So Far So Good

Before Maia was born, we were worried about how Cian would react. After all, he was losing his status as the baby in the house, and this might not go down well. However, we need not have worried. He is absolutely nuts about his baby sister. Last might he wanted me to give her to him to hold, and once I had them both secure on the sofa, he kept smothering her with kisses. Long may it last.

Since I’m off work this week, finding time for running is not a problem. Once the older three kids are in school/preschool, Niamh usually settles down for a feed with Maia, and then they both fall asleep. That’s my time to head out. I can’t have more than two hours, which means the 15.5 mile loop around Caragh Lake is the most I can do, but I can live with that. Yesterday was a very sunny day, so much that I brought a bottle of water along with me, which is something I very rarely do (in fact, I can’t remember the last time I actually carried water with me on a training run). The run itself was great, I felt fantastic. But I’m not sure how much longer I can go on and call this easy running. I just ran normally for the first 12 miles, after that the mountains are behind me and the terrain is merely undulating, and I pushed the pace a bit. Not too much, I tried to keep the HR under 160 at all times, apart from the last mile, which I hammered in 6:52, for no other reason than that I could. It’s fun to run like that.

I took it a bit easier today, not only to recover but also because I only had one hour. Niamh wanted to have a peaceful breakfast after the kids were in school, as well as a bath, and since Maia refused to sleep it was left to me to hold her in the meantime (yes, I know, what an awful job, but someone’s got to do it). I experimented with various songs, I sang German, English and French lullabies, as well as football songs, and she definitely preferred the football chants, though Niamh doesn’t believe me. I’m telling you, that girl is already into sport. Oh, and the run was fine. 8 miles, with 9x100 strides on the way back. I was surprised to see the HR relatively low, for what was still well below 8:00 pace. Maybe I’m finally getting the hang of this running thing. Just a shame that I might be forced to take a break once I have to get back to work. Niamh already asked me not to go running in the morning. We haven’t decided yet, but I know that I promised to compromise, and I still know where my priorities are.

6 Nov

15.5 miles, 1:54:52, 7:24 pace, HR 155
last 5 in 35:37 (7:07 pace), last in 6:52

7 Nov

8 miles, 1:02:13, 7:46 pace, HR 147
including 9x100 strides

Indulgent

You’ll have to excuse me for a little bit longer. This is still a running blog, and, just to prove it, I’ll write mostly about running today, but you can expect a lot of photos like this in the coming days/weeks/months:


How could I resist? If Niamh stops me from running, I can just sit at the side of her cot and stare at her for hours. This might not do much for my aerobic conditioning, but it will do just fine for my mental side.

Anyway, as promised, the rest of this post will be about running again. After Saturday’s run Niamh had asked me to delay running for the next day to ensure that her helpers will be out of bed, so I didn’t leave until about 9 o’clock on Sunday. I ran all the way along Caragh Lake and added an extra hill at the end of that road to the proceedings, to make this a 12-mile run. At the turnaround point I noticed that I had been running pretty fast and expected a slower second half, but was wrong about that. Not that I hammered the pace on the way back home, but somehow I managed to run the 6 return miles at 7:17 pace. It wasn’t like that run about two weeks ago when I nearly ran myself into the ground, I just felt good and strong, and the pace just developed. My legs feel really good at the moment. I’m sure I have recovered fully from Loch Ness, and in fact I basically feel ready to run another marathon right here and now. Of course, racing season is over. If there were a shorter race anywhere nearby, I’d run it and expect a good time, alas there is none, and all I can do is train and run for fun – not a bad option anyway. Of course, theoretically I could hop on a plane and run a race in the UK, but that’s not my style, and leaving Niamh alone with the baby and the other kids is utterly out of the question. I’ll have to be content with the way things are, and guess what? I am!

If you compare my present paces with any other time of training, you immediately that at the moment I’m running at least 30 seconds per mile faster. I can’t really explain why that is. It’s not that my legs have suddenly mutated; my heart rate is a good bit higher than normal, so I guess I must be working harder. However, it doesn’t feel like it. I just run what I think is my normal training effort, but when I look at my watch or HRM they tell me I’m hammering the runs without even realising it. What will come from it? In base training, as long as your rate of recovery matches your rate of breakdown, you’re doing just fine. If I’m exceeding that threshold I guess I’ll find out soon enough. In one way this wouldn’t be the worst time getting injured, with no races planned, but of course I don’t want to be sidelined, races or not. During the last training cycle my paces automatically got slower as the miles added up. Maybe the same will happen this time again once I crank up the mileage again – if Niamh and Maia will let me crank up the miles, that is.

I’m off work this week (that’s what I saved a week of holidays for), and after dropping the children off to school and preschool respectively I had a good 90 minutes for a run, while Maia was sleeping, and decided to go for a route that I had always wanted to run. There is a part of the Kerry Way that passes high up between two mountains, and the climb from Caragh Lake is over 300 meters/1000 feet. It’s called Windy Gap, and I found out why. The trail was very steep, there are no switchbacks, it just goes straight up. I nearly managed to run all the way, with the HR climbing all the time. It was around 175 for most of the way, and by the time it reached 181 I had to compromise and hiked. As I found out, the summit was just around the corner, and would certainly have managed to run that far had I known. I’ll keep that in mind for the next time. I even took my camera with me, but it didn't handle the light very well, and the pictures are not doing justice to the majesty of the view, which was breathtaking, despite the weather not being great; halfway down the mountain on the descent towards the village of Glenbeigh it started raining. That would have been a real problem higher up with the stony trail, but at that stage the worst was well behind me and I managed just fine. I don’t know how far it was, according to the map it should be about as far as my normal Kerry Way loop, and I’ll call it 12 miles. I’ll do the same run again one day, but I might wait for some nicer weather.

4 Nov

12 miles, 1:28:53, 7:24 pace, HR 155
half splits 45:11, 43:43 (7:31, 7:17 pace)

5 Nov

12 miles, 1:42:32, 8:32 pace, HR 155
crossed a 300 meter mountain along the way

Weekly mileage: 67.75

The Peripheral Character’s View

It’s time to take a break from The Olde Running Tales and focus on slightly more important things, like a new life. Anyone not interested in that sort of stuff (i.e. men) should click away right now before they get queasy.

Niamh had started showing signs of things to come on Wednesday, so when I left work on Thursday evening I left detailed instructions for my co-workers in case I would not be in the office on Friday. My suspicions were more or less confirmed during dinner when Niamh had 3 contractions of increasing strength, and we soon retired to our bedroom to get everything ready.

Our midwife, Anne, had a lecture in Killarney until 10pm, but this was our fourth baby and we knew there would be more than enough time for her to finish the lecture and then come over here. We Niamh had chosen a home birth. If you check the statistics you’ll find that the success rate for those is as high as for hospital births (granted, this may not take into account the fact that high risk pregnancies always go into hospital). I don’t doubt that today’s doctors are highly competent in dealing with medical emergencies. My main problem with them is their attitude; they see everything as a potential medical emergency rather than a perfectly natural process, and in their eagerness to fix things often cause the very problems they claim to be handling. One person summed it up perfectly (I paraphrase): “we read lots of birth stories. The hospital stories were all about problems and how the medical people had saved the day. The home births stories simply did not feature any problems”. Anyway, let’s get back to our story.

By the time Anne arrived, Niamh’s contractions were less than 5 minutes apart, and generally lasted for over a minute; and they kept increasing in intensity. I had mentioned to Niamh how the on/off nature of contractions reminded me of interval training. She gracefully decided to agree with me, but thankfully that was the only time I felt it necessary to add some nerdy running thoughts to the proceedings. Things kept developing calmly for some time. Eventually Niamh started voicing her pain during contractions, but was fine in-between. By midnight she was in serious pain, and when I say serious pain I mean pain of the excruciating kind, the one that men will never have to endure, no matter what (good thing too, we wouldn’t be able to handle it). This was the worst part of the night; not just for her, but also for me. It’s hard to see your loved one in such agony and be completely helpless about it. Things started to progress, eventually the contractions weren’t as bad anymore and Niamh felt the urge to push. She had not taken any drugs whatsoever, and as a result she was completely with it, and instinctively knew the right things to do. The midwife’s role seemed to be to reassure her that she was doing perfect.

At that time we (that’s me, and Meg, a friend of Niamh) woke the children. That might horrify some people, but we had discussed it numerous times before. Shea had long ago stated categorically that he wanted to witness his sister being born. We initially refused, saying he would be scared by the blood and slime and by mummy crying in pain. However, he was adamant. He assured us he had read all of Niamh’s pregnancy books, he knew about the blood, the slime and the pain, and he definitely wanted to be there (btw, he’s 6 years old). Then Lola, his twin sister, decided she wanted to be there as well. Cian, our 3 year old, was flip-flopping on the issue like a politician, but the last instructions before going to bed had been to be woken, and that’s what we did. There was still some time before the birth, so Meg took them away into the kitchen, fed them biscuits, and brought them into our room with a couple of minutes to spare. Labour was progressing, and when the kids joined us, Niamh was pushing hard and well. The children’s faces spoke volumes. They were beaming with joy and excitement, and that's when I knew for sure that we had been right to allow them to be there. Shea twice took an alarmingly close look when the head was crowning. Later he described it as “in the shape of an eye”, which is both a perfect description and something only a child can come up with. I didn’t really see things at detail – I was required at the other end, holding Niamh’s hand and stroking her face. After what seemed like an age but was surely only a small amount of time Anne finally pulled the rest of the baby’s body out and gave her to Niamh to hold. She (the baby, that is) gave a little whimper when the air rushed into her lungs for the first time, but was quiet and placid, and, may I say it, content, for the rest of time. She was immediately alert, kept looking around her with great big eyes, taking in all she could. As soppy as it is, I’ve never been in a room so full of love as at that moment in time.

I’m so glad we had a home birth. There would have been plenty of opportunity for the medical people to interfere. The waters broke quite late, and the cord had been wrapped around the baby’s neck which initially alarmed me, or at least it would have had the midwife not been so calm and matter-of-factly about it. And surely Lola whispering into Niamh’s ear “that’s Good Pain, mummy” beats a doctor shouting “push, push” anytime.

As you might be relieved to know, I did not run on Friday. I knew all along that the 15 mile run that would have been on the cards had the baby not arrived that day was out of question, but thought I would be able to sneak out for 4 or 5 miles. However, it never happened. In the evening Niamh said to Maia, “your daddy didn’t run today because of you. You have no idea how big a deal that is.” I fell to bed utterly exhausted at 9:30, slept like a log until 4:30 am, and then watched Niamh nursing the baby, and later I changed her nappy. By 6 am I was wide-awake and decided to go out for the run that I had missed on Friday. Niamh had her parents and her sister for help, and I very much enjoyed my guilt-free 2 hours of solitude on a lap around Caragh Lake. I’ll still have to compromise over the next few days and weeks, and there’s no doubt where the priorities will be.

2 Nov

0 miles

3 Nov

15.5 miles, 1:55:44, 7:28 pace, HR 156

Happy Birthday!

Baby Maia was born on November 2 at 1:25am. She weighed 7lb 11 (3.5 kg)



She was born at home. I knew a few people would question our sanity for choosing a home birth, but we knew what we were doing (except that it was Niamh's choice, of course, and I merely supported her in it).

Lola, Shea and Cian were all in the room when she was born. I know a few people will definitely question our sanity for allowing that to happen, but they were well prepared, and were very excited and happy about it.

Mother and baby are doing well.

We've been here before

I have a feeling this could be the last time I'm saying this, but the main news is still the same, i.e. no news. We're waiting. Niamh's parents are here until Monday, and I have a sneaking suspicion that there will be a new family member by the time they're heading back to Dublin. Of course, I could be wrong.

There's an unrelated bit of news though; I've gotten rid of my car. It had 15 years and almost 100000 miles of service under the hood, and was definitely nearing the end of its life. Yesterday the insurance ran out, the road tax would have been due next month and the mechanic had already told me that the NCT (National Car Test) in December would be the end of the vehicle, so I decided not to renew insurance and tax and got rid of it entirely, without purchasing a replacement. I started cycling the 5 miles to work, and while the beginning of November might not be the ideal time to start cycling, that's the way circumstances have worked out. If I like cycling I'll purchase my own bike in due time. At the moment I'm borrowing Niamh's cheap and cheerful lady bike (as well as her purple cycling helmet).

The last two runs have actually been very good. On Wednesday I headed out to the trails of the Kerry Way. This is one of my favourite runs; usually I only run there after at least one week without rain, but decided to give it a go anyway. The loop is something over 12 miles long, I usually call it 12-and-a-quarter miles, which should be reasonably correct. More important to me are the 800 feet of net elevation gain and subsequent drop over the 4-5 miles of stony/muddy trail. Running the climb in the dim early morning light was a new experience, but a very nice one. When I came out back on the road on the other side, I cranked up the pace a bit for the return home. It wasn't anything too strenuous, just a bit under 8:00 pace. I think it was the fastest I've ever run that loop, not that I have any intentions of racing my training runs.

For some reason I felt even better today; I started fairly slowly at the outset of my 9-mile run, but gradually got going. I reached the turnaround point only 35 minutes later and thought "that was quite fast. The return might take longer". I was wrong. I want to stress that at no point did I press the pace. In fact, I spent almost the entire run thinking about the babies and/or cars, and the legs did their own thing. Well, I was back home less than 33 minutes later. Despite running faster than on my idiot day 11 days ago, I felt absolutely fine, and my heart rate was 10 beats lower than back then. I just had a very good day, and took it while I had the chance.

I have noticed that my runs have been a good bit faster than comparable ones at the same stage of the last training cycle, despite my assurances that I'm running easy all the time. Maybe I'm just feeling good at the moment, or maybe I'm subconsciously banking on the fact that I might be in for an enforced break very soon, and will get the recovery then. But I'm still running well within myself, honestly.

31 Oct

12.25 miles, 1:39:44, 8:08 pace, HR 154

1 Nov

9 miles, 1:07:45, 7:32 pace, HR 153
half splits 35:05, 32:39 (7:47, 7:15 pace)

It’s Due ...

... but it’s not coming out just yet. Yesterday Niamh was convinced she was about to go into labour, so much so that she convinced her sister to stay for an extra day. She also started to tease me when I started ironing my shirts “do you really think you’re going to work tomorrow?” Alas, we’re still waiting. Her official due date is today, but since it’s past 7pm already, I don’t think she going to arrive on time.

Cian is still feeling a bit down, he’s still not having much appetite, but the fever is gone and the vomiting has stopped. I’m in the same boat as him, sans the throwing up, but like him I don’t feel much like eating. I can usually force myself to swallow down one bowl of cereal in the morning and some lunch and dinner, but not much. I’ve still got enough energy to go running, and as a result I’m losing weight fast at the moment. In fact, my present weight of 147 is the lowest I can remember; I don’t think I have been lighter than that since my teenage years. I don’t think I’ll stay down there once my appetite returns, though. The most important thing is that Niamh seems to be unaffected, though.

The running is still going fairly well, but the mornings aren’t overly inviting. Due to the end of daylight saving time it’s bright enough to run without artificial light again, but it’s always wet, cold and windy. On Monday I ran the same 10 miles on the same course as on Sunday, and wouldn’t you know it, I ran them at the exact same pace, I was back home at the same time, down to the second. Niamh thinks I’m turning into a robot, especially after I measured my resting heart rate on Monday morning, and it came down to 40, the lowest I’ve ever measured.

Even though I’ve basically run at the same effort level for the last few days, today was markedly slower. It could be down to a number of reasons, maybe my lower food intake is catching up with me, or maybe it was because I ran immediately after getting up, while on the weekend I ran after being up for two hours. Whatever, one slower run isn’t something I worry about. I’m just building up my mileage and running all of the runs at an easy effort. Ideally I’d like to get to 90 or more mpw in November, but how realistic that is with the imminent new arrival I’ve yet to find out.

29 Oct

10 miles, 1:17:20, 7:44 pace, HR 151

30 Oct

8 miles, 1:05:29, 8:11 pace, HR 148
including 7x100 strides

Ho Hum

“What are your plans for the long weekend?” “Waiting for the baby to be born”.
I had that short conversation at least three times at work on Friday. Of course we might still be 2 weeks away from the event, but all we can do is wait. And wait. And wait.

I still have permission to go for a run every morning. I offered to take my mobile phone with me, just in case, but I knew that Niamh would laugh that off. Giving birth doesn’t happen that quickly, and I wouldn’t miss it by being out of the house for an hour.

To recap the last three days, they were all slightly under 8:00 pace, and the heart rate was slightly higher than I would it expect to be for that kind of pace. I guess that’s a sign that my aerobic conditioning has taken a bit of a knock in Loch Ness, which doesn’t exactly come as a surprise. A winter of base building is what’s ahead of me, if I manage to get out of the house, that is. It has been really wet and windy over the last few days, enough to make me choose the somewhat sheltered Ard-na-Sidhe road rather than the Caragh Lake road instead, but it looks a bit nicer today. The weather forecast for the next few days is less than promising, though.

It’s a long weekend with a bank holiday Monday, but not just any bank holiday Monday. It’s the Monday of the Dublin marathon, and it feels weird to be at home instead. Niamh’s sister is here for a weekend visit, and asked me why I’m not running it. Niamh pointed to her bump and said “that’s why”. There’s no arguing with that.

Cian complained about a pain in his tummy for the last two days, and now he’s in bed with a 39C/102F temperature. I’m sure he’ll be better soon, but I’ve had a pain in my stomach since yesterday myself. It caused a night of very interrupted sleep, and while I’m not showing any other symptoms so far, this might yet happen. My main concern is not passing it on to Niamh, but how that’s supposed to be prevented I don’t know.

Finally, good luck to Liam and Grellan and everyone else who is running in Dublin tomorrow. I hope you don’t mind a bit of wind and rain, guys.

26 Oct

13 miles, 1:43:24, 7:57 pace, HR 150

27 Oct

8 miles, 1:03:08, 7:53 pace, HR 154

28 Oct

10 miles, 1:17:20, 7:44 pace, HR 149

Weekly mileage: 65

Stardust

With work being both manic and interesting at the same time, and Niamh in the last few days before the bay is born, running is probably the least interesting part of my daily routine at the moment. I can't tell you tales of hard intervals or great tempo runs, hill runs or long runs. All I'm doing at the moment are short(ish) runs at easy effort, day in, day out, and since Sunday's madness has cleared my immediate need for stupidity, I'm actually sticking to the plan for the time being.

The weather has cleared up again, and both today and yesterday I enjoyed a run under a magnificent starry sky. I was so distracted early on yesterday that I nearly ran off the road on one occasion. After that I started concentrating more on the running effort rather than gazing up towards Orion. Clear skies at that time of year also mean very cold mornings, and on both occasions I was glad I had remembered to bring my gloves along for the ride.

I started doing some strides as part of these runs. That's something I tend to neglect, but I hope I can stick with it this time. Strides are supposed to be the best workout for increasing your running efficiency, and even though that's a slow process it's also a worthwhile one. Some coaches like tinman suggest doing strides as often as four times a week during base training. I have yet to decide if I want to them so frequently. They can be a right nuisance; they interrupt your run, and they continually break your rhythm. They throw off my heart rate, but interestingly seem to have very little influence on the average pace (at least I find that interesting. Your mileage may vary).

On the home front, Cian, after a few months of reasonably good behaviour (at least in comparison to what he used to be like - frequent readers will still remember a few of his escapades) has turned into the devil incarnate. We think he has figured out that the baby will take his place as the most needy member of the family, and it looks like he decided to get his retaliation in first. He's certainly not stupid. At the age of three he is already able to write his own name (learned auto didactically from his older siblings), and he showed it off by writing it in very big letters all over the walls, floors and furniture of the house. The boy is a genius, but momentarily one of the evil kind, I'm afraid. On the other hand, I guess most parents of other three-year olds can relate.

24 Oct

10 miles, 1:19:50, 7:59 pace, HR 146

25 Oct

8 miles, 1:04:01, 8:00 pace, HR 149
including 8x100 strides

The Darkening

There’s not much to tell about the last two days; I’ll try and keep this mercifully short. The weather turned nasty on Monday. I woke a few times during the night to hear the wind and rain outside, but the worst seemed to have been over by the time I got up. When I opened the door I noticed that it was still raining, and when I got out of the wood I noticed that it was still windy. Initially both weren’t too bad, and I kept thinking of it as a smooth introduction to the winter weather – if the coming winter is like the last one, that is. Unfortunately as the miles got on the weather got progressively worse. The wind stopped bothering me too much once I reached the turnaround point but the rain was a nuisance. I love running in rain, but once it starts pouring and your feet are soaking wet, the fun ends, especially in combination with the biting wind. The last half-mile was almost apocalyptic with the way the water came down. I was really glad to reach our front door and some shelter. I got an additional shock when I checked my HRM afterwards (it had been too dark on the road to read the display), 153 for a slow run was way higher than expected. I’m still paying for Sunday’s idiocy.

I repeated the same 8 miles today, with nicer weather (though it still started raining after the halfway point), and with better recovered legs. The effort level was basically the same as yesterday, but I ran over a minute faster with a much lower heart rate. Today was fun again, but I don’t know if I’ll have the required discipline to keep running all through the dark and cold winter nights if the weather will be as atrocious as last year. Last year I had the ultra to look forward to, and the thought of running 39 miles in one go kept me scared enough to keep training through the worst of the elements. This year, without any plans apart from the hope of building a good base for whatever race next year will bring, the motivation might not be as high. I’ll see.

Both days it was pitch dark when I left home. The end of daylight saving time can't come soon enough for me.

22 Oct

8 miles, 1:06:44, 8:20 pace, HR 153
incl. 6x100 strides

23 Oct

8 miles, 1:05:13, 8:09 pace, HR 146

Stupid Thomas

Maybe you should read Donald’s recent post before you start with mine; but beware. It seems to be contagious. Donald went at length to discuss the dialogue between Smart Donald and Stupid Donald in his latest race report. When I read it, little did I know that Stupid Thomas was looking up and decided he could do better. He would out-stupid Stupid Donald. He managed to do so quite handsomely.

He held back initially. Smart Thomas had decided that a slow, short recovery effort on Saturday would be just the thing to do. Remember, it’s only two weeks ago since my last marathon, and my HR data is very clear: I’m not yet recovered. A recovery run on Saturday morning, slow and steady with a low heart rate was therefore a good thing. It confirmed that the recovery is still ongoing, my heart rate keeps going down, but it’s still higher than it was before the race.

Then Stupid Thomas took over. Considering my back pain, working in the garden for two hours was never a very smart idea. I thought I was doing well by cutting it short after only 2 hours, but the damage was already done. When I awoke today, I was in pain again; I had been in discomfort for the last few days, but this was worse again. It’s a very clear reminder that you don’t take risks with your back. If it hurts, pay attention. It takes quite some time to clear up. Did you listen, Stupid?

He didn’t. As I’ve already mentioned, it’s two weeks since the marathon, and I’m slowly and steadily increasing the mileage. Today called for 10 miles, the first run of double digits since the marathon. The last time I had increased my mileage I made sure I ran slowly. Today the pace was still reasonably measured for the first 2 miles at about 8:00 pace, maybe a tad faster. I don’t know what possessed me to start an imaginary race against myself at that point, but something did. Stupid Thomas had well and truly taken over. I even knew at the time that running at tempo pace was an idiotic thing to do, but it didn’t stop me. Maybe I tried to outdo Stupid Donald. Or maybe I was running in sympathy with Mike, who seems to have issues with his own Irrational Half by running a gut-busting fast 10-mile race today; not only did he run a marathon 2 weeks ago, he has also gone under the surgeon’s knife in the meantime (all the best, Mike). Anyway, I covered 10 miles in a bit over 75 minutes, which is made worse by the fact that the first 2 miles had been significantly slower. I didn't calculate what the pace was for the other 8 - I don't even want to know. Plus, I can’t believe that 2 weeks ago I managed to run 26 miles at that pace. I must have been in really good shape back then, because today I was knocked out after 10.

20 Oct

5 miles, 42:19, 8:27 pace, HR 143

21 Oct

10 miles, 1:15:24, 7:32 pace, HR 163

Weekly mileage: 47

Nightly Encounter

First things first, my back is much better. In fact, I’m amazed how quickly it came round. Tuesday I was in agony, Wednesday was just painful, and by Thursday the feeling had shrunk to mere discomfort, which still remains to date. I took some painkillers on Wednesday night right before bed time, to ensure a full night of sleep. I avoid medicine and doctors as much as I possibly can, but after a night of agony on Tuesday the little white pills were the lesser evil. Luckily, it worked; I slept through the entire night until the alarm clock went off at 6:30, telling me it was time for my 7-mile run. For a second I contemplated staying in bed and sleeping some more, but then I got up, just like I always do.

The run went very well. I had gotten bored with the recovery pace day after day, and let the legs turn over a little bit quicker, but still kept the going at the easy level. In all honesty I was surprised how easy sub-8 pace felt, less than 2 weeks after the marathon.

I’m slowly building up my mileage, and after two runs of seven miles I opted for 8 today. I went back to recovery pace again, just to be extra cautious. It’s very dark in the morning now (at least until the daylight saving time ends) and I had my headlamp with me. However, I prefer to turn off the light as long as there are no cars around me, and as long as I can make out the road, of course. Just before the turnaround point suddenly a huge scary shadowy figure appeared right in front of me and gave me quite a fright. I turned on the light, and the menacing creature morphed into a young man with a friendly face. Amazing the way your mind works in the dark. He even said “morning, lovely”, which is a chatty as the Irish get at that time of night. The rest of the run was uneventful. I had expected the heart rate to be a bit lower, but overall it’s still going the right way. I can’t call myself recovered just yet, even though I can’t feel any effects from the marathon any more.

18 Oct

7 miles, 54:45, 7:50 pace, HR 150

19 Oct

8 miles, 1:05:53, 8:14 pace, HR 146

Ouch!

Remember how I hurt my back just before the marathon, and how I have mentioned once or twice that my back felt worse than my legs afterwards? Well, yesterday I went to the gym, and I didn't even think about my back, which had been fine for a few days. After about 5 minutes on the rowing machine I felt an immensely painful shock right there in my back, and I have been in agony ever since. Of course you could say I shouldn't have gone to the gym, but hindsight is always a great thing. I had been feeling fine, and it wasn't until I did my back in that I remembered that I had hurt that particular part of my body. In the middle of a rather disturbed night of sleep (not helped by the presence of a certain 3-year old. As much as I like enthusiastic hugs and kisses, 3am is not the right time) I eventually got up at 4am and took some painkillers, something I haven't done in ages, but I really wanted some more sleep. I didn't know if I would be able to run, but I thought that I had run a marathon without problems immediately after injuring the back for the first time, and decided to risk it. The most difficult part was putting on socks and shoes. I started running gingerly at first but more confidently after a minute. The back held out very well. It isn't a running-related injury, and running doesn't aggravate it. In fact, the best I've felt for the last 24 hours was during my run and for the first hour afterwards. Sitting in the office chair for hours, on the other hand, is pure agony.

Running wise, the recovery is progressing very well. I ran 5 miles yesterday and 7 miles today, and felt very good both times. In fact, today was one of those magical runs, with an amazing set of stars on a completely clear sky, and then the first light of dawn - wonderful! Running can be so rewarding, yet the majority of people will never know, and don't even believe you when you tell them.

The heart rate keeps dropping as well, but it's still nearly 10 beats higher than before the marathon. I can always track my aerobic fitness by measuring the heart rate during my recovery runs, and I can also notice a steady progress from training cycle to training cycle that way. It's fool proof, and just as much as I could tell with absolute certainty before the marathon that I had been in my best shape ever, I can now follow the heart rate on its way southwards until I can call myself fully recovered.

The back injury is as annoying as it is painful, but it looks like it won't stop me from running at all. I don't need painkillers to deal with it, but might take some for a peaceful night of sleep.

And finally, thank you Mark for pointing out this (scroll down a bit to see it). I had never expected to see myself linked to from that particular site, at least not in a positive mention. Wow. Fame at last. It explains why my visitor numbers spiked the other day.

16 Oct

5 miles, 42:04, 8:25 pace, HR 149

17 Oct

7 miles, 56:56, 8:08 pace, HR 146

I don’t get it

What’s so offensive about whales? Any anyway, Niamh still has a sense of humour. I tried singing a whale song to her, and she merely told me to “f*ck off” rather than beat me to death with a frying pan, so I guess all is still in order.

Recovery from a marathon is probably my least favourite part of running, and I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one who feels like that. All the immediate aches and pains are gone, including the one that had manifested itself deep inside my left calf muscle. A few stretching sessions seemed to get rid of it for good. But out on the road it will take a lot longer until I can honestly say that I’m fully recovered.

Despite all that whining, recovery is actually going very well. There’s definitely something said for being well prepared for a marathon. Not only do you have a much better time during the actual race, the time afterwards is also a lot more agreeable. Since I can honestly vouch for the fact that I had been very well prepared for my latest race, recovery should pass by reasonably quickly. Yet I still don’t like it. Running 5 miles at slow pace isn’t exactly the most exciting way to spend your early mornings, and I yearn for slightly faster stuff. However, so far I have by and large managed to hold myself back. I think I’ll hold out for a bit longer.

Sunday’s run went remarkably well. I was surprised when I checked my watch at the end; I had only intended to cover the 5 miles at very easy pace, but got close to 8:30 instead, which was a bit faster than expected. Not that I’m complaining. In contrast, today’s run was both slower and at a slightly higher heart rate, which I blame on the conditions. I woke at 6 to hear the wind and rain outside and decided not to go running. I was even proud of the restrained I showed. However, half an hour later I couldn’t hear anything, so I decided to get up and run after all. It wasn’t until I opened the front door, kitted out and all, that I realised that the rain was still as bas as ever. Having come so far I decided to run the 5 miles anyway. It wasn’t too bad. I thought Niamh would say something along the lines of “why are you running in the rain? What are you training for?” but she didn’t. Maybe she’s too used to that behaviour by now to even notice it.

14 Oct

5 miles, 43:19, 8:40 pace, HR 145

15 Oct

5 miles, 44:12, 8:50 pace, HR 146

Back to Life, Back to Reality

It’s incredible how quickly time passes. It’s already 6 days since the marathon! I’m still taking it easy, I didn’t run at all on Friday, and just 5 recovery miles today. It went better again, the quads were fine this time, but the left calf is still a bit troublesome. It felt like I had a knot somewhere deep inside that muscle. It’s a bit strange, because it was the right calf that was cramping in the late stages of the marathon, yet it’s the left one that’s playing up now. I’ve started stretching it in hope of alleviating the problem, but if past history is anything to go by, I’ll keep that up for maybe three days.

The one part of my body that’s really sore is my lower back, though. I think it’s related to the fall right before the marathon start, but I can’t say for sure. I was in agony last night, but it’s better today. Sitting in an office chair for 8 hours is probably the worst thing I can do for it, which is why it is better during the weekend. Several Yoga poses that stretch the back seemed to help, but again, past history tells me that I’m not very good at keeping at that sort of thing.

Niamh is reaching the beached whale stage of pregnancy. She’s running out of clothes that fit over her bump, and she’s getting more and more uncomfortable. The official due date is still a bit more than two weeks away. She’s willing for time to pass quickly. Two nights ago she thought she felt the early signs of oncoming labour, but that may have been wishful thinking. In any case, the house is ready for a new occupant, but my guess is that it will be early November until we can welcome her to the world. Exciting as well as tiring times are ahead.

And finally, I want to wish the Three Blind Moose and their Mountain Goat all the best for the MDI marathon. Two of them should theoretically still be in recovery mode after a marathon and a 100-miler respectively, and the other two have spent most of summer licking their wounds. They're all set for a great experience then. Good Luck, guys!

13 Oct

5 miles, 44:45, 8:57 pace, HR 147

Photos and Analysis

The photo people have come up with a few snapshots of mine, but since they’re too ugly to view in bigger size, I won’t put them up in any greater detail than that.



Right after finishing the race I sent a text message to Niamh stating my time was “good but not brilliant”. I haven’t changed my mind since. My goal had been 3:10, and I always knew that it was very ambitious. I missed it, but I came close enough to be satisfied. Therefore I wasn’t as ecstatic as I had been a year ago after the Dublin marathon, but nevertheless the warm feeling of having done a good job has surrounded me ever since. I’m not disappointed with my time; I’m quite happy with it, and I know I couldn’t have run much faster on the day, no matter what.

In fact, I think I cut it mightily fine. One more mile and the cramps would most likely have forced me to walk. A slightly slower start may have resulted in a faster finishing time, because I basically lost one minute over the last 2 miles. On the other hand a 3.5 minutes positive split isn't particularly bad on a course like that, with its early downhill miles and that big hill during the second half.

The course is potentially fast with those downhills, but it’s also quite challenging. The early miles are unlike Boston because it’s not a steady downhill stretch but a constant up and down, obviously with more downs than ups. The undulating nature continues all the way to the end, you can never completely settle in your rhythm. In that respect, my usual training routes along Caragh Lake were the perfect preparation because they show the same characteristics. In fact, despite the fact that I had never run there, I almost felt at home on the course. An undulating, small rural road alongside a very scenic lake – how could anything have been more familiar to me?

The race was extremely well organised, and I can heartily recommend it to anyone in the vicinity around that time of the year. The food at the pasta party was yummy and plentiful, the live music entertaining, the race day transport perfect, the bag pipers a lovely local touch, and the soup and food at the finish were well received by yours truly. The one downside was the £10 charge for a post-race massage, which I declined, but I can definitely live with that. I’m more likely to run Dublin in future years because of the easier logistics, but Loch Ness will always be a possible alternative.

I felt reasonably good the next day, which was a plus because I was travelling all day. My calves were sore, but not too bad. I was even able to walk down a staircase, which was severely tested when leaving the plane in Dublin airport, but managed pretty well. I was a bit worried if I was up to driving 200 miles from Dublin to Kerry, but again managed just fine.

I was a lot sorer on Tuesday, but managed to get in and out of chairs without wincing in pain. Nobody made any smart comments in the office, so I must have done reasonably well. By Wednesday I was almost fine again. The one part that hurt most was actually my back. I hurt it when falling over before the start of the marathon, and while it didn’t bother me at all during the race, I was in minor agony while sitting in the seats of the train, plane and car for hours the next day. It’s slowly getting better now.

Last night I was deliberating if I should go running again this morning, but definitely showed a tendency towards staying in bed, when Niamh brought my attention towards her increasingly big bump and pointed out that I might want to go running while I still can. Therefore I put on my shoes this morning for a short 4 mile haul. The left calf was quite tight initially, but settled down after a mile or two. On the way home the quads got heavier and heavier, and by the time I was back home I was glad to be done. I haven’t got any set plans for recovery at the moment. I’ll run whenever I feel like it, as long as Niamh will let me out of the house. This is also the first time in ages that I don’t know what I’m training for. The general idea is to do base training through the winter and then decide if I want to run a marathon in spring. That way the baby can’t upset my plans, because I haven’t got any.

11 Oct

4 miles, 36:23, 9:06 pace, HR 144

A Monster Race

I was still 40 miles from Dublin on my way towards Inverness when it hit me: what I’m doing is utterly insane by most people’s standards. Spending a lot of money and travelling a long distance in order to run 26 miles in a foreign place is a weird thing to do. However, at that stage I was committed to the task, and pressed on.

I made awfully sure that I would not oversleep on Sunday: I set the alarm on my watch, on my mobile phone and on the alarm clock that was part of the room. In the end I didn’t need any of those, I was wide awake an hour early. After a hearty breakfast I went to Queen’s Park stadium to catch a bus to the start line. Once there I got changed, and had a slight mishap: as I tried to take off my running tights, balancing on one leg, I fell over in rather comical fashion. The guy beside me laughed out loud. “You didn’t see that”. “No, but I heard it.” I didn’t mind the loss of dignity, but somehow I had managed to injure my back in the fall, and it hurt quite a bit. I tried stretching it out for a while, but it didn’t make much of a difference. Eventually we assembled near the start line, me around the “3hrs” sign. I heard another runner in a yellow singlet say to his friends that he’d aim for 3:10 to 3:15, and I thought I could do worse than stick with him – he looked like he knew what he was doing.

The start was signalled by a group of bag pipers walking towards the start line, and to the tunes of “Scotland the Brave” we set off on our journey. I forgot all about my bad back and joined the other 2000 runners.

The start is on high ground east of Loch Ness, a mile away from the tiny village of Whitebridge. The first 8 miles of the course are downhill, but the course profile I had studied before the race is misleading. There are plenty of ups and downs along the way, and the biggest drops in elevation come from 3 very steep sections of road – so steep that it’s nearly impossible to run relaxed, and certainly not as good for a fast time as you might imagine from simply looking at the elevation drop.

My plan was to run the first mile in 7:30 and the next 25 in 7:15. Immediately after the start I was blocked by scores of slower runners in front, and I felt like jogging for the first 5 minutes. I did crank up the effort slightly once the roads cleared a bit, but expected a slow start. Imagine my surprise when the watch said 7:23! And then a look at my heart rate monitor nearly made me freeze in panic, because the display said 175 or 176. Good God, much too high! However, I still felt like jogging, and kept going at the same effort. Then mile 2 came into view, 6:44! That’s my half-marathon race pace! I felt rather conflicted at that point. Both my watch and my HRM told me I was going too fast, but my legs still only felt like jogging along nicely. I knew this could blow up spectacularly later on, but I decided to stick with the perceived effort rather than follow whatever the gadgets said. In that fashion mile 3 in 6:47 didn’t come as a big surprise. I have to admit to being worried at that stage. I knew about the hill waiting for us at mile 18, and had visions of me slowly walking up the entire way in death-march mode, but I kept going anyway. The next mile sported a nasty hill where I felt a lot worse than on the previous sections, and a few runners ran past me, only to fall behind again at the next downhill. By now the aforementioned runner in the yellow singlet had become a very familiar sight. He kept overtaking me at the climbs, I regained my place at the downhills, and on average we were running side-by-side. After a few miles we did acknowledge each others presence and started chatting. I didn’t know his name then, but looked it up in the results later on where I found out that he’s called John, has a running blog himself and is a very experienced ultra runner. I guess I had chosen the perfect running partner. We passed miles 4 to 8 in 7:25, 7:14, 6:54, 7:13 and 6:55, which alternated between being on pace and going a little bit too fast, but this was more a reflection of the undulating terrain than an uneven effort. By mile 6 we passed through the village of Foyers with plenty of spectators, and each time we passed someone they shouted out “well done, John”, though that was not directed towards my running buddy but to another John a few steps behind us who had his name displayed across his chest in 2-inch high letters. This did get on my nerves I have to admit. “Never mind bloody John, you could clap for me as well”! (I didn’t say it out loud though). Next mile split 7:08. Shortly afterwards I dropped behind, and both Johns as well as about 5 more runners (including a girl) went past me. I originally thought I was still running on pace and everyone else must have accelerated, but a mile split of 7:29 told a different story. Up to here I had felt like jogging along, but now my pace was sagging and I made the conscious decision of increasing the effort to get back on pace. I was still worried about the hill, and the heart rate was still the wrong side of 170, but I was chasing my target time and decided that it was worth taking risks. However, the next few miles turned into one big low point. Mile 11 was still respectable at 7:17, but the effort was getting to me, and miles 12 and 13 passed by in 7:21 and 7:28. This was the worst part of the race by far. I entertained thoughts of stopping, and really wanted to do anything else but running yet another 13 miles. John and the girl from mile 9 (called Mhairi, but again I didn’t know that at the time) had joined up by now, I could see them running together for a few miles, half a minute ahead of me. I had taken a gel at mile 12, and either it was the effect of the gel or the inspiring views of Loch Ness or maybe my training paying off, but I started to feel better again. One particular runner had drawn to me by now who was extremely noisy, he kept coughing every 2 seconds, accompanied by spitting, rasping breathing and other not entirely pleasant sounds. Accelerating just to get away from him was worth the extra effort alone, but I actually felt good all of a sudden and started going faster without any real increase in effort. The next 3 miles were encouraging at 7:09, 7:19 and 7:21, but what was more important than the slightly improved splits was my vastly improved mood, I enjoyed running again, simply felt good and stopped worrying about that hill, which was by now getting rather close. We reached the end of Loch Ness and entered Dores, where some more spectators had gathered to give much-needed encouragement. But guess what they said when I passed? “Well done John!” Not again! I had just overtaken the “other John” again, the one with the big letters, and once again he sucked the spectators’ attention away from me. He drew up with me a minute or two later, and in a half-sarcastic mood I greeted him with a “Hello John”. Actually, he turned out to be very nice and friendly; he knew the course and gave me a rather detailed description of the miles ahead. Eventually he dropped back, or maybe I accelerated again, because all of a sudden I started overtaking runners by the bucket load. The road started rising as soon as we left Dores, but gently at first. I asked a guy beside me if that was “The Hill” already, but he put me right. That was just the start, and it would get a lot steeper very soon. Not what I wanted to hear, but I thanked him anyway, before pulling away again.

The real climb started right behind the next bend. It’s the biggest obstacle along the marathon course, and the climb is well over two miles long. I wondered why nobody calls it The Monster, we’re at Loch Ness after all, but maybe that would be too obvious and unoriginal. Having said all that, it’s not half as bad as the “Hell of the West” in Connemara, and it’s not as bad as the hills I run week in, week out in Kerry. I must have passed at least a dozen runners, and the mile splits of 7:37 and 7:23 are pretty decent, taking the terrain into account. By mile 19 I had drawn level with John again (the one in the yellow shirt), we exchanged a few words, and then I was off again. The 19 mile marker, pretty much at the top of the hill, turned up ridiculously early in 6:47, but I knew immediately that that couldn’t be right, which was confirmed 50 seconds later when I passed a painted 19 marker on the road, because 7:37 is much more realistic for an uphill mile. The next mile split confirmed that even more, if you counted from the original marker it was 8:18, but my “corrected” time of 7:28 is a lot more believable. By now I had spotted that girl from mile 9, Mhairi, again, and, disgustingly chauvinistic male that I am decided to give chase. I checked the watch when she passed a signpost and timed myself to be 40 seconds behind her. The hunting instincts brought the next mile in 7:16 (and within 28 seconds of Mhairi), despite featuring another hill, not long but rather steep. I might have overdone things there, because that’s where the first signs of the oncoming train crash started appearing. There had been an awful lot of downhill miles along the way, and the quads let me know in no uncertain terms that they’d had enough. I found it increasingly difficult to lift the knees, and despite the next mile being downhill again it was no faster than 7:38, and I started to tip into the “agony” side of things. Just after the 22-mile marker there’s the “Welcome to Inverness” road sign. The night before I had tried to engage in positive thinking and imagined myself running past said sign and putting in 4 strong miles until the finish. Unfortunately, turning those thoughts into reality was a lot harder. I did try to increase the effort, but the times don’t really reflect that. What did surprise me was the amount of overtaking that went on over those final miles. Normally you’d expect the field to be very much settled at that point, but that was not the case. I wasn’t the fastest guy around by any means, a fair number of runners went past me, but I think I overtook about twice that number myself. I had a bit of fun with a group of spectators, when they started to cheer as I passed I blew them a kiss. “That’s the first one who offered to kiss me!!”, and I got a few extra cheers. Anyway, the miles here went by in 7:35 (ugh) and 7:19 (very respectable, not sure where that came from). Alas, here’s where the train hit the buffers. The course runs along one side of the river Ness, and you can see your faster peers going the other way on the opposite bank. They’re nearly there, the lucky bastards! Just as I got onto the bridge, my right calf started cramping. Just for a split second, and I had just enough time to cry out in pain, then it was gone again. I crossed the bridge, and now we were running back the other way, watching our slower peers on the other side where we had just come from. All of a sudden Mhairi was straight ahead of me. I had long forgotten about giving chase to her, but there she was; she had slowed down dramatically, didn’t look happy at all, and I felt bad for her as I passed her (she eventually finished 50 seconds behind me). Twice more my calf started cramping, just for one spasm, and I knew that I wouldn’t be able to run much further. I was hurting badly by now, and mile 25 was the slowest by far at 7:50, with the next mile in 7:49 not much better. The course is cruel at that point, you can already see the stadium, but you have to loop around the entire complex and enter it from the other side. Just before the 26 mile marker it hit me again, and if anyone was nearby they would have heard me shouting out something like “ha-ha-ha-ha-haaaaooooouuuuu”, until the iron grip on my calf started loosening again. Thankfully by now the end was in sight – literally. I was actually disappointed when I saw the finishing clock, the timer was already at 3:10 and that had been my dream target. There was nothing I could do about it, I entered the stadium, the announcer said “Number 1771, that’s Thomas (pause) Bubbybobo, from (pause) Kyle (pause) orgayn (pause), and he’s come all the way from Austria!!!” The last bit wasn’t strictly true, but the crowd seemed to like it, gave a big cheer, which I milked for all I could, and then I crossed the line and was done.

Official chip time:

3:12:29

Average HR:

170

Average pace per mile:

7:21

First half:

1:34:22

Second half:

1:38:07

Place:

90

Pounds lost:

0

Other:

BQ!

Planes, Trains And Automobiles

... shaped the majority of today. I woke at 6 am in Inverness, caught the train to Aberdeen, a plane to Dublin, the airport coach to Nana and Gaga’s house, and then proceeded to drive 200 miles across the country to Kerry - 24 hours after running a marathon. It’s now nearly 11 pm, and I’m about to fall asleep. You might think I’m teasing you, but the race report will have to wait another day.

The Short Version

I'm posting from an Internet Cafe in Inverness, and have to pay by the minute, so a full race report is out of question (plus, I'm waaaay too tired to write one). You'll have to wait until Monday evening.

3:12:32 (according to my watch)

I didn't quite make the 3:10 I was hoping for, but I'm pretty happy nevertheless. The last two miles were pretty tough and my right calf started cramping, but I just about made it over the line without having to slow down dramatically. It's a PR by over 16 minutes, and I have to be satisfied with that, don't I? Boston 2009 seems to be a real option now.

The weather was pefect, mostly cloudy, hardly any wind, and the temperatures around 13C/55F at the finish.

Last Call

A lot of people who are running Chicago or TCM this weekend seem to be freaking out about the weather forecast. I guess that’s one thing I have on my side. Hot temperatures in the Scottish Highlands in October were never on the cards. I did have visions about running through the autumn storms, but the weather gods are on my side, it seems. It looks like wunderground, accuweather and the UK met office respectively are all pretty much in agreement:



I could do without the passing showers, but I’m not complaining. That’s pretty close to ideal.

What’s less than ideal is the cold that’s still in my system. On Wednesday I finally started to feel good again. Yesterday my sore throat was back, and I felt like crap again in the morning; however, I felt better as the day wore on. Today I woke with a sore throat but sans the feeling of fatigue. There’s not much I seem to be able to do at that stage, apart from hoping for the best. It’s just so bloody annoying that I’ve been as healthy as I’ve ever been throughout the training, and now that. Niamh thinks it’s taper related, that’s the third time out of 7 marathons/ultras that I’ve got sick during the taper, and it’s unlikely to be a coincidence. What I don’t know is how to avoid it.

Enough of that. I usually give a summary of my training before the race, and that’s my last chance of doing so:

Training:

22 weeks

Miles:

1660

Average mpw:

80

# runs of 20 miles or more:

11

Highest weekly mileage:

102.5

# of weeks 100+ miles:

3

# of PRs:

2 (5k and half)

injuries:

two; left knee in June, right shin in August, but neither caused me to miss any workouts

It’s a progression compared to last time round; I ran a lot of miles, but most of them rather slowly. If that’s good or bad depends on your training philosophy. I might have dropped the miles a bit too much in the last few weeks – the half marathon did cause a bit of havoc with my schedule, because I took 3 easy days either side of that race. What pleases me most is the consistency of my long runs. I ran 20+ miles once per week on 11 consecutive weeks, and not one of them left me feeling too tired. Looking back at the training I think I can handle a lot of volume very well. I always recovered very well from 2 hours+ runs, and never felt overwhelmed. I had a few weeks where I ran 4 runs of 2 hours or more, and I think that was the best training I’ve ever done. The one step back from the ultra training last spring was the lack of back-to-back 20 milers. They were tough, but I think they did a good job in building my endurance. There might be a place for them even in standard marathon training. I will have to think about it.

I’m driving to Dublin tonight after work, and I’m flying to Scotland tomorrow (Saturday) morning. I might not be back on a computer until Monday night. For anybody in Inverness (both of you) who want to spot me, I will be wearing either a green singlet or a grey t-shirt, depending on the mood and/or weather (singlet, probably). More specifically, I’m wearing glasses (that should be easier to spot), and my race number is 1771.

There are a lot of races this weekend, apart from Loch Ness I “know” people running Chicago, TCM, Mohawk-Hudson, Portland and Ottawa. Good luck to every single one of you!

One More Step

You never know, but things might be looking up. Yesterday was the first day in about a week when I didn’t feel slightly sick. The headache is gone, and just a bit of a cough remains. With four days to go I think I have fought off most of the cold, and who knows, I might actually be healthy on the start line.

I’m following the taper that the Mystery Coach has outlined in a post a while ago, and it’s a taper, no doubt about it. Today might have been my last running day before the marathon. I’m travelling to Inverness on Saturday, and might not feel like running that day, which would mean three consecutive days of zero right before the race. Today’s run was a last test before the race itself. I got a up a few minutes early, to have time for a warm-up. I followed the same routine I’ll try to do on Sunday, namely running about 100 meters and then walking back, then repeat with a slightly faster run until you’re close to the intended pace. I only did 3 of those, and then I was too anxious to get started. The idea was to be able to hit marathon pace pretty much from the word go, just like on race day. I started out much too quickly, after a minute I reigned myself in a bit. The idea was to run the first mile in about 7:30 and the next 2.5 at 7:15 pace. Of course I got it wrong initially, and the first mile went by in 7:02. That’s definitely the fastest opening mile I’ve ever done in a training run. I slowed down just a little bit, and was curious what the next mile would bring, as there was a fairly steep hill in the middle, but I hit bullseye with 7:15. The third mile saw me questioning the pace. The calves and the hamstrings felt much heavier than I would want them to feel just a tenth into the marathon distance, but I kept going. That mile was slightly downhill but against a headwind, and I came through in 7:11. From then on the same pace started to feel considerably easier, but I’m not sure if that’s because I had warmed up by then, because the worst of the headwind was behind me, or because I knew that the effort would be over very soon. Anyway, the last half-mile passed by in 3:37, right on pace, and I turned around and jogged easily for a mile. The one thing I noticed here was that my HR was in the high 150s and refused to come down. I proceeded with a set of strides, and again noticed that the HR was very slow to come down afterwards. I felt fine all the way home, but the high heart rate is a bit of a concern. It might be related to the cold, in which case I can just hope that I can recover fully over the next 4 days.

And now, look what I just found. For months I have unsuccessfully been trying to find an elevation profile of the Loch Ness marathon. And judging by the search terms that keep leading people to my blog, I’m not the only one. Therefore I was quite pleased when someone posted this in the Loch Ness forum the other day:



The start is on high ground, and keeps dropping until mile 8. Then it’s reasonably flat until mile 16.5m where more than 2 miles of climbing await the weary traveller. Another hill at mile 21 is all that stands in the way until the finish. I’m sure I’m not the only one who thinks that this elevation profile is extremely similar to the Boston marathon. As I’ve heard often enough by now, Boston can be fast but it is a difficult course, and the most important thing is not to get carried away on the early downhill miles. I’ll try and keep that in mind.

2 Oct

0 miles

3 Oct

7 miles, 53:10, 7:35 pace, HR 160
first 3.5 miles in 7:02, 7:15, 7:11, 3:37 (avg. 7:10 pace), 5x150 strides on way home