one of my s-caps, in case the cramps were caused by a lack of electrolytes, before saying good bye. He later confirmed that the tablet had really helped and he managed to get all the way past the mountain but his race was over at CP52 in Nestani.

I had been hoping to meet Niamh in Corinth, the first really major CP and the end of the first section. Before the CP we had the treat of crossing the Isthmus canal on the bridge and my God, what a sight! I deliberately walked the bridge without running a single step, not because I was feeling tired but because I wanted to get as much a view of this spectacular sight as possible. The prize we had to pay to get to this were about 5 miles of running on the side or inside the concrete drain of a busy dual carriageway while the traffic was zooming past us - definitely my least favourite part of the course so far. Unfortunately Niamh's bus had left Corinth early and I did not get to meet her. I knew it would be Sparta until I saw her again, still over 100 miles away.

When I asked for ice for my bandana trick the lady obviously misunderstood because she handed me a tub. When I opened it it was full of rice! My first instinct was to go back and asc for ice but then I realised that I was actually quite hungry - no wonder, it was getting close to dinner time and I had not eaten lunch, except for small bites of fruit or biscuits along the way! However, my body was not too eager to accept solids. I ate a little less than half of the meal before giving up; any more and I risked getting re-acquainted with the content of my stomach, something I'd prefer to avoid. Corinth also provided a slightly disappointing encounter, team mate Tony Gschiel confirming that he had had to pull out.

Photo by Niamh Swan.

Once you leave Corinth, the cut-offs immediately become a lot softer. I had built up a solid 70 minutes cushion by the time I left that CP and even though I slowed down a bit, especially with that food in my stomach that I found hard to digest, within 3 or 4 CPs that had expanded to 2 full hours. The terrain had changed significantly, after the constants ups and downs of the Attica peninsula the next 15 miles were completely flat. I could feel the exhaustion building up and started introducing regular walk breaks into my routine as I was making my way towards Ancient Corinth and its spectacular temple. Around the 60 mile mark, I had a very much expected encounter as Ken Zemach caught up with me. I made a joke about only 93 miles being left and eventually he pulled away. He confirmed later that I wasn't looking great but good enough to suggest that I would definitely finish, though personally I find it impossible to predict at this stage how a runner would cope. Sometimes you would pass a runner that seemed dead on his/her feet only for them to pass you again a few miles later bouncing along happily. Sometimes someone you would be overtaken by an incredibly fresh looking runner only to see them looking half-dead at a CP in the not-too far future.

Jan Uzik. Photo by Niamh Swan.

Sparta is to the south but the road had turned northwards to get us into Ancient Corinth past an impressive looking mountain, a route choice that had infuriated the legendary multiple Spartathlon champion Yannis Kouros who insisted Pheidippides had turned southwards here. A shorter Spartathlon route would have done me just fine, to be honest, but I know that great care had been taken to reproduce the roads the antique messenger would have taken 2500 years ago and whoever had agreed upon the most likely road had disagreed with Kouros.

The little village of Assos had turned the Spartathlon into a major party and the local support was
brilliant. The next CP, and the next street party, was at Zevgolateio, where I learned that Anto's race had not gone to plan as he was standing at the CP sans bib but at least the other Irish were all still in it. Shortly afterwards the long climb into the central highlands of the Peloponnese peninsula begun and from here we definitely headed southwards, and would be doing so for a very, very long time. The road rises very gradually but steadily and many, many miles of constant elevation gain were ahead of us. The landscape changed and soon we were surrounded by mountains and civilisation often seemed far away.

The rural roads were supposed to be lonely but there were plenty of cars. I had long ago realised that the vast majority of traffic were not locals but crews of runners. The rules of the Spartathlon were very clear, crews could only support their runners at a handful of major CPs along the way but that rule was clearly ignored by many. I could see runners being handed goods on the road on countless occasions. The rule makes a lot of sense. The way it is being ignored causes a lot of traffic as we were overtaken dozens of times by the ever same cars as they kept leapfrogging us a hundred times. I wished they stopped doing that. I prefer running on roads without constant car encounters.

As the sun went down and the temperature became more pleasant (it would remain over 20 degrees well into the night though) and the light begun to fade, I gradually realised that I had made a mistake when I had unthinkingly followed someone else's advice on facebook by depositing my headlamp at CP35, Ancient Nemea. This would be the halfway point of my race at 123 km. I had reckoned I would get there somewhere between 7:30 and 8 o'clock and reckoned the light would have easily been sufficient until then. It realised that not only would I get there later than anticipated, the light here in the South of Greece was fading a lot quicker than in Ireland and I would be surrounded by darkness much sooner than expected.

It was a pure stroke of luck that it was almost a Full Moon, so maybe it would not get too dark? But it was cloudy and the Moon was rarely fully visible, so that did not help. Also, the road was getting considerably more lonely. Until 100k navigation was never required, I could always follow the runners in front. From here on I would often not see anyone in front of me for long stretches and on the occasional crossroad I would have to check the markers myself. Thankfully the marking is excellent and navigation largely idiot-proof, but during the night it would be much easier to take a wrong turn. The main worry, however, were those cars. They knew the runners were around, of course, and mostly drove very carefully. It only takes a second, though, especially as the drivers themselves were bound to be exhausted in the night.

Photo by Niamh Swan.

There was one very steep mile of climbing into the little village of Chalkio. It was here that I saw that I was hiking very effectively. That runner must have been way ahead of me just a mile or two ago and but I left him in the dust striding past him with purpose while he was taking one exhausted steps after the other. CP34 was the last one with any semblance of light and for the last stretch into Nemea I just followed the light of the runner in front of me, American Bob Hearn. I ran about 5 metres behind him hoping he would not feel stalked but he never said a word. As we got into Ancient Nemea we were greeted by a dozen kids on their bikes. It must have been past their usual bedtime but once again a community had turned this into a street party and the CP was buzzing. As soon as I got in I was handed my goody bag straight away and it felt good to be able to strap on the headlamp after so many miles in the dark where I clearly felt I was doing this wrong. I also sat down for a few minutes and had some pasta to eat. I did not feel overly hungry but I figured I needed some calories. Unlike the rice earlier on I managed to eat the entire tub, though I did have to force myself to eat it. I also had a bottle of my protein/energy drink in there which I was going to bring with me and consume on the road over the next couple of miles.

It was still quite warm but Ken Zemach had warned me a few hours ago that the weather was going to turn overnight so I took out my rain jacket but left it in its pouch that I clipped on to my race number belt. I left the long sleeved shirt in the bag and gave it back to the volunteers. It would be transported to Sparta for collection on Sunday.

I was half a mile up the hill out of the village when I realised that I had left my spare batteries in the bag! They must have been hidden underneath the long sleeved shirt and I since I never saw them I never remembered to take them out. I wasn't too worried. I set the headlamp to the lowest setting that should last for days and was surprised by how bright it was, brighter than most other runners' light. I was unlikely to require the spare batteries and I certainly wasn't going back to the CP.

Click here for part two.

A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words

Though the 1000 words will follow eventually, I promise. We're still in Athens and will be flying home tomorrow, Tuesday. I'll start writing my long-awaited race report then.

In the meantime, this will do.

Oh The Pain!

33:29, 73rd place.

I have no idea why anyone would want to do that to themselves!

Last Minute Preparations

I started running slower than 9-minute pace. I know at least one ultra runner who thinks I should be doing more training at ultra-pace but my view has always been that running 10-minute miles after more than 100 miles has absolutely nothing in common with running 10-minute miles on fresh legs, and I'm better off training at an effort level that will actually produce some fitness gains. Like previous long ultras I am only practising the shuffle the last few days before the race when there is no more extra fitness to be gained.

I did one more heat adaptation run, on Tuesday. Due to the lower effort I did not produce anywhere near as much sweat and the lower distance (6 miles vs. the usual 8) made this much easier as well as it's usually the last few miles where the hard work (and therefore most of the adaptation) happens. However, this was merely a last-minute top up to make sure whatever adaptation I have built up will not have eroded by Friday.

I created a new "ultra" mode on the watch. In Turin the battery died after 18 hours. I created a mode that does not use the HRM and only checks the GPS at 10 second intervals. Hopefully this should see the battery last for 25 hours. It still won't see me all the way into Sparta. In theory I could try using a re-charger on the road but I've got a serious race to run and I'll be damned if I let myself be distracted by fumbling around with cables and connectors. A complete GPS track still won't make me run faster, you know.

I stopped drinking coffee on Monday. It came as a shock to the system - I'm sure the headache I had all Tuesday, and which is still not entirely gone Wednesday morning, is caused by that.

I have packed my bags. I have checked my bags to make sure everything is packed. Then I checked my bags in case I had inadvertently removed anything while checking the bags. Yes, I started getting nervous.

I know Niamh is a bit worried. "Will you know when to stop?" "Yes, when I reach Sparta!". I know that's not what she meant but that's what I have in mind.

We'll arrive in Athens very late on Wednesday (probably not ideal but it's the best connection I could find, seeing as there were no direct flights). Sign-up and race meeting will be on Thursday.

And on Friday we run.

For anyone interested in following me and my fellow runners, the Spartathlon website mentions there will be a live video of the race broadcast on the net, and there is an athlete's tracker as well. My race number is 195.

21 Sep

5 miles, 45:57, 9:11 pace, HR 129

22 Sep

6 miles, 55:17, 9:13 pace

   heat adaptation

23 Sep

5 miles, 45:35, 9:07 pace

Taper Madness

On Monday my right ankle hurt.
On Tuesday my left knee hurt.
On Wednesday my left calf felt very tight
On Thursday my left hip hurt.
On Friday my right hip hurt.
On Saturday my left hip hurt.
On Sunday my calves are both tight, my right hip hurts and my hamstrings are feeling tight.

Goodness gracious me, I do hate tapering!

On Thursday I did yet another heat adaptation run. It was hard work but I could tell there was some progress being made, so I was pleased with it.

On Friday I intended to run 10 miles. I got up in time and got ready, only to decide at the very last minute to cut it down to 8. The Spartathlon was only a week away, which must have been on my mind I guess. That was when I mentally accepted that I was tapering, I guess but I had been taking it reasonably easy for a while already.

On Saturday I once again donned the 4 layers for my heat adaptation run. I can definitely tell that my body is adapting: my HR is lower, my pace is higher and the required effort level well down. Heat adaptation is supposed to last for about a week; I'll do one more just to keep it all topped up.

I went up to Windy Gap on Sunday morning. Ideally I would have swapped the weekend runs around
but I did not have time for a mountain run on Saturday, real life not taking a break just yet. The weather was pretty wild when I left home and on the first climb up to Treanmanagh I was wondering what it would be like once I approached the Gap but in actual fact it calmed down considerably over the next few miles and it was almost pleasant. I took it easy and ran most of it on autopilot. If I can run that brutal climb up to the Gap on autopilot I must be in good form, I guess. On the way back home my calves felt unreasonably tight but when I tried to work on them with The Stick afterwards I could not feel any sore points.

This was the last run resembling a workout, I suppose. In 3 days we're flying out to Athens and in 5 days ...

17 Sep

8 miles, 1:05:32, 8:11 pace, HR 155

   heat adaptation

18 Sep

8 miles, 1:05:05, 8:08 pace, HR 139

19 Sep

8 miles, 1:04:52, 8:06 pace, HR 150

   heat adaptation

20 Sep

10.7 miles, 1:39:46, 9:19 pace, HR 142

   Windy Gap

Single Digit Countdown

I probably should not have been surprised but I was: my quads were surprisingly sore on Monday, obviously a direct result of Sunday's mountain run. The fact that I had run it all at a very sedate effort had not saved me from a fair amount of DOMS. It sure felt a lot more sore than after the Dingle marathon or the Achill Ultra.

I took it easy on Monday anyway as it was another heat adaptation run wrapped in 4 layers. There is definitely some progress being made on that front. The HR was lower than on the previous adaptation runs (though the run being half a mile shorter affects that as well) and I did not get that dizzy feeling after finishing, which is definitely a plus. I will do a couple more, to make sure I do not lose the hard-gained adaptations so far. How much this is relevant in reality - I guess I'm going to find out!

After all those workouts I was actually looking forward to a bag-standard 10 mile run on Tuesday. I don't know how often I have run those 5 miles along the lake and back again but it must be in the hundreds, and yet I still enjoy the scenery and it never feels old. Only problem was, I have run 8 miles so often in recent times that I automatically turned around at the 4-mile point without thinking and it took me another mile to realise that I was supposed to run out for another mile. Ah well. I tagged on another out-and-back mile back home instead, no matter.

Wednesday was one last interval workout. Since the race is getting rather close I decided to deliberately run a bit slower than last time and rather teh 6:30-6:40 pace slot. I almost managed it during the first repeat; after that I concentrated on running as relaxed as possible instead of pushing the effort and wouldn't you believe it, I was actually running faster that way despite it feeling easier. It would have been an epiphany except that I have experienced it before and the lesson never seems to stick. I also cut the recovery even further, down to 0.15 miles which really did not feel very long. I started feeling the effort at the fourth repeat and even more so at the fifth and decided to call it a day there and then because you should always end an interval workout when you still have at least one more interval in you, even more so 9 days before your goal race. It was definitely the right call.

14 Sep

7.5 miles, 1:02:39, 8:21 pace, HR 151

   heat adaptation

15 Sep

10 miles, 1:21:29, 8:09 pace, HR 145

16 Sep

7 miles, 55:49, 7:58 pace, HR 151

   incl 5 x 800 @ 6:29, 6:26, 6:19, 6:25, 6:22 pace

The 12 Days Of Sparta

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sparta is getting close.

11 Sep

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

   heat adaptation run

12 Sep

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

13 Sep

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

   Windy Gap x 2

Recovery? What Recovery?

Recovery from Dingle was swift - in fact I barely noticed that I had a marathon in those legs. Sunday was still a bit stiff, alright, but by Tuesday I could no longer feel any trace of that race.

Two weeks from now I will be in sunny Greece. Usually I would state at this point that the training is done and the hay in the barn but with all the time I missed during the summer it really does not feel that way. I sure don't feel I particularly need a taper because I have not done any training that would require me to rest from. Obviously, cramming in long miles and tough workouts at this point is not an option either. Instead, I'm trying to get some last minute adaptations going that will hopefully assist me in my Spartan quest.

Heat adaptation is often neglected but will certainly be a requirement for someone used to training in about 10 degrees in Ireland when preparing for a race in Greece where the temperatures are presently at 31C/88F! On Tuesday I wrapped myself in 3 layers (long sleeved shirt, fleece jacket and running jacket) and a hat (lesson learned from the previous run!) and set off. I actually felt ok, was a little but warm but not exactly hot and the HR wasn't particularly high either: from the number alone (138) I would not have been able to tell if the very slightly elevated figure was caused by the marathon or the extra layers. It was only in the last mile when I increased the effort a little bit that I actually started to feel warmer than usual.

I wondered if that run had actually brought on any adaptations so I set the bar higher for Wednesday. I wore 4 layers (long sleeved shirt, cotton t-shirt, fleece jacket and running jacket), added gloves, ran for longer and at a higher intensity. Truth to be told, I might have overdone it a bit (now where have I said that before!). I was getting hot and steamy straight away, started to feel the effort by half way and was actually having to work damn hard just to get home. That's when I realised that I had been pushing my luck: I got light headed when I bent down to take off my shoes, I started feeling cold even when still wrapped in 4 layers and I generally got a bit confused (forgot to take off the HRM chest strap, mislaid the watch, put the shower on cold). I also kept sweating buckets for half an hour after finishing the run; my core temperature must have been seriously high. I guess I got away with it and afterwards figured as far as heat adaptation was concerned it was probably a very successful workout but this could be dangerous and a bit more caution would definitely be a good idea.

The legs had not been taxed by that run but I sure had put my body under a certain amount of stress so I wondered if it was a good idea to do a workout the next day. Then again, if in doubt I tend to go ahead and run, and that's what I ended up doing once more. I ran a set of half mile repeats, something that worked very well a few weeks ago and really seemed to bring me on, so I was keen to keep them going, despite my recent ultra/marathon combo. I reckoned I could always run a bit slower, maybe 7-minute pace, but started running the first repeat entirely by feel and only checked the pace halfway through: 6:19! Ok, relax a bit for the second half. The next one went similarly: I would start by feel, eventually checked the watch to find I was running a bit fast and then relaxed and concentrated on form and breathing for the reminder. The last 2 were at a slightly higher effort but still very much in control. I also cut down the rest interval to about 0.2 miles, about half of what I had given myself last time, but that did not seem to make any difference, I felt well recovered at the start of each faster segment. As ever, strava and movescount are reporting markedly different paces for the same workout; at least one of them is doing an appalling job! This time, however, the numbers I remember from the watch during the workout are closer to the movescount rather than the strava ones. I have no idea what pace I actually ran, only that it felt just right!

Wowzers, that went well! One lesson from Mystery Coach had been that when you get into form "the mind is winding up to ignore fatigue", which is great for racing but not so great for training as it can easily lead to burnout and overtraining if you're not careful. With 2 weeks to go, however, that's a great state to get into! I might be getting into shape just in time, lost summer or not.

7 Sep

5 miles, 43:58, 8:48 pace, HR 134

8 Sep

5 miles, 42:50, 8:34 pace, HR 138

   heat adaptation

9 Sep

8 miles, 1:07:13, 8:24 pace, HR 153

   heat adaptation

10 Sep

7.5 miles, 59:13, 7:54 pace, HR 151

   incl 6 x 800 @ 6:27, 6:18, 6:14, 6:20, 6:03, 6:07 pace

Good News From Dingle [(c) Mo Olwill]

At least I wasn't the only one racing when feeling a bit under the weather:

“I had flu after the semi-finals,” said Kiprop, coughing intermittently, shortly after taking gold in the men’s 1500m final on Sunday evening. “Before the race I told the Kenyans to work extra hard because I was not reliable.” (from here)

And I was not even going to race, just jog along for a training run. On the other hand, mine was a marathon and a tough one at that. A friend of mine advised me to skip it but told me afterwards that at the same time he made a bet with himself that I would run nevertheless. He won that bet.

I had felt pretty crappy on Friday morning and cut my run short. I could clearly see the effects on the HRM and the marathon was definitely thrown into question. However, I felt better the longer the day went on and decided to get up on Saturday and assess how I felt. Turns out I felt just fine. Off to Dingle I went.

Obviously this was not a goal race. I had missed most of the summer due to injury, had run a 39 mile race a week earlier and then gotten a cold during the week, nothing of which promised a decent race. Since there was a half marathon on at the same time there was always the option of pulling out at halfway, but to be honest I never even contemplated that possibility.

The weather was pretty much ideal and the stunning scenery of the Dingle peninsula can do wonders to take your mind off the pain. I started far back in the field, much further back than I can remember in recent years, a bit behind the 3:45 pace balloons. It took a while to cross the start line and I took it really easy over the first couple of miles, even by training-run standards. I slowly caught up with Fozzy, the 3:45 pacer, and had a bit of a chat with him before pulling slightly ahead. When asked what I had planned for today I had always vaguely answered with "something between 3:30 and 3:45", but I was just going to run this entirely by feel and adapt accordingly with no consideration for the final time.

There was no 3:30 marathon pacer but my friend and near-neighbour Chris Grayson was employed as 1:45 half pacer, which was of course the same pace. After 3 or so miles I noticed that I was gradually getting closer to his balloon and eventually caught up. We had a little chat as well and he introduced the runner beside him as Mike, "a Man United supporter", so we obviously had a few digs at each other while running along the road. Eventually my legs felt better than 3:30 pace and I pulled away again. Mike caught up again after a bit, we had a few more (friendly) words and then he tore off towards the finish - he was only doing the half (typical U****d, can't last the distance).

There is a long drag up to mile 8 and while I felt pretty good on the upwards gradient itself, the effort seemed to start to get to me once on top and for the next few miles I actually wondered if I had just stupidly overcooked myself. Nevertheless I caught up to Tony, who was running his 7th Dingle marathon today, never having missed a single one (I was only on my sixth, having taken a break in 2013 after the Connamara 100 miler). Once more we chatted as we cruised along the road but on one of the many little climbs towards Dunquin he fell behind.

I had overtaken a lot of runners from mile 3 to 8 but noticed that by now there were a few runners passing me again. I wondered if I had slowed down or if most of them were half marathon runners who started to to smell the finish and gave it a final push. I did recognise a German marathon runner, however, who I had overtaken a mile or two earlier and figured that at least some of them were doing the full distance. I didn't feel particularly bad but I did wonder if that was a sign that I was about to hit the wall.

In previous years it had always gotten very lonely immediately after the half marathon finish in Dunquin so I was surprised to see at least a dozen marathon runners ahead of me heading up the long climb out of the village. Then I realised that I had been going through Dunquin more than an hour earlier than usual because this year I was running the marathon, not the (sadly now discontinued) ultra. For some reason, once I started the climb I immediately started to feel better and stronger and started to make my way through the field once more. The climb is misleadingly long, it does flatten out a bit once out of Dunquin but it keeps going uphill for close to 2 miles. To make it tougher than usual, the wind was blowing right into our faces - quite a difference to the normal wind direction that would have given us a helping hand on the way home (after battling it for the first 10 miles, obviously). However, I seemed to get loads of energy out of nowhere and felt better and better. I did wonder how long that would last but since every step got me closer to the finish I reckoned even if I blew up at some point it would be close enough to the end to be able to cope.

The legs never felt particularly fresh, I could clearly feel last week's effort in Achill in the hamstrings but apart from that base fatigue, that I could easily handle, I felt surprisingly good. For the next few miles I kept passing runner after runner. Every time I went past one there was another target not too far ahead. I must have passed at least 2 dozen runners over the next few miles and I was still gaining on those ahead. Going through Ballyferriter I remembered last year when I had caught up to James Whitty in the ultra here but then he started pulling away again when he could hear my steps. This year I felt a lot fresher with the benefit of 25 fewer miles in the legs at that point. A mile later I passed Alan Gorksi who was having a much tougher time today but of course he made it to the finish as well.

By then we could see the big final hill looming ahead of us, the one that Dingle is (in)famous for. Before that we had to go on an out-and-back section where you get a good look at runners ahead and behind you. The out section was once more straight into the wind but obviously we got the benefits on the way back. I also saw the leading lady on that section who wasn't too far ahead of me (I didn't know at the time she was the leading lady, of course).

After about 21.5 miles we hit the hill, and steep it was. I have exceptionally good memories of that section, however, because that's where I caught James last year to secure a podium finish. Maybe that's why I quipped to a runner "this is the fun bit" as I passed him, but I think he saw the humour in it. I even repeated that line when Ken, the RD, passed me in his car and had a couple of words. By now I knew I wasn't going to blow up, it was too close to the finish. After a mile or so the hill was bit less fun than it had been but it was just a matter of taking just one more step, and one more step, and one more step, until we were at the top. Once there, I gradually let the legs spin on the downhill section. Usually I'm too tired at this point and the quads too ripped to shreds to get much joy out of that downhill but today was a good day and I just went with the flow. It doesn't take much effort to run down that hill if you're still able to take the pounding and once more I blew past runner after runner, which this time also included the leading lady. Then you go round a bend and stare at over 2 miles of completely straight road, which can be rather soul-destroying as the end never seems to get any closer.

Rather than looking at that far-away target I just looked at the runner ahead of me as I gradually caught up and then repeated the process with the next one. I must have caught another half dozen runners on those last 3 miles until I passed the 25 mile marker and the next runner seemed about a quarter mile ahead of me, probably too far ahead and I guessed I had reached my finishing position.

Despite passing all those runner, I still was not running at full race effort. I was just having fun, and with the legs feeling as good as they did I figured I might as well make some use of it. It's not that often that you run a marathon where you feel better with each mile, even at mile 25! I got into Dingle and sped down the road, almost saddened that the fun was about to end but very happy with how the race had gone. I finished in 3:24, having run the second half a bit faster than the first one (7:52 pace vs 7:46 on strava) and almost feeling like I could go round again (then again, the left calf had started to spasm a couple of times, so maybe not).

I used to think of Dingle as the toughest road marathon in Ireland but after running Achill last week I'd say that mantle has been passed on (and I've heard reports of  the quadrathon in Donegal). The question which is the most scenic, on the other hand, is not so easy to settle. Both areas are stunningly scenic and both are well worth a visit - do yourself a favour and see them for yourself.

As for myself, I am really glad I ran this. Whatever physiological gains I might have gained from that run, it's the psychological boost I take from here. To be able to run 26 miles so easily a week after the Achill Ultra tells me that the legs are definitely coming round and Sparta seems a lot more doable all of a sudden.

3 Sep

5 miles, 42:27, 8:29 pace, HR 37

4 Sep

4 miles, 43:32, 8:37 pace, HR 140

5 Sep

Dingle marathon, 26th place

3:24:25, 7:48 pace, HR 153

6 Sep

5 miles, 43:44, 8:44 pace, HR 136

Quick Recovery

The good news is that the legs are feeling unexpectedly good. Originally I was planning on doing a cycle on Sunday rather than a recovery run but because I felt much better than expected I changed my mind and ran. The first half mile was rather stiff and awkward (as Alison, who happened to pass by, can testify) but once I loosened up I felt perfectly comfortable. DOMS can take 2 days to appear, so I wasn't celebrating just yet but there was no need to worry, I felt even better on Monday. Later that day I deliberately walked down a staircase in the office instead of taking the lift purely to test my legs, and wouldn't you believe it, there was no soreness. How I could run an ultra on untrained legs and come away almost unscathed I'm not quite sure but obviously 11 years of training don't just disappear in 2 months. My lack of fitness might have cost me an hour in the race but that very same slow pace now seems to pay back in the form of an astoundingly quick recovery. The HR is rebounding as well - the numbers this week are better than the number I had the week after pacing the Cork marathon in June! This is almost miraculous!

It's not all roses, however, because I still have to pay a price for Achill in the form of a sore throat. Upper respiratory tract infections are fairly common after a long race and I've had a fair amount of them; usually they disappear very quickly. I don't have a temperature, just a sore throat and a mile headache and as long as it doesn't get any worse I won't be too worried.

I am signed up for the Dingle marathon on Saturday. I got a free entry after finishing third in last year's ultra, so I wasn't going to miss one of my favourite races if I could help it. Obviously I had wondered what shape I would be in after Achill but that seems to be no problem. The infection could still prevent me from taking part if it gets worse but chances are I will indeed run that marathon (sadly, the Dingle ultra is no more, though that's almost certainly a good thing this year with the Spartathlon just 3 weeks later).

I got through Achill much better than expected. The cramps are a bit of a worry - if I start cramping in Greece after 30 miles it's game over. However, I have never cramped in any of my 24 hour races (or 100 miler), no matter how exhausted I was; the slower pace certainly makes a difference.

Of course there was a certain lack of fitness that was clearly on show in Achill. That very same race, however, will hopefully have done a good job in rebuilding that fitness again and with another marathon in the legs on Saturday at least I will have gotten some long runs done, against all odds.

Anyway, I've run 5 miles each morning since Achill. The legs felt good enough on Tuesday to plan an 8 mile run on Wednesday but then the sore throat got so bad on Tuesday evening (I eventually had to take a paracetamol just to let me sleep) that I changed my mind and re-set the alarm. However, I felt much better in the morning and decided to sneak in a little workout, just to get the legs turn over properly for once without taxing them too much, so I did a 60 seconds on / 60 seconds off fartlek, while varying the intensity of the "on" parts. I could feel the right calf muscle again during that run, the one that had misbehaved so badly in Achill, so something still isn't 100% right.

One more thing: after the race on Saturday, Donna generously decided that I should receive a special prize for coming first Irishman in the World championships in April (my performance in Achill sure did not warrant a prize!). She is an artist and gave away some props that had been used during a performance art session a couple of years ago, so now I have a real piece of modern art in our driveway.

 I think that's really cool. Niamh and the kids are a bit confused.

31 Aug

5 miles, 44:23, 8:53 pace, HR 135

1 Sep

5 miles, 43:37, 8:43 pace, HR 135

2 Sep

5 miles, 39:56, 7:59 pace, HR 150

   60/60 fartlek

My Physio Doesn't Know I'm Here!

Photo by Alan Murphy

Going into this ultra I had one major goal, namely to come through it without injury. It was very much a test on how the body is holding up and I was perfectly aware that one more injury would take me out of the Spartathlon game for good. The hip had been feeling good all week and was barely noticeable, so I was actually fairly confident that it would work out fine.

Achill Island is a very long way away from Kerry and I had arrived there very late on Friday, at 11 o'clock, because the drive had taken much longer than anticipated. Thankfully my bed was still available (I had visions of having to sleep in the car) but I was utterly exhausted when I finally got there. Just under 6 hours later I was awake again and got ready for the day. It was unlikely to be the optimal preparation for an ultra but there you go. Next time I'll take some time off work though, to give myself an easier time.

Photo by Brian Ankers

The race was a small and intimate affair, certainly the ultra was. Just before 8 o'clock we gathered at the start line and Donna, the RD, sent us off without much fanfare (wait - did she really tell us not to take any drugs?). One guy in yellow and one girl shot off at the front and the rest started in a more sedate fashion. I settled in beside Anto, a fellow Spartathlete, and we jogged the first mile in 9 minutes, pretty much where I wanted to be, and then he had to go off for a nature break (FFS - who needs a weewee break after one mile!) and I found myself unexpectedly on my own. I must have sped up a little bit because over the next couple of miles I overtook a few runners, though I was very much running within myself. I could see Don Hannon disappear into the distance and was reasonably confident he was going to win. Had I not just spent the last 2 months out with injury I probably would have given him a mighty battle, but seeing as we are both planning to gather in Athens in four weeks' time it's probably better that we did not kill each other today in a misguided attempt to go for glory here.

Photo by Mark F Chaddock

Oh yes, the last 2 months. Some minor muscle in my right hip had given out at the end of June and I spent 6 week almost entirely on the sidelines and had only just gotten back onto the road over the last 2 weeks. My longest run had been 15 miles, a week before, and then I had gotten rather tired after 10 miles. I wasn't quite sure how I would be able to get through almost 40 miles today but hoped a mighty dose of  bloodymindedness together with a fair amount of stupidity would see me through. Oh, and my physio, Derek, who had nursed me through the last few weeks on the road back to recovery, had not been informed of my plans. I thought the better of telling him.

Photo by Susan Baughman

Anyway, after about 5 miles I fell in with another runner, Jason Kehoe, who turned out to be a running mate of my good friend James Whitty, and we spent the rest of that lap chatting away. The scenery was absolutely stunning. I have run several races that claim to be the most scenic race in Ireland but Achill can give every single one of them a run for their money (I'll keep an eye out in Dingle next week for comparisons). Obviously, with breathtaking scenery like that come even more breathtaking climbs and there were three major ones on each loop, with the second one especially tough and followed by an even steeper quad-busting descent down to sea level only to be immediately followed by an even steeper climb the other side of the valley. It was also very windy and the climbing was mostly done against a stiff breeze - as if it wasn't hard enough already!

It's on that stretch that we encountered the one organisatorial hitch of the day. There was supposed a table with our own supplies at mile 7 but when I got to the station that I thought was the one at mile 9, my stuff wasn't there. I didn't really mind, I wasn't racing this one and if you put supplies into a box there is always a chance that you won't be seeing it again, it has all happened before. It took me a mile or two to realise that there had been a water table at about mile 5. I had not seen a supply box but that must have been the one. I would get there at the next loop.

Photo by Olwyn Dunne

Oh yes, the loop. I was 13.1 miles long, with a (hilly) out-and-back section tagged on to ensure correct distance. The ultra was 3 loops, the marathon 2 and the half marathon 1, obviously. The marathon had started an hour after the ultra and we would hardly see any of it. The half started 2 hours after the ultra and since we finished our first loop in 1:52 we got a big reception from the runners gathered at the start, which was great. Jason fell behind here, picking up some supplies, and once more I was running on my own again. The fastest half marathon runners took 3 miles to catch up with me and gradually a few more runners would trickle by over the next few miles, almost all of them giving some words of encouragement, thanks very much. That setup worked the opposite way of Connemara where I would gradually catch up to the back of the full and later half field and run past the slower runners. Here, in contrast, the faster runners caught up to us and we never even saw most of the slower runners.

Photo by Mark F Chaddock

This time I managed to pick up my drinks bottle at the 5 mile table and then proceeded to run up the series of very steep climbs that had seemed to grow a bit since the first loop. Right at the top I caught up to 2 walkers that seemed rather familiar and when they turned around I saw that they were Darren and Caroline, two thirds of my crew in the Connamara 100 2 years ago. I had absolutely no idea that they would be here and hugs and cheers were to be had. We chatted for a bit, Darren told me he wanted to run the ultra one day but had to content with walking the course today with his better half before sending me off again - oh yes, I was supposed to run a race here!

I was almost at the top of the third climb when the trouble started: my left calf was starting to cramp. I walked a few steps to alleviate the cramping before starting to slowly jog again. I reached the top but the cramping continued even on the next, gentle, downhill stretch. That was not good. I was only at mile 22 and still had 17 miles to go and I really did not fancy battling with cramping legs for that amount of time and distance. Luckily, it then subsided again. Maybe the orange slice I ate at the aid station helped wit electrolyte balance, maybe it was the cup of water but most likely it was the fact that the next few miles were gradually downhill and I was able to take it easy and as the effort level dropped the leg recovered somewhat. I finished loop 2, and the full marathon, in 3:48 but I knew the third lap wasn't going to be all fun and games. Donna later told me she could see I was struggling a bit.

Photo by Fiona Byrne

Onto the third loop. I was leapfrogging another ultra runner a few times but wasn't concerned at all if I would end up before or behind him at the end. I first concentrated on reaching Grainne's Tower between miles 4 and 5 (I had no idea it was on Achill Island - you learn something new every day!) and then it was a matter of surviving that set of rather brutal climbs one more time. It speaks volumes for Achill Island that I was still very much appreciating the stunning scenery.

What I did not appreciate was the fact that the aid station was not here! I was rather taken aback, surely they would not leave the ultra runners to their own devices on the third loop, when they needed help the most! However, there was not much I could do but battle on. A mile later I caught up to another friend, Paolo, possibly the nicest person out there, run/walking the marathon with his wife, and before I could even ask for a sip of water he had already handed me bottle! Thank you Paolo, you have no idea how parched I felt at that point and just how much you helped! Another mile later I unexpectedly came upon the aid station - they had not abandoned us but moved (they had been supposed to be at that second spot all along, Donna told me afterwards). Since I had not picked up my bottle at the first loop I still had 2 in there but only took one because I did not fancy carrying two heavy bottles with me. However, I must still have been badly dehydrated because I drained the one bottle that I had taken in less than a minute. I almost turned back to pick up my second one, but didn't.

I passed the early race leader (the guy in yellow) after 33 miles and he was clearly suffering. A better pacing strategy would almost certainly have saved him a fair amount of pain!

Photo by Susan Baughman

Considering I had at one point feared I would have to battle cramps for 17 miles I was pretty pleased to get to mile 34 in reasonably good nick but that's where it all fell apart, on the same steep climb where the problem had started a lap earlier. Unfortunately, this time there was no relief to be had. Another orange slice did not help, a cup of water did not, and even easing up on the gentle downhill gradients did not either. There are all kinds of theories what causes cramps. Dehydration is mentioned, and I was definitely dehydrated. Electrolytes are another, and I had not brought my s-caps with me and some levels may have been out of whack. However, there is no doubt in my mind what caused the cramps on this occasion: lack of fitness. All the other factors may have played a minor role but it was the fact that I had hardly been running for 2 months and lost so much fitness in the process that was responsible.

I passed Anto on the out-and-back section. "Your name will be Muck if I catch you!" He must have been about half a mile behind, with 4 miles to go so that seemed safe enough, but the legs really stopped cooperating. It was mostly the left calf but the right one joined in occasionally as well. I experimented with changing my gait - heel striking actually worked a bit better than midfoot landing and keeping the legs as relaxed as possible may have provided some very minor improvement. I stopped at a wall and tried stretching the muscles. In the end I had to concede, nothing really worked, I could just run for a bit until the cramps came, would have to walk for a bit and then repeat the process, rinse and repeat.

Photo by Susan Baughman

With a bit over a mile to go my name turned into Muck when Anto strode by, finishing very strongly. When I told him about the cramps he quipped "that's what happens when you run your weekly mileage all in one go", which succinctly described the entire problem in one single sentence. There was no way I could keep up - he put 2 minutes onto me by the finish! I deliberately walked for a minute before turning into the campsite where the finish was so that I would be able to run the final lap of honour without cramping - at least that bit worked!

I finished in 5:55:47 (on my own watch), a personal worst for 39.3 miles, but since the main goal had been to run without re-injuring the hip (or without acquiring a new injury for that matter) this was actually a success. Going under 6 hours was a minor bonus as well, not that it really mattered. Don Hannon had indeed won but he too had battled cramps for several miles at the end and had almost been caught by the leading lady. He was very gracious to state that I would have won today had I been in form, but I had not and I did not and he was the clear and deserved winner, congratulations. The ladies' winner, Dee Grady, came seemingly out of nowhere to rack up a first win in her first ultra - very impressive and there may well be a major talent about to be uncovered.

As for myself, I had driven almost 6 hours to get there, slept for almost 6 hours, ran for almost 6 hours and drove back home for almost 6 hours, a major expedition and a rather exhausting one. However, my legs felt surprisingly good on Sunday morning and I did my usual 5-mile recovery run feeling much better than expected. I guess the slow pace means I wasn't as taxed as I might otherwise have been.

27 Aug

5 miles, 42:45, 8:33 pace, HR 138

28 Aug

5 miles, 42:32, 8:30 pace, HR 137

29 Aug

Achill Island Ultra

39.3 miles, 5:55:47, 9:03 pace, HR 147

30 Aug

5 miles, 45:45, 9:09 pace, HR 133

Don't Be Afraid To Fail

"Are you going to run Achill Island? Or would that be stupid?"

"Yes - and yes, I suppose"

I haven't run more than 15 miles since June and on Sunday I started getting tired after 10 miles, so to run almost 40 miles on Saturday may well be a BAD idea. However, I'm going to do it anyway. The Achill island ultra is still only about a quarter of the Spartathlon and the way I see it, if I can't run 40 miles (ok, 39.3) on Saturday then I won't be able to run 153 exactly a month from now. Besides, last year in Belfast I promise Donna I'd run her race this year.

Being hampered by injury actually has one advantage: if I went into that race in good shape I might well have been tempted to race it as a win might have been be a possibility (obviously, that depends on who's turning up). Since that possibility can now be ruled out, I can run as slowly as I want without any regrets.

I'm not overly keen on mantras and memes, but that one caught my eye because that is exactly attitude I have decided to adopt for the Spartathlon. I haven't done the training I wanted to do and I will still be far from peak fitness when the start date comes round far too soon but I will give it a go and if I fail, so be it. There's only one way to find out.

If I cripple myself in Achill, I guess I'll have to fall back to option B, namely going to Greece for a holiday instead.

Anyway, I took it easy after the weekend. It was a no-brainer because my quads were hurting, almost certainly because of the mountain run. I was really surprised by how much they hurt because that run had gone so well and I had not felt tired at all.  I had initially toyed with the idea of doing 2 workouts during the week, another mountain run and intervals on Tuesday and Thursday. Then I figured Thursday was a bit late considering that race on Saturday so maybe a Tuesday/Wednesday back-to-back workout pair would be an option? However, with the legs hurting as they are, that idea got dumped (I probably just about avoided doing something really stupid here).

What I did do on Tuesday was to run in some extra layers to get some heat adaptation going. However, as it turns out, even wearing 3 layers on top, including a running jacket, won't make you feel particularly hot if you're an idiot and don't wear a hat. In fact, once it started raining I started to feel distinctly cold instead! It's still a bit early for heat adaptation (it only lasts for about 2 weeks), so I guess a bit of experimenting wasn't that bad an idea; that way I might get it right by the time I actually need to.

On Wednesday morning I did that one weekly workout that was left in the schedule, a set of half mile repeats. Last week I had done 4, this week I increased the number to 6 and slightly lowered the recovery from 0.5 to 0.4 miles. Initially I resolved to run a bit slower than last week, just trying to hit the 6:30 to 6:40 window rather than surpass it but once I got into the workout I actually started to speed up, unnoticed. Once again, the 2 websites I'm using for data upload report very different numbers:

Movescount: 6:43, 6:32, 6:35, 6:40, 6:25, 6:26
Strava: 6:33, 6:26, 6:30, 6:35, 6:17, 6:21

And, like last week, the strava numbers are the ones I remember from the watch during the workout, so I guess that's what I'm going with (plus, they sure look a lot better). I'm still flabbergasted how the same data set can be reported so differently. It hurts my technical background.

The real difference, however, was how much better I felt this week compared to last week. I could not have done 6 repeats last week; in marked contrast, this morning I definitely would have felt capable of at least 2 more. This is also reflected in the HR, last week it went all the way up to 181 and today it peaked at a much more acceptable 173. I certainly have already gotten better at running at 6:30 pace. How that translates into efficiency gains at ultra pace is debatable - however, I am convinced that this is a very valuable workout and ultra runners would in general improve if they added more speed work into their training repertoire (btw, that's a note to self).

The hip is fine. Every now and then I can notice a bit of a twinge, but that's it.

24 Aug

8 miles, 1:09:17, 8:40 pace, HR 138

25 Aug

8 miles, 1:09:56, 8:45 pace, HR 143

26 Aug

9+ miles, 1:17:18, 8:30 pace, HR 144

   incl 6 x 800 @ 6:33, 6:26, 6:30, 6:35, 6:17, 6:21 pace

Support

I sure cannot complain about the help I've been getting recently. I have Derek's expert advice on how to deal with the injury, recently I got a phone call from Gerry Duffy no less, making suggestions about fitness gains from cycling (he's been there himself) and MC is still keeping an eye on my training as well.

I just checked through my running log for the year and the last time I had done an interval workout was back in March! Obviously that's not ideal but I required a very long recovery period after the championships and then I got injured - in fact, the very workouts that caused my injury, the hill drills, were supposed to get the leg muscles ready for some fast work. MC sent me an email with the suggestion of doing some longer intervals with the aim of increasing my efficiency. There is no doubt that my efficiency is in dire need of improvement, right now I am running a minute slower than before my injury, at the same effort level and HR! Still, I was a bit apprehensive of running 2 minutes faster than normal, not because the pace would have scared me but because I did not know how my hip would react.

The prescribed pace was certainly nothing to write home about - 2 years ago that had been my marathon race pace! Straining to run the same pace for half mile repeats drove home the message how much I have regressed, but then again I get that same message on every single run at the moment, and I very much expect decent gains to come quickly (that's the advantage of being at the bottom!). 4 x 800 is not much of a workout, especially as I kept the recovery long as well (another half mile), but that kind of work need to be introduced gently. The plan was to run 6:30-6:40 pace. I struggled with pace judgement early on, but that improved quickly. As for the actual paces I ran, there's some confusion. The Suunto website, where the data got uploaded initially, mentions lap paces of 6:31, 6:36, 6:35, 6:32, but the same data in strava gets reported as 6:31, 6:30, 6:27, 6:23. I did not keep a close eye on the numbers when I was doing the workout but from what I saw the numbers on the watch were matching the strava figures; why Suunto's watch would report quite different numbers than their website I don't know. Obviously it doesn't matter much - it's the training effect that counts but my geeky maths OCD self is a bit thrown by those contradictory numbers.

Derek had suggested running on no more than 3 consecutive days, so I was already pushing my luck with 5 straight days as it was! However, since the hip is getting better by the day, even after sitting in the office chair for too many hours, I think I can get away with a little bit more. However, having to drive to Killarney early Friday morning provided a decent excuse to take a rest day (I still cycled).

After that rest day I did once again push my luck over the weekend. I headed up towards the Kerry way on Saturday morning, intending to get a few climbs into my legs for the first time in ages to start building some much-needed leg strength but had all the best intentions of taking it easy. Well, the effort was easy, I can still attest to that, but the longer I ran the better I felt so when I reached the trail junction towards Windy Gap I indeed started heading upwards, curious to see how long I would last. Well. I lasted until the very top and even then I wasn't particularly tired. The hip never bothered me in the slightest, which was a major plus. I took it even easier on the descent to protect my hip and ran home. I did the homewards leg mostly on autopilot, which meant I can't have been very tired.

The hip was perfectly fine initially but I started feeling it about 6 hours after that run. Not bad, but noticeable. As a result I ditched any fancy notions of running around the lake on Sunday and did 2 loops through Killorglin instead, which gave me the option of going home early if my hip was acting up. Turns out the hip was fine but the quads were a bit achy right from the start, obviously a result from yesterday's sojourn, and never got better. By mile 10 I was rather tired, by mile 12 I started feeling the hip, once again not bad but noticeable, but by then I was on my way home anyway. The last few miles dragged a bit, but that was part of the plan anyway. A little bit of suffering is good.

This was a decent enough week, but compared to what I would have done without the injury it was still minimal. My hip feels fine, it's the loss of fitness that is my biggest problem. I still have a few weeks to make some gains - not enough to catch up but I'll see what can be done.

20 Aug

7.5 miles, incl 4 x 800 @ 6:31, 6:30, 6:27, 6:23 pace

22 Aug

11+ miles, 1:45:48, 9:26 pace, HR 148

   Windy Gap

23 Aug

15+ miles, 2:11:24, 8:45 pace, HR 141

And Back Again

And so we are back home, from well over 30 degrees in the sun to 16 degrees in the rain -  oh my, am I ecstatic to be back! I was straight back in the office on Tuesday and wouldn't you know it, after a few hours at the desk my hip started hurting again after all the progress made last week. Sitting for hours really is poison to my injury, so much so that can't help but wonder how much quicker I would have recovered if I had a different kind of job (alas, window cleaning won't pay the bills).

I did one more long run in Austria, 4 time around the little lake and I was running for exactly 2 hours. It wasn't quite as hot any more, still 27C/80F though, and it was very humid so I just took it very, very easy, which was probably good for my hip anyway. On previous days it had been hot but dry and I almost did not feel like I was sweating because it evaporated immediately. Sunday was very different but due to my low pace I was just plodding along not too bothered. It also helped that I had stashed a water bottle along the way - sometimes even I can learn a lesson.

The pace had been painfully slow but what pleased me was that my hip was perfectly fine all the way and did not start hurting afterwards either. It was enough encouragement to try running on consecutive days once more, even though that had been impossible earlier that week.

It's amazing how quickly things had changed in just a few days. On Monday, our last morning before travelling back home, I did run again and since the hip did not bother me at all I kept pushing the distance as I went along, from 3 miles to 4 and then 5, and I might have done more but it was time to head home. It was probably the most encouraging run I had done all week - in fact, for 2 months. I was finally able to run on consecutive days! It felt like a major victory.

Since returning home I have kept to that daily running schedule but I also reduced the miles again, just to be sure. There is no denying that my fitness has suffered significantly - 8:30 seems to be the top end of my easy pace now, a full minute slower than 2 months ago at the same effort level and heart rate - the VDOT table does not make pleasant reading. How quickly I will be able to regain a half-decent level I don't know - I have less time until the Spartathlon than I spent out injured. Ah well. It's a challenge, I guess,

16 Aug

13.4 miles, 2:00:00, 8:57 pace, HR 139

17 Aug

5 miles, 46:17, 9:15 pace, HR 137

18 Aug

8 miles, 1:08:26, 8:33 pace, HR 143

19 Aug

5 miles, 44:12, 8:50 pace, HR 143

Life's A Beach

Things are continuing to improve but I’m still a good bit off from where I could say that I’m over that injury. After the hip had felt so good on Monday I thought I could start trying to run on consecutive days again but Tuesday was a big disappointment in that respect. From the first step I could tell that this really was not going to go well and after one mile of hobbling along I turned around and hobbled back home. Just to show how bad this had been, I had not even managed to average 10-minute-miles! I went cycling for an hour instead – we have the use of some bikes here, though they were clearly not purchased with the intention of cycling fast or long. However, for the week they’ll do.

Maia's gone native again

After that new setback I was a bit apprehensive on Wednesday but it was so much better! I could just about feel a tiny twinge in my hip at the start and even that went away completely after a mile or 2 and I was running completely unencumbered – well, apart from the fact that the temperatures were over 30 degrees, even at 8 o’clock in the morning! I managed to hold it all together for 10 miles but noticed a lot of ups and downs - in my fatigue levels that is, the road around the lake is entirely flat.

I went cycling again on Thursday but spent more time cursing at that bike than enjoying the ride. I also got a bit lost and was completely parched over that last few miles and suffering badly over one last hill, small as it may have been – exercising for over two and a half hours in that heat without bringing water was probably not my smartest idea ever.

I had recovered from that ordeal by Friday morning and once more the hip seemed in perfect condition, so I drew the run out a little to 12 miles, my longest run in what seems to be a very long time. I noticed the same highs and lows but figured they were closely coinciding with whether I was running in the shade or directly under the sun. Thursday had been incredibly hot, the temperatures had reached 38 degrees; Thursday was slightly cooler at 36.5, but that was still hotter than anything encountered in Ireland, ever! Well, I guess it will give me a fair amount of heat adaptation, which will only help. It probably also explains why my pace is only around 8:30, even when I could have sworn I was running faster than that, and the rather high HR is a bit of a concern. Obviously my lack of recent training and the subsequent loss of fitness has something to do with it as well.

Early morning visitors

Even though my hip had felt great all day, it was bothering me once more on Saturday morning, so another cycle was on the cards. This time I fulfilled a very long dream of mine – over 30 years ago I had learned about the Leithagebirge (“Leitha mountains”) and wondered how the flattest part of Austria could have a mountain region – well, even the hills around Caragh lake are higher and steeper than this but a 38 mile cycle through the country side was great and the mere fact that they have a network of cycle lanes going through the country here makes things so much easier and better – Ireland could really do with someone having a look how infrastructure works in other places, but I won’t be holding my breath.

I’ve actually done a ton of exercise this week, with the long cycles and the running supplemented by a fair amount of swimming and rowing as well as my exercises from Derek I must have done close to 3 hours a day – hopefully that will kick-start a last-gasp bout of training that may still get me back to a reasonable level of fitness. I have 6 weeks left.

11 Aug

2 miles, 20:05, 10:02 pace, HR 128

12 Aug

10.1 miles, 1:26:11, 8:32 pace, HR 146

14 Aug

12 miles, 1:43:00, 8:35 pace, HR 153

Change Of Scenery

This time I'm sure, things are definitely improving, and finally at a faster rate as well. My hip felt ok(-ish) on Saturday morning and I chanced it for a longer run. Up to now 6 miles had seemed long and every time I tried to push the envelope I was firmly put back into my place, but I could feel a definite and significant improvement in my hip and dared to go out for 8 miles. Whoop-dee-doo! Everything went well, in fact I felt great, I think I got my first proper dose of endorphins in weeks, which would have helped. Once that wore off a couple of hours later I could feel the hip again, but no worse than on previous days and I figure this was a really good sign.

Sunday was all about travelling, so the idea of running or any other cross training wasn't rally on the agenda. We caught a flight from Dublin to Bratislava and hired a car to drive to a lake in Austria where we are going to spend the next week. Temperatures in Dublin had been 13 degrees. Here it is 36! It would be roasting but with that lake almost literally on our doorstep that is a problem that can be solved easily. We all swam for a good while (I guess some form of cross training was had after all), and that's what we're going to do for the next week.

With the temperatures that high it seems important to get my run in before it reaches boiling point. Luckily I'm an early riser anyway, even on my hols, and I was out of the door at 7 am. I used the run to get a good look at the surrounding area (and found a bakery and a supermarket, what else do you need!), got lost (invariably!), and ended up running a good bit further than initially planned but still feeling great. It was just over 11 miles but at a slower pace than I would have done at home - the heat and the new surroundings have both impacted on my base but I think running a bit slower is better for me at this point anyway. Depending on how the hip will feel for the rest of the day and tomorrow I will adapt my mileage - it may be time to give running on consecutive days another go, but let's not get ahead of ourselves.

It was already 28 degrees when I got back home, running any later would have been problematic. I guess it will get the heat acclimatisation going. It's a bit early for that for Greece, which is still almost 7 week away, but what can you do, our holidays were not planned with race preparation in mind.

Talking about THAT RACE, ever since I decided to give it a go anyway, even with my less-than-ideal preparation, I invariably started thinking what I would do if things just happened to go better than expected. I am aware that the Spartathlon is exceptionally tough and the finisher rate low, and if I stand at the start line without the right mindset I will not finish even if the body would be capable - winging it might not be the best option!

As it happens, I just got an email from MC about all that - he must have been reading my mind (he's good at that!). His advice is to take a chance and try and race - it might not be pretty but the base I have built over the last 10+ years is not going to erode away that quickly. So maybe, just maybe, I'm still in with a chance (MC tends to be right much more often than not). At the very least I will get a good feel for the race, which may come in handy in 2016.

8 Aug

8 miles, 1:03:54, 7:79 pace, HR 154

10 Aug

11.1 miles, 1:34:22, 8:29 pace, HR 151

Back And Forth

I was absolutely sure Derek told me I could try and start running every day once the daily mileage had reached 6 without issues, but now he denies saying that - must have been a misunderstanding on my part. I noticed straight away after Monday's 3-mile run that the hip wasn't feeling great and despite Tuesday going reasonably okay, it was not as good as Sunday and had to be counted as a setback, albeit a minor one. Obviously I sat out Wednesday - well, I did do a tough cycle program on the trainer with a set of 60 sec intervals on/off that had my legs shaking like jelly once I got off the bike. I've also spent between 30 and 45 minutes every evening on the trainer (my unwatched video collection is running out at an alarming rate). I'm not sure what cycling does to my fitness (running fitness is definitely reduced significantly, no matter how much cross training I'm doing), but it feels good on the hip and has to be better than sitting on the sofa.

Cycling really doesn't impact on the injury or I surely would have felt it on Thursday. Having said that, something felt off and I very nearly did not run but in the end I was glad I did because I actually felt pretty good on yet another 6-mile run, so on the whole I'm still making progress. The way to build on from where I am now is to take the body's feedback into account, and at the moment the feedback is that I need to take a rest day between runs. I will try and gradually increase the mileage of my runs, once again progressing carefully and gradually.

I know I have already run out of time. The Spartathlon is 7 weeks away and there won't be time to get fit, simple as that. As I've said I will still travel to Greece - the flights and the race entry have been paid months ago and we're going to turn this into a holiday. I will most likely start and use this as a recce for next year, which also more or less settles what races I should focus on in 2016.

Oh, and congratulations to Torill Fonn, who I was lucky enough to meet in Turin after she had gotten on really well with Maia (not entirely sure how they had become such great friends). She had told me that she would try and break the 48 hrs World record. She sure gave it a good go at the weekend - she did not get the World record but she did get the European one as well as the age group World record (not bad for a fallback option!). Congratulations, I'm in awe and feeling very inspired! I just need to get back to full health first.

4 Aug

6 miles, 50:38, 8:26 pace, HR 148

6 Aug

6 miles, 48:54, 8:09 pace, HR 152

Progress Or Not?

When I first got injured I could not have imagined that recovery would take so long. I remember thinking that the Spartathlon was 3 months away and it would not really matter all that much. Reality has been very, very different. I guess I just don't do things by half - when I got my first injury in 8 years it had to a serious one that would take a long time to heal!

I'm generally not someone to follow rules and commands (my managers over the years can testify that). However, I quickly realised that I needed help with this injury and it would be just plain daft to go (and pay) for advice and then not follow it, so I'm following Derek's instructions very closely. I did think at times his progression program is overly cautious but always knew that erring on the side of caution is by far better than doing too much too soon and getting injured again, and recent events suggest he was right all along.

I did a fairly long cycle on Saturday; not long by serious cyclists' standards but the longest bike ride I'd ever done. It took me slightly over an hour to reach the top of Ballaghasheen, partially because I cracked on the final climb and had to take a breather, but it felt good to feel some good pain in the legs from the exercise rather than the bad pain from the injury. On the way home I got rather tired and started wishing to be home sooner rather than later, something I've experienced often enough at the end of a long run, and once more a good thing to suffer through. I don't know if I still have a realistic chance of making the Spartathlon but if I do then some serious work that includes a bit of suffering will be unavoidable.

Sunday was good. Really good. I almost felt like I was over that injury. The hip was fine, just a very dull discomfort, barely worth mentioning. I increased the distance by yet another mile. 6 miles was a significant marker: Derek had said that if I could run for 6 miles/10k without issues than I can start running every day, though the intervening days would have to be short. I did start feeling the hip again in the afternoon but I have done that after every run and the fact that I had been sitting in a car for a few hours sure did not help. Was it worse than on other days? I can't tell.

Unfortunately, as soon as I woke on Monday morning I immediately noticed that the hip wasn't feeling great. I did my 3 mile run anyway and it felt like a run a week or two earlier, not great. The pace was pathetically slow, despite the effort being the same as the day before. It was the first time that I had to deal with a setback since starting on the way back and it did nothing for my mood. It really is possible to hate your own body. I followed the run with 50 minutes on the bike trainer, the longest I have ever managed to train on a stationary device, be it trainer or treadmill. Maybe I did it for self-punishment but, as always, the hip felt better after cycling - unfortunately, the Spartathlon is not a cycling race!

A few hours in the garden had me knackered, especially after the morning workouts. I figured that anything was better than sitting down.

I think I'm pretty much on the edge. Of course I don't want a significant setback but with the lack of time it feels worth taking a few risks - if I miss the Spartathlon I have several months throughout the winter to get fit again. The next few weeks will tell.

I need a new HRM - my present one keeps dropping out. It's the least of my problems, though.

2 Aug

6 miles, 47:26, 7:54 pace, HR ???

3 Aug

3 miles, 26:49, 8:57 pace, HR 143