Hurdles

For some reason, Sunday was the first day in a very long time when we did not have any plans. I could have gone swimming, but I relished staying at home doing nothing far too much to get off that sofa. It was great to join the idle masses for a while – after I had done my run, of course. Said run was another tempo effort, 10 miles with 2x3.5 miles at HMP, somewhere around 6:30 pace, but I mostly used my breathing to determine the effort. That worked quite well, and while it was a couple of seconds slower than the previous effort from 2 weeks ago, it was still better than anything I had managed last year or the year before. Now I just have to turn the training into decent race results.

When I got home, Niamh was really happy and bouncy, raving how she’d had a wonderful lie-in, how the kids had not made a noise and she had slept all the way until 8:30. However, her jaw dropped to the floor when I pointed out that the clocks had gone forward that night; she really wished I hadn’t said that. But she did remain bright and happy.

Since I’m tapering I took Monday off running and drove to the swimming pool in Killarney instead. I tried something new and switched the breathing pattern, and all of a sudden things clicked into place. I could do 200s and 400s without breaking and gasping for air, and I felt I could have done longer distances without break as well. I might survive the swimming part of the Valentia tri after all, and I climbed out of the pool really pleased. I arrived home to a still sleeping household – the daylight saving time obviously having quite some effect.

A short 6 mile run this morning in rather wild conditions followed. It was very windy, I got caught by the rain on couple of occasions, and when the hail started I thought things were getting rather bad, but luckily that stopped after a couple of seconds. In fact, I felt really good today. I think I know why.

I had felt really tired over the last couple of weeks but couldn’t quite work out why; it was definitely not because of overtraining this time. Even worse, I started to have lots of spells of light-headedness. We all have that from time to time when we get up too quickly, but it happened to me at least 5 times a day. There can be several reasons for this, low blood pressure being the most common, anaemia another one, and, due to several other things as well, I really wondered if the latter was the case. A few days ago I started taking an iron supplement that I had used in the past with good success and that does not mess up my stomach. It could be a placebo effect, or it could be coincidence, but the dizzy spells seem to have stopped and I think the way I felt much better during the run this morning might be an indication that a slight anaemia was indeed my problem and it might be getting sorted. Until I have my blood tested I can’t tell for sure, of course.

There was a second problem that could have been a major obstacle. I’ve had pains in my back on several occasions this year, and that returned with a vengeance a few days ago; I was in absolute agony. This is not a running injury. I’m pretty sure it is down to me being careless when lifting the laundry basket. Doing the laundry is my job and with six people in the household this is a major task; the basket is very heavy at times, especially when filled with wet clothes. I know how to lift heavy objects with a straight back; I just didn’t follow the rules. Stupid, I know. I have been much more careful recently, and my back has definitely improved. At one stage a few days ago it was so bad that I thought this might stop me from running Connemara altogether, but things are definitely on the up. I might still get some taper-induced phantom injuries, but I can deal with those. I don’t think anything will stop me from joining the other deranged ones at the start line.

28 Mar

10 miles, 1:09:13, 6:55 pace, HR 156
2x3.5 miles @ 6:28, 6:34

29 Mar

50 minutes swimming

30 Mar

6.1 miles, 47:58, 7:51 pace, HR 137

The End of Magic

The other day, just as I came out of my shower, Niamh stormed into the room. The kids had just voiced their skepticism about the Tooth Fairy (Cian has just lost his first 2 teeth and bagged 3 Euros in the process), started inquiries about the Easter Bunny, and then *gasp* moved on to Santa, at which Niamh left the kitchen in a hurry to avoid digging deeper into that subject. I guess it was always a matter of time; the twins will be 9 in a month and we got as far as we could with that story, while avoiding telling an outright lie. They still haven't got absolute confirmation – one week before Easter isn't the best time for those revelations, and I'm afraid Maia might grow up without the magic.

Oh yes, running. Even three easy days had not been sufficient for a complete recovery from Ballycotton, and when I took my first step on Thursday morning I could immediately tell that the race was still in there. The run followed the same pattern as pretty much all of the previous long ones; a very slow start for the first 3 miles (which happened to be 8:26 pace), then a few miles of long hills and a stronger finish. The quads felt uncomfortable all the way through, but I was pleased to see that I could keep 7:30 pace without problem over the second half of the run, even with aching legs. I also figured that running for over 2 hours with painful quads would be good preparation for Connemara, because that's exactly what's going to happen there.

The weather was reasonably cooperative, the wind was manageable and I never got more than a few raindrops at a time, and that pattern held for the next few days as well. I did 5 miles on Friday with even heavier legs, but recorded the lowest heart rate of the present training cycle. I think that if I can run at sub-130 HR without having to crawl, I must be in good ultra shape. My race speed could be a tad better, as Ballycotton showed, but hey, who doesn't wish for that. On the other hand I really think that my endurance at comfortable speeds is better than ever before. Today's run felt just as easy as Friday's but was much closes to 8:00 pace, which is what I hope to hold for 39 miles in Connemara. That's good. Now I have to avoid doing anything stupid over the next 2 weeks.

25 Mar

18 miles, 2:22:41, 7:56 pace, HR 142

26 Mar

5.1 miles, 43:17, 8:29 pace, HR 129

27 Mar

6.2 miles, 50:05, 8:05 pace, HR 136

Post Race

With all the buzz surrounding the event, it was not surprising that I found a few more photos of the Ballycotton race.

The one from somewhere around mile 6 (from the Eagle AC website) shows that maybe I should have relaxed a bit more. That’s easy to say afterwards, of course.


The next one (from Eagle AC again) shows me at probably the worst moment, about half a mile from the finish, and I have just been overtaken by an entire group of 4 runners. I checked the race numbers, they all finished ahead of me.


And I was really annoyed with myself when I saw that one (thanks, Private) for looking at the Garmin instead of racing to the finish. This was a quarter mile away from the line. What was there to do but to bust a gut and run like hell? I didn’t need to know anything on the watch. I cannot even remember looking at it and sure as hell don’t remember what the display might have said. I thought I had weaned myself off that kind of pointless behaviour!


As for my disappointing finish, I think the most likely explanation is fatigue from the 22/15 workout during the week. I had thought the previous week’s marathon was a tough workout and that double header would be easier on the body, but that didn’t seem to be the case. I think the fact that I ran the marathon at leisurely pace while I speeded up for the last 4 miles in both days of the double workout would explain that.

To be totally honest, my confidence has taken a slight knock. I thought I was in better shape than at the same stage last year and to finish in a slower time was an unwelcome surprise.

In order to give my legs some rest, I went swimming on Monday. Again, the pool workout was a bit too much like hard work for my liking and I seemed to get out of breath very easily. The only reason why I didn’t call it a day early is that I had paid for the pool time and didn’t want to see the money wasted.

Two more easy days followed which means that race day was the only hard day in 7 days, as I had taken 3 easy days before the race as well. With only 18 days until Connemara, I guess that means I’m tapering. 18 miles tomorrow, maybe 15 next week, and that’s it, apart from a few tempo miles and the obligatory recovery runs. The training is basically done. Already.

22 Mar

45 minutes swimming

23 Mar

5 miles, 40:19, 8:04 pace, HR 137

24 Mar

6.15 miles, 51:28, 8:22 pace, HR 134

Ballycotton

It was that time of the year again. Actually it was 2 weeks later than usual, but that suited me just fine. Today was Ballycotton Day, and even our beloved neighbours from across the Irish Sea think it's one of the 10 best races in the world.

With 3 weeks to go to Connemara, this was my last race in preparation for the Big One. But it had slightly more meaning to me than the other ones. All the Killarney races were C races, and this was a B one. I didn't compromise my Ultra training for this event, but I still wanted to do well. I was quite optimistic, especially after last week's excellent tempo run. I expected to run 63:xx for this, and who knows, even have a shot at a new PB, which stands at 63:01, my best race ever according to all comparison calculators out there.

I dropped by at Grellan's on my way for a cup of tea and some chat. We haven't met since Dublin, and I think the previous occasion was in Ballycotton last year, so this was a rare event. I collected his timing chip to return to the organisers, which would safe him having to post it, and was off to the race.

I arrived in good time, but somehow must have gotten confused about the time available before the start. Since the start line is at the end of a very small cul-de-sac with 3000 runners cramped into a tiny space, you have to there early or you're stuck at the end of a very long line. Guess what happened to me. Well, I must have said “excuse me” and “thank you” a hundred time as I wriggled my way through the masses, probably annoying quite a few others in the process. Apologies. But eventually, and against all odd, I ended up halfway between the 58 and 65 minutes sign, exactly where I was supposed to be in theory. Since everyone cheats at this, I was still further behind than optimal, though.

The weather was surprisingly nice, the rain clouds didn't turn up until much later and it was sunny all the way. The wind was definitely stronger than I would have liked, but no worse than last year. There would be no excuses.

It took me about 25 seconds to cross the line, and initially it was really frustrating because we were still shuffling at very slow speed, but things improved quickly enough and within half a minute I was running at race pace. I tried to keep the weaving around to a minimum, but of course there were plenty of idiots who had started way ahead of their abilities.

As I passed the first mile someone called out the time, and it was almost 6:50. For a second I panicked until I remembered that this of course included the time it took to cross the start line, and my actual time was 6:23, by far my fastest ever starting mile in Ballycotton. Note: the mile splits in this report are the Garmin's, which differ from the official ones. Of course, in the end the official ones are the only ones that count.

The second mile is still downhill, in fact it is more downhill than the first one. However, we're not talking about major hills here. I think no mile has more than 30 feet net elevation change. I was still passing runners by the dozen, but actually I was running with plenty spare. Eventually I attached myself to the shoulder of two runners who were doing decent pace, hoping to get some shelter from the blustery wind. The second mile passed in 6:19.

Halfway through the third mile I finally decided to put the hammer down and race at full effort. Up to then I felt like I always had a gear to spare, and now I was throwing caution to the wind; quite literally in fact, because now I had to face it myself. Despite this, the third mile took 6:25, definitely slower than I would have hoped.

Somewhere here I passed Seamus, whom I had battled with in the M40 age group in the recent Killarney race series. I told him I felt fantastic and, as if to prove it, injected another burst of speed. I also met a few other runners I knew as I pressed on. Mile 4 passed in 6:20, close to goal speed.

For a new PB I would need 6:18 pace and 6:23 would be the slowest possible for a 63:xx final time. At that time I was well on my way for the second and had certainly not given up on the first one yet. But the fifth mile was slightly uphill, and the wind did not help. 6:29 was not bad in the circumstances, but then I passed the 5 mile timer (the official one, not the Garmin's) pretty much exactly in 32 minutes, which was a bit slower than hoped for. But I still felt good, and was hoping for better in the second half.

The next mile was the worst as far as the wind was concerned. I tried to shelter behind some runners, but each time got impatient quickly and went past, catching up to the next one, which at times took quite a while because there were some fairly big gaps to close. Somewhere around here I was passed for the first time myself, two runners in quick succession went past at serious speed. I tried to hang on, but the pace was a bit too high and I let them go. Mile 6 was the slowest so far at 6:35, but that can be attributed to the wind. The problem was, even though for the rest of the race we would not have to face the wind head-on, I'm pretty sure we had to fight it more than it would help us.

Shortly after the 6 mile mark we passed the 10k line at 40:08. At that point I started having doubts, because this was definitely a bit slower than I had hoped for. Maybe it was the realisation that I didn't run quite as fast as hoped for, or maybe I was simply getting tired from the race effort, but from here on it felt markedly harder. But I was still passing runners by the bucket load and mile 7, slightly downhill, was quite quick again at 6:20.

The eighth mile contained the third water station and I tried to grab a cup from the last volunteer in the line. Just as I was about to take it he withdrew his outstretched hand and I was left grasping thin air. What was that all about? Anyway, I didn't really need water at that stage. I passed two familiar faces on this mile, the legend that is Mary Sweeney, and John Desmond, which was a bit of a surprise, because I normally don't pass sub-3 marathoners. I called out a greeting, but he didn't seem to hear me. He looked pretty knackered, to be honest and I know how that feels. Mile 8 was good again at 6:20 again.

However, this is where things were getting really tough. The last two miles are uphill, and the steepest part is during the ninth mile, leading to a sharp left bend in the road. This is where I lost it completely. I had just overtaken a few more runners and was right behind two more when all of a sudden the quads turned to lead, the lungs could not provide sufficient oxygen and the hill seemed much steeper than before. I checked the Garmin which displayed 8.8 miles, and at that point this seemed a very, very long way from the finish. Last year I had a great finish, still passing plenty of runners, but things were not to be repeated today. A 6:35 mile was the result, still not that bad, but my HR was getting out of control and the effort was sky high.

At that point I was being passed by a group of 4 or 5 runners, all of whom I had passed not long ago, and I did not have the strength to keep up. Eventually the road got more reasonable, at times levelling out, at other times rising more gradually, and I recovered from my low. With about half a mile to go I managed to edge closer to some runners again, and with a quarter mile left I started overtaking two or three again. Then we were already at the apex of the hill and a few seconds later we crossed the finish line. The last Garmin mile had taken 6:39, but there were still 19 seconds of running left for the real 10-mile marker, and I was done in 64:50.

To be honest, I was quite disappointed. I didn't even look at the finisher's mug, didn't really stop at the finish, just had a few words with Pat and then a couple of other runners I knew, then hurried through the baggage area. Since I was still on my no-sugar pledge for lent I packed the Mars bar away (Niamh enjoyed it later) and just had the banana. When I nearly threw it up again I wondered if the very slight cold I'd had over the last few days had some effect. It doesn't really bother me apart from some coughing in the morning, but after an hour at race effort things might be different. I had a couple of sandwiches, and forced myself to do a cool-down jog, even though I really did not feel like it, and once more almost got re-acquainted with the contents of my stomach, but got away with it. Having said that, within half an hour my stomach settled down again and I could eat without problems.

The results were delivered very quickly. I came 193rd, better than last year, even though my time was slower. I noticed that 61:58 was fast enough to come in the top 100, which is definitely slower than normal, so maybe conditions were a bit tougher than usual. If you go by chip time, I was 183rd. If I ever manage to start further ahead in the field, I think I could do better (but the top 100 t-shirt is out of reach, sadly). I must have passed about 200 runners during the race, and got passed about 7 times myself. I really need to start further ahead.

[Update: thank you to Paudie Birmingham for the race photos]

20 Mar

5 miles, 40:32, 8:06 pace, HR 135

21 Mar

18 miles, incl:
Ballycotton 10 mile race, 65:18, 193rd gun/ 64:50,183rd chip,
29th M40, avg. HR 173
6:23, 6:19, 6:25, 6:20, 6:29, 6:35, 6:20, 6:20, 6:35, 6:39 (0:19)

Weekly Mileage: 71

Budding Artist

With only 3 weeks left until Connemara I thought I had taken it relatively easy with my 22/15 workouts this week. What I had not quite factored in was how stiff I would feel after running the last few miles of both runs at a significantly faster pace. Well, I hadn’t exactly planned on doing it. But I’m dealing with the fallout now, I was quite sore yesterday and I really did not enjoy my swimming workout, which was a first. Things did improve today, but not by an awful lot. First of all, I overslept. I can’t even remember the last time this happened. I always set the radio alarm on my side of the bed to a barely audible volume. That ensures that Niamh doesn’t get woken but is sufficient to wake me – until today that is. I must have slept deeper than usual (in fact, most days I’m awake before the alarm anyway) and when I opened my eyes at 7 o’clock I realised I had slept through it.

It didn’t help that both Shea and Maia were awake as well, and I had to fix up breakfast before I was able to leave, but I still had time for 5 miles, as long as I hurried afterwards, getting ready for work. The first mile was still rather stiff and sore, but things improved and I included a set of strides towards the end. I should have done those much more regularly, but I simply don’t think of it most of the time.

Enough of that, have a look at this:



I think we have yet another child prodigy on our hands, Maia drew this picture of a “crawly, crawly spider”, and she’s still well over half a year away from her third birthday (no, Ewen, don’t make the joke about the signature even more impressive for a 2-year old). I had to scan it to preserve it through the ages. It’s at least as impressive as Cian’s early work.

Should I mention the change of plans I hinted at last time? I guess so. Sorry John, still no Fling this year. See, I drew up my plans for 2010 about half a year ago. I would run Connemara in April, a charity marathon (only one!) in July as a training run and Dingle in September. When I started contemplating racing the charity marathon rather than running it as a training run I knew I would be asking for trouble, 2 months before Dingle. Anyway, I decided to add an extra marathon there, 3 months before Dingle, which conveniently happens to be Cork. And I’ll race it. When I went through my old training diaries after Sunday’s tempo run I realised that I had never even gotten within 10 seconds per mile of that pace for a tempo run. I must be in good shape, not just for an ultra but also for a marathon, and I want to put that to the test. I know I can handle Connemara and Cork in the same year, because I did just that 2 years ago and had a great marathon (still my second fastest).

18 Mar

45 minutes swimming

19 Mar

5 miles, 40:32, 8:06 pace, HR 137
incl. 6x100 strides

Paddys Day

I could see the orange glow before I even opened the door. At first I thought it was a reflection of our hall light, but as I stepped out I realised that the mountain was engulfed in flames. This didn't bode well for my run, because the loop around Caragh Lake would lead me right into this. I decided to give it a go anyway, but do it the other way round so that I would hit that area after 2 miles rather than 13, in which case turning around would be much less of an issue. I only got half a mile down the road when I encountered two fire engines blocking off the road. I approached them and asked one fireman if the road was closed. He said no, it was passable. But when I inquired if it would be safe for running, he did a double take. I could see the thought forming in his head. “It's not even 5 o'clock in the morning and that weirdo wants to go running?”. Anyway, he advised against it because of the smoke, I thanked him and turned around. I quickly came up with an alternative route, namely a few laps around the Devil's Elbow. This would give me even more climbing as each loop contains a steep nasty climb of about 500 feet. For the next 3 hours I did exactly that, 3 loops, and on top of the ridge I had a perfect view of the five huge fire columns on the other side of the lake. It looked very impressive, from a safe distance at least. The run went very well. One side effect of running 30 miles for training is that I now view 22 miles as an easy workout. Once I had left the hill behind me for the last time I increased the effort for the last 4.5 miles, which turned out to be 7:10 pace. I enjoyed myself so much that I missed the turnaround point on an out-and back section to make up the miles and ended up with a little bit extra. I felt great afterwards.

Paddy's Day today had the not inconsiderable advantage of being able to lie in and still put 15 miles on the road before breakfast. I was awake at 6, up at 6:30, and, after fixing breakfast for Shea (an early riser as well), was out of the door at 7. Luxury! It had been raining all night which finally took care of the fires, but I decided to revisit the Devil's Elbow for 2 more loops. Running the day after a long run is always challenging at first, your legs feel stiff and tired and you can't imagine spending a couple of hours running, but after 2 miles I was into my stride and the miles clicked by. As I was cresting the hill for the second time I did enjoy the fact that this was the fifth and last time I had to drag myself over that hill in 24 (ok, 27) hours.

Since I did not have to be home at a set time I toyed with the idea of adding a bit extra, but then thought that I would spend plenty of time on my feet for the rest of the day and went home. The time on feet did materialise later in form of Killorglin's Patrick Day's parade. We had to split up the family, Niamh took the boys to Glenbeigh for the walk with their school and I brought the girls to Killorglin for Lola's school's march. I got roped into walking the parade rather than watching it from the sidelines, which is why I don't have any real photos of it. The weather turned warm and sunny just in time, and nobody's parade got rained on. As you can imagine, the boys were thrilled to be inside a real fire engine. The kids all got their sweets, which ensured happy faces all round.



I got a slight change of plans for the next few months, but I'll keep that under wraps for now. Laters.

15 Mar

5 miles, 40:23, 8:04 pace, HR 131

16 Mar

22.1 miles, 2:54:23, 7:53 pace, HR 142
last 4.5 miles @ 7:10

17 Mar

15.15 miles, 2:01:08, 7:59 pace, HR 145
last 4 miles @ 7:25 pace

Mothers Day

I hardly know what to do with myself today. It’s the first weekend in 7 weeks without a race! After years of Kerry being almost entirely devoid of road races this sport has really taken off around here and these days I end up missing races within the county because of sheer numbers. However, today is the exception and since it coincides with Mothers Day, it’s quite a lucky coincidence.

After not feeling any muscle pain or fatigue on either Wednesday or Thursday after my early morning marathon, I was quite surprised when it all caught up with me on Friday. I was really tired, not just during my early morning run but all day, and on the run itself I felt rather stiff and awkward at first, though that rectified itself soon enough. My heart rate was very low, which is a very good sign and I’m rather confident I’ll be in Connemara right at peak shape.

Due to the lack of a race this weekend I did a faster training workout on Saturday. Since my training has been dominated by the long runs and then a short race at the weekend, I haven’t had many opportunities for tempo runs and this part of training has been rather neglected. Luckily I’m not training for a marathon, where this would definitely have consequences; I’m hopeful it won’t have much of an impact for an ultra. Anyway, I did 2x3.5 mile yesterday on the reasonably flat road to Killorglin. I used to do a lot of these runs 2 years ago when training for Dublin and was usually frustrated by my lack of ability to hit the intended pace and by the slowdown during the second tempo segment. These days I’m not bothered about the exact pace any more, but my goal was to run the fast segments somewhere around 6:30 pace. I was quite pleased when the first section came through in 6:25, though as soon as I hit the second part I pretty much knew that it would be slower. The half mile recovery between the fast runs always leaves me feeling stiff at the start of the second part. Anyway, the pace was still not bad and eventually averaged out at 6:32, which I definitely would have taken beforehand.

I knew the kids had planned a few surprises for Niamh for today and I also knew from experience that there will be a lot less cleaning up to do (and a lot fewer things broken) if they are supervised when doing this. When I heard whispering at around 7:30 this morning I was out of the bed in a flash and we got busy in the kitchen. Niamh got breakfast in bed (scrambled egg with smoked salmon), which she approved of, but she had even more praise for the kids’ presents. Later she asked to go for a walk and suggested to take the twins up to the Devil’s Elbow while I minded Cian and Maia. Maia is too big to be carried up the mountain but too small to walk all the way by herself at the moment. My alternative suggestion, that she’d take the three older ones while I run with Maia in the pram was accepted and we were soon off. We did not expect the road to the picnic spot to be blocked off for cars all of a sudden, which meant a longer walk for her, though it didn’t make any difference for Maia and me. As I found out, pushing a pram up a hill at about 8% gradient is rather hard work; who would have thought that 13-minute miles could be so strenuous. Actually, it did remind me of the mountain race last year, when an even slower pace was just as exhausting. Anyway, we managed to catch up with them halfway through, but the pram could not go to the top and we left the rest of them on their adventure, descending the road in the “speedy, speedy pram” (Maia’s words). She really seemed to enjoy the outing, but after being full of chat early on she got more and more quite as the run went on, and after 6 miles the 2 of us were back home. We should do that more often.

12 Mar

6.1 miles, 50:37, 8:16 pace, HR 131

13 Mar

10.1 miles, 1:10:21, 6:58 pace, HR 156
incl. 2x3.5 miles @ 6:26 (HR 164), 6:32 (HR 166)

14 Mar

6 miles, 53:01, 8:48 pace, HR 150
with Maia in the pram

Weekly Mileage: ~62 miles

Race Review, Ultra Training

It certainly took a while, but on Tuesday I finally found some results from Saturday’s duathlon. I got a few surprises. I came 15th overall and 3rd M40, which is not the surprising bit. One thing that struck me is that I was just about the slowest person in both transitions. I already knew that I had left a lot of time in the second transition, but I had thought that the first transition had gone reasonably well. Apparently not. But what really blew my mind was the fact that I had the third fastest time in the second running leg! Only the overall winner and the fourth placed athlete had posted a faster second run time. What can I learn from it all?

1. Practise transitions. They really are worth it.
2. Buy some lock laces.
3. Run the first run harder.
4. Do some bike training.

Admittedly, none of that is too enlightening.

Moving on, the focus is very much back on Connemara. After three easy days following Saturday’s race, I was up early again on Wednesday. Niamh immediately knew what I was up to when she saw me prepare a sports drink on Tuesday evening.

Niamh: “Running long tomorrow?”
Thomas: “Yup”
Niamh: “It really must be long if even you admit to it being a long run”

Then I set the alarm for 3:45, got up after a few hours of sleep and ran a very hilly marathon.

Originally I had planned another 30 miler but decided to play it safe (well … different shades of safe) and “only” did a bit over 26 miles. But unlike the 30 miler from a fortnight ago and the 25 mile run before that, this time I ran around Caragh Lake, and I ran the loop counter-clockwise to get to the really big climb late in the run, to make it more specific to the Connemara topography. In fact, it was very specific, with 10 flat(-ish) miles at the start(just like Connemara) and more and bigger hills as the run went on (just like Connemara). I took a gel at mile 10 and then brought a bottle of sports drink with me. I had not tried that brand before, but an awful lot of American ultra runners are singing its praises, so a few weeks ago I ordered some (Shit! I paid how much for shipping???) and now it was time to try it out in the field. The good news is that my stomach seems to like it. The bad news is that my taste buds don’t. But I think I’ll use it for Connemara. It’s more trustworthy than my own concoction of slim-fast and rice milk, even though that seemed to work very well on my first Ultra, three years ago.

I also tested the Nike Lunar Elites on that run. They came through very well, and are now firm favourites to be used in Connemara. My feet were in excellent condition throughout. What amazed me was how fresh I felt after running over 26 miles in 3:39 on a ridiculously hilly course. I wasn’t even fatigued yet, even though I had lowered the pace to about 7:20 after 20 miles of 8:30. Niamh remarked that I did not look like someone who had just run long. I felt great, was full of energy for the rest of the day (no nodding off at work, Ewen), and one day later there is still no muscle soreness.

However, I did have some pains in my left shin. I noticed it first during some of the descents after mile 20, which I ran fairly hard, but it was still ok at the time. It became a lot worse during the day, and at one stage in the afternoon I was hobbling through the office. Cycling home seemed to do it some good and I played with the idea of adding a 15 mile run today, to make this a back-to-back workout. From an energy point of view I would have pulled it off easily, but in the end (in fact, in the middle of the night when my shin was still sore) I decided to play it safe and packed my swimming bag instead. With 4 weeks to go to Connemara I do not want to risk injury, and 45 minutes in the pool had to do instead. On the plus side, my shin seems to have recovered. I’m pain free already.

Niamh’s cold seems to have passed me by, my sore throat was gone yesterday morning and I feel perfectly fine. It’s really cool to be able to run a marathon and not even feel sore. I have never been in such ultra-running shape before, and I have to admit I like it.

10 Mar

26.3 miles, 3:39:17, 8:20 pace, HR 134

11 Mar

45 minutes swimming

Weight

I know I have been mentioning my weight a couple of times. I assure you, this has nothing to do with body image concerns and everything to do with trying to improve my running times. I can’t even spot 5 pounds of difference in the mirror, not that I keep a close eye. A few weeks ago I purchased a book about this issue, Racing Weight by Matt Fitzgerald (the author of Brain Training for Runners), and found it very, very good. He gives loads of information about nutrition, clears up a lot of myths about carbs, proteins, fat and their ratios and has several good suggestions; if you want to implement them is entirely up to you.

One thing I did for a week or two was to keep a food diary. I had tried that once before, but this time really made an effort to keep it as accurate as possible. Apparently I take in about 2500 calories a day, and the ratios tend to be around 60 carbs/20 protein/20 fat, or maybe a bit more carbs. From what I gather from the book, this is perfectly fine.

The other suggestion I followed was purchasing a scale that displays your body fat percentage. I really had to swallow my pride for that one as I had always taken the piss out of these contraptions before. Actually, I would not have gotten one had the local German discount supermarket not offered one in a special deal the other week. Even if it’s useless, 20 Euro is no big loss. When I set up my details (age, height and activity level) I got a bit of a surprise. The highest activity level sounded appropriate from the manual (it even mentions intensive running), and my body fat percentage came out as 5%. I know with absolute certainty that this can’t be right. I tried again with the next lower activity level (up to 20 mins jogging, 3-4 times a week) and all other setting left the same, and the much more believable result was about 11%. This does not exactly give me a lot of confidence in the algorithm used, but will do as a baseline. As Matt Fitzgerald points out, consistency is more important than accuracy, because even if the results are out by a few percent you can still follow your ups and downs.

Anyway, the irony is that after reading all those clever things the one thing that made a change had nothing to do with anything from the book. You might remember that I have given up sugar for lent (which I’m still adhering to), and by now the weight loss is over 5 pounds, from over 150lbs/10st10/68kg to 145lbs/10st5/65.8kg, and amazingly this has been achieved despite never going hungry in the mean time. Just how much chocolate had I been eating? What helps is having plenty of fruit right at my desk as well as in the fruit bowl at home, and things like peanuts and almonds for grazing (another one of Matt’s tips). This really seems to work. If only I had known earlier. Niamh refused to step on the scales as she was worried I might have caught up, but this was eventually proven wrong. There is still a gap between us, much to her relief.

As far as running is concerned, there was a fair amount of discomfort in my quads, and it felt different to anything I’ve ever gotten before, so I guess it’s the cycling that’s responsible for that. Looking back at the race, I was quite disappointed to see my HR graph for the cycle leg where the HR was dropping steadily from over 170 at the beginning to 160 at the end, which is not what I would like it to look like. But I can’t be too critical about my racing performance seeing as I had gone into the race on exactly zero bike specific training, just falling back onto my basic running fitness and the commuting miles. It was always clear that there would be room for improvement, and only losing 2 places during the entire cycle leg was much better than expected anyway.

I have been taking it very easy running wise since then; the one workout that pleased me most were just over 60 minutes of swimming in the pool on Sunday, which shows that my swimming fitness is definitely improving, even if the swimming pace still seems painfully slow.

6 miles on a beautiful Sunday morning were followed by 8 very slow ones in the icy cold temperatures of early Monday, with 5 more today. The HR on Monday was very low and there was a big jump in that reading today, even though I do not feel any different. There are two possible explanations for this. Either today’s reading was wrong, or my body is fighting off the cold that had affected Niamh over the last two days. She felt really rotten on Sunday and Monday but is much better now. I’ve had a sore throat for the last 2 days and the girls both have runny noses, so there is definitely something doing the rounds in our household. With just over 4 weeks to go to Connemara, getting sick now would be a complete disaster.

7 Mar

am: 6.1 miles, 49:32, 8:07 pace, HR 134
pm: 60+ minutes swimming

8 Mar

8 miles, 1:08:24, 8:33 pace, HR 130

9 Mar

5 miles, 41:18, 8:16 pace, HR 141(?)

The Lure Of The Dark Side

After five years of running, mostly on roads (plus one mountain race), I decided to dip my toe … no, not into the water, because that would be the wrong picture as there’s no water involved in a duathlon. But it was my first ever competitive outing that required some strange mechanical contraption with wheels between myself and the road.

After taking it easy after the long midweek training runs I felt pretty much ready for anything. I measured my resting heart rate in the morning, for the first time in quite a while, which came up with 38, a figure I only get when I’m pretty much in top shape. But there was no denying that I was rather nervous.

Niamh took all the kids to Tralee, and shortly afterwards I hopped onto the bike for the short trip into Killorglin, where the race was staged. I got there almost an hour before the start and the place was buzzing and the bicycle racks were almost full already – a very different scene to what a running race would have looked like so far ahead of the start. After my usual warm-up we got a briefing from the race referee, and everything was rather serious. Even though I was mostly concerned with having fun, it was clear that many others were taking this very seriously indeed. There were some seriously mean looking bikes at display, and I felt a bit intimidated with my road bike, but when I took a second look I noticed that most bikes were much closer to mine in race worthiness than the mean machines.

The first leg was a 5K run, though it was a bit shorter than that in reality. I expected to be fairly close to the front, to be honest, then to fall back on the bike, and then see what would happen on the second run leg. I was therefore rather surprised by the sheer number of runners who sped off at the front at great speed. Since I would be out there for well over an hour, I was not going to tire myself out at 5K race pace and settled into a slower pace that felt closer to jogging. Or so I thought, because when I glanced at the Garmin after a couple of minutes it showed I was doing about 5:50 pace. That didn’t really matter as we were soon climbing the big hill, but to be fair it was the only real hill we had to battle today. I kept my place on the climb and gained half a dozen on the subsequent descent. Then we turned left onto the old road and took a long sweeping curve around the hill we had just climbed, back into Killorglin. While some of that road is not part of my usual training routes, I am familiar with all of it. There was not much to say about the first run, and I was back at the race HQ after just over 17 minutes of running, 6:21 pace.

Despite reading about the necessity of it, I had never practised a transition. I managed to put on my helmet before taking my bike of the rack, which was the major thing that had been hammered into us at the briefing. I changed my shoes, which went well, but had troubles switching my Garmin to running mode, which took about 3 tries. It only cost a couple of seconds, but I really wanted it on the bike setting so that it would display may cadence, the only bit of information I was really interested in.

I had no idea what to expect on this leg. I have not done any cycling training at all, but have been using the bike for my commute, about 5 miles each way. This today was to be twice as long and at much faster pace, and I was a bit worried about being shown up badly. Things started off pretty well when I immediately overtook another competitor, which was an unexpected bonus. For almost 4 miles we cycled along the main road in the direction of Glenbeigh. I lost two places on this stretch; the race referee had warned us about the drafting rules, but those guys were going past me at quite some pace and there was never any danger of me violating that rule, even if I had wanted to. But apart from these 2 minor setbacks, things went very smoothly and I felt like flying. But even at that stage I was aware that the main reason for this was the blustery wind at our backs, and obviously we would have to pay for that later on. One thing I noticed was that I held a much higher cadence than the other riders. I did check my Garmin on several occasions and I was usually a little over 90, while others were clearly doing less than that. But I felt more comfortable at spinning the crank faster and didn’t feel like I had the power in the quads to switch to a different gear.

Eventually we reached the school road towards Cromane, again a road that I’m rather familiar with, but usually I’m running it, and in the opposite direction. Anyway, I was still holding my own, and still spinning the wheels. In fact, I managed to keep the other rider in front at roughly the same distance. Almost 6 miles into the cycle leg we took a sharp right turn onto the Cromane road and headed back towards Killorglin. This is where the wind really became a factor. A time trial bike would have given a real advantage here, but me, and in fact all the riders close to me, had to battle the elements on more ordinary bikes. I lost one more place (a net loss of 2 on the cycle leg so far), and then the road became really, really bumpy. We had been told about this, and it didn’t catch me entirely by surprise, but it was a lot worse than I had thought. Between the wind and the very uneven road surface, the fun factor started dropping like a lead balloon, but all I could do was to keep going as fast as I could. Since I seemed to be the only rider in running shorts (I simply don’t have the cycle equipment and no inclination of spending my money on it either), it is entirely feasible that I was the only one whose bum was getting numb from being bounced on the saddle like that, but I doubt it. Eventually, after what seemed like a very long ride on the road to hell, we emerged back on the main road and things became smooth again. The roads were not closed to traffic, by the way, but it never became an issue. I had to cross the roads several times, both on the bike and on foot, and each time the stewards cleared the road for me. A big thank you should go to the flawless organisation of the event as well as the understanding drivers in Kerry (who aren’t always as accommodating).

I did lose contact to the riders ahead of me on the last stretch, but not by too much. As I was nearing the race HQ again, a steward reminded me to dismount the bike, which I would have forgotten otherwise in all the excitement. However, unaccustomed as I am to these things, I lost my balance as the cleats on my shoes came into contact with the tarmac of the road and I fell over, acquiring a bloody knee in the process. Full of endorphins as I was I didn’t feel any pain at all, just shouted “I’m ok, I’m ok” to whoever wanted to come to my aid, grabbed my bike and ran into the second transition. A tad over 9.5 miles had taken me almost exactly 31 minutes (~18.4 mph, avg. cadence 92).

The bike rack was pleasingly empty, and I found my place without problems. However, frantic as I was I had real troubles getting my shoes off my feet. I should have been easy enough, just press the red button and get out, but nothing moved. Eventually I told myself to calm down and take a few breaths, and when I tried it again it all worked as it should. Then I had troubles again tying the laces of my running shoes. That’s the one problem I’m ready to throw money at for the next time, triathlon lock laces would have saved me half a minute in there. When I finally emerged from the second transition area I saw three guys ahead of me that didn’t look at all like the guys I had been close to during the cycle leg. Sh*t, just how much time had I just spent in that transition?

I was so glad to be back to a real sport again and spun my legs for fun. There were three guys just ahead of me, who must have overtaken me while I was fighting my shoes, and three more guys in the far distance who presumably were the ones I had been close to during the cycle leg. I almost immediately went past the first guy, and even before the hill I was past the second one and close to the third one. The legs felt really weird. I have heard often enough that the main thing in triathlon running is how your legs feel after the bike, and I think I now know what they are talking about. My calves and hamstrings kept sending unfamiliar messages, nothing I had ever felt before, but it didn’t stop me from running pretty much all out. I followed the next guy up the hill, and by the time we had reached the top the cycle leg had been forgotten and I had my running legs back. I left the guy behind on the descent and started working on the massive gap to the guys in front.

I was making surprisingly good progress. Halfway into the run I was very close to the next guy, but as soon as I got within a couple of steps he took off and opened another gap. Ok, let’s try this again. Working as hard as I could I closed the gap again, and once more he took off. Bastard! On the plus side, we both went past another guy who had clearly slowed down. And we were chasing another runner, clad in orange. Gaps kept shrinking, but I was running out of road. I was still a good bit behind both of them when we turned onto the main road for the last time and saw the finish right in front of us. Had this been a true 5K I might have caught both of them, but I ran out of road and finished about 4 and 2 seconds behind them respectively. Ah well, gaining 4 places on the second running leg was good work, and the pace on that stretch had been 6:25, which isn’t bad, an hour into a race.

Anyway, before the race I had expected about 20 minutes for each running leg, 35 minutes for the bike and something for the transitions, which would have given me a time of 1:15 – 1:17, but in fact it only took about 1:08 (I haven’t seen any results at the time of writing) and I was quite pleased. There is definitely plenty of room for improvement, especially on the bike (where the HR was dropping all the way through) and in the transition, but for a first outing I was happy enough with the result. The runner I had chased over the last 2 miles came up to me and basically thanked me for pushing him along, and I managed to avoid telling him who much I would have loved to beat him. I kept hanging around for a while socialising, avoiding the chocolate bars (but pinching some for the kids), and eventually swung back on my bike and headed home. On a gorgeous day like today, this was great. But there’s no doubt about it, I’m still a runner.

All the best to Grellan in Barcelona. I really, really, really hope you can break 3 hours, mate.

4 Mar

50 minutes swimming

5 Mar

6.1 miles, 49:47, 8:10 pace, HR 134

6 Mar

11+ miles running, 9.5 miles cycling, including:
Puck Warriors Duathlon Killorglin, ~1:08

Shoes

With less than 6 weeks to go until Connemara, it’s time to pick a pair of runners for said race, a not entirely inconsequential task, I might add. I have run virtually every race since last year in Nike Lunaracers, which happen to be the perfect racing shoe, in my humble opinion, from 5K to marathon. The trouble is, I’m probably too chicken to use a pair of flats for an Ultra. While I have run 3 marathons in these babies without any foot problems, adding another 13 mile distance may be pushing it a bit. I don’t know, but apart from trying it out once there is no real way of finding out.

Until 2 weeks ago, my shoe cabinet contained 4 pairs of runners:

1. Asics Stratus, ~100 miles, 360 grams
2. Nike Skylon, ~200 miles, 298 grams
3. Nike Lunaracer, ~500 miles, 175 grams
4. Nike Lunaracers, 80 miles, 186

The second pair of Lunas were supposed to be the replacement for the first, and indeed saw action in Dublin, but then I was too cheap to throw out the old pair and used it in every race since. Last Saturday I noticed that the upper has started detaching itself from the sole and it might finally be time to say good-bye. Anyway, I recently acquired 2 more pairs, one with the intention of using them in the Ultra, the other one to stay in the cupboard until being called upon:

5. Nike Lunar Elite, by now 38 miles, 306 grams
6. Asics Speedstar, 0 miles, 260 grams

I purchased the Elites after reading a review on the web where I got the impression that they were a slightly more cushioned version of the racers, which sounded just perfect for Connemara. When they arrived I was more than a bit annoyed to find them almost twice the weight of the racers and even heavier than the Skylons. They also included some stability features, which I neither need nor want. Having said that, after taking them for a few runs I have to admit that they seem quite comfortable, an the additional 8 grams in comparison to the Skylons are hardly telling (btw, I used the Skylons for my 30 mile run last week). At the moment they are probably slight favourites for the Connemara job, but I haven’t ruled out the Skylons or the Lunaracers either.

As for the training, Monday was an easy day, the second one in a row after Saturday’s race, and the original plan was to run another 20/20 sandwich on Tuesday and Wednesday. Tuesday went according to plan, the conditions under an almost Full Moon were ideal and I ran reasonably close to 8:00 pace, my (dream) goal pace in Connemara, over the very hilly Caragh Lake route (yes, hillier than Connemara on average). But I could not fail but notice the soreness in my quads for the rest of the day, which made me question the wisdom of another 20 miler immediately afterwards.

I was still undecided by bed time, and set the alarm in time for 20 miles. But when I woke ion the middle of the night to go to the toilet, the quads seemed worse than during the day; but the real clincher was the rain and wind I could hear outside. It sounded truly miserable, and after some soul searching I reset the alarm for 5:10 am, in time for one 16.5 loop around the lake.

The forecast had been awful for the night, but it wasn’t quite as bad. It was raining, but not as heavy as I feared. But in contrast to the forecast it was not windy and that made all the difference. Thanks to the Full Moon it was very bright, even through the thick cloud cover, and the rain stopped about an hour into my run. My legs felt very weary, and I knew from the first step that the next 135 minutes would not be the most fun-filled ones I’d ever had, but I managed to drag myself across the hills and down into the valleys, and by the time I was back home the sun was shining, the clouds had completely disappeared and it was a really beautiful day. I felt I was the only person in Kerry who knew how miserable it had been 2 hours earlier, but kept that my little secret.

The quads are not actually sore, but they do feel very tired and heavy. I guess cutting down today’s run was the right thing to do, and I’m sure there are plenty of folks out there arguing that I’m overdoing it as it is, especially with last week’s 30 miler in mind.

It was so nice at lunchtime that I could not resist leaving the office for a 20 minutes extra spin on the bike in the sun. If the roads were not in such awful condition after last winter it would have been even better, but you can’t have everything.

1 Mar

5 miles, 42:12, 8:26 pace, HR 131

2 Mar

20 miles, 2:41:48, 8:05 pace, HR 143

3 Mar

16.5 miles, 2:17:08, 8:19 pace, HR 137

A Jog In The Park

I went into this race knowing fine and full well that I had sabotaged any hopes of doing well with my 30 miles training run on Wednesday. My main worry was not to get injured, because 2 easy days after such a long run are hardly enough to recover fully. Before the race I had a chat with John Foley, he was complaining about his hamstrings and I was moaning about my quads, so between the two of us we had one fully working set of legs.



After opening miles of 5:45 in the first 2 races of series I decided to back off the suicidal early pace for a start. I ignored the 10 or so runner that streamed past me over the first quarter mile, and watched both John and Pat slowly pull away from me. Shortly after the first km marker I counted the steps between myself and John and came up with 20, which meant I was about 7 seconds behind, which would equate to maybe 10 seconds per mile pace difference. If he started at the same pace as always, I was doing just fine.

I was definitely having an easier time than last week. Close to the halfway point of the course I remembered how I had started falling apart here one week ago, and could not help but notice that I was feeling far more comfortable today. To my surprise I was actually getting closer to John and Part again, they were less than 10 steps ahead at that point and I was toying with the idea of trying to close the gap. I did go past one runner in a red singlet, but either the pace started catching up with me again or John and Pat both found another gear, because they started pulling away again. With 1 km to go I did try and push harder, but I simply did not have what it takes mentally today to push myself to the absolute limit. Shortly afterwards the red singlet passed me again like I was standing still. Had he done so at a slightly more reasonable pace I might have tried to hitch a ride in his shadow, but I could not possibly match that pace. Over that last half mile I watched in amazement as he went past Pat and John (and possibly even one more runner, my memory is slightly hazy), while I was trying to survive the last part of the course with the obligatory killer hill finish. When I saw the finish clock I was surprised to see that it had only just gone past 18:00 and I crossed the line with it displaying 18:13, which they correctly rounded up to 18:14 in the final standings, equalling my time from the first race of the series and 10 seconds faster than last week but in far better shape.

That's not due to the mile splits. When I checked them later, at home, to my utter astonishment they were 5:41, 5:54 and 6:07. So much for starting easily, and apparently I blew my chances for a new PB only on the final hill. I really had no idea!

A little devil on my shoulder kept reminding me that I was only 7 seconds off my PB and that I would have broken it had I pushed harder. However, my far more relaxed attitude today may well have been the reason for a good time. But I can't help but wonder if I could have broken that time had Wednesday's run been 20 miles rather than 30. There's no point crying about a lost opportunity, though. My A race is Connemara, everything else is just a training run for that. A new PB today would have been nice (and completely unexpected), but a PB in Connemara means worlds more to me.

After a couple of minutes I remembered that Shauna from work was running as well, so I jogged back along the course, spotted her after a minute, and kept encouraging her for the rest of her race. To my surprise I found that I would have made a good slave driver (“Don't slow down! Push harder! Sprint to the finish! Don't slow down!”), but rather than hating me for it she thanked me afterwards for the support.

I managed to resist all the chocolate at the spread afterwards (I nicked some for the kids), and waited for the prize ceremony. I told Pat that one day I'll catch him, but he put me into my place when he told me that his marathon PB was 2:26. Holy cow! What a runner!

Anyway, when the prizes were given out it turned out that I didn't even have to fall back to my old age to collect a reward. They rather generously awarded prizes for the top 8 men, and I just happened to have come 8th in the series, leaving the top M40 spot to Seamus. News of the 20 Euro gift voucher was very well received by Niamh!

Addendum: A belated comment to last week's race by an anonymous reader was this:

hey i think the 5k in killarney is short unless you are running some kind of wordld record for the last 172 metres. if you're garmin is correct for 3 miles then the race looks about 60 metres short.

I know that there was a discrepancy between the Garmin and what it should have displayed on an accurate 5k. Last week it showed 3.07 miles at the finish, and 3:08 this week, rather than 3:11 as it should have. However, that's a difference of about 1%, well within the Garmin's error margin. I have heard that the course has been measured with a Jones counter on more than one occasion. In the end you can only trust the organisers to come up with an accurate course. If the course is indeed short by 50 meters, there's nothing I can do about that. But to me, personally, my times on that course count as genuine 5k races.

27 Feb

11+ miles, including:
Gneeveguilla 5k race series, race 4, 18:14, HR 179
12th place, 2nd M40, 8th overall in series. 20 Euro prize money

28 Feb

6.1 miles, 48:56, 8:01 pace, HR 144

Weekly Mileage: 66+

The Ultra Before Breakfast

I just realised that I can receive the wireless Internet signal here in the doghouse where I have been sleeping ever since Niamh read my previous entry. Just kidding of course, one of the many benefits of being married to the best wife of all is that I can get away with stuff like that. Unless she’s really clever about it and tries to lull me into a false sense of security…

Anyway, unlike last time I have actually done some running that is worth mentioning. On Wednesday morning I was awake at 2:30, listening to the rain outside, having visions of a truly miserable slog through the forbidden darkness in the freezing rain for several hours. Luck was on my side, it stopped raining at about 3 o’clock, and at 3:14 I got up, a minute before the alarm would have sounded, and in the process broke my first record of the day, namely that for the earliest rise for the sake of a run.

When I wrote the outline of my training several weeks ago, I concentrated mostly on the long runs. When I pencilled in 30 for this week, I definitely thought I might move that to the weekend, because nobody in their right mind would get up in time for a run like this during the week before a normal 8-hour workday. As it turns out, a right mind doesn’t come into it when I’m around and just after 3:30 I opened the door and off I went.

I did not fear the distance, but I was definitely worried about my quads, which had not stopped sending signals since the Bantry race, 10 days ago. As a result, I started out very slowly. I first checked my Garmin when I reached the streetlights in Killorglin, over 4 miles later, and saw the average pace at 8:27. That would do nicely. I had expected to find a totally quiet town and was rather surprised when two cars slowly passed me on the main road. They then turned into the (empty) petrol station, and one of the drivers got out and started shouting and hollering after me. That wasn’t particularly pleasant, the fella sure did not sound particularly sober, and I was relieved when I turned off the main road on my way back to Caragh Lake and a minute later heard the cars continue straight on that junction, bringing peace and quite back into my little bubble once more.

Just before the 10 mile mark I was back home, took a gel and some water and headed out again on the same loop for a second time. It was still completely dark, and still before 5 o’clock. I increased the pace by a notch, and a check in Killorglin, now at the halfway point of both my run and that loop, revealed that the pace for that loop had gone down to 8:16. Again, I encountered a car on the main road, but thankfully without incident this time. There were also one or two cars on the Caragh Lake road on the way home. I took a muesli bar at mile 15 and another gel just as I got back home (gels during a long being explicitly allowed during my otherwise no-sugar pledge).

Almost 20 miles down I took stock. I felt ok, the quads were definitely behaving and my energy levels were good. The balls of my right foot sent out a few pain messages, but nothing severe. I was good to go out again.

The original plan was to do a third loop into Killorglin, but I changed my mind. A short loop meant I could return home sooner if I got into trouble. And today I really treasured being out there on my own; I knew I would encounter a few cars on the road to Killorglin if I ran that way again and I chose a different loop that would be quieter. Plus, the 3 miles out-and-back section was easier to handle mentally as the next turnaround point was never far away. As I was nearing 23 miles I realised that my pace had deteriorated again, I was merely trudging along at 8:30 pace and since I did not have to safe myself for anything and had found some confidence in my quads I increased the pace, dipping below 8:00 for the first time today. That loop went very well, and I did not hesitate in heading out for one final time. I passed the imaginary marathon distance marker in about 3:38, still feeling good, but over the next mile or two I did notice some fatigue; the sub-8 pace was definitely a lot tougher than jogging at 30 seconds per mile slower, but I kept it going until the end. The energy levels were still good and I decided not to eat the second bar that I had carried around me for several hours.

With a quarter mile to go, the balls of my right foot started burning like hell. It was really painful and I was very grateful to be almost done. My theory is that the pain signals had been there all along but my brain had filtered them out until it knew I was almost done.

I reached our driveway after 4 hours and 8 minutes, having completed my longest training run ever, feeling rather proud of myself, to be honest. Each loop had been faster than the previous one, which was very good. If it had not been for the pain in my foot, I would have felt perfectly ready to do 9 more miles, which is excellent news for Connemara.

Cycling to work was fine for the first 4.5 miles, but I had to stop for traffic before crossing the main road and when I stepped back onto the bike, my left calf started cramping. Not too severe, but it served as a reminder that you can’t run for 30 miles and think you can get away without repercussions.

After that excursion, Thursday was always going to be a rest day, which I used to visit the pool again for a 45 minutes swim session. For obvious reasons I chose not to do any kicking drills. Sorry, coach.

I was back out on the road again today, Friday, for 6 very easy miles. The legs are definitely stiff and tired, even though they had felt perfectly fine since the long run, apart form that one cramp. Unsurprisingly I don’t have high expectations for tomorrow’s race. Maybe the rational thing would be to skip it, but it’s the final race of the series and I need one more result to make it into the final standings. I have no intentions of missing out on that one. If I have to, I’ll jog around the course.

24 Feb

30 miles, 4:08:24, 8:17 pace, HR 138
(9.7 miles @ 8:30, 9.7 miles @ 8:17,
6 miles @ 8:12, 4.6 miles @7:56)

25 Feb

45 minutes swimming

26 Feb

6.1 miles, 51:35, 8:27 pace, HR 137

Rambling, Very Little Running

With apologies to Donald.

Cian (aged 6): “Daddy, what’s your job?” Me: “I work with computers” Cian (disgusted)”That’s not a job!!!” Lola (aged 8): “He keeps the Internet going”. Hmm. I’m afraid Cian might be closer to the truth than his big sister.

My no-sugar pledge is still going strong. There have been a few interesting things I noticed. The weighing scales are showing 3 pounds less than a week ago. I’m a bit sceptical about the alleged rapid weight loss, especially since I’m not actually dieting and sure haven’t gone hungry, but when I put on my trousers on Monday, they almost dropped down again and I had to dig in my cupboard for a belt, which supports the scales’ findings.

Since sugar in coffee is off the list as well I realised just how awful coffee tastes, at least the stuff they have here in the office. I must have used the sugar purely to drown out the taste. So, an unexpected side effect of my no-sugar diet has been a radical drop in my coffee intake, from 1-2 cups a day no nothing at all during the week, though Niamh’s coffee at home is still good to go.

Talking about Niamh, she didn’t seem to have grasped the concept of no sugar, which became apparent a few evenings ago when she created a big trifle with sinful amounts of custard on top. To my exasperated refusal (“I said I’m off sugar!!” Stop tempting me!!!”) she responded with “what? Not even a small portion?”, which means she’s turning into her mother.

Talking about her mother, I should create a new web page that lists her gems. That list would include the old classics like “make sure Thomas takes plenty of breaks when he’s running” and “tell him to run the marathon slower so that you can see him finish” as well as new ones like “make sure Thomas does not exert himself during the race; after all he’s 40 now”. I’m not entirely sure why I just wrote that paragraph for the world and his dog to see. It might get me into trouble. Real trouble, and with Niamh as well.

Talking about Niamh again, I know she reads this blog, because that’s how she finds out what I’m up to these days. Whoever said the Internet kills communication in the family?

Since my weight seems to be dropping all by itself I have set the target of weighing less than my good lady wife, a challenge she seems to have accepted, if not officially. Since she has now started sharing my no-sugar desserts, this might have become a moving target. And by the way, according to this website, my present body fat count is only 10.6%, though I’m rather sceptical about the accuracy of the calculator, especially for athletes.

If you're wondering why on earth I started rambling like that, maybe all that no-sugar business is playing havoc with my sanity, which was in short supply to start with, according to quite a few people (including the fella from Saturday’s race. “If you want to run 50 miles there MUST be something wrong with your head”. He did know that I was standing right beside him, too. He was looking at me at the time!)

My quads still don’t feel right, which makes me wonder if I’m just imagining things by now. To be on the safe side I have now done no less than 3 easy days in a row since Saturday’s race. Sunday’s 6 miles were followed by 8 miles on Monday and 5 miles this morning, all of them at very easy pace.

To help the healing process in my quads along, I decided to wear some compression shorts to work on Monday. I know some people who use recovery tights regularly (“I used to live in them”) and swear by them, but all I had were some half-tights, which should do for my quads, or so I thought. As I found out to my discomfort, if you sit around the office all day then the quads are not the only part of your body that get compressed, and the whole experience became rather uncomfortable. I guess they’re not meant to be worn for hours at a time, and certainly not by someone who’s worried about maintaining his fertility (which I’m not. I can’t handle the 4 kids we’ve got already!). There’s no need for you to try this out yourself. You can learn from my mistakes without doing them yourself. You’re welcome.

I better stop now before I embarrass myself even more.

22 Feb

8+ miles, 1:06:07, 8:14 pace, HR 137

23 Feb

5+ miles, 42:41, 8:27 pace, HR 134

Not So Fast

As soon as I got up on Saturday I knew that the race would not go all that smoothly. The quads were still sore as a combination from last Sunday's race in Bantry and the subsequent 20-mile training run on Wednesday. Recovery was clearly taking longer than would have be ideal.

I had the same routine as for the first race of the series a fortnight ago. After a short run in the morning to wake up I drove Shea to Tralee for his CTY classes and then headed towards Killarney just in time to sign up for the race. The mountain before Tralee was covered in snow and Tralee's pavements were covered by a thick layer of ice, and I doubted if the race was going ahead at all. However, the closer I got to Killarney the clearer the road became, and Killarney itself was ice-free.



After a decent warm-up we gathered at the start line and were off just a few minutes late. The fast guys took off in front and I was a few steps behind John, who I had shared the entire last race with. Today I was never quite able to draw level, but I kept in close contact. The other guy around us was Pat O'Shea, who always seems to be running just a few steps ahead of me whenever we are in the same race. The fact that Pat is in the M55 age group serves as a humbling reminder to myself. The first mile seemed a little bit easier than last time, and at some stage I went past Pat in pursuit of John. This has happened before, for example in Farranfore at the end of January, but he always manages to pass me again. It was deja vu all over again when he emphatically went by at great speed somewhere during the second mile. I took the opportunity and hitched a ride. Had this been a 2.5K workout at 5K pace I would have done well, but alas, it was not. Things became increasingly painful and difficult, and I was simply unable to keep up with John and Pat. Slowly, very very slowly they pulled away from me and as much as I fought to keep in touch it was all in vain. Wheezing badly I passed the 4km marker, highly tempted to pull up and jog towards the finish but also thinking the the torture would be over in less than four minutes, and surely I would be able to hang on for that long.

I have raced a lot on this course in the last few months and know it very well by now. I was looking forward to the last left turn that would bring us out into the open and tried to once more increase the effort. But as hard as I tried, and I tried pretty damn hard, I could not prevent John and Pat from moving further and further away. The finish is the same killer hill as always and I really struggled to keep going. I had no idea what my time was, but when Pat went through the finish I could see a timer, saying 18:10 or so, and I knew that I was slower than last time. I finally crossed the line in 18:24, 10 seconds slower than a fortnight ago but as fast as anything I have done last year.

I was totally, utterly, completely spent. I staggered a few steps and then lay down on the floor in the middle of the road, spreadeagled, breathing heavily, unable to move. I must have been there for close to a minute, and eventually revived sufficiently to move again, rolled over and slowly returned to the vertical. At least I did not have to wonder if I had given everything I had.

The mile splits tell their own story with 5:43, 6:00 and 6:16, and if you compare them to last time (5:44, 5:58, 6:08) then the pattern is very similar, a steady slowdown after a fast (too fast) start, but I was a bit slower over the last mile this time round. The average HR was 180 according to the Garmin, but if you look at the chart it went over 180 before the first mile and never returned. In fact, it gradually grew up to a max of 186, which is very close to my absolute maximum.

It was only after the race that I remembered the old rule of recovering one day for each mile raced. There were never enough races around here for me to violate this rule in the past, but today I was at the start line only 6 days after the very hilly 10-mile run in Bantry, and my legs were not entirely ready for another go. I was so exhausted afterwards that I could not even write a race report later on, but a good night's sleep did wonders and I'm much better today. I'm even looking forward to next week's final race of the series. With a recovered set of legs I might have an outside chance of bettering my PB, but next week's training won't be all nice and easy. I've still got an Ultra to run in the not-so-distant future.

19 Feb

6 miles, 50:51, 8:28 pace, HR 131

20 Feb

10 miles, including:
  Killarney Gneeveguilla 5k, race 3 in series
  18:24, avg. HR 180. 8th overall, 1st M40

21 Feb

am: 6 miles, 41:38, 8:19 pace, HR 135
pm: 30+ minutes swimming

The First Day of ... Lent

To start with the good news, I survived the first day of lent with my pledge still intact. The bad news is, the next 45 days are going to be looooooooong. As I sat down in front of the telly last night, I almost got up and went to the sweets cupboard, because that’s what I have been doing virtually every evening in the last 3/4/5 months (not sure when exactly that habit started). Drinking my cuppa without nibbling on chocolate felt entirely alien.

And can you believe it, they started selling scones in the office on the first day of lent. Beautiful, big, sugary, sinful ones at that. Luckily it was still the first day of lent and I was never going to cave in so quickly, but I’ve got a feeling that the next 45 days are going to be looooooooong.

And, by the way, I did some training as well. I lied in my last post when I said that I would go back to bed if I noticed some discomfort in my legs on Wednesday morning. I might have meant it at the time, but when I got up and noticed some discomfort in my legs I decided it was not THAT bad and went running anyway. It was freezing cold and I got caught by a rain shower around mile 9, but that only lasted for half a mile and was no big issue. What was a big issue was the pain in the quads that I noticed on each and every downhill. It got progressively worse, but when I passed our driveway after 16.5 miles it was still manageable and since there were no big hills on the out-and-back section I continued on. It was on that section that the pain really started, gradually but surely, and not just on the downhills. I am familiar enough with that kind of pain, when every single muscle fibre in the front of you thighs seems to be ripped apart with every step and you have trouble lifting your knees. This was a different problem to the one I had on the second run of my first back-to-back workouts a few weeks ago. Back then it was a lack of energy. Yesterday my energy levels were perfectly fine, the problem was muscular. This is exactly what it felt like in Connemara at mile 30, only tonight I was back home just as the real agony was about to hit and I was spared the worst.

If this was good training for Connemara (after all, that’s how your legs are going to adapt) or not (because I clearly was not recovered sufficiently to run 20 miles) is anyone’s guess. It is obvious that my kamikaze style descents during Sunday’s race have caused plenty of damage to my quads and I hope yesterday’s 20-mile run did not set back the recovery process by too much. I did not run today and went swimming instead (and a good session it was too. I’m definitely improving with every week) but the present feeling in my legs, especially the quads, is one of discomfort.

I’ll take it very easy tomorrow. There’s yet another 5K on Saturday, which may not be such a great idea but if I miss another one I won’t qualify for the results of the race series after skipping last week’s race, and I do have high hopes of winning the M40 age group. I could do the race and take it reasonably easy, but deliberately holding back in a race isn’t something I do.

17 Feb

20 miles, 2:46:14, 8:18 pace, HR 141

18 Feb

45 minutes swimming

Abstinence

Irish people, with the country’s strong catholic background, still take lent surprisingly seriously. While not many use it for the initially intended spiritual purpose, for most it represents a period of will power. I never saw much point in joining in, but this year is different.

Last week I told Niamh that I would be giving up sugar for lent. That’s cakes, biscuits, chocolate, sweets, sugar in coffee and so on. Niamh’s reply “but you’re not religious” was countered with “it’s about the sugar, not religion”, and that’s that. I’ve been raiding the sweet cabinet far too often over the last few months, and a bit of restraint should do me good. If my weight drops by the odd pound, that would be a highly welcome bonus. Two years ago, when I set most of my still standing PRs, I weighed less than 145 pounds, following my pneumonia-induced weight loss (a highly effective but definitely not recommended way of losing weight). These days I’m carrying around at least 5 extra pounds and if you believe the usually cited formula, that adds up to 10 additional seconds per mile. Since my present racing times are very similar to the ones from 2 years ago, the thought of cutting 10 seconds per mile by shifting a few pounds of fat is very appealing. Alas, in the past I have found it much easier to train more rather than eat less, and my weight never really dropped, not even during last summer’s mad set of repeated 100-mile weeks. We shall see what happens if I manage to cut out the white death crystals.

My legs have been very sore since Sunday’s race. I did notice the stiffness even during the cool down, and the 2 hours drive home didn’t do me any favours either. Accordingly I did 5 easy miles on Monday and 6 even easier miles this morning. I’m hoping my legs will be recovered by tomorrow morning for a long run, and if they are not I’ll get straight back to bed. One thing is for sure, the originally planned back-to-back workout is not going to happen this week, which I have now turned into a recovery week. I don’t want to wear out my legs, and racing 10 miles over an extremely tough and hilly course does call for some down time. I have in the past often neglected recovery and if I race well in Connemara I will know that that has been a mistake. If I collapse at mile 30, well, then I should have done more miles this time round.

15 Feb

5 miles, 43:23, 8:40 pace, HR 136

16 Feb

6.1 miles, 53:43, 8:48 pace, HR 134

Roller Coaster Ride

Well, what a fine Valentine’s Weekend it was. We spent Saturday shopping in Cork, after unashamedly ensuring we got our money’s worth from the breakfast buffet and after hitting the pool in the leisure centre. And even I got the benefits of the shopping trip, having purchased a wetsuit and other triathlon paraphernalia that had up to now been missing from my wardrobe. As Niamh pointed out, after spending all that money on stuff there is no way I can pull out of the Valentia race now.

In the afternoon we headed for Bantry for some more swimming and a wonderful meal. We really hit the jackpot on that one. After not booking a table it looked a bit hairy at one stage regarding dinner, but the lady in the hotel reception found us a table in the Fish Kitchen, and if you ever find yourself in Bantry one evening and like seafood, this is the place for you. Thia was a real find.

Anyway, Sunday came along and after my obligatory 3-mile pre-race run in the morning it was soon time to head towards the Mealagh Valley where the race would take place. I was glad to have left on time for a change because the drive took a lot longer than expected and when I got there the car park was full (“there are a lot more people than we had expected”) and we all had to get a bit creative about parking.

Anyway, I got my number and the run towards the start line was sufficiently long to serve as my warm-up. We had an unofficial reunion of the Gauntlet race from last November as three of us were wearing that race shirt and at least 3 more runners from that race were there as well. I also spoke briefly to John Walshe from Ballycotton, Pat O’Connor (Grellan’s neighbour) and John Desmond, the proprietor of South Ireland’s most important running websites.



The race started after a brief but moving speech from the RD about her young grandson and then we went our way. Alan O’Shea was there and he stormed off as if he was trying to lap the field and we mere mortals followed behind. We started by going over a hill and I was in maybe 20th place, but soon we were looking down a very long and extremely steep drop and with a loud cry of “woohoo” I just took off. I was not trying to show off or clown around, I was merely taking advantage of the gravity assistance and spun my legs as fast as they would move, which apparently was 4:30 pace. This catapulted me past almost the entire field and having survived the breakneck speed I found myself in fourth position, where I really had no place. Over the next mile as the course started going uphill at steeper and steeper gradients I gradually dropped back and didn’t attempt to keep pace with the much better runners.

Eventually John Desmond pulled up alongside me and I was able to keep up with him, at least for a while. We chatted for a bit and eventually he moved ahead, which was not surprising (John is a sub-3 marathoner, and I don’t usually manage to keep up with those folks). The climbs were getting ridiculously steep, we had to round some hairpin bends, and according to John I sounded like I was about to give birth. One more runner went past with the words “I’m not going to talk to you any more”, and it took me a couple of seconds to place him, until I remembered Phil Coffey from the Dublin marathon where he had pulled me along for about 2 miles when my wheels started falling off until I was no longer able to keep up. History initially repeated itself here as he pulled up to John, about 10 steps ahead of me, and I was unable to follow.

Somewhere between miles 3 and 4 I heard yet another set of footsteps, and when the runner pulled level I was about to say “Good Man” when I realised that the person in question was a) a woman, Moreen Harrington, and b) said exactly those words to me (we were both wearing the same outfit, the Gauntlet race shirt). It took half a second of processing to come back with reply. Now, having seen all those men go past me had been fine, but how would my fragile, vulnerably, insecure male ego deal with the fact of being chicked? The answer was not at all, and I jolted back into action and remained right behind her. Then the course dropped for a change, and half a mile of descent was all I needed. First Maureen and me pulled level with John and Phil, and since I felt I could run faster I went past all three of them and opened up a gap. I fully expected them to catch up with me again on the next climb that inevitably drew nearer, but I kept my momentum going and instead of being pulled back I managed to pull closer to two runners in front and eventually passed them as well. The fact that the road was not as steep any more was definitely a major plus point, I managed to keep a really good and strong rhythm going in that part of the race. John later told me that the gap between ourselves remained constant for the next 5 miles, but since I never looked back I was not to know this.

Eventually we reached the halfway point and I expected the road to drop from here on but was taught a lesson not to assume anything. Every drop was immediately followed by a climb back up to virtually the same elevation. I had the next runner in my sights. He initially had a good gap on me but I very slowly edged closer to maybe 20 or 30 steps behind him, but that’s where we stayed for a while.

I have to give a mention to the very enthusiastic support by the people of the Mealagh Valley. They really were out in force, at almost every driveway there was a family standing cheering loudly, there were signs all over the place, water stations being manned and the general support was great. They really added a lot to the atmosphere of the race and seemed genuinely excited about the event.

Anyway, on a long but not very steep drop towards mile 8 I was getting closer to my front-runner again. I started hearing his footsteps, which was worrying initially because they sounded like someone was catching up with me, but I eventually realised that the sounds were coming from ahead. At the foot of the climb I was right behind him only to find all the work for nothing as I lost contact again on the next climb. He opened up a good gap again, but shortly before the 9-mile sign the road started dropping steeply again and I was back in kamikaze mode, almost falling rather than running down the hill without too much thought for the consequences of one small misstep. The distance between us melted away, I gained one more place and immediately opened a gap. Then we turned left once more, passed the start line from which it was about half a mile of ups and downs (mostly downs though) towards the finish. Having gone from being the hunter to the hunted I was worried about losing my place again and pushed that last section with all I had. I was wheezing badly, and I don’t know what John would have made of it had he heard me at that point.

Someone must have added a few extra pieces of road since we had started an hour ago because it seemed a lot more drawn out, each time I thought the finish was straight ahead there was yet another bend and/or climb, but eventually I saw the line and crossed it in 1:05:39 on my watch (1:05:41 officially), in 13th place and ahead of a few runners that I normally have no business of beating, so I must have run well.

The course profile resembles the Big One in Blackpool more than a road race. The legs are letting me know that I had been in quite some race.

The post-race spread was spectacular, the socialising great, but eventually I had to head back towards Bantry where Niamh was waiting patiently and full of understanding. Hey, what could possibly be more romantic than running a race on a beautifully sunny day in stunning surroundings?

13 Feb

am: 6 miles, 46:40, 7:47 pace, HR 137
am: 30-40 minutes swimming
pm: 30-40 minutes swimming

14 Feb

15 miles, including:
  Valley Ring 10, Bantry, 1:05:41, 6:34 pace, HR 172
  13th overall, 3rd M40
  extremely spectacular but tough race