Seven Seconds

Twas the night before Christmas ... actually, it was Christmas morning, and the creatures in the house had already been stirring and gone through the presents, which their behaviour throughout the year definitely had not really merrited - Santa, you sucker!

But at 9:30 I was standing on the start line of the annual GOAL mile in Shanganagh park. I had learned my lesson from last year, namely that it's a bad idea to start at the 9:40 slot if you want to run (relatively) fast because you run into the tail end of the 9:30 field, so this time I had made sure to leave early enough to still being able to easily jog down to the park on time.

There was a guy who was apparently pacing someone else to a 6-minute mile, which I thought was very handy and I would try and stay with him, but as soon as we started he tore down the road at what was definitely not 6-minute pace. In fact, looking at the GPS track later on I was actually pacing myself pretty well, so he must have done faster than 5:30 pace. I mean, obviously everyone is entitled to run at whatever pace they want, but surely if you announce that you're going to run at 6-minute pace ... ah well.

I lost a few places halfway through the mile as I started to get tired and there was just that old fella - no, not me, the OTHER old fella I mean! - and I tried to keep at his coat tails, and we did push each other along pretty well, and I'm sure he felt the acid burn in the legs just as badly as I did. I knew there was a reason why I had opted for ultra running. I would never have made a great miler, neither my muscle fibre composition nor my mental attitude would have been suitable. Anyway, I tried to give it wellies on the finish straight, as did the other guy, obviously, and try as you might my old legs just would not turn any faster and I finished in 6:05.

Seven seconds. Seven seconds slower than last year!

Now I have a measure how much I have slowed down over the last 12 months. And that was while actually feeling better than at the end of last year, when that 24 hours race still somehow had a grip on my legs muscles.

Seven seconds. Actually, that's not even a bad deterioration, considering that I have lost closer to a minute per mile since 2014, so that's actually a decreasing rate of deterioration if you can look at it like that.

And then I spent the next three days being sick.

It wasn't that GOAL mile, I already had a sore throat that morning but no, I'm absolutely sure it had no impact on my time in Shanganagh park at all, no excuses.

And how do the legs feel after three days of no running? Fresh and bouncy after a good recovery? Do they f*ck!!! I feel like I just spent half a year de-training on the couch, the hamstrings almost felt tingly from being overworked at 9:30 pace. Crikey. This getting old business really is a tough one!

Oh, and Happy New Year! Hope you had a nice break over Christmas.

All I want for Christmas

... is a new pair of glutes/hamstrings that don't feel stiff and tired as soon as I get going. And maybe a new pair of calf muscles, you know, that kind that doesn't start cramping at 50% of my goal races. I'm not even asking for fast twitch muscles, I was always comfortable with my diesel engine and could live with the fact that I keep getting caught on the line because I simply don't have the speed to hold off anyone.

By the way, that happened again on Thursday. We were having a GOAL mile event on Thursday at work, with lots of companies in the Leopardstown / Central Park are taking part. To be honest, it could have been better - a bunch of walkers starting right at the front, of course all walking abreast, the majority of the course on a wet grass, the fact that it was two laps which meant you had almost the entire field blocking you way in the second lap, and most of all the fact that it was significantly short (0.92 miles on my GPS) ... I know, I know, it's not meant to be race, certainly not a serious one, but even if your main focus is charity just should not count as an excuse to not give a fuck about everything else, at least in my opinion.

Oh, and there was one guy who was significantly faster than everyone else and won with plenty to spare, and then there was a whole bunch of us finishing very closely together, me of course right at the back of them because, as already mentioned, I was caught by the guy behind me and while I was able to close the gap on the guys right in front of me, there were still just in front of me at the end, and I was in about seventh place and just a couple of seconds faster would have meant second or third but, like said, wasn't a real race anyway.

I was stiff and tired for the next two days. My legs can't even take less than a mile of fast-ish running without suffering afterwards. Mind, the 80 miles I did last week probably were a bit much. I'll take it a bit easier this week. After all, it's Christmas.

Frozen, Too

On Saturday I went out for my usual run, as I do virtually every day, but as I tend to ignore the weather forecast the freezing cold temperatures kind of caught my out. I mean, I managed just fine but running though icy cold winds and sleet in t-shirt and shorts was a bit on the cold side, so I resolved to change my wardrobe choice for Sunday's longer run. It all seemed perfectly sensible - tights, long sleeve t-shirt, warmer gloves, and I ignored Niamh's usual unnecessary comment about a man, in tights, in public.

Well, it didn't go particularly well. After five miles I was struggling to keep going, which is just ridiculous. Eventually I managed to figure out that despite being frozen to an ice block yesterday, today I was actually overheating. Luckily my top had a zip at the front, so I opened that, and wouldn't you know it, within a couple of minutes I stared feeling a lot better!

It wasn't a particularly great week, to be honest. I felt really good on Wednesday evening but then suffered through a couple of really bad runs on Thursday and Friday, so I binned the workout on Saturday and just did a very easy jog through town and the Sunday "long" run was only to half-marathon distance.

I am thinking I might be on the brink of overtraining yet again, despite me trying not to do too much, always stepping back a little whenever I feel tired, and running at a very easy effort at least 6 times a week. Getting old sucks, basically - my recovery sure isn't what it used to be, and I still haven't quite figured it out yet (and ensuring sufficient recovery was never my strong point to start with!).

Well, with Christmas just around the corner I think things will improve - no more work stress, and hopefully a few peaceful days amongst the family, what more could you want?

parkrun, once again

I bit the bullet on Saturday morning and headed for Shanganagh Park; instead of doing a loop in my neighborhood for a time trial a parkrun it was. I have avoided these up to now because I didn't want to race every week but I guess I wanted some company for the fast bit, and I tried to get myself into non-race mode so that I wouldn't quite run myself into the ground.

In fact, my preparation was nit exactly ideal, with a family breakfast coming first (family breakfasts are so rare I really didn't want to miss out), and I really felt that food in my stomach when jogging towards the park. In fact, I was afraid it was going to come back up when running at higher effort but seemingly the five minutes break between me arriving at the park an the start of the parkrun was exactly what I needed to get the stomach settled.

Once it started I managed to keep a lid on my effort, and it wasn't quite race effort. In case your wondering why I was insisting so much about not putting in a race effort, I don't want to get overtrained again and I tend to sharpen very quickly when doing fast workouts, so I want to limit this. At the same time I feel a few faster runs are important, especially with me having lost what little speed I ever had in the last few years, which is why I have been doing those time trials in the first place.

Anyway, I managed to run at about 95% of race effort until the last k when the effort started to creep up and the last 4, 5 minutes were definitely at race effort. That would explain why the last mile was faster than the second one, which would normally be highly unusual in a 5k, at least for me.

I had expected to finish somewhere between 21 and 22 minutes, and in the end I was exactly at 21:00 on the spot, so just about remained within expectations. It was my slowest ever run in that particular park but that will undoubtedly be broken again many times in years to come.

On Sunday I was just about to head out when the heavens opened and I just could not get myself out of the door, so I stepped on the treadmill instead. I have an excuse, apart from being old and soft that is, as it was Cian's birthday and I didn't want to be out of the house when it was time for his presents, but reality is I really didn't fancy a run in those miserable conditions and an hour on the treadmill it was, basically binning my long run this week (which you really are not supposed to do, I know).

O Man

Real life has that annoying habit of interfering with my running life, which seems to happen more often than it used to. I guess that's mostly down to me having a different job, and overall it's still a big improvement to what it was like a couple of years ago, but I'd prefer if they didn't send me on day trips to London to meet a customer as on Tuesday, or to spend a day at a conference as they did on Wednesday, but they do.

In years past I would have found a way to run anyway, probably by getting up at 4 am to do a few miles but there days, with my competitive career behind me, I'm much more relaxed about a few missed days and just got on with the rest of my life. It was probably a well time break anyway as I had been rather tired on Monday, a hangover from Sunday's long run, and a bit of extra recovery might have been just what I needed.

Not that I felt particularly fresh when I got back on the road on Thursday, it just felt like always, which isn't a bad thing. And I still ended up with a reasonable amount of weekly miles after doing a 20 miler on Sunday, which had me just about tired enough to quit after 15 but I still had to get home, and 20 it was. I guess that's where the training magic does happen, during the uncomfortable miles.

All in all I'm feeling pretty good. I wish it wasn't so dark, but on the other hand I much prefer the cold to summer's heat - I'm weird like that - and it's not as if you have a choice anyway.

Someone whose competitive days clearly are far from over is Eoin Keith, and I'm just in awe of his ability to get better and better. In case you haven't heard, he has just won the UTMB race in Oman, beating all the young bucks and showing them how it's done. I can't overstate what a big deal this is. The UTMB race series is massive and it's only the very best who can even dream of outright winning one of those races. Wow - just wow! And to think that a few years ago I was able to run with him, and even finish ahead of him when he had a bad day. I don't think that's going to happen again any time soon.

Congratulations to the champion of #170km race - Oman By UTMB 2019!

🥇 EOIN KEITH 🇮🇪

Hamdan Al Khatri is on his way to finish the race in a strong second position! @alkhtri188 #OMANBYUTMB #Oman pic.twitter.com/UerrjZC83y

— Oman by UTMB® (@OmanbyUTMB) November 29, 2019

The Grind

I know it's not that much of a mountain, and I've certainly climbed a fair few that were significantly higher, but Killiney Hill does look a bit scary when you turn the corner in Dalkey and suddenly see it rising up right ahead of you, especially so if you've already got well over 10 miles in your legs and they had not felt all that great to start with.

I had not fancied the climb to Kilternan yet again, so I came up with a different route that brought me through the swankier parts of South Dublin instead, not that I ever will be able to afford to live there. The views from top of Killiney sure look rather impressive, and maybe you'd even get invited to Bono's birthday party, but I guess that life is not for me.

So back to Bray I went, and by the time I hit the last climb on the way back home the legs were pretty much fried. Last week's run had gone better.

I hadn't even done a time trial on Saturday. The reason for that being that I had run home from work on Friday evening and 12 hours rest between runs just isn't doing it any more, I can always feel it in the hamstrings, and that sure isn't the best way to head into a workout. So I skipped the time trial and did a few strides and sprints along the way instead, and it was actually good to get the legs spinning at speed. It was a wet and windy day, so even on fresh legs probably not ideal for a time trial anyway.

The amount of rain this week has been unreal, I think the Kerry weather has caught up with me again. One problem is that the paths through the parks I tend to run through are not in great shape and there are always sections that are waterlogged, and I can assure you, that water is f***ing freezing!

It's also damn dark! It's already pitch dark by the time I leave work and now it's dark in the mornings as well. Of course the days will still be getting shorter for another 4 weeks, so there is no end of that in sight yet. I just hope I'll avoid tumbling over some uneven pavement and injuring myself in the process this time - I sure don't want to miss out on Donadea yet again.

It's just the time of the year when you have to grind through it. Remember, spring races are won in winter (not that I'm under any illusions of actually winning anything - you know what I mean).

Trials And Tribulations

The previous week I had started to worry if my training was working at all. This week I got some reassurance that it was. It did remind me of one lesson I had once gotten from Mystery Coach (and I paraphrase):

Workouts show where you are. They are not there to get you into shape.

I always had some troubles with the second part of that statement because if the workouts don't get you into shape, what will?* But the first part makes total sense, definitely, and I can see the wisdom yet again by having done a 5k time trial on a few occasion (ok, three) on the same course and under pretty similar conditions, so there is some data that can be used for comparisons and to measure progress, or the potential lack of it.

I am toying with the idea of doing a parkrun instead of doing a 5k loop on my own, but I'm trying to run them at 90% effort rather than race it, and I know myself too well to be under any illusions that I would resist temptation to beat the guy just ahead of me, even in a non-competitive event like a parkrun (yeah, right). Anyway, 90% effort on my own it is for the time being, and the first time I did that loop I ran it at 7:08 pace, two weeks later I was in crisis mode after 7:15 pace and this week the world is all rosy again after 6:59 pace, and the fact that there is a "6" at the start is very nice indeed, thank you very much. On a sidenote, I guess I will never see a "5" again at for a 5k. I try not to compare it to how fast I would have run that a few years ago, so let's not go into that any further.

Anyway, further proof that things are going well came the following day when I did a rather hilly long run, the longest in quite some time, and despite the hamstrings starting out pre-fatigued from that workout I got around pretty well. My spirit did start to sag a bit at 14/15 miles but somehow I recovered to finish pretty well - I was feeling pleasantly tired afterwards, as Lydiard would have had it. All good.

I'm definitely starting to get into a pretty good rhythm and little real-life details, like not being able to run on Tuesday because I was stuck in a conference all day, didn't do anything to sidetrack me. I think I might be looking forward to that 50k in February after all.

* Miles and recovery. Miles and recovery. Miles and recovery.

Boycott

If you pay attention to running, you will almost certainly have become aware of the video about Mary Cain that came out recently.

I tend do spend time, probably too much, on sites like letsrun.com, so I had known her name for years, and I had been aware that she had been struggling to turn her incredible potential as a young athlete into a top runner, but I had no idea what was really going on.

Needless to say, I have no doubt whatsoever that she is speaking the truth, and the amount of abuse she had been going through is just unbelievable. Nike has seen plenty of negative headlines in the last few years, this time not for the sweat shop as had been the case 20 or so years ago but the still deeply unethical attitude permeating that company, clearly with full support from the very top level.

I have at least one friend who has boycotted Nike shoes for years due to their shocking attitude and behaviour. While I always understood where he was coming from I was never entirely convinced they were much worse than anyone else. As you might have guessed, I have changed my mind. I won't buy their shoes again. I was never tempted to spend €250 on their magic new shoes anyway so it's not as if I will be missing out on something. It's not much on an inconvenience to me, so it really is a no-brainer.

I'm not claiming to make a big statement. It's my own personal decision, no more, no less.

Anyway. Last week was fairly good, just over 70 miles, but my faster run on Saturday was a bit slower than the same one 2 weeks earlier so there is not much progress on that front, which is a bit worrying. I'll keep an eye on that. If I don't make progress, the training is wrong. There's obviously the possibility that I'm running too much, I've heard that plenty of times before, but since I used to run almost twice as much at my peak time I'm not entirely convinced, especially as I'm feeling pretty good these days, definitely a lot better than a year ago. I honestly don't think I'm overtrained (Something, admittedly, I have been wrong about in the past).

I'll keep an eye on it.

Strides With A Sting

Ok, so last week I had felt really good and started to wonder if I had finally reached the turning point. This week was fairly crap again, so I guess I haven't. Maybe I need to forget about running competitively again but it's hard for the mind to let go.

Mind, the week could have ended a lot worse, but I'll get to that later.

I ran to and from office once a day Tuesday to Friday, and with Cabinteely Park about to be closed in the evenings I went back to my previous commute route through Kilbogget and Clonkeen Park, which is actually very nice but a mile longer, and on Thursday night it had the added challenge of feeling more like dodging all the illegal Halloween fireworks and didn't feel entirely safe, to be honest, but thankfully it all passed with out incident.

The real drama happened on Saturday, or maybe it would be more accurate to say it almost happened. I decided to do three laps of 30/30 (30 seconds fast, 30 seconds recovery) because I figured one of the problems with my running is the fact that I'm doing an awful lot of slow but very little fast running, so I decided to work on my leg turnover and hope it will improve my efficiency, basically trying to do a neuro-muscular workout.

I'm not biting my lip, that's the original swelling.

Anyway, all was going perfectly fine until early into the third lap when a wasp headed straight for my mouth, kamikaze style. I somehow managed to catch it with my lips, so when it did sting me it was at the inside of my lips rather than the back of my throat, which would have been a lot worse potentially because it immediately started to swell. I even managed to pull the stinger out of my lip there and then, but the damage had already been done. I was a bit shocked but figured I might as well finish the last of my workout before going home, what difference would it have made otherwise?

The swelling in my lip went down after a couple of hours but the left side of my face / jaw line started to swell instead. It's rather uncomfortable but manageable and it looks fairly awful. Two day earlier and I could have made use of it by dressing up as Quasimodo for Halloween without requiring a face mask, but I'd missed that! I took some antihistamines because I reckoned the swelling could have been an allergic reaction but it didn't seem to make any difference apart from making me drowsy for the rest of the day.

Well, no major harm done though it could have been a lot worse, which doesn't bare thinking about it. The legs felt fairly awful on Sunday, which I attribute to the strides rather than the sting, and I cut my planned long run short and finished the week just under 70 miles, which is still a high enough number anyway.

Iron

If you remember, a couple of months ago I used an oximeter and found a rather low reading for the oxygen saturation of my blood. I'm perfectly aware that this was not an official diagnosis and I'm definitely not a doctor but I reckoned some iron supplementation was worth trying out.

I took the liquid iron supplement that I had used at some point in the past, which I know I tolerate without any issues, and I just took a daily dose. I tested again the other day and my reading has returned to a normal value. However, what is much more important is that I am feeling so much better these days! I don't notice much difference in day-to-day life, that was always going fine anyway, but I sure notice the difference when I'm running. I am running about 30 seconds per mile faster than a couple of months ago for the same effort level, and running feels much easier, definitely after covering a few miles. Running to or from work used to feel rather long and sometimes I wasn't really looking forward to it but all of a sudden it feels much easier.

On a couple of days I had the feeling of floating over the road without effort, which is what running used to be like but stopped at some point.

Was all of the slump over the last 2 or 3 years just down to me being anemic? I don't want to get my hopes up that I found the issue, and it's not just getting old, but somehow I can't help think there might be a glimmer of hope I might get back up to a better level, maybe not quite where I used to be but better than what the last few years were like.

It got rather cold, but I actually love that, and it got dark, which isn't quite so great but I got my new headlamp and hopefully I'll get through this winter without falling over and injuring myself.

And of course, well done to all finishers in the Dublin marathon, I'm sure sooner or later I'll be back to that race again myself, and to all the athletes who participated in the 24 hrs world champs in Albi, I'm pretty sure I won't be back for those.

Upwards And Onwards

A bit of increase in mileage this week, a bit over 50 miles, which felt astonishingly easy. I guess the deep endurance that I have gained over the last 15 years doesn't just disappear, even if the old legs aren't what they're used to be.

On Saturday I had the distinctive feeling of effortlessly floating along, no bother whatsoever, and running just felt so easy. It's an all too rare feeling these days, I don't think I had more than 3 of those days this year but it's still fun when it's happening.

I measure my resting HR again, it went back down to 45, which seems to indicate that the recovery from the EcoTrail race is going very well, at least as far as the cardio-vascular system is concerned. I'll keep the effort easy enough for a while, there's no need for heroic workouts for quite some time yet.

I put my bike into the shop for a service and it will take a few days because he has to order a new derailleur first, apparently Cube use their own version and he doesn't have that in stock. I'll take the bus a few times, not my favourite way of getting to work but I'll cope.

Since I started running into work again last week, I'll do more of that. It means I don't have to rush our for a quick 30-40 minute run at lunchtime, which makes things easier, and much more relaxed.

Work seems to be going very well indeed at the moment, which is good, it makes your life outside running so much easier, which obviously helps with your running life as well. I can't quite believe the years I wasted at bloody Fe*co - don't do what I did. When your managers are a group of bullies, get the hell out of there, even if it means having to relocate. Don't waste years hoping things will eventually improve. Bitter, me? Nah. Just glad to have left the cesspit behind!

Same as in running - upwards and onwards!

Easy Rider

It's been 2 weeks since the Ecotrail and while I feel fully recovered I know perfectly well that it takes more than 2 weeks to recover from an effort like that. I only did 32 miles last week and haven't gotten into double digits for my daily run yet.

In a way it's good that work is really busy at the  moment, I barely have time to sneak out for a few miles at lunchtime, and on Tuesday I didn't even manage that, so there is no real opportunity to do too much at the moment. On the downside I tend to run a little bit too quick whenever I have only a short window because I feel the pressure to be back in time, so a few runs at 7:40-ish pace did occur, and that's definitely a bit fast for recovery.

Since I'm not yet running into work I'm cycling a lot because that's how I commute, so there's definitely plenty of exercise, which I guess is a good thing, and the way things are just happening.

Oh, and I managed to transfer my club membership from my previous local club in Kerry to my new local club here in Bray. I have to say, the transfer process is just ridiculous, it required no less than six (SIX!!!!) signatures on a paper form, which in the 21st century is just a pathetic way to do business, and just yet another sign how utterly useless the sporting bodies are here in Ireland, there is never anyone to take the initiative to change things, no drive for improvement, and a depressingly closed mindset.

Then again, it make me happy to work in a totally different work environment and really makes me appreciate the difference.

I'll stop before I start ranting even more - a 32 mile week doesn't deserve a longer post anyway.

Postrun Blues

Very much as expected, my legs bloody hurt for quite a few days after the race. On Sunday I was pretty much totally useless, even more so than usual, and I spent the entire day on the sofa trying to move as little as possible.

Reluctantly things had to change on Monday because I don't think my manager would have looked on too kindly had I stated I was too tired to come into work, so I did (awkwardly) get onto my bike and slowly made my way into the office - which was actually a good thing, the legs felt a lot better after a bit of gentle exercise, as I knew they would. They were still sore, mind, and in fact as far into the week as Wednesday my calves were still tender to the touch, so I didn't run all week, just cycled in and out of work (which still added up to over 90 miles) and on Saturday took my first steps back out onto the road, just for a short and easy 4 mile jog, but that went much better than I could have hoped for, so I guess recovery is going reasonably well.

I did about 6 on Sunday, which was fine but just about as far as I could have gone while still feeling fine, but with work being manic at the moment only got another 4 on Monday and a big fat 0 on Tuesday, so I'm definitely on the easy side of things, if not entirely by choice.

Instead of writing more, I just put on some photos from the race. I only found one of me but some of the scenic shots are just spectacular and really deserve to be seen.

Four Mountains and Almost a Funeral

I don't think I ever got the chance to sleep in my own bed and wake up naturally at my usual time and still be able to comfortably make the start of an ultra race. It sure never happened in Kerry, so that was definitely a new-found luxury. Too bad I still didn't manage to sleep properly - it was the usual sleepless night before a big race.

I got Niamh to drop me down to the Prom, less than 10 minutes from home, to the race start. After the usual plenty of hellos to familiar faces (and a couple of unfamiliar ones) we lined up at the start and at 8:30 am, a fairly civilised time, we set off. The 80k had about 150 starters I guess, but there were 3 shorter options available today as well and apparently they had 1100 runners signed up!

Bray Head

I have done a lot of ultras but it was only my second mountain ultra and it was definitely new territory for me. I have more or less gotten used to the fact that I'm no longer competitive at the front end of the field (not that I ever would have been in the mountains), so the plan was to enjoy it as much as I could. I had scouted out most of the route in the last 2 months and gotten quite familiar with the trails, so I knew very well what was in store. Thankfully the weather forecast had improved just a day before the race an it was to be a nice enough day, though I knew I would run the last hour or two in the rain. I reckoned by that time I would be past caring.

View of Greystones from Bray Head

I spent a couple of miles chatting to Liam, having run a fair few races together in the past. He had finished hours ahead of me in Connemara half a year ago and is much more used to running in the mountains but had missed vast chunks of training with injury, so I guess we were matched much closer this time round. Mind, I was a bit undertrained myself, deliberately so, because I really did not want to fall into my customary overtraining trap and had definitely erred on the side of caution.

The first climb may well have been the steepest one already and I started hiking sooner than most others around me, not willing to waste my energy at the very first opportunity already. The footing up Bray Head from the Bray side isn't great either but with fresh legs that's not an issue. I was already dreading having to descend it on destroyed legs at the end of the race, though - but there was no point in worrying about that already.

Little Sugarloaf

After Bray Head we entered the usually off-limits swanky Kilruddery estate, which was a first for me, and got a few easy miles in before the next climb, Little Sugarloaf. We didn't go all the way to the top but crossed over on a rough trail towards Kilmacanogue where we crossed the M11 via the footbridge and headed towards the proper mountain area away from civilisation.

I was happy to have done some training on those trails because familiarity definitely helped, but I was especially glad when I passed the turn-off for the Sugarloaf trail because that happened to be the one junction of the entire race that was poorly marked - I only spotted a bit of yellow marking tape further up the trail because I was really looking for it, and I was only looking so closely because I had expected to be heading up there. A few more flags and a marshall right at that point would have been more appropriate.

Great Sugarloaf

Anyway, that's where the climbing started in earnest as we did the big loop on the flanks of Great Sugarloaf. Again, we didn't actually cross over the top because the summit cone is rather eroded and definitely would not have been suitable for the big numbers in today's races, but it was still a very long climb.

Still, I felt really good coming into the Sugarloaf aid station, not quite 10 miles in, enjoying the breathtaking views and looking forward to the next mountain, Djouce, already. I also heard one runner complaining about that badly signposted junction, but I haven't heard any complaints from anyone in the shorter races since, so they may well have solved the issue for the later starts.

I used to get frustrated by people doing selfies
during a race. Now I'm one of them.

Anyway, to get to Djouce we were routed through the Powerscourt Gardens, another part of Wicklow that's usually off-limits (unless you pay, that is), so I was happy enough to see the truly spectacular waterfall there as an added bonus. We got a second glimpse of it a few miles later from much higher up, another absolutely breathtaking view. The race route sure was very well chosen.

And then there was Djouce, just after seeing Mick at one of the checkpoints. Years ago he had stated casually once that he would be making a trail runner out of me yet. That really hadn't come to fruition - until right now that is, probably totally unexpectedly, though I doubt he still remembers the original remark.

Djouce is by far the highest point of the course and it can be very windy up there but we got a pretty good day, and while the wind sure was noticeable it wasn't much of a factor. The most prominent feature about the Wicklow Way in the Djouce area is the boardwalk, which wasn't my favourite part of the race, to be honest, because it's in rather bad condition and not particularly great to run on. I was happy enough to eventually get off it. There were plenty more stunning views to be had, especially so of Lough Tay, and then it's about 6 gradually downhill miles towards Roundwood, most of it runnable but a few rough and stony trails thrown in for good measure as well.

Powerscourt waterfall

I was exactly 4:20 into the race and still half an hour away from Roundwood when the race leader came up on his way back home, moving exceptionally well. He had a big gap on the runners behind him, and then I saw Eoin in 4th place, very impressive just a few weeks after his stunning performance at UTMB. However, my own race took a sharp turn for the worse as my calves started cramping, just a few isolated spasms at first but they very quickly turned into full cramps. At first I could not run even on the gentlest of climbs, then they started cramping on the flat and before I reached Roundwood they even started cramping while jogging at the easiest effort level downhill. And as if that were not enough, they even started cramping when hiking uphill on a couple of occasions! All of a sudden I was in real trouble. Not only did I still have over half the race ahead of me, I also had to climb over all those mountains again on the way back home, and in my present state that seemed a rather ambitious target. I was having serious doubts if I would be able to finish.

Djouce

I struggled into Roundwood, and at the aid station I realised how dehydrated I had become. The last water station had been a long while ago and I had been sparing with my water use, though I had not even realised how  thirsty I was until I saw the water there. I know there is a theory that dehydration can cause cramps but I do have serious doubts about that - but obviously I drank plenty and filled my two bottles up to the brim.

We had to do a flat 5k loop towards the Vartry reservoir before coming back into Roundwood again. It felt like a tacked-on section, out of character with the rest of the route because it was mostly flat, and just there to make up the distance. However, it was a good thing for me as it enabled me to fill up my water bottles yet again for a second time in a short while, and with that I basically had caught up with my hydration again. I did whine to Rene about my cramping legs, he did suggest salt but I had already taken a couple of salt tablets already, and I also ate a few Doritos off the aid station table, so I reckoned I had covered that angle already. That little reservoir loop had taken me much longer than I would have expected because I had been forced to walk much of it, and the next thing awaiting me was the return climb over Djouce. I really did not know how I could possibly make that.

Still Djouce

However, my legs may have gone but my big strength in my ultra running career has always been my stubbornness. As long as I was able to make at least one more step I was still in the business. I was over an hour ahead of the Roundwood cut-off and a quick calculation in my head indicated that even if I had to walk the entire way back home I should still be able to make the final cut-off, though after well over 5 hours on my legs my math skills were not entirely reliable any more. Leg-wise, I was still hoping for a miracle.

Vartry Reservoir

As I made my way out of Roundwood I wasn't in the best of spirits but I was still in the game. As the miles wore on I was surprised that nobody was overtaking me yet, but I guess even the "runnners" with non-cramping legs were tired at that point and they were all hiking themselves and therefore not really moving any faster than me. That changed when I reached a few flatter sections and a few girls and boys did indeed pass me, including Liam eventually. We did chat a bit but he soon moved ahead and I definitely did not expect to see him again.

Around that time I took a paracetamol. Now, I really hate taking painkillers in a race, it can be a really bad idea, especially when you're dehydrated and the aid stations here were very far apart, but I was desperate and had totally run out of sensible ideas so I moved on to the insensible ones. I wasn't really in pain as such, and I had never heard of a painkiller helping with cramps, so it really was just an act of desperation due to lack of other options. However, within 10 minutes the calves started to feel better and I even managed to jog a bit, first on the downhills and then even on the flats, without yelping in pain after 3 seconds. Was it really the paracetamol? I have no idea, and quite frankly at that point I didn't care a dot what it was, I was just glad that I could move again, though overall I was still in pretty bad shape and any time I tried to push my luck I was very quickly reminded of my limits.

Possibly the best view all day, Lough Tay

As I got to the last water station before Djouce at the military road I saw Liam again. He was just as surprised to see me as I was to see him, but we left at the same time and this time I managed to stay with him and another runner as we tackled the boardwalk again. The boards were very slippy and you had to mind your step but we made reasonable progress. I did fall behind on a couple of occasions when the guys started running on the flatter sections and my legs weren't quite up to their pace but every time I caught up on the steeper hiking parts again. To be honest, I was happy just to still being able to move.

Great Sugarloaf. Not small. Just far away!

I was really worried about the Powerscourt section, though. On our way out we had run down a ridiculously steep trail towards the Dargle river at the bottom and I feared my legs would not be able to make it back up such a steep trail and had visions of me literally being stuck right at the bottom. Then again, I had to get there first, so just concentrate on the next step and worry about the rest later.

We eventually reached the high point again and on the downhill part I realised that my calves weren't the only issue, my quads were hurting badly by this point as well. I was ok when the path was smooth but there are long sections of very rough footing and I struggled to keep up with the guys and only just about managed to hang on. Also, I caught a few stones with my toes and while I never fell it always sent my calves back into cramping, which was just as painful as a faceplant would have been. Finally we got to a smoother section, grassy and a bit muddy, and I coped much better on that surface.

That was all fine and well until we got back towards Powerscourt Gardens on a new trail, and that one was really rough, full of loose stones, and quite steep, and in no time at all I lost contact with Liam and struggled to slowly make my way downwards. Eventually, after a long painful struggle I finally got to a flat, smooth trail section but now my calves were back in full cramping mode and once more I was forced to walk on a section that normally would have been perfect for running. Thankfully, however, we did not drop all the way down to the river so I was spared that steep climb that I had been dreading. Instead there was only a 300 meter section back up to the road, this one made particularly interesting by a film crew setting up a scene for some spooky medieval/fantasy film, cool to watch, not that we had time to stop and gawk.

Great Sugarloaf

Crossing the road I was informed that the Sugarloaf aid station was only 3 km ahead, which was good news as I had completely run out of water. It had been a long time since the last aid station! I was also absolutely starving. I still had some chocolate in my pack but the mere thought of sweets almost made me gag and I really could not make myself eat that, not even a tiny bite. I should have brought some savoury options. Ah well. Next time. Unfortunately there was no ready-made table where you could have deposited a bag of boiled potatoes every mile, unlike some other races I would have been more used to.

Coming into the Sugarloaf aid station felt like a landmark, the long Djouce sections were behind us, there was less than 10 miles to go, and it felt that we were finally turning towards home. Liam was still there, but I was mostly concerned with stuffing my face with bananas, apples and eventually whole handfuls of  peanuts, which really hit the spot. Liam was still there, as were a few other runners, and we chatted bit before heading off again. By now we were 8:30 into the race and I was pretty sure my pre-race estimation of a finish somewhere between 10 and 11 hours would prove to be correct.

Look towards Bray with Killiney and Dalkey in the background

There was not much climbing left for Great Sugarloaf as the aid station was at a fairly high elevation anyway and we soon turned right onto a new trail. That was the only section that caught me slightly by surprise, on my training runs I had taken a different trail. Not that there was much difference, it was steep and my quads were destroyed from all the previous climbs as well as the 40+ miles we had accumulated so far and Liam very quickly disappeared over the horizon, as well as 2 or 3 other runners. I really struggled on this section, the quads were on fire with each step and when I finally reached a flatter section the calves were in full cramping mode again. At some point I took a second paracetamol but I don't think I noticed any difference whatsoever. After an absolute age we got onto the road, and for the first time in a very long while were back in civilisation, with houses, and people, and cars. Some more runners passed me but eventually I managed to somewhat sputter back to life and started to jog again, awkwardly and very, very slowly, but it was better than walking. We crossed the M11 again via the footbridge and on the serpentines down I could see at least half a dozen runners within maybe 30 seconds of me. Even though I wasn't competing for anything, the idea of being overtaken by so many guys in a short space of time didn't appeal to me at all. It's a mental thing. Maybe it's a fragile male ego thing.

As soon as we crossed the M11 we immediately had to climb the insanely steep road up Little Sugarloaf. This was seriously hard work but you know what? Somehow, without being able to explain it, I actually moved pretty well here. Maybe the sight of those runners just behind me had given me a jolt, maybe I was smelling the finish, maybe it was the fact that I was back in familiar territory but I hiked at what felt some serious pace. Not that you'd know it from looking at the mile splits but things are all relative after 44 miles when gaining almost 400 feet in a single mile. I had two distinct and slightly contradictory impressions here. One, I was moving surprisingly well. Two, I was in a world of pain, especially when we moved off the road and onto yet another stony, rough and very steep trail. Of all the miles in the entire race, this was the toughest one. It was there that my phone started ringing and even without looking at the screen I immediately knew it was Niamh who wanted to know when I expected to finish. I wasn't able to say much but I managed to tell here where I was and expect to finish somewhere around 60-90 minutes from now. Jesus, she really managed to pick her moment there!

My watch gave up the ghost shortly after, which really pissed me off. Just a bit longer and I would have had the whole race in one file. However, I had my phone with me and recorded the rest of the race with that. Not that having a full GPS track of the race is of any real importance but if you run 50 miles across several mountains you may as well record the damn thing.

Bray Head from a totally unfamiliar angle

That trail looked and felt completely new, and once I somehow got my aching bones over the top there were a plethora of gates to be passed through that all felt brand new. That trail must be a very recent development, I sure was not familiar with it at all, but then again it was the "other" side of Little Sugarloaf. Somehow the legs came back to me on the downhill and I covered the ground much better than I could have hoped for, towards the final aid station, only 6 km and only one mountain left, and a fairly small one at that. Bray Head, very familiar territory, even if I approached it from a very unfamiliar angle. As I made my way through Belmont estate it finally started raining, something I had expected to happen much earlier, but the weather had held fine for almost the entire day. Shortly after crossing the Greystones road I took the rain jacket out of my back pack because by now it was raining heavily and I would have gotten cold very quickly up at the ridge. Again, I managed to hike the steep road much better than I could have hoped for but the bigger surprise was that I was able to run properly again once I reached the ridge, and there was not a hint of cramping left. How you can be unable to run at mile 23 but be able to move nicely at mile 46 I do not know, not that I cared much about the physiological details at that point. The Bray Head cross was surprisingly and pleasing close when I looked up and I was there in no time - but now it was time for the one section I had feared the most all along - the final, insanely steep descent on a really rough surface, slippery in the rain on totally destroyed legs, and to make matters worse it was actually pretty damn dark by now. I could have taken my light out of my back pack but somehow could not muster the energy to do so - just struggle down that damn hill, somehow, without smashing your head against a rock.

I did slip on several occasions and found it hard to make out the roots and stones that threatened to trip me up but by some miracle always remained upright and eventually came out of it still in one piece, onto the concrete road and then it was just the glory stretch left, down towards the sea front and half the promenade towards the finish. Final time 10:46:39, 42nd place in the provisional results but I think there are some runners left out of those so the final placing may well change.

Strava gave me an elevation change of almost 9300 feet / over 2800 meters, that's some serious elevation, especially for the much less rugged Wicklow mountains which are much gentler than the Alps or Rockies.

All done! Niamh was there, having gotten there just 2 minutes before my arrival, excellent timing. They gave me a cup of alcohol free Wicklow Wolf beer which I drained in one go, never has a beer out of a plastic cup tasted so good, alcohol free or not, and apparently it was the fastest they had seen anyone drink their beer all day, so at least I was the fastest at one thing today.

I was so glad to be done, this was every bit as tough as I had expected it to be. The trails are absolutely stunning, it is a spectacular race which I cannot recommend highly enough - if you don't fancy the pain of an ultra there are plenty of other options available, 18, 28 and 45 km, all of them very worthwhile, so come and do it next year yourself.

I have always been a pure road runner but with my competitive phase well behind me now I feel free to do whatever I want and I can definitely see myself out on the mountains again. I found the training as well as the racing on trails much more enjoyable than I expected, and quite frankly I can't wait to get more of the same.

Let It Bee

It was supposed to be a nice, short, relaxing taper run, but a minute into Wednesday's lunchtime run I accidentally swallowed an insect that had flown right into my mouth. It may have been a bee, I'm not sure because I didn't see it but it sure was big enough. Within seconds I could feel a swelling in my throat. After a few rather anxious moments I realised that my breathing was unaffected, so I a) continued to run and b) continued to live. Eating/drinking subsequently was ok, if a bit uncomfortable, though it could have been so much worse it doesn't bear thinking about.

The rest of the day I had a rather uncomfortable feeling in my throat but it got significantly better towards the evening. However, it was back to its most uncomfortable best the next morning, and last night (from Thursday to Friday) I kept dreaming that I was choking and completely unable to breathe, I was literally going from nightmare to nightmare all night. Jesus Christ, how the hell did that stuff happen!

I have the minor matter of a 80 km mountain race coming up tomorrow and I'm not quite as relaxed as I'd prefer to be but there's not much I can do about it now. I'm feeling a lot better today, so if I managed to get some sleep tonight that would be great but I can count the number of times I slept well the night before a long race on the fingers of one hand and still have most digits left over, so I will probably go into it slightly underslept.

Then again, personally I find lack of sleep immediately before a race much less of an issue than it's usually made out to be, I have qualified and run World Championships while in theory being tired from lack of sleep, so I don't think it will be an issue once I hit the road trail!!

And so with that, see you on the other side, my friends!

Pain In My Side

About two weeks ago I got a fairly bad pain on my right-had side. That was a real problem because I only sleep properly on my right side, and that proved to be impossible. I did google for possible causes and of course Dr. Google came up with the usual terminal cancer diagnosis, as well as a few others like pneumonia and muscle strain. While I was reasonably confident that it wasn't terminal cancer I didn't entirely rule out pneumonia because it somewhat reminded me of the pain when I had exactly that 12 years ago, but a muscle issue was always by far the most likely cause.

I don't know what caused it, maybe it was from that bike crash in Kerry because that's the side I landed on, but since it had been such a minor incident and it didn't hurt at all for several days afterwards I think it may have been unrelated.

The most painful thing by far was sneezing; it hurt like hell, as if someone had stabbed me in my side. Coughing was uncomfortable as well, which was another problem because I, and just about everyone else who had been on that bike ride, was suffering from a cold a few days after the trip, but thankfully it was only a short illness and after a couple of days I was better again.

The pain in my side has mostly gone away now, but it has taken about 3 weeks, so there was plenty of discomfort to be had. Thankfully it didn't hurt at all when running or I would have been in real trouble with my upcoming race.

Ah yes, the race. I got a scare last Friday when 3 guys asked me if I was racing this weekend, including one guy who was signed up to the same race, but after checking the website I calmed down again, I had been right, the race is this weekend.

Unfortunately the weather forecast isn't great, I will make sure my rain gear is in good order. That's a shame, we will be up in the mountains but not get to enjoy any of the marvellous views.  I have yet to enjoy the views from the top of Djouce and it looks like I will have to wait a little bit longer.

I expect the race will take me between 10 and 11 hours. I sure as hell don't expect to trouble any of the faster guys but I won't make up the back of the pack either, and I have 12:30 to finish, so I don't think the cut-offs will be an issue. I'll just try and enjoy it as much as I can, without putting any kind of pressure on myself.

Recover As You Taper

The first thing I noticed a day or two after our epic cycle trip was that my hip flexors were a bit tired. That didn't come as much of a surprise after that little adventure, and in fact I was feeling a lot better than expected - 3 consecutive days of several hours of running would have left me in much worse state, that's for sure. Come Monday morning my legs seemed to have forgotten about the cycling already, so that was good.

However, around that time I started noticing a sore throat. This could have had two sources, my room mate for two nights in Kerry had complained about the same, as had my son Shea after I had returned back home. However, just about every single cyclist was suffering from a cold the week after the ride so I'm reasonably sure we all got it there. Usually I manage to fight off most infections without being bothered myself but I did feel sufficiently bad on Wednesday that I cancelled the run for that day. My HR had already been elevated the days before that, so it had been in my system already. Thankfully the whole episode passed very quickly and by Thursday I was already back out on the road, blowing out the cobwebs and feeling surprisingly good, so that's that.

Despite that one enforced rest day it was actually a pretty good running week. The legs are feeling fresh, which may be a sign that I really undertrained this time but I'll take it, it's better than being overtrained and trust me, I know what I'm talking about. My longest run was a 2-hour easy jog on the trails of Bray Head. Usually you meet a lot of people where the cross is but virtually nobody else on the rest of that mountain as you head southwards but this time I must have come across at least 20 runners on my 2 loops there, so I guess the locals were out in force to check out that part of the route for the Ecotrail in 2 weeks' time.

I'm actually really looking forward to it. I was a bit apprehensive when I signed up and wasn't really sure if I really wanted to subject myself to that, but now I'm definitely getting excited about it. I hope the weather will be somewhat manageable, I'm still very much a newbie in the mountains and could do without nature throwing a few extra challenges, but we'll see. It's not as if we had a choice. That's part of the fun after all.

Something Completely Different

About to start

Five years ago a group of about a dozen employees at Microsoft Ireland decided to do a cycle event in aid of charity. The chosen cause was Laura Lynn, which is not only one of the most deserving charities in Ireland but also located closely to Microsoft's office buildings in Sandyford, which made it an easy choice, I suppose. But I don't think they could have envisioned how much the event would grow and how the amount of money raised would reach incredible heights. I guess everything at Microsoft happens at scale, even the fundraising by its employees. This year, for the 6th year of the charity cycle, there were about 90 people actively involved, including a group of 19 crew, the rest of them the cyclists. The fundraising had been going on for months already with bucket collections and bag packing and even at some of the All Ireland games, obviously all done in our spare time. Microsoft as an organisation wasn't directly involved as such but they did provide the facilities and they did allow a significant number of employees to spend 3 days in Kerry for a charity event without having to take the time as annual leave, which is more than most companies would have done, I suppose.

Not all that happy to see my old office, apparently

Anyway, the amount of money raised had already reached a mind-boggling 120.000 Euro just before we set off from Kenmare on Wednesday morning. It had been a hideously early start to catch the bus and get to Kerry at about 10:20 am (already later than planned) and then we set off in five groups of about 12-14 cyclists each. I was happy enough to be in group 1, even though all groups were supposed to be equal (yeah right, of course they are). It was raining as we set off, fittingly so as it had been raining last year when they had finished here, and we followed the Kerry part of the Wild Atlantic Way. About 105 km on day 1 to Caherciveen, 135 km on day 2 to Dingle (a bit more actually) and about 115 km on day 3 to Ballybunion. Day 1 was very windy, which did cause a few hairy moments and might have contributed to my crash just a couple of miles before the end when the rider in front of me swerved and hit my front wheel but no harm done, neither to me nor my bike. Day 2 was gorgeous, with the best views on offer and particularly special for me with a coffee break in Killorglin just outside my old office where I happened to meet and chat to at least a dozen of my former colleagues. Day 3 was supposed to be a washout but the rain stopped just as we were about to leave, and while there were no views to be had from the top of Conor Pass, it was still a lovely day, so we were really lucky with the weather.

Tired in Dingle

I had expected my legs to be sore after the first day, remembering how tough it is to run multiple marathons, but in actual fact I never felt any soreness in my legs. My backside didn't get away quite so easily but I managed. And apart for that spill on day 1 and a dropped chain on day 2, which was fixed in a minute, I had no issues with the bike, so I'm already looking forward to next year's event when we continue the road in county Clare.

Not quite the view I was hoping for

I didn't get any running done on those three days. I felt pretty good on the bike at all times but as soon as we stopped and sat down I got tired within 10 minutes, so the fancy idea of extra training vanished rapidly. I did manage 10k on Saturday in Ballybunion and I did a relaxed 2 hour hill run around Bray Head on Sunday, so I got some running done after all, but with about 20 hours of exercise for the week logged I don't think I have to worry about a loss of fitness.

The race, the actual event I'm training for, is 3 weeks away, so I guess there is supposed to be some tapering happening soon. I'm not feeling tired - it's not like road running when you're at the brink so often, in the hills I felt fine even after almost 4 hours of running/hiking, and I guess it took much less out of me. That's good because for once I think I managed to prepare for an event without getting into overtraining. Mind, I'm not quite there yet. But I'm very much looking forward to it now.

Let's Be Sound!

From Wednesday to Friday this week I will be participating in the Microsoft Ireland Charity Cycle, raising much needed funds for Laura Lynn Children’s Hospice. Over 3 days we will be cycling 355km along the Wild Atlantic Way in Kerry from Kenmare to Ballybunion. Laura Lynn provide palliative care and support for children with life-limiting conditions. I would really appreciate your support by clicking here.

Obviously it mans my training for the ultra will be ever so slightly compromised. I know from personal experience that there is some carry-over of fitness from the bike to running, as well as vice-versa, but I'm not sure how much of that counts once you reach ultra distances because the pounding of the legs is something you only get conditioned for when doing some actual running.

I have been cycling over 100 miles a week every week for the last two or three months, including a hilly, long spin every Tuesday with a sizeable group, and my cycling has been coming along a lot as a result. I am finding it very enjoyable as well, much more so than expected. Maybe I just like to exercise.

And now I keep thinking I should add some swim training as well and finally cross that Big I off my bucket list. I had been meaning to do it almost 10 years ago but then getting into the pointy end of running races took over and everything else took a back seat.

I did have to dial back my running as a result of all the cycling, otherwise it was just too much on the body. How that will turn out over those mountains and the end of the month I shall see.

At least I managed to do some long runs in the mountains. I always saw myself as a road runner and never really enjoyed running on trails, with the uneasy footing and the constant threat of a face plant where I could never relax as much as I can on the road, but when I finally turned my attention to mountain running once again I found it surprisingly enjoyable, or maybe it was just the fact that I was ok with hiking all those steep uphills or those  particularly stony trails and found that I could do 4 hours of exercise and still feel ok afterwards.

Djouce in glorious sunshine - too late!

On Tuesday my left knee felt a bit stiff even before the cycle, but it was ok once I got going. By Wednesday that was better but then the stiffness went into my Achilles instead. Again, it was not too bad initially but on Saturday I was a mile away from home when all of a sudden it started acting up and was rather uncomfortable. It had happened on the steepest part of that run, so obviously the tendon got overloaded. Not great when you're about to head into the mountains and expect to do a lot of climbing.

Therefore I started my big mountain "run" today with a bit of trepidation. After scouting out most of the first/last 10+ miles of what I expect to be the running route in previous weeks I did some running on the middle part of the race, namely Djouce mountain. I got up very early, much more so than would be considered civilised for a Sunday, and drove to Roundwood, which was still very sleepy at this time. I made my way towards the Wicklow Way and then towards Djouce. I also took in the summit, even though that's not part of the running route but when you get that far you might as well tag the top. Unfortunately it was covered in thick clouds, which robbed me of some breathtaking views - it was all cleared up a couple of hours later but by then it was too late for me.

I hiked most of the uphills, partially because I wanted to keep this at ultra effort levels but mostly because I wanted to protect my Achilles and stop it from being overloaded. The last thing I would have wanted was to get stranded with a gimpy leg up on a windswept mountain miles from anywhere. But it was all good, even with a very strong wind that on one occasion blew me off the  boardwalk, but I escaped unharmed and was rather pleased with how it had gone, really.

And please, be sound and donate a couple of Euros to quite possibly the most deserving charity there is by clicking here.

Blood Runs Cold

On Friday morning I woke up early. That's not unusual, I do that most mornings. But for some reason I reached out and grabbed my Oximeter from my bedside locker. No idea why, it must have been there for close to a year since I last used it, even though I still kept it within arm's reach. It gives two readings, the oxygen saturation of your blood and the heart rate. It had always been the heart rate that I had been interested in, I used to use it to measure my resting HR. But this time it was actually the oximeter reading that caught my eye. It had always been around 95, except for one time when I had some viral infection and it turned lower. And lower it was again that morning, at 88.

Now, I am perfectly aware of two things. One, it's a cheap 10 Euro oximeter and definitely not medical grade, so the reading might have been unreliable. And two, I googled the possible reasons for low oxygen saturation, and using Dr. Google for self diagnosis is always a bit of a gamble, but the one reason that caught my eye straight away was anemia.

Runners talk about anemia quite often, it is one reason why you might be running below your potential. And running can cause anemia due to foot strike hemolysis, though that is quite rare. I do have a history of anemia, however, I used to be on iron tablets for years when I was young and I have long lost count of the number of times our GP took a blood sample to test me. That was a long time ago, however, so it may well be just a false alarm, especially with the uncertainty of the diagnosis. 

Still, I went into the pharmacy on Saturday and bought some liquid iron supplement, the one that Niamh used to take when she was pregnant with the twins and which seemed to help me as well.

Actually, I have been feeling much better this week, though I can only assume that this is either coincidence or placebo because even if I really were anemic, I don't think the supplement would work quite so quickly. I'll keep taking it, though. I'm pretty sure my iron levels are not high, so taking a supplement is unlikely to cause any harm, in the worst case it may have caused slight harm to my bank balance, that's all.

--

I followed the same pattern as recent weeks in training, with a long cycle on Tuesday evening and a mountain run on Sunday, though I didn't manage to run on Friday because work had been absolutely manic, I didn't manage to nip out at lunchtime and was too exhausted to even think of running after work, so I let it go.

I only managed about 50 miles of running last week, which isn't a lot when you're training for a race of the same length, though it was offset by over 100 miles of cycling, and part of the run was on mountain trails, which significantly increased the time on feet compared to what the same miles would have given me on the road.

Still, I won't be in top shape come race day. But I'll manage.

Discrimination

Just imagine. Just imagine you have trained for years, paid the price in blood, sweat and tears. You get better and better because you keep pushing yourself past your limits again and again and eventually, after years of hard work that most people cannot even imagine, you reach the required standard for selection into your country's team for the World Championships.

No, don't fear, I'm not talking about myself.

To make things even more difficult, as if trying to achieve international standard by itself wouldn't be difficult enough, just imagine you are legally blind and cannot train like you or me can, as described vividly in this post. And despite those obvious disadvantages you manage to overcome all obstacles and manage to qualify.

And the you don't get selected, for no other reason that you are blind:

I havent been selected by Athletics Ireland to represent Ireland in the world champs soley based on my disability. Thanks @RichardDonovan7 for all your support. The IAU and IAAF rules are not justifiable. https://t.co/JBOVHOhD2y

— Dr. Sinead Kane (@KaneSinead) August 18, 2019

I'm outraged! That is just so fucking unfair, I cannot even put it into words. Plus, I was under the impression that there are laws against discrimination?

Compared to that, my own little training adventures pale into insignificance.

I felt better than last week, despite doing the exact same cycle route again on Tuesday. Maybe my legs are more getting used to it, who knows. I still felt tired on Thursday but much better on all the other days, and the odd tired day is allowed after all.

On Sunday I was feeling adventurous enough to head out into the Wilderness. I tried to get a feel for the land for that ultra in September, and while I still don't know the actual route I stitched together a route using an app call Komoot, which helped to plan things in advance and also was an invaluable navigation tool during the run itself. The software itself is excellent, absolute top marks, and if you are looking for a tool for planning your cycling, running or hiking routes, this is the only one you need to look at. Trust me. What wasn't quite so good was the quality of the map, and I learned reasonably quickly that just because there is a trail marked on a map that does not mean there is an actual trail on the mountain. After twice getting stuck in a jungle of fern, brambles and gorse I had learned my lesson and started to stick to visible paths instead of blindly following a voice from the mobile. I'm not blaming Kamoot for the lousy map data, btw., the same non-existing trails are in the Strava maps as well.

Anyway, I tagged off Great Sugarloaf (which I had been planning on doing for over a year anyway) and Little Sugarloaf as well on the way back home, though it was mainly hiking and precious little running (as well as scrambling on all fours on some worryingly steep bits), and moving up a steep loose scree slope is bloody hard work, so it definitely was a damn good workout despite the lack of running, and I was out for well over 3 hours - and absolutely knackered afterwards! But it was the good kind of knackered, or "pleasantly tired" as Lydiard would have called it, and I have a good set of memories. I'll head into the mountains again in the following weeks. I clearly need the training!