The Best Laid Plans

Training has been rather mundane so far. I've only just started running again and anything fancy will have to wait a little bit longer, so all I did every morning was to run 8 miles. To be honest, I expected to seem some form of improvement by this time already, but so far the pace might have improved but at the expense of a higher average HR. The perceived effort was always the same, so I was a bit surprised by some of the HR readings. I won’t take any real notice of that yet and just have to tell myself to show a little bit of patience.

My next race will be the half marathon in Valentia (no, not the one in Spain) a little over 6 weeks from now, but it will very much be a fun day out rather than a goal race. I really enjoyed the race the last time I did it, 2 years ago, which also happens to be the last time I ran a half. The fact that I set a new PB on a tough course and managed to win my age group helped of course.

After that, well, I will do my annual pacing duty at the Dublin marathon, this time for the 3:10 pace group. In November I will try and wipe the memory of last year’s traumatic finish in Sixmilebridge away (I don’t need to win, just not throw away a winnable race this time) and I am already looking forward to a nice December marathon in Clonakilty, which promises to be a good day already. All of these races are just training runs and there will be plenty more of that in 2014; the plan is to use plenty of marathons as my long runs to whip myself into shape to tackle my next real ultra.

26 Aug

8 miles, 1:05:22, 8:10 pace, HR 141

27 Aug

8 miles, 1:04:32, 8:04 pace, HR 144

28 Aug

8 miles, 1:03:38, 7:57 pace, HR 145

29 Aug

8 miles, 1:03:05, 7:53 pace, HR 149

And Niamh is Happy Too

It has been a long 2 weeks, it has to be said. I started taking 2 weeks of rest after major efforts on advice of Mystery Coach quite some time ago (ok, so he said a minimum of 2 weeks ...), and there were occasions when I was glad to take a full rest and time passed quickly enough. This time, though, I was really looking forward to getting back and could not wait. You might expect someone who just beat his body up by running 100 miles on the road to be glad for some rest, but that was not the case.

It's great to be back! Not even the rain could dampen my spirits.

The five miles on Sunday were just to get used to running again and I basically went as slowly as I could. Sunday was a good bit faster, though the effort was still very easy. I was stunned when I saw the HR on the screen, but this will come down very quickly. Within 2 weeks I expect to be running a minute per mile faster at the same HR.

24 Aug

5 miles, 42:00, 8:24 pace, HR 140

25 Aug

5 miles, 39:23, 7:52 pace, HR 151

Intermission (Still)

Niamh already enquired what I'm writing on my blog when I'm not running. I made a few suggestions but most of them were dismissed out of hand (what's new!). Luckily this state of affairs won't last much longer.

I had a funny encounter the other day. I was cycling to work when a car pulled up alongside me and the driver shouted "well done in Connemara!". That's a first one.

My self-imposed exile from running is nearing its end, I will be back on the road on Saturday. I have already been asked a couple of times if not running is making me cranky. I'm not sure if they are concerned about my mental health or if I'm starting to get obnoxious without noticing, but I think I will just about manage the next three days without any major incidents. But I am definitely looking forward to running again, which is a good sign.

There is one last thing about Connemara, if you allow me to indulge myself. I only noticed it now, but looking at the pace chart from the Garmin track, you can see that from  mile 93 onwards I did a lot more walking breaks than before. I was not aware of it at the time, but all of a sudden I must have switched from mostly running with the odd walking break to mostly walking with the odd running break. I don't know if that has any real meaning, but for someone who hopes to be able to transfer that sort of race from 100 miles to a 24 hours race this is slightly worrying. If I want to break 220k I need to keep the pace up.

I am very much aware that over the years I have read countless of blog entries stating "I will now push on to the next level" only for the runner in question to more or less disappear from the horizon, be it because of a lack of hunger (they obviously never really meant it, which happens all the time) or injuries. After stating in my last post that I want to push on to the next level, I hope I won't be joining that particular group. I'm pretty sure lack of desire won't apply. I have not been injured in years, but the state of my achilles does have me worried. I count injuries as things that stop me from running, anything else is just a niggle and usually gets ignored (a surprisingly effective treatment). I hope I can keep it that way - I've had achilles issues before and they always went away eventually, though I do not remember it ever taking quite so long.

More Nothings

I've had some interesting comments on my last post, but I'm still one week from resuming running and there is no need to rush a decision. Meanwhile, I remembered that I put my name down for the London marathon ballot, but my chances of getting in are slim indeed. However, should my name get drawn I have to think long and hard about it - running London would be one of the highlights of my running life and I don't think I could treat it as a long training run. Then again, chances are I won't have to make that decision.

Instead of looking too far forward, I tried to gather a few more memories of Connemara.

My crew sent me their photos, but unless someone is incredibly keen of seeing dozens of photos of my backside I don't think I'll post them. They do tell their own story with the changing weather and conditions, but then I'd really have to post them all.

I also have a list of all the things I consumed while running 100 miles; food, drink and Happy Pills. Looking at it now I am surprised that I included hardly any protein - all the sweets are carbs and even the savoury food was potatoes and pasta, again mostly carbs. It's hard to tell if protein would have made any difference - from the way the race went I'd say probably not.

I was in remarkably good spirits for most of the race, but Iain found out that it wasn't all good when after my first lap in Clifden he shouted "5 more laps to go" and I went "What? ..... THAT'S NOT FUNNY, GO AWAY!!!!". In my defence, mile 98 isn't the best place to make fun of a runner and from what I've heard I am not the first runner to suffer a serious loss of humour failure at that point (apparently this is usually Seb's joke). Iain was scared enough to hide in the shadows when I finished - I had to seek him out to apologise!

Unfortunately I missed the last finisher coming through on Sunday morning. I had checked out the facebook messages but miscalculated the expected finishing times - by the time I wanted to head off, the last man had already finished. Ray said during the presentation that this was the fastest ever time for the final runner to come through.

I cannot thank the organisers enough for everything they had been doing. This will never be a big race, it is far too extreme to ever attract a big crowd and there will never be any money in it. And yet there is always a team there who know that they will be out the entire day as well as the night, and still they keep volunteering. The runners are the ones who get all the glory, but they wouldn't be able to do anything without the selfless work of everyone else.

With every runner having a car at his or her disposal, I did worry if there might be the potential for some cheating going on, but throughout the day I kept seeing the race official on dozens of occasions and in different cars as well. Having experienced it, I am now confident that nobody in the race, neither this year nor any other one, ever went even an inch by car.

Grellan got his crew to write a report, and very worthwhile reading it is. Check it out.

For most of it I have recovered very quickly, but there was a tightness in my iliotibial band that lasted most of the week. I noticed an issue there at one point late in the race, but at that stage there was no part of my body that did not hurt, so I did not take much notice. My achilles has been rather stiff most mornings but did not hurt. I'm not entirely sure if that's a running issue or if I'm just getting old, but for the last few months I have been managing this issue rather than getting rid of it.

Lola let me know in no uncertain terms that coming second out of 12 was a lousy result. Second out of 100 or 1000 would be acceptable, but out of 12? That's no good. Who said that one's kids are always your harshest critics?

When running in Connemara, it did cross my mind that I was somewhat the picture of a frugal ultra runner. Almost everything I had on me was cheap - the tops were free, the shoes €40 from a sale, the rain jacket was €10 from Aldi, even the headlamp was 3.99 from the same source. While the shoes were top quality stuff (I'm not THAT stupid), in some ways you do get what you pay for; the jacket's zip is rather temperamental and I did worry if the headlamp would make it to Clifden, but it all worked out well and fancy stuff would not have gotten me into Clifden a second sooner. There might a lesson in there - mind, I would use better stuff for a run in the mountains!

The Best Laid Plans

Following Saturday's 100 mile race, I am of course in full recovery mode. The plan was always to take 2 weeks completely off and nothing has changed in that regard.

I actually feel surprisingly good, certainly much better than after the 24 hours race last year when I was completely wrecked for a considerable amount of time. I was able to drive home to Kerry on Sunday without any problems, though on Monday we went to Banna beach, and when I saw Niamh and the kids running across the sand I wistfully thought to myself "I wish I could do that".

My quads were stiff and reasonably sore, though I was able to walk up and down a staircase on Tuesday without looking funny. Cycling to and from work is also fine, and in fact will probably help the healing process because it gets a little bit of blood pumping through the legs.

Thinking back to the race, I am still very happy with how it went and how I applied myself over 100 miles. I'm reasonably confident that the equivalent performance in a 24 hours race would have seen me to over 220 km, which is the present IAAF / IAU Grade B standard. Maybe I will indeed don a National jersey one day, something that would have been so far beyond the realm of possibility not so long ago, it wasn't even on the same planet.

I still think Grellan should go for the same target, despite his protestations. Interestingly enough he claims it would require divorce. The situation could not be different in my own household where Niamh keeps proclaiming confidently that we would be heading for divorce as soon as I stopped running, so I'll just keep running for the sake of the children (who, by the way, weren't too impressed by me coming second yet again).

Talking about coming second, I have now been the bridesmaid in all of my last 3 big ultra events, Bangor, Sixmilebridge and Connemara. I am wondering if I lack a certain killer instinct that will push me just that bit more even if it's at the risk of blowing up completely, but looking at it rationally I think these races are usually decided in the months preceding the race rather than on the day itself. I can't help but notice that Grellan has run marathon after marathon, including back-to-back ones, all year, while I have been much more conservative in my approach, apart from the 10-in-10 - and even then, Grellan did over 150 miles that same week.

Graeme Colhoun confirmed his belief that marathons don't really cut it as long runs for a long ultra when I chatted to him briefly on Sunday, and you do need some longer runs as well. Finally, I did notice that Ruthann Sheahan ran 100km in Portumna only 5 weeks before setting an incredible new record in Belfast.

Therefore, right now I'm playing with the idea of really pushing the envelope for the first half of next year, though right now this is still only a fairly vague idea in my head. Right now is definitely the time to make new plans, though. I've had most of my recent racing planned all the way back to the start of 2012 when I decided to run the 24 hours in Bangor that year followed by the Connemara 100 in 2013, with a goal marathon in-between. That's 18 months of racing planned in advance, much more than usual, but I am very happy with how it all turned out.

I never planned beyond Connemara though. After my 2:55 in Tralee I thought I might aim for another spring marathon and then go for Belfast in July, but the idea that is slowly forming in my head is to concentrate solely on the ultra and forget about a 2:50 marathon (probably forever - age is not on my side temporarily), but right now I am still keeping my options open. At the very least, I still have over a week of no running ahead of me, something my marriage which will hopefully survive.

Always The Bridesmaid

Ideally you want to be calm and relaxed the day before any race, never mind a 100 miler. Things started to go haywire much earlier than anticipated when my car broke down less than a mile from home! A few frantic phone calls later Niamh had organised a taxi to the airport, I picked up my hire car and drove towards Clifden flustered and late, but I got there even if it was late. It was not the ideal preparation, but sometime you just roll with the punches.

Twelve highly trained runners/hardy souls/lunatics/feckin eejits (choose one or all, as appropriate) gathered at the Station House in Clifden shortly before 6 o'clock on Saturday morning, 10^th August 2013. With serial winner Mick Rice absent for the first time, it was clear that a new name would be on top of the podium. I thought the win would be contested between 4 runners, namely Maciej “Magic” Sawicki and Graeme Colhoun who had both finished second before, myself and Grellan. I even pointed Grellan out to my crew, “he's gonna be dangerous”.

Grellan told me he would probably curse the day he came across my blog at some stage today. (Niamh's comment: So does Abina!)

We started exactly at 6 o'clock. Most runners ran off at what they expected to be their race pace, except two of them – me and Grellan. I trotted down the hill very slowly and when I walked the uphill on the other side I turned around expecting Grellan to be right behind me but there was no sign of him. He was obviously walking the entire first mile. I immediately fathomed that he obviously knew what he was doing. He really was going to he reckoned with today.

We completed one loop around town and then headed northwards out of Clifden. The road climbs steeply and I walked a lot of it, starting to run every now and then when the gradient lessened. I caught a couple of runners soon enough but was rather surprised when Grellan caught up with me within about half an hour. Once he had started running he was obviously moving a lot faster than I was. We leapfrogged each other a couple of occasions as one or the other started walking, reminiscent of our first Connemara Ultra (the 39 miler), but he soon enough took off and disappeared very quickly.

The view when I reached the top was absolutely fabulous, even my crew noticed my excitement. That's one of the main draws of such an event compared to running 24 hours around a track – the scenery in a place like Connemara is worth the extra effort. I caught a few more runners as we descended towards Letterfrack and I fell in step with Paddy Quinn, who I had shared a lot of miles with last year in Bangor, though Paddy has run both the 24 hours as well as the Connemara 100 in both years. We chatted about running and football and a few other things until I took off again, wishing him good luck.

The next runner I caught was Magic around mile 15. He commented that we were running too fast. He had a point of course. We were doing about 9:15 pace at that point, which would give us a finishing time of 15:25. Mick Rice can do it, we can't. However, I felt I was running as slowly as I could without feeling awkward, so I kept the pace and Magic soon fell back a bit.

Running through Lettergesh provided some more stunning vistas and I soaked up the atmosphere while I was still fresh enough to enjoy it. Last year, when I was crewing at this event, this was the stretch I had enjoyed the most, where the scenery was stunning and my runner still in good spirits, though this year was even better as I was able to run myself.

By now my crew and I had developed a good understanding of what was required and we were working well as a team. They were keeping an eye on what I was consuming, making suggestions at times and always handing me the goods with great efficiency, so all I had to do was run. My nutrition at that point consisted mainly of potatoes and pasta for food as well as sports drink and electrolytes for drink. I had plenty of different options, but right now I felt that the sports drink provided more than enough carbs to lay off the sweets for the time being. I definitely preferred savoury food at that point.

I reached the road between Leenane and Kylemore and turned right. I was now on the Connemara 39 (and marathon) course, and would remain on it for a long while, though we were running it the other direction. I am very familiar with that road after running the Ultra 4 times and the marathon once and I feel I know every stone. I passed the “Stop and Pray” church after 22 miles, funnily enough pretty much the same distance you would go on the Connemara 39 to reach this point. More importantly, I was feeling very good. I kept seeing two runners not far ahead of me who seemed to be moving at more or less the same pace as I was because the distance between us seemed to remain constant. I was still determined to entirely run my own race and not get sucked into anyone else's pace, so I did my best to ignore them and just do my own thing.

We turned left into the Inagh Valley, another stunningly beautiful area (I keep saying that, I know), though the scenery started to get spoilt by the rain which started as a drizzle and gradually and steadily turned into rather heavy rain. This caught me by surprise, the weather forecast had mentioned potentially heavy rain later on, and I sure had not expected it so soon. I was too slow to get into my rain jacket (I should have listened to my crew of course) and I got soaked, wet and miserable. I guess the race had turned serious.

I checked the Garmin when I reached roughly the first marathon and saw the pace at 9:09, so this was a 4-hour marathon. Of course this was too fast. Keeping the same pace would mean I would equal the Irish National record for 100 miles (the official one, not Mick Rice's real but unrecognised one), and that was obviously not going to happen.

I reached the first checkpoint, Loch Inagh Lodge, at about mile 28. I changed into a new shirt which immediately made me feel better. My aim was to spend as little time as possible at any of the checkpoints and I was out again in about a minute (which later got me a rebuke from Angela for being anti-social). A minute standing still meant two seconds added to the average pace at that point. At this point I figured out a rough strategy. I had averaged under 9:15 pace for the first quarter of the race, if I could keep the average pace at 9:30 by mile 50 and 9:45 by mile 75 and 10:00 by mile 100 I would reach the end in 16:40, and I would still have a 12 second per mile cushion to break 17 hours. Maybe it was a stupid plan, but at that point it was something to focus on.

The rain kept coming down heavily, and when I saw a road sign “Road liable to flooding” I didn't take it as a great sign, but reckoned I would make it out of here in any case. My feet got soaked and I was worried about getting a blister, which can be a serious problem in a long ultra, but the main problem was that it dampened my spirit and I started feeling rather low.

Running a race like that will always provide a few highs and lows, and the way you are able to deal with the low points will mostly define your race and its outcome. I just put my head down and kept moving, just about the only way I know how to deal with that problem. Eventually we reached the end of the road and turned left into the main Galway to Clifden road. We had been warned about this stretch, the traffic was rather heavy and I found it rather unpleasant. Adding to the difficulties was the fact that the side of the road was waterlogged, forcing me to run far more towards the middle of the lane than I would have liked. I was not in a good place.

Luckily the rain stopped, I could take off my rain jacket and the road stopped being waterlogged. Only one driver had hooted at me angrily (a BMW of course) and then Seb and Iain turned up in their fancy little sports car and their cheers lifted my spirits a bit more. The road widened, making dealing with the traffic much easier. At mile 38, I turned to the crew with a big grin on my face “only 100 km to go”, which shows that I must have felt much better already (we had agreed beforehand that I could make 5 statements of that kind that before they would punch me).

Still, I was mightily relieved when I got to Maam's Cross and could turn off the main road after 9 miles. I had expected this to be a quiet spot with loads of room for the crew for the next food and drinks handover but it was heaving with a Farmer's market in full swing. We first had to make our way through all of it for the next feed. I also caught up with the 2 runners I had seen ahead of me over 20 miles earlier, and it turned out they were Sammy and Graeme. Reaching Maam's Cross also meant we had arrived at the Hell of the West, though going the other direction meant the climb was significantly shorter than from the other side – but then again, we already had 43 miles in our legs. Easy it wasn't. Sammy, Graeme and me were all within a minute of each other and I got the impression that Graeme tried to drop me as he seemed to run strongly and determinedly, though I passed both of them in quick succession when they were being looked after at the side of the road by their respective crews.

I was feeling reasonably good, but my legs started cramping and, strangely enough, so did my neck. The cramps subsided when I stopped running and started walking, but covering 55 miles that way would not be fun and I was seriously worried. I discussed it briefly with my crew and we tried a few things. It only improved a few miles later after I took a salt tablet. That really surprised me. The potatoes and pasta were all very salty and I kept drinking plenty of electrolytes so I would have thought I took on enough sodium, but apparently not.

My hands felt tingly and I started feeling light-headed at times, though I kept that secret from even my crew as I did not want to worry them. I briefly wondered what would happen if I fainted on the road but quickly put that thought away.

We saw a lot of cyclists coming the other way on a charity cycle, and many of them were aware of the Connemara 100 and we got a lot of cheers and encouragement on that stretch, which was an immense help. Of course we were all tired at that point, but we all knew that the worst was still ahead of us, and a few cheers went a long way to help.

I passed the halfway point and was looking forward to the second checkpoint at Leenane. Niall was waiting there on behalf of the organisers. Before the race he had given me a message from Jo, his wife, who had crewed for me in Bangor last year, telling me not to mess up the weather this time. She is blaming me for the monsoon in Bangor and the heatwave in Sixmilebridge. When it was raining so hard in Inagh valley I wondered if he would give out to me but by now it was quite nice. We still had the odd shower but it never lasted and on a few occasions we even had the sun coming out.

The average pace had dropped to 9:30 by mile 50, just about within the limits I had set 25 miles earlier, though I was perfectly aware that these limits were completely arbitrary. But it was something to hold onto, and I did gauge my progress against it.

I had intended to more or less run straight through the checkpoint but had noticed the sock rubbing against my left foot so decided to sit down and change socks. I sent the crew ahead and they had prepared everything for my arrival, and we worked through it with the efficiency of a Formula 1 pit stop crew. Niall even chided me afterwards for being unsocial (seems to be a theme developing here). I did ask who was ahead of me, and he confirmed that it was just Grellan, though I confirmed to my crew that I was not going to chase him down, but would still run my own race.

“Get out of the chair”
“I don't want to get out of the chair”
“Get out of the chair”

I got out of the chair. Even with the efficiency of my crew the pace had immediately dropped to 9:34 and already taken much of the allowed slowdown out of the game.

In contrast to my own crew, who kept very closely to me for almost the entire race, Graeme, Sammy and Magic's crews had the tendency of driving ahead by maybe half a mile and setting up a quick aid station, which meant I always knew their runners were fairly close. After leaving Leenane I realised that I stopped seeing Graeme's crew altogether and I only saw Sammy's crew on a couple of occasions, but Magic's crew became a very familiar sight indeed. We always had a nice hello and a friendly wave for each other, but of course we were on rival teams and I would have preferred not to see them quite so often. I had no idea where exactly Magic was and I never turned around to check. I wasn't even remotely tempted to do so, I was so focused on my own race.

It was a long climb out of Leenane and I did not enjoy it, especially as I was running right into a nasty headwind. There has always been a headwind when I had been running that stretch, but this time I was heading the other way, uphill, and the wind was still in my face! I did have to walk more and more of the course, not just because of the uphill but also because of the exhaustion which threatened to take over. At the 60 mile point Seb and Iain showed off their sport number once more, inquiring how I felt and suggesting that the fact that I has just run 60 miles was somewhat responsible for the “f***ing knackered”. I admitted they might have a point.

I passed the “Stop and Pray” church for a second time and shortly afterwards turned left once more into the Inagh Valley for our second pass. On the plus side the weather was much better than during the first visit, but it could not be denied that the 100 km I had already run at that point had left their mark, and I was utterly exhausted. The pace on the Garmin kept coming down much quicker than I would have hoped and the thoughts of breaking 17 hours seemed more and more fanciful. Mind, at that moment just finishing was still the only game. I hardly even cared about the outcome. I was way beyond the point of full exhaustion and just staggered on.

"Find the level of intolerance you can tolerate and stay there." - David Horton

We went through Checkpoint 3, Loch Inagh Lodge again and this time I really ran through it without stopping. I was now two thirds through the race, but mentally I reckoned I wasn't even halfway through. I did not help that, just as had happened at the first pass through the valley, I felt really low again, and at that point I had definitely lost all interest in the lovely landscape. I could no longer stomach either the potatoes or the pasta, but the sweets now seemed rather palatable. “Open the package of chocolate wafers and give me at least one”. (they gave me two, and some jelly babies as well). However, food did not provide a lift. What did help were a couple of painkillers, something I absolutely hate taking and in some way I do not understand how their use can be regarded as legal by the sports authorities because they are definitely performance enhancing, but at that point I started calling them my Happy Pills, which probably means it was a good thing that I had given strict instructions to the crew not to overdose me.

I was maybe a mile from the end of Inagh Valley, 70 miles into it, when Darren told me “your German friend is right behind you”. I looked back, and indeed, Magic was right behind me. “He's Polish”. “Oh”. Never mind his nationality, all of a sudden I was worried about being caught. Magic is well known as a strong finisher and I already started formulating my race report in my head “Magic caught me at mile 70 and I could not keep up with him”. I did some soul searching, trying to figure out how much I would care about being caught, and the initial answer was surprisingly little, but eventually my competitive instincts kicked in and I notched the effort up a bit.

Up to now I had been running entirely my own race, not caring one bit about my position in the field or the distance to the other runners, but being caught late sounds nasty and besides, now seemed a good time to actually do some racing. I ran more and walked less than I had done before and I also kept half an eye on the Garmin, as I figured racing might improve the numbers as the average pace had kept dropping massively to about 9:49, well behind “schedule”, and by now I felt that breaking 17 hours was rather fanciful indeed.In retrospect, Magic sneaking up on me was just the kick up the arse I needed. My crew told me later that they had been debating for 15 miles if they should tell me as they could see him inching closer and closer. Eventually they figured that I would be going like “Why the hell did you not tell me” if he passed, and decided to tell. It was a good move.

This time we turned right on the main Clifden road and once more I did not like the traffic at all, but it was only for 2 miles, which always seemed manageable. I just wished they would not signpost junctions quite so prematurely, it must have been at least half a mile from the first sign to the actual junction.I had been warned about the road towards Roundstone, at least 2 people have called it the “Valley of Death”. I thought it would be around 7 miles but a sign, shortly after turning off the main road, said 15km to Roundstone, so I know it would be almost 10 miles. It really is a testing stretch where climb follows climb follows climb. Under normal circumstances I would have loved the desolate landscape which I find so beautiful, but these were not normal circumstances by any stretch of the imagination. All those runners who had warned me about that stretch – they were right. It really dragged on for what seemed like an eternity.Eventually I reached the houses and my crew pushed on to the checkpoint. Then I passed more houses and more houses and then some more houses, and then I rounded a corner and saw a little bay and the actual village of Roundstone at the other side, still 2 miles away. Yes, those runners definitely had been even more right than I would have thought. I could not quite understand what the sea was doing here, though. I reckoned I had been climbing by at least 300 feet since leaving the main road, and as far as I know that is not located in a deep depression.

My crew - Chris, Carole and Darren

Roundstone was buzzing, at least the pubs were, and I got plenty of odd looks but no hassle. I did ask Ken, the race marshal, what the official mileage was at that point and he said 82, which was much more in alignment with my Garmin than the 80 miles I had been told before the race, and I left the village with some feeling of relief. An extra 2 miles at that point would not have felt appealing.I did not know this stretch, so the big climb out of Roundstone came as a bit of a surprise, but in some way I did not mind as it gave me plenty of excuses to walk instead of running, and running really hurt at that point while walking provided at least some level of respite. I'm sure the view would have been nice, but I no longer had an eye for it.

Eventually it dawned on me that Magic's crew did not turn up as often as they had used to, and when I eventually saw them again they did not set up an aid station but turned around again, so they were obviously checking out my progress and Magic must have fallen behind. Apparently he spent a couple of hours praying “please let him die” but luckily the prayers went unanswered (and I won't take it personally).The wind had really picked up by now and I was once more heading pretty much right into it, which again was not a lot of fun. I might have thought that it was a long road into Roundstone, but it turns out that the road out of Roundstone is even longer.

By now I had concluded that the repeated turns of feeling light-headed were caused by pure exhaustion and since I had not fainted over the last 50 miles I reckoned I would be okay for the rest of the race as well.Darren eventually told me that the wind would turn into a tailwind after the next bend. Unfortunately he had misjudged the distance to the next bend, since Ballyconneely has the same feature as Roundstone, you pass the first houses miles away from the actual village. It meant a longer fight against the elements than I would have liked, but I did go through the very quiet village eventually, what a contrast to the buzzing Roundstone, turned northwards, finally heading for Clifden, and Darren triumphantly announced that he had delivered once more.

I felt easier running with the wind for a change, not that I appreciated it at the time. It was now dark and I was using my headlamp, not that it provided much light, but it certainly was a safety feature. The miles dragged by slowly, and my head was wrecked trying to figure out how far it was; I did not know how closely the Garmin was corresponding to the real mileage. At one point I even asked the crew what the mileage was, adding “be honest”, but they weren't entirely sure either, though it turns out that their guess of 94 miles was very accurate.

Because the last 3 miles are made up of 3 loops through Clifden, the same loop we had done at the very start a long time ago, you get into Clifden itself a little bit earlier than you would expect when you're only focusing on the target of 100 miles, and the sign “Clifden 3km” was the sweetest thing I had experienced all day. From here it was only a few more bends and a few more hills and one more climb into the town centre, and then I was back in civilisation. There were plenty of people out on the road and quite a few seemed to know what we were doing, so I got a lot of cheers on those last few miles, which might explain why I felt so much better all of a sudden.

I expected to absolutely hate the last 3 miles, having to pass the finish gantry again and again without being allowed to stop, but the cheers I got from the assembled crowd was always uplifting and carried me through all the way to the next loop. With one loop to go I saw Grellan, already finished and managed to give him a quick shout to voice my respect and congratulations, and then the crew (well 2 of them) joined me for the final lap. They confirmed that there was nobody behind me so I could relax mentally, but I felt good enough to keep the pace up, at least for someone past the 99 miles point.

I even managed a sprint finish, though I don't think Mo Farah will be worried any time soon. First and foremost I felt relieved to be able to stop running. I was also very proud of having finished a 100 mile race, and was absolutely delighted with my time, breaking 17 hours with almost 20 minutes spare. I was also immensely grateful for all the crew had done for me all day. There were plenty of sweaty hugs.

Grellan had been ahead by about 30 minutes at almost all checkpoints and I had managed to cut 10 minutes off his lead on the way from Roundstone but his assured victory was never in doubt. Would I have liked to have won it myself? Of course I would have, but at the same time I am delighted that one of my best friends has won, and it will provide an incentive to push myself to the next level. I have urged (and still do) Grellan to sign up for a 24 hours race [sorry Abina] because the equivalent performance would easily see him qualify for an Ireland singlet at the next European and World Championship. And if Grellan can do it, so can I ...

10 Aug

Connemara 100 miles race
16:41:49, 10:01 pace, HR 136, 2nd place

Magic Will Happen

Time has passed much too quickly, I cannot believe I am supposed to leave for Connemara tomorrow already. Do I feel ready? Hell, no!

I feel I haven’t done any training over the last few weeks. Of course that was all by design, recovery from the 10in10 was the main purpose and the 10in10 was always meant to be a training effort for Connemara. Right now all I can do is trusty in my training and give my best on Saturday, though the heart doesn’t quite agree with what the head keeps saying.

This is my big A race of the year and there is nothing like it.  I found it hard/impossible to concentrate at work (let’s hope the boss does not read this) and I am getting rather nervous every time I think of the race, which is basically all the time. Actually scratch that, make that scared rather than nervous. I found it hard to fall asleep last night, thoughts of the race kept going round and round in my head and the heart got pumping every time as if I were out there on the road already.

In short, I’m a quivering, useless wreck and a complete head case right now (yes, I know, it’s hard to tell the difference). I can’t quite remember if I was equally nervous last year before the 24hrs, or before my first marathon, or before my first ultra, but I do remember quite a few sleepless nights, so I guess I must have been.

Not knowing what the best taper is for such a race, I’m making it up as I go along (then again, I’ll be doing the same on Saturday on the road). I did not run yesterday and slowly shuffled my way through 4 miles this morning, just for the head, not for the legs. The next step I run will be the first in Connemara.

Magic will happen. Let’s hope it’s not of the Dark kind.

P.S. According to my DM stats counter I have run 2013 miles in 2013 so far. Let’s pretend that means something and take it as a good omen.

6 Aug

5 miles, 44:58, 9:00 pace, HR 126

7 Aug

Zero. Zilch. Zip. Nothing. Nada. Nil. Nichts. Rien.

8 Aug

4 miles, 35:15, 8:38 pace, HR 135

Shuffle

The other day I inadvertently found a new way to wind Niamh up. I innocently picked up a measuring tape that she has left lying around and, as you do, wrapped it around my waist. The screams of jealousy from herself when she saw that it stopped at 29 inches were something else.

The last week before the Big Race has arrived. Obviously I'm not doing any more real training, but I kinda feel that I haven't done any real training since the 10in10 anyway because all I have been doing since then was recovering. Of course the 10in10 was always meant to be the big training push for Connemara, so this is all going to plan. If it's a good plan will be revealed.

There was no soreness after Friday's race, in contrast to last week, thanks to the flat course no doubt. I'm still surprised that I managed to run under 6-minute pace without any speedwork whatsoever. I'm a bit curious what time I could run in a 5k after 4 or 5 weeks of specific training at this point, but that's not going to happen. What I'm doing is basically the complete opposite of 5k specific training.

On Sunday and Monday I tried to dial into ultra effort. I ran very slowly, shuffling rather than running, and on Sunday I walked most of the uphill segments. It took the 5 most boring miles of my life to get into it, but once I tuned into the rhythm I was okay, in fact I zoned out so much that I completely forgot about walking the uphills. The same happened this morning, I intended to walk a couple of uphill segments again but again completely forgot about it as I was way back in my own little bubble shuffling away. I guess that's a good sign, in Connemara I will have to completely zone out and shuffle along, otherwise I'll never be able to run for 17 or 18 (or however long it will take) hours in a row. I sure won't lose any sleep if I'm so far in the zone that I forget to walk.

The pace was still faster than what I will be doing in Connemara; just to point it out, averaging 9-minute miles would break the National Irish record by over 15 minutes, and that's obviously not going to happen. But I'm pretty sure that if I start out at 9-minute pace I'll be at the back of the field. The main advantage of that is that I will not get sucked into any silly battles up front. Suits me just fine.

3 Aug

5 miles, 39:17, 7:51 pace, HR 136

4 Aug

10 miles, 1:29:07, 8:54 pace, HR 128

5 Aug

5 miles, 43:01, 8:36 pace, HR 134

Surprise!

Once again, I wasn't entirely sure if running that race was really such a good idea, 8 days before Connemara, but it is my club's own race and since I was not injured I didn't think I had a valid excuse not to. Besides, I always enjoy it.

I sure did not expect much, the only time I have run at anything vaguely resembling pace was last Saturday's 10k in Glenbeigh and that only brought me home in 40 minutes. I was pretty sure it would be my slowest outing on that course yet. Overshadowed by the Reeks it sure made for some spectacular scenery, but the course itself was mostly flat.

There was the usual banter, I think Seamus and me are incapable of not throwing mild insults at each other immediately before and after a race, but it's all in good spirit. A few guys ran off at breakneck pace right from the gun and I found myself in 7th position at first, but by mile 1 I was in fourth. Right beside me was our club's great big young hope (I won't mention his name for privacy reason, just in case) and while I expected him to fall back, as every other youngster I have ever caught in the first mile has ever done, he clung on and refused to be dropped.

The first two miles felt reasonably good but that was slightly downhill and with a slight tailwind, and while neither was particularity worthwhile, it would ensure that the return journey would feel considerably harder. On a slight uphill at the halfway point the cheeky youngster left the old man in his wake all of a sudden, and while said old geezer expected to catch up again sooner rather than later, this geriatric was wrong and fell further and further behind. I did move back into fourth position by catching another whippersnapper who might have gone off a little bit aggressively, but I was starting to feel every single one of those past 43 years in my legs and lungs.

I passed the 3 mile sign already pretty deep in the red, and then ran and ran and ran, up a very slight incline that usually you wouldn't even notice, and when after a long time of running hard I sneaked a quick look at the Garmin and saw 3.15 miles displayed I could not help but think "you gotta be f*ckin kidding me!", though in retrospect the 3 mile sign might have been a tad early. At that point I was actually looking forward to running in Connemara when 10 minute miles would be regarded as fast, rather than those painful 6 minute ones I was trying to do right now.

The finish line drew nearer, which was good because I was completely goosed and by now I was pretty sure that those footsteps I kept hearing were not a figment of my imagination. Even though I convinced myself that I would be capable of holding my position, reality spoke otherwise and Robert Jr. re-took his place from a mile earlier. With about a quarter of a mile left I did what you should never do, namely look behind me at a corner, and saw that I was being chased by yet another runner who was drawing uncomfortably close, so I made damn sure to put every effort into the last minute of running and salvaged fifth place by 3 seconds. He told me afterwards that he had notice me looking back and thought he would catch me but ran out of road (I know how that feels - it's good to be the other guy for a change!).

Despite clearly faltering towards the end it was still good enough for first man over 40, and I got a nice surprise when I checked my Garmin and realised I had comfortably broken 24 minutes in 23:41 (correctly rounded to 23:42 in the results), so I had actually run my fastest time on that course (a 4-mile PB in fact) rather than the slowest one, and had run half a minute per mile faster than in Glenbeigh, quite some improvement though it sure helps if you don't have to climb a mountain halfway through.

Idiot me had left his jacket at home (and right at the door too!) and I got a bit cold but the prize giving came soon enough. The feeling when they call out your name and you walk up to receive your prize to the generous applause of your fellow runners is something I won't get tired of any time soon, it does give me a real buzz every time. The club committee have also very, very generously decided to give half of the takings to the Liam's Lodge charity, the one I had run the 10in10 for (with the other half going to another charity), which I am immensely grateful for, and which makes my worries if I should have run the race or not completely irrelevant.

Thank you very much everyone.

1 Aug

5 miles, 40:05, 8:01 pace, HR 138

2 Aug

7.5 miles, including:
   Kilgobnet 4 miles race, 23:41, 5:55 pace, avg. HR 177
   5th place overall, first M40

3 Aug

5 miles, 39:17, 7:51 pace, HR 136

In-between Races

One or two comments last week had me a bit worried when they mentioned “overtraining”, because running 10 marathons in 10 days may well leave you in that state. But then I did check all the possible symptoms and came to the conclusion that I am most likely not overtrained. I did have sore muscles for a considerable time and I was inside a big bubble of fatigue for much longer than I would have liked, but none of the other symptoms applied and anyway, I am feeling much better now, even if it took over 2 weeks.

I quickly became familiar with muscle soreness again after Saturday’s race but if you run a hill like that at 10k effort then muscle soreness comes as part of the package. I felt quite sore after the race, felt much better when running the following day but the soreness returned once the endorphins wore off. I had some classic DOMS on Monday, but by Tuesday I felt more or less fully recovered.

Since I seamlessly transitioned from recover from the 10in10 to the taper for Connemara, I never got to do any training other than running very, very easily. My paces picked up a bit as the memory of the 10in10 faded into the past but the effort more or less remained the same. Today, almost 3 weeks after finishing the 10in10, I had to consciously slow down myself for the first time because I felt I was running a bit too fast for a recovery run. Obviously Saturday’s race was the one exception to all that slow running.

I did add a few strides to today’s run – something I suspect I should be doing much more often. I have said that before. I just keep forgetting.

I’m not sure where that leaves me, but I’m going to find out pretty damn soon as Connemara is only 10 days away. I do have another race on Friday evening, my club’s annual 4 mile race, but actually I think it is beneficial to get the legs moving at a much faster pace every now and then, even if you’re training for a long ultra. Obviously you need to fully recover from these efforts; that is absolutely paramount.

I haven’t quiet decided what I’m going to do next week, I’ll probably rest completely for a few of the days and I will try and run 9-minute pace, because one lesson from the 10in10 was that I initially felt really awkward running at a slower pace that what I was used to from training, so training at lower speeds it is.

Did I really say it’s only 10 days? Sh*t, this really is going to happen, isn’t it!

28 Jul

5 miles, 38:46, 7:45 pace, HR 139

29 Jul

5 miles, 39:27, 7:53 pace, HR 137

30 Jul

6+ miles, 46:53, 7:41 pace, HR 140

31 Jul

8 miles, 1:02:13, 7:47 pace, HR 141

One Bloody Big Hill

I wasn't sure if running a 10k halfway between the 10in10 and the Connemara 100 was a good idea, but after all the long miles of very slow running I have done over the recent months a few faster miles to blow out some cobwebs in the fast twitch muscle fibres sounded like a good idea. Plus, there is that really steep road you can see from Rossbeigh Beach going up the mountain and I always wanted to run that one, and guess where the race went today!

So I found myself at the start line in Glenbeigh on this drizzly grey morning, but the conditions were pretty much ideal for running a 10k. I knew I was not in race shape and I knew the course was not a PB course, and both these assertions are rather understated, and I reckoned I would be lucky to break 40 minutes. In any case, Arthur Fitzgerald's presence meant nobody else had to worry about victory today.

The organisation of the start could do with some improvement, suddenly and entirely without warning we got a shout to go, nobody had lined up, my Garmin was not set up and everyone was completely taken by surprise, but of course we ran off anyway. I settled in fifth place and within 2k I was in third, but I was already hurting and since I knew what was about to hit us I was wondering if I would blow up soon.

The hill started before the 4k marker right at the famous Rossbeigh beach and it immediately got serious. All in all we climbed over 450 feet in less than a mile and yes, that's rather steep. I know I said I always wanted to run that road, but I seriously questioned my judgement because doing so at 10k race intensity is a rather painful way for the experience. Nevertheless I drew closer and closer to the runner in front of me, by the time we finally reached the top, miraculously without collapsing, I was close enough for him to clearly hear my footsteps but as soon as we went downhill he was gone in no time.

Until the start of this year I always used to be a weak uphill and strong downhill runner but this has completely reversed; I attribute my climbing strength to my mountain runs on the Kerry Way but I would love to have similar success on the downhills. Today was even worse than usual because I simply did not have the leg turnover, the legs just would not move fast enough and there was nothing I could do. It was not entirely surprising because I had done no speedwork whatsoever in several months and my legs still have much of the 10in10 in them, so all I could do was accept it and hope nobody would catch me from behind because I sure was not going to make up a place myself.

Thankfully the downhill gradient was much smoother than the uphill had been, it took us the best part of 4k to reach the bottom again, and from there on there was another wicked climb up to the finish, not steep but with 9k in the legs I'm sure I wasn't the only one wishing for this to be over pretty damn soon.

I had no idea how far ahead I was of fourth place and I wasn't going to look behind me so I just pushed as much as I could. I rounded the final bend into the GAA ground and saw the clock just a few seconds away from 40 minutes. I tried to stay below but missed out by a couple of seconds, but after the chaotic start I'm not entirely convinced we started at the same time as the clock and in real time I might have just dipped under it, but who cares. 

A 40 minute 10k might not really deserve a podium finish but that's what I got and I sure wasn't going to complain about it, and the prize money will come in handy and was gratefully received. I did as well as expected, no better and no worse, and the main objective had been to have a bit of fun and get the legs moving at a different speed for a change, and from that point of view it was a highly successful race.

23 Jul

5 miles, 40:00, 8:00 pace, HR 131

24 Jul

5 miles, 39:04, 7:48 pace, HR 135

25 Jul

7 miles, 55:01, 7:51 pace, HR 134

26 Jul

6 miles, 45:30, 7:34 pace, HR 137
   incl half a mile @ 6:15 pace

27 Jul

9+ miles, including Glenbeigh 10k in 40:00, HR 174, 6:27 pace
   3rd place

Records And Champions

Just two weeks ago I had the pleasure of running significant parts of 2 of the Sixmilebridge marathons in the company of Ruthann Sheahan. I knew she was going to run the 24 hrs race in Belfast and at one stage asked her if she would be going for Valerie Glavin's Irish track record. Ruthann gave the best answer possible by absolutely smashing the record with the astonishing distance of 225.5k, which would have been good enough for 9th place in this year's World championship (and 4th in the European)!

In the same race the men's record was also broken by Eoin Keith, who had a hard time at last year's race but had the class of staying around and supporting the other athletes and also having some very kind words on my own performance. Eoin more than made up for last year's disappointment by posting a new record of 244.6k, a distance that would have seen him finishing in 12th place in the World championship (6th in Europe). These are absolutely mind boggling performances and I hope I will be able to join them again next year, though not with the view of beating them.

As for my own running, that is very much at the back burner right now. I got several comments that I should be recovering rather than training, but to be honest I thought I was doing exactly that. I posted no more than 38 miles last week, less than half of what I would be doing in a typical training week, and all of those miles were set at a leisurely pace. I ran 5 miles every morning with the exception of Sunday when I ran 8 miles for the only reason that I wanted a change of scenery.

Connemara is less than 3 weeks away, but rather than counting down the days in nervous anticipation I am hoping they will pass slowly to give me more time for recovery. Not running the marathon this weekend was definitely one of my smarter decisions, quite unlike me.

The nice weather seems to be coming to an end, which is a shame. I enjoyed running in the sun most mornings, today in contrast felt extremely humid not particularly enjoyable. At least it's not raining. Yet.

20 Jul

5 miles, 38:36, 7:43 pace, HR 138

21 Jul

8 miles, 1:02:52, 7:51 pace

22 Jul

7 miles, 55:59, 8:00 pace, HR 130

Weekly Mileage: 38

Back To Life, Back To Reality

It did occur to me that for one week in Sixmilebridge I was basically living the life of a professional runner – all I did was either run or prepare for my next run. I think I could have gotten used to that. Sadly, this week it has been back to reality and back to office life, and it did take me a few days to readjust.

My weight has come down a little bit over the last few days and has basically returned to the level I had before the 10in10. I can therefore conclude that running 10 marathons in a row is not a fool proof way of losing weight, something that comes as a bit of a surprise to me, to be honest. Thankfully I did not run for weight loss.

The Killarney marathon will take place tomorrow, Saturday, and I have decided that I will definitely give it a miss. There is nothing to be gained from it. Sure, I could wobble my way to yet another 3:45-ish time, at the cost of setting my recover back significantly, and probably torpedoing my chances of a decent race in Connemara for good (if those chances are still alive, that is).

Every morning since returning home I have run the same 5 mile course. I have gotten a little bit faster every single day so far, but I still feel like an arthritic slug on Prozac (yes, I’m aware that slugs don’t get arthritis. They generally don’t take Prozac either), and running feels awkward, my gait just does not feel right. I can’t quite remember how I felt after the 24 hours race last year once I started running again, but I do remember that it took a few weeks and I’ll try and hang on. It’s starting to get frustrating, though.

For some reason my Achilles, which hasn't been bothering me at all once I stopped running daily marathons, has all of a sudden started hurting again this morning, just a bit of discomfort when I was running but it became really sore an hour later, only for the pain to mostly go away again after another hour or two. I'm not sure what’s going on there, but I do not like it. I have had troubles with that area before and a chronic inflammation is just about the last thing I’d like to take away from Sixmilebridge. On the plus side, the last time this area hurt like that it did eventually go away for a couple of years, so I won’t make plans for a forced retirement just yet.

The Kerry's Eye had a nice article about me and Jim, the other Kerry finisher of the 10in10. They even had a decent looking photo of me (a very rare thing, believe you me) and Niamh was particularly chuffed that she got a mention.

17 Jul

5 miles, 41:24, 8:16 pace

18 Jul

5 miles, 40:11, 8:02 pace, HR 131

19 Jul

5 miles, 39:41, 7:56 pace, HR 134

Post Ten Marathon Blues

What do you do when you have just taken part in an event as epic as the 10in10? It's taking me a while to adjust back to reality, I have yet to make it to work on time and with a full set of work equipment, so there's definitely room for improvement. Do I even want to get back to reality? I guess the bills still need to be paid and the children would go hungry if we ran out of food, so maybe I'll do as is expected from me for a change.

As for a damage report, there isn't much to report. There is no soreness in the legs, though they are quite stiff and feel rather heavy. I did not suffer from any blisters or chafing. The Achilles had been sore over the last 2 marathons, so I guess it's good the event ended when it did as I was heading for trouble. I did not suffer from cramps, which is probably down to the slower pace of these marathons as well as the fact that I took plenty of electrolytes, in the form of Nuun (before the races) and s-caps (during the races). The heat did not affect me as much as I would have expected, obviously it did slow everyone down but I did not particularly suffer - and I did get a lovely tan. Niamh is dead jealous.

One thing she is not jealous about is the fact that not only did I not lose any weight, I gained 2 pounds! I could not believe it when I stepped on my scales back home, I expected to be at least half a stone lighter, maybe more. In these kind of events it is quite common for the body to retain water which will then get released a few days later, but it's already 3 days since the last marathon and my weight has not shifted.

As for running these kind of events, I had no real idea how I should pace myself or what I should do between the races. I started out about half an hour slower than my marathon times, but in hindsight that was a bit too fast, 10 more minutes in the first couple of races would have been better. On the other hand I'm glad I did not follow the advice of running an hour slower (I got that third-hand), that would have been excessively slow and my legs felt awkward during the first "slow" 16 miles as it was.

It took me 5 days to perfect my nutritional regime, initially I tried eating a decent sized lunch but that did not sit well with me and I did suffer from a lot of stomach discomfort during the first few races. Eventually I settled on eating a humongous breakfast every morning (a big bowl of muesli, a big bowl of porridge, a yoghurt and a big helping of scrambles eggs on toast) and very little for lunch (a piece or two of fruit and maybe a scone or similar). I never fancied much after the races; there was a pizza place right opposite my B&B but I could never stomach even the thought of pizza. Rik offered my some of his one evening and I could barely finish one thin slice. I did have two recovery protein drink after the races (one immediately afterwards, one a little bit later), which most likely helped with the calories when I could not stomach solid food. I don't know how many calories that adds up to, but I'm very surprised that it would be enough to keep my weight stable (and no, I haven'd pigged out since).

For recovery I had a massage after most races, some cold baths (though we ran out of cold water) and initially compression tights, though I gave up on those as it was much too hot for wearing tights. One thing I did was a walk around Sixmilebridge for half an hour or an hour (I did not time them) every morning, to get some blood flowing in the legs and I'm sure that made a real difference. Apart from that walk I took it very, very easy all day.

I never slept well during the event, I always woke at 5 o'clock, sometimes I managed to fall back asleep for a little bit longer, sometimes I did not.

Since then I did not take a break. I have read that coming to a full stop after doing something like that would come as a shock to the body and is not recommended, so I did 5 very slow recovery miles every morning. One noticeable thing is that it takes 3 miles for the legs to loosen up. During the marathons I usually felt good after a mile. I mostly blame the early mornings, and I think it vindicates my strategy of taking a walk each race morning, though it has to be said that today was already much better.

I am signed up for Saturday's marathon in Killarney, but I am 95% sure that I won't be running it. I only signed up because I wanted to support my local race but it was a silly thing to do, I have to recover from Sixmilebridge before tackling any other races.

14 Jul

5 miles, 45:37, 9:07 pace, HR 122

15 Jul

5 miles, 44:42, 8:56 pace, HR 128

16 Jul

5 miles, 41:26, 8:17 pace, HR 122

P.S. No idea if the HR values are correct, or even possible. I have finally ordered a Polar HR strap to see it that makes a difference. I'm fed up with Garmin's appallingly bad HR strap.

P.P.S. My weekly mileage last week (Monday to Sunday) was 162.32 miles. Yes, that's a new personal best and rather unlikely to be eclipsed any time soon.

Sixmilebridge 10in10 Marathon #10

Everyone had been looking forward to today for two main reasons. One, this was the final day, and then the daily torture would finally be over. Two, it was supposed to be much cooler and we could stop running through the furnace. Reason one was a given, reason two turned out to be yet another of nature's cruel jokes, we awoke to the same cloudless sky and oppressive heat as any other day and there was no respite to had had after all. Ah well. We sure had gotten used to it by now.

After yesterday's horror show I was definitely worried about today. There was never any chance of me pulling out, not after coming so far, but I reckoned I was in for several hours of absolute torture and I was not looking forward to it.

However, as soon as I set off I felt pretty good and I managed a rather respectable pace (at least when taking the previous 9 marathons into account). To be honest, the fact that I had taken painkillers before the start may well have had a major influence in this. Kids, don't try this at home. That's exactly how you do yourself some real damage, but I had reached the point of desperation and I knew I was going to run through anything today, so I might as well take the edge of the pain. I've had painkillers in my bag at the B&B all week but never brought them out with me so that I would not be tempted to take them unnecessarily, but today I caved in.

Anyway I was starting out at 8:15-8:20 pace, faster than most days this week, and even though I expected to falter at some stage I reckoned the more miles I would get in while feeling good the fewer miles I would have to shuffle through in torture. Some runners had taken the early 11 o'clock start option and I gradually met most of them on the course, some very close to finishing, the lucky bastards, and everyone's spirits were sky high.

The first loop passed reasonably quickly and I was back in Sixmilebridge in no time. The finishing arch was already up and standing, but I ran around it, not wanting to go through the finish without having actually finished. I was well aware that I was now starting the glory loop, the one that's there to be enjoyed, and every single thing I passed I would not have to pass again. As the miles ticked off I said good bye to rubbish corner and Nama hill, good riddance to railway bridge number 1 and number 2, never see you again blind corner, so long green house, and so on. This passed the time and the miles flew by, even as the legs grew more and more weary.

I also managed to say good bye to some of the locals who had shown an amazing level of support, some of them going as far as setting up their own aid stations and re-stocking them every day, as well as cheering us on without fail.

With the final miles approaching I managed to pick up the pace again as I could smell the finish, not so much of today's run but the entire 10in10 experience. I knew I would do a decent time, certainly faster than the last couple of days, and I got a bit emotional running down the hill to the finish, remembering my step dad who had died 3 months ago and lifting my fingers and eyes to heaven to greet him. Crossing that line was an unbelievable feeling, no other marathon or ultra has ever come anywhere close to it.

I'm pretty sure the clock at the finish said 3:43 as I went through though my Garmin said 3:42, but it does not matter a dot and I will take whatever time will appear in the official results. I came second overall, over 2 hours behind Rik in first and over 2 hours ahead of Stu in third, so it wasn't exactly a close contest either way. But this was never about times and places. The thing I will remember most is the camaraderie between all the runners, the ones who finished as well as the ones who regretfully had to pull out, I know we all routed for each other and we all gave each other as much support as was possible.

There were plenty of hugs at the end, for all the runners and the organisers and crew and friends and family and I somehow managed not to burst into tears, but I had to leave early as I got a lift home to Kerry from fellow 10in10 conqueror Jim; we were both a bit reluctant to leave but the Real World was calling. I also missed my own family and could not wait to see them again.

It was a fantastic event. I don't know if there are any plans for a repeat (Tom and Richie might be a bit reluctant, they both worked incredibly hard and must be at least as exhausted as the 10in10 finishers, and that's not to take anything away from all the other volunteers), and even if there is I would have to think very hard if I want to put myself through all that again, but you never know.

Here's to the 23 and the 18. We'll always have Sixmilebridge.

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more

Obviously in good spirits

Proud to be finished an proud to have run it for such a great cause. Never mind the tan lines.

A lot of bling

The back of the finisher's shirt

13 Jul

Sixmilebridge 10in10 Marathon #10
   3:42:25 (?), no idea about placing, second place overall

Sixmilebridge 10in10 Marathon #9

Nature played a really cruel trick on us today. we awoke to pleasantly cool temperatures, and one look outside revealed a hazy grey sky. Of course we all thought that today's marathon would be easier now that the heat was gone, but the Gods were only teasing us. By the time start time was approaching the haze had lifted and the heating had been put back to full dial.

Before we set off I thought I felt pretty much the same as all the other days, with heavy legs and fatigued but no more so than should be expected after all we have just been through. However, even the first step hurt. I started with an easy first mile, as always, and in marked contrast to all of the previous 8 days the legs just would not loosen up and I never managed to get into my stride. I knew from then on that today would be ugly.

I never managed to run today. I could hardly lift my feet off the ground and only just managed to do some baby steps, pathetically shuffling my way through the County Clare countryside. This was not running any more, and quite frankly it sucked. I also realised that I would be struggling to break 4 hours today. I set out at about 8:40 pace and it started deteriorating immediately, and from the way I tended to slow down over the second loop on all the previous days I knew straight away I was in trouble.

My memory is already a bit hazy, a sign how far gone I was today, but the first half still felt somewhat okay, slow but steady progress. My stomach was acting up a bit so I decided to do another pitstop at halfway, even though I knew it was not particularly urgent. I think I just wanted to get off my feet for a bit. This caused a problem as the doors to the complex were locked and it took a while to locate the public toilets, so that took a good bit longer than I thought it would.

At my mile 14 I saw Stu coming in at halfway, and he was struggling big time with a major foot issue. He shouted something I did not quite get and I spent the rest of the loop worrying that he might have told me that he would have to pull out.

With the time for the pitstop added on to an already slow pace, things were not looking rosy, and the heat, while maybe a degree or two lower than the day before, was still rather oppressive and sure did not help. I drank plenty of water because I thought I may have been dehydrated yesterday, but the truth is that I have pushed my body to its limits and it just cannot take the abuse any more, and no eating or drinking or electrolyte tricks that I have learned over the past few years is going to make a difference in that.

Brian overtook me at mile 18 with a big smile on his face and was running so much faster than me that he had disappeared beyond the horizon in absolutely no time at all. I figured I was lucky if I only lost 10 minutes to him today (not that there is any prospect of him catching me in the overall standings, I must be about 2 hours ahead of him). I could also hear Denzil approaching from behind, and he sounded very cheery and obviously in a much better mindset than I was, so I figured he'd catch me too.

Traviss noticed that my gait had changed today, and he was absolutely correct. There are not a lot of things that escape that man.

I managed to snag an ibuprofen of someone. Now, I hate taking these things, which is why I did not take any with me onto the course myself, but I had reached the point where desperation overruled reason. It's a very dangerous game, pain is there for a very good reason and you'd better take notice, but I decided the only game in town was to get to the finish line no matter what. It took about 3 miles to kick in, much longer than I had expected, but from mile 21 or 22 onwards I suddenly was able to lift the legs again, and I was able to do something that vaguely resembled running.

I had been slower than 4 hrs pace at that point but I managed to claw back the deficit over the last few miles. I had to work hard for that, and I really don't know if that was a good idea seeing as I still have another marathon to get through, but I just could not let it go without a fight. I managed to win that fight, coming home in 3:58:27, about a minute ahead of Denzil but 2 minutes behind Brian, who obviously had started to slow down considerably over the last miles himself.

We had the exact opposite conversation to yesterday, I told him had I realised he was so close I would have run faster to catch him, and he told me had I caught him he would have had another gear left, but somehow I don't think that was the last I have heard of today's race. He sure left with a big smile on his face.

I was happy to be done, but even more relieved when Stu came home in about 4:20, having manfully struggled through a seriously tough day. I hope he will be okay for tomorrow, I cannot imagine the heartbreak if anyone of us would have to pull out at this late stage.

My achilles sent a few very painful spasms through my body today, my ankles are hurting and so are my knees, and the less said about the state of my quads the better. I think my body is trying to tell me something. In tomorrow's marathon I'll try and figure out what the message might possibly be.

12 Jul

Sixmilebridge 10in10 Marathon #9
   3:58:27, third 10in10 runner

Sixmilebridge 10in10 marathon #8

I made the mistake of checking the weather in my mobile app before the start, and it said 32C/90F. Of course I showed it to everyone. But in actual fact that number was not right, it was definitely a bit cooler today, there was some cloud cover and it did make a difference. Any other time I would still have described this as ridiculously hot of course, but after what we have been through, 27C or so does not hold any fears.

As always I took it very, very easy for the first mile, but I found the legs loosening up within a few minutes and then set a much more assertive pace. I felt really good for the entire first half; I thought the legs were coming round for sure and the slightly cooler temperatures would allow me to set a better time for once.

I can't quite remember what time I went through the halfway mark but it was quick enough not to meet Rik on the out-and-back section, and the third placed runner was way behind me. I thought I would easily run in the 3:30s today, maybe even in the low 3:30s. But then the energy just left me, I went from feeling great at mile 14 to dead on my feet at mile 15, and the second lap was never going to be much fun after that.

The pace dropped dramatically and the average pace deteriorated at a depressing rate. I did try to cheer myself up at mile 16.6 because that was the 200 mile mark, counting from day one, but there was not much joy to be had. From that point on I was just going through the motions, doing my ultra shuffle and basically trying to get to the finish with the least amount of energy spent.

The midges were a complete nightmare all day today. They have been a nuisance all week but today they were just relentless, I was just swarmed all the time and I did get bitten on far too numerous occasions.

To be honest, I definitely could have run faster today, and on any other occasion I would be severely annoyed with myself after such a performance, but on day 8 of a marathon series run in absolutely incredible conditions, spending the least amount of energy is a perfectly reasonable way to run, and I am entirely at peace with myself.

All week the course has been playing tricks on me, I kept finding new segments of road that used to be flat the day before and were climbing uphill all of a sudden, but by now that seems to have stabilised. I guess they ran out of climbing segments.

I have also made peace with that two-mile drag towards the finish, in fact now I'm looking forward to it on each loop, and each time I'm about to hit it I tell myself "let's do this". My least favourite part of the course is the one mile stretch between the loop and Sixmilebridge on the main road, it's psychologically hard because it is not part of the loop and I don't fancy the traffic. Unfortunately that's the one stretch we have to run four times each day, twice in each direction. I have now covered it 32 times, with 8 more to go.

I ended up with my slowest time yet, just under 3:50. Brian Ankers came home just a minute behind me. He told me had he realised I was so close he would have run faster to catch me, and I of course responded that had I known he was so close behind I would have put more effort into it and left him in the dust - all in good spirits of course.

That's 8 marathons and well over 200 miles run, and now the end is definitely getting closer. Everyone is talking about the last day already. There are 18 of us left, I really hope there won't be any more drop outs.

11 Jul

Sixmilebridge 10in10 Marathon #8
   3:49:14, second place

Sixmilebridge 10in10 Marathon #7

It was a bunch of Moaning Myrtles that reluctantly made its way to the start line this evening, nobody was too keen to put themselves through the wringer once more and most people were complaining about all sorts of aches and pains, never mind general fatigue.

We had a bunch of runners from the local running club with us, most of them reasonably experienced marathon runners. Apparently most of them made it to mile 4 until they decided that running a marathon in that heat was just insane and went home. General consensus is that they were right, of course.

The rest of us soldiered on, we have come way too far to pull out now, it will take a major injury to put any of the surviving 19 10in10 runners out of the game.

I started with my by now customary slow first mile until the legs felt a bit looser and then fell into a nice stride, following one of today's individual entrants. For a while he seemed to think I was racing him and put in a surge every time I got close, but in actual fact I was using him as a pace setter. As I mentioned before I tend to run a lot faster when there is someone around me. After a few miles he stopped racing and we started chatting, he was only doing the first loop in preparation of a half-ironman he is doing on Saturday. Having a pace maker for half a marathon is better than none at all and we finished the loop in good time, a couple of minutes ahead of yesterday.

I headed back out on my own but still feeling good. After yesterday's lesson I declined any sugary stuff from the sidelines and just had water and some salt tablets for the entire marathon. I think I am running these at my fat burning effort, so additional carbohydrates aren't really required, but I increased my salt table intake and they do make a difference in the heat.

I think I'm starting to get heat acclimatised, I do not sweat as much and my sweat isn't as salty. That's a good thing, because the conditions are getting ridiculous. The top of the tarmac started melting, especially on the main road, and the shoes felt like sticking to the surface with each step and made a strange peeling sound every time you lifted them off the road. I felt this cost extra energy, which might have been purely psychological, but it had a major effect on Jerry Forde, our wheelchair athlete, who had to work much harder than usual.

Rather surprisingly I caught up to Stu at mile 16, though he pulled away again. We drew level again at a couple of rest stops where he tended to spend a little bit more time than me, and at mile 22 I went ahead again. The last 2 days I always started working well on those last few miles, the heat wasn't quite as oppressive any more at that point and I can smell the finish, so I always end with a set of decent final miles. It was also a little bit of competition between me and Stu, though a minute up or down is unlikely to have any effect on the final outcome. I thought I could hear him behind me on a few occasions on the final climb and always responded with some extra effort, and by the end I had about a minute on him, all in friendly competition, of course. My time was 3:44:58 (my own time, not official), again a couple of minutes faster than the day before.

The temperatures topped 31.5C/89F today; not only is this the hottest week in God knows how long, we are also running our marathons in the hottest part of Ireland (usually that's an oxymoron, not today though), but we are coping and it won't stop any of us. I have full respect for any of the 10in10 runners, I know exactly what everyone is going through, and I do wonder if the lady who is walking/shuffling her way through 7 hours of marathon day in day out is the hardest worker of all.

I do have a few aches and pains and my achilles, which has behaved very well so far, did pipe up a few times today, which is a bit worrying. I seem to need something to worry about every day.

One guy ran his 100th marathon today and one lady finished her 50th, so we did have some case for premature celebrations.

Less than 100 miles to go. Easy.

10 Jul

Sixmilebridge 10in10 Marathon #7
   3:44:58, second place