The Aftermath

I think it's fair to say that I pushed my body to its limits last Saturday, so recovery is a relative term. It will take several months to be fully recovered from that effort, but luckily I don't have to wait until full recovery has been achieved.

As reported, I very nearly fainted immediately upon stopping, which must have been low blood pressure following the cessation of muscle activity in my legs. This subsided quite quickly and a few minutes later I felt much better already.

My legs the following day were in much better shape than after the last 24 his race, when I was basically bedridden for two days and unable to walk. This time we went to the Titanic exhibition on Sunday and while I did not exactly feel like running around, I managed reasonably well, walking down staircases providing the only real issue.

My stomach seemed to have shrunk for a few days, I would sit down at the table ravenously hungry and feel full after about three bites.

The strangest thing happened to my face as my skin exploded in a hundred tiny spots, I had worse acne than ever during my teenage years. The worst affected area was my forehead, but it spread all over my face and even my neck. Googling what was going on still left me a bit bemused, the most likely explanation seemed to be that it was a stress reaction; after all, I did put my body through a fair amount of stress that day.

We went straight on our holidays the Monday after the race and I did not bring my running gear, enforcing a break on my weary bones. Mind, Niamh already suggested I should run up the nearest mountain, and I don't think she was joking. The legs still feel a bit heavy, even a week after that race, but that matches my usual experiences, namely that it takes longer to recover if you remain idle. But I think I really needed a break, the last few months had been very tough.

As for the future ... well, it looks like my plans of training for a fast marathon next spring will have to be cancelled, possibly for good. There is another race that has taken precedence, in Turin, April 2015. There is one problem I have to deal with beforehand, which happens to be very similar to Rory McIlroy's problem for the next Olympics, though I hope I won't get any hate mail. I want this resolved sooner rather than later. Mind, it feels good being wanted by two sides.

The "A" Race

There is no satisfaction without a struggle first - Marty Liquori

At the beginning of the year, I had already decided that for 2014 there would only be one target in my running life: to achieve the IAAF B standard for 24 hours running of 220 km. It was a case of putting all your eggs into one basket. There would be only one single shot at the target. There would be no B race I might target instead, it was the standard or nothing.

Every step I have run in 2014 was done with this one target in mind. Even when I ran a race that meant something to me, like Connemara, it was primarily still only a training run for Belfast. As much as I loved Connemara and enjoyed running a PB there, nabbing the winning spot in my age group in the process, the year would have been a disappointment had I fallen short in Belfast.

Lack of confidence was definitely not a problem. I knew I was in very good shape, in better shape than two years ago when I had burst onto the scene. There was a nice surprise when I read the preview of the race on the NI_Atheltics website and found that I had gotten a name check as one of the elites, with my own short dedicated paragraph. On a different day I might have felt this was putting pressure on me, but not today. I was just itching to get started.

I met my crew, Siobhan and Billy, at the race track. Explaining the details of what I required did not take long, it was all very straightforward. I had brought about a dozen different nutritional options along, purely for the sake of having a range of options available at all times. I did not expect to consume even half of what I brought. I also brought about a dozen tops and loads of shorts, socks and extra shoes, even though I hoped not having to change my outfit at all. It is so much better to have something and not need it than to need something and not have it.

I said hello to well over a dozen competitors and crews; the ultra scene is small enough and you tend to recognise faces fairly quickly. Dave Mahoney told me he had brought potatoes as food choice, and so had about half the field, all because of my race report from two years ago, which seems to have been read rather often. In that light I suppose it's a good thing that I haven't changed my mind either, potatoes are still my favourite source of nutrition for that kind of event, and I had a ton full of them with me as well.

And off we go. This will take a while! Photography by NIRunning

6:45 pm came and the race got under way. Unlike most races, this one started at very sedate pace. Long ultras do not get decided early, not even in the first few hours. Of course some runners follow a different tactic, Billy Holden and Geoff Smith took off much faster than the rest of the 24 hours field. I have long given up trying to stop Billy from going out fast. He might not be able to hold his pace but his rate of recovery is amazing and he can keep going when most others would have dropped out. Even so, I was neither tempted to go with him nor worried about being lapped possibly 20 times in the first half of the race. Even 20 laps can be gained or lost quickly in that race.

My Garmin refused to boot up and after a couple of laps spent trying to sort it out by pressing a lot of buttons, I took the thing off in disgust and almost threw it at my crew. I had even bought a portable re-charger in an attempt to get the entire race recorded, and to be thwarted at the very first step was highly annoying. It also meant I did not have any feedback on my pace, which was not good. However, Billy came through in flying colours, somehow he managed to get the Garmin working. I was delighted and relieved.

For maybe half an hour I kept running right behind Jan Uzik, a Slovakian runner based in Cork. Jan had approached me last month in Cork and asked a few questions regarding the race, mostly about nutrition. He is a vegan, and I doubt I was being of much help (dates, smoothies, check out Scott Jurek and his book), but it was good to see him on the track and seemingly in good form. I did not mean to pace myself off him, but with 50 runners on the track there is always someone running at your pace. Eventually I went past him and started moving a little bit faster

The conditions were much better than two years ago, no doubt about it. The thundery rain that has woken me earlier that morning had only skirted Belfast, and while there might be some light rain later on, it would be nothing like that race in Bangor. A good thing, too. I reckoned they all would have blamed me for cursing yet another race with my presence, otherwise.

I slightly hesitated when I first passed Eoin Keith because that really felt like I was doing it wrong. After a couple seconds of hesitation I went ahead anyway. I decided I had to keep running my own race.

I was in fourth place after about 4 hours, behind the two flyers and John O'Regan, but unlike everyone else on the track I was blissfully unaware of all standings. They had brought in a great new innovation in shape of a fancy monitor that always displayed in real-time every runner's lap counter as soon as they crossed the mats. Unfortunately I was running without my glasses and could not read a single thing! It's not easy being half blind. Then again, this served me well. I had my gold target of 220k and nothing else mattered. I could not have cared less about what position I might have ended in and being unable to read the screen meant I was never going to get sucked into anyone else's race.

Mind, neither the flyers in the 24 hours race nor the top guys in the 12 hours race were going anywhere close to the pace of the fastest man on the track, Paul Martelletti, a 2:16 runner who ran a 100k with the aim of making the World championships, which would require him to run them in close to 7 hours. Even though Paul always looked very strong, I somehow doubted he would make it; this did not seem like the ideal race as he constantly had to weave around the 50 runners on the track, which must have added a fair amount of extra, uncredited distance.

Nighttime at the Mary Peters track. Photography by NIRunning

Night fell and I was feeling surprisingly comfortable. Siobhan was crewing for me all on her own now as Billy had gone off to bed to get some much needed rest for the coming day, and she stuck close to my instructions of handing me some food every 30 minutes. Apart from the potatoes, my main source of nutrition was a more conventional sports supplement called Perpetuem, which I had successfully tested 5 weeks ago in Portumna. In addition to that I had grapes, dates, nutribars, chocolate, sports drink, granola bars, chocolate wafers, chocolate bars, Jelly babies and possibly one or two more options. On a couple of occasions she asked me what I wanted, sometimes she just handed me what she thought was appropriate. It worked very well. I did not have to think and I did not have to remember eating and drinking either, a common cause for problems in ultra running. A good crew is worth their weight in gold.

In Bangor I had gotten incredibly tired and exhausted early in the night, but this time I felt okay for much longer. Running through the night is hard because your body clock tells you to go to sleep, adding extra exhaustion on top of the usual running fatigue. The much better conditions undoubtedly helped, in Bangor everyone was just miserable running through the relentless rain.

I caught a few glimpses of the 12 hours race. Grellan had chosen that race option after deciding he was not trained enough for the 24 hours, after being stuck on the waiting list for too long. We had spoken about this a few weeks ago and agreed that the course record for the 12 hours was fairly soft, certainly when compared to the 24 hours one, and I'm sure Grellan had come here with the intention of setting a new record. Unfortunately for him, this was the year Ger Copeland had the same idea and after witnessing Ger's incredible run in Staplestown 2 months ago I feared for Grellan. Grellan, to his credit, never seemed to take much notice what was going on around him and just kept running his own race, which all of a sudden put him into the lead when Ger had to pull out with injury. Fate had intervened.

Chased by Geoff Smith. Photography by NIRunning

With almost 7 hours done, Paul started his finishing spring for a few laps, which were definitely by far and away the fastest laps anyone would see today on this track. He finished in 6:57:22, well below the required standard, congratulations to him. The excitement subsided quickly and the slow drudgery of long ultra running returned.

A few hours into the race I put on my mp3 player and started drowning out the world in favour of Iron Maiden, AC/DC, GnR and the likes (yes, I'm showing my age here). I never listen to music outside of running in excess of 100 miles, but when running through the night, the usual rules do not apply. It had the drawback that I could no longer hear what was going around me, including anything Billy was trying to tell me, but he started to communicate with hand signals. He started getting excited, and I guessed two finger meant I was in second place, pinching the fingers together meant the gap to the leader (Billy Holden) was shrinking, and one finger and a big smile on his face meant I was now in front. This must have been around 11 hours into the race. Still too early to race, but it felt good (as well as slightly unexpected) nevertheless.

Billy had a very different approach to crewing than Siobhan, who had followed my instructions of feeding me every half hour very closely. Instead he kept offering me food seemingly almost every lap, and he tended not to take no for an answer. His Mrs Doyle approach to crewing wasn't what I asked for, but I very soon noticed that it seemed to work very well, I started feeling stronger and running better. That may well be a very important lesson for the future. At times I just could not take in any more for because my stomach felt completely full, but I was running very well.

The other reason why I was running so well around the 12 hours mark is due to some extra help. I had not drunk any coffee for a week to wean myself off caffeine (not an easy sacrifice, I assure you!), and when I took 2 caffeine tablets I got a massive hit that last for a couple of hours. Caffeine is perfectly legal to take in running events and if you lack the talent for running then maybe some legal chemicals can do the trick? Unfortunately this is a one-shot strategy, any further caffeine does not provide another boost (believe me, I tried), so maybe talent will have to play a role after all.

In the lead. Photography by NIRunning

I was now in the lead but apparently being chased by the finest ultra runners this country has to offer, but due to my inability to read the screen I was completely oblivious to any potential race day dramas. At one point I noticed that Eoin Keith, record holder as well as the defending champion, was no longer on the track. I eventually asked John O'Regan what had happened to him, but he just shrugged. As was revealed after the race,  Eoin had started with a torn cruciate ligament in the knee and could not finish - I am absolutely astonished that he even managed to start! Apart from that loss, and the absence of Ruthann Sheahan, the cream of Irish ultra running was now at my tail and I could not possibly have cared less.

Dawn broke, which came as a relief, though the night had not been anywhere near as bad as the one in Bangor two years ago had been. The forecast was for a warm day, but it was quite cloudy and I felt conditions were just perfect. I don't usually care too much about the weather as all the runners have to deal with the same, and I am usually fairly good in dealing with adverse circumstances, but my one big goal for today was distance based, and the better the conditions the better my chances of achieving it.

Siobhan returned rested (if you can call 2 or 3 hours of sleep that) and resumed crewing duties. I was still in the lead, which was exciting news to her, though personally I was hardly aware of it. I took off my headphones because I wanted to become more aware of my surroundings, but pretty much at the same time my pace lapsed, so maybe that wasn't such a great idea.

I had lapped John and Jan several times, and Eddie Gallen was in real trouble as I could see him bent over on several occasions, though I never doubted his ability to return to form. Sometime in the early morning John and Jan started passing me, though there were times when I would see neither of them for a long time and I never knew if they were running at the same pace as me on the other side of the track or if they had stepped off or gone to the toilet or the medical tent. A look at the screen might have given me some answers, but I just could not make out anything.

My stomach held up very well. If you have ever done a long ultra you know how crucial that is. Bringing so many food choices was definitely an inspired move. My strategy for feeding was always to eat and drink on the move. My pace might slow down a little bit while I take stuff aboard but it's a lot faster than standing still. I am surprised that elite runners like John or Eddie stop at their crew's table to eat, it seems like a waste of time/distance. John has told me that he does that deliberately and he obviously knows what he's doing, but my own preference is the complete opposite. I like to keep moving.

Chased by Irish international Eddie Gallen.
Photography by NIRunning

My strategy last time had been to run 25 minutes and walk 5 right from the start. It worked exceedingly well. Despite the success, I had eventually decided to change my approach and so I ran without break. It was a risky move but I felt my target required a new approach, even if it had the potential to backfire badly.

So far so good. I was very tired but my distance was better than expected. My Garmin had displayed 77 miles at the halfway stage but the official distance was probably around 75 (and no, I'm not for a second disputing that). Another 62 miles, or 100k, and I would have the 220k that I was craving so badly. It felt absolutely possible, though I tried to shoo away any thoughts of it being probable. It was too early for that. Too many things can and do go wrong in long ultras.

After running for 14 or 15 hours I was absolutely knackered and felt like I had used up all my energy. The miles on the Garmin increased far too slowly. My stomach didn't feel great either, though I still managed to take food, so that was actually working prey well. My legs, however, were in bits and had turned into concrete pillars that were increasingly difficult to lift. The 100 mile mark was getting closer and I started making a deal with myself, I would run non- stop to that mark and then maybe get some break.

I had watched Ruthann's video before the race, and the one thing that stuck in my mind was that she said you keep making deals with yourself but it's important not to compromise too much. I very much tried to follow that approach and heed the warning.

Jan was now clearly the fastest man on the track. This year he was the unknown runner who had come out of nowhere, just like I had predicted that there would be one. He kept going past me again and again and at some point he overtook me in the standings, taking the overall lead. It can be very hard in a track race like that to know who is ahead of you and who is behind because runners of somewhat similar pace will all go through good and bad spells at different times and keep passing each other. Without access to the information on the screen I was purely guessing, but Jan's exceptional performance was obvious enough.

I got ever closer to 100 miles, but twice I had to reset my expectations on when I would get there. First I had calculated my outstanding mileage by the Garmin, but that was still ahead. Then I realised that I had a couple of laps less on my tally than I had thought. Both times I wasn't too pleased, but I got there in the end. Unfortunately my Garmin died on the very last lap before crossing the line for 100 miles and I did not even have my time, so I'll never know for sure what my shiny new PB is, apart from "about 16:15". Mind that's a pretty good time, taking over 25 minutes off my previous best.

I had been the third runner to pass the 100 mile mark, or the finish line as the organisers kept calling it (you get a special jacket for doing 100 miles), and over the next few hours there would be 20 more to do so, almost half the field. The standard of the race is pretty damn good!

My deal with myself to keep running was now void, but it felt too early to start walking yet. I did not have any significant milestone approaching, so for the time being I just focused on running one more step, one more straight, one more lap. I was completely exhausted and in a fair amount of discomfort. The fun part of the race was clearly over and the hard work had begun.

I started moaning with each breath, something I do when the discomfort reaches a certain internal threshold. I think I had my crew worrying, but eventually they copped on that I was not about to collapse. The number of laps kept increasing, but at a maddeningly slow rate. I still needed almost 150 more laps after passing the 100 mile mark, a formidable and intimidating amount.

We had a couple of former champions at the track side giving encouragement, something that was highly appreciated. With each lap my energy reserves depleted even further, but as much as I thought I was already down to 0, I always found a tiny little bit extra to keep me going for another lap.

It's very important to keep your mind focused on the immediate task at hand. The race is far too long to focus on the finish. Even after crossing to 100 mile mark, there was still almost a third of the race left, and that was longer than almost any other race I have ever done.

"After covering 188km @tfbubendorfer is turning down donuts in favour of salt tablets thats as impressive as distance" - from the @energia24 twitter feed

I had a small chat with John, and he exactly mirrored my thoughts at the time. "How could I forget how much this hurts!" The obvious comparison with child birth was brought up, not for the only time today. Neither of us is claiming that the pain is the same, just the level of amnesia.

I managed to keep running non-stop until the 18 hours mark. Then I took one more step, and one more step, and one more step and then my energy level/willpower was drained. "I can't do this any more!" I whined, but at least I think it was the only time I started whining out loud that day. Walking used up less energy and hurt a lot less, but it was significantly slower. I had to come up with a strategy, and quickly.

I decided to try and walk half a lap and then run a full one. That would still see me run a lot more than walking and should yield a decent mileage, though I was not sure how long I could keep this going. It worked very well to start with but after a while I noticed something strange happening. Towards the end of each walk break I started getting dizzy. I had black spots appearing before my eyes and started to worry that I was going to faint.

My brain wasn't working very well anymore and it took me far too long to come up with a new strategy. Since I was only feeling dizzy towards the end of my walk break I eventually thought it might be a good idea to cut down the size of these breaks. My new strategy consisted of walking one straight (or bend) and then run half a lap. This was of course the same total amount of walking and running but with the shorter walk breaks I no longer felt like I was about to faint.

I had not expected that I would be able to keep this up for long but it worked much better than I could have hoped for. Time seemed to pass reasonably quickly again, which was of course a very good thing at this time in the race.

I kept calculating in my head the pace required to break 220k, but after 20 hours of running that didn't work all that well any more. At one point I thought I was in real danger of finishing just short. Can you imagine the agony if I ended up with 219k? But eventually, with the laps ticking by, it became clear that I was well on my way to achieve my target.

Gradually the track filled up with supporters again and we got plenty of help from the sidelines. Grellan and Ray Lanigan especially deserve special praise for turning into my personal cheerleader troupe. With about 520 laps completed (and a new 24 hours PB therefore already guaranteed), the 220k mark (550 laps) started to feel close. I told my crew to stop feeding me (my stomach felt full and so late on I no longer required extra energy) and instead tell me the number of completed laps every time I passed the line. This ensured I was being kept up to date and even seemed to make time pass quicker again.

Jan was now clearly in trouble, but he held such a substantial lead that it did not really matter. I overheard parts of a conversation between him and John where John urged him to keep going, otherwise he risked being caught by him. This tells you everything you need to know about John, he'd much rather see a man achieve his best than grab victory from someone else.

For a good while Jan kept following me. I did not mind. It can be so much easier at that point to let someone else set the pace and just follow, I have been there myself. At one point I did some calculations and even in my state I was able to figure out that Jan was now out of reach, even if he stopped, so I turned around and congratulated him, though he was so exhausted he hardly seemed to take it in.

It had started raining a bit, but I did not mind at all. During the day a couple of runners had complained that it was too hot, but I never felt like that. I once even rejected the offer from my crew to change my top into a singlet and instead kept wearing the same t-shirt I had been wearing from the start. Likewise, now the rain did not bother me either.

With just over an hour left I realised that 220k was virtually guaranteed. As soon as my conscious mind had come up with that fact, my subconscious mind switched off my ability to run completely. Nothing had changed physically, this was entirely in the head, and literally from one step to the next my ability to run had disappeared. I tried once or twice to force the issue, but just could not do it. For the rest of the race I would have to be content to walk. At least my walking pace was reasonably quick - it was faster that at least one other athlete's running pace!

The laps kept ticking by and eventually I reached the magic mark, the one I had hardly dared to dream about for the last 7 months. I found a tiny ounce of energy and managed to run for a few metres, just enough to ensure I would cross the line in half-decent style. Then it was time to raise the arms in triumph and give a fist-pump and celebrate the achievement. I finished the next lap and than gave my crew as well as Grellan and Ray a big, sweaty, smelly bear hug. Anyone else in the vicinity would have gotten one as well.

One of the drawbacks of timed races is that the finish is a very low-key affair, instead of the triumph of a conventional finish line. I had reached my target but there were still 40 minutes left. I know a lot of runners who leave the track at that point, no longer able to find the energy to keep going just for the sake of a few extra miles, and I don't blame them. But I had come so far (literally!) that it would have felt like a wasted opportunity to raise my PB as high as possible.

I might have been more tired than ever before but I kept on walking. Eddie Gallen was moving exceptionally well now and I had no doubt that he had passed me, and to be perfectly honest I could not have cared less. Once or twice my crew told me I had gained a lap on John, but the significance of that completely passed me by. I was far too tired to chase anyone left in the race or hold off a strong finisher. The fact that I was still moving was a bonus, anything else was beyond the realm of possibility.

Niamh and the kids turned up, were happy that I had achieved my target (and they had avoided having to deal with the brunt of a crushed runner for the next few months) and provided some company for the remaining time.

I kept walking until the end. I tried running one more time but was still unable to do so, even within sniffing distance from the end. And then it was finally all over, I could stop moving and try and relax.

Last time I had fainted about an hour after the race. This time I very nearly fainted within 10 second of stopping. My body seemed to go into some kind of shock as soon as I stopped moving (reasonably common in ultras actually, as the calf muscle help pump blood back up as long as they are being used), I pretty much was only held up by Niamh on my left and an ambulance lady on my right while Billy struggled to unfold a chair. He eventually succeeded, and with that I could sit down, relax, and finally start reflecting on the achievements of the last 24 hours.

Photo by Veronica O'Brien

I had covered 225.271 km, or 139.977 miles, and finished in forth place. Am I disappointed missing out on a podium place? No. Am I annoyed missing the 140 miles by such a ridiculously small amount? No. I got everything I had aimed for and more, and seven months of very, very hard work have yielded the result that I had hardly even dared to dream about.

What more can a man ask for!

Photo by Brenda O'Keeffe

18 and 19 Jul

Irish 24 hrs championships, Belfast

   139.977 miles, 10:17 pace, 4th place

   achieved IAAF B standard

Mission accomplished!

225.271k/139.977 miles. That's the IAAF standard with plenty to spare!

Race report to follow later, quite possibly much later. I'm off on my holidays and I'm not bringing my computer (nor my running gear!)

Expectations

It must have been around 3 o'clock in the morning of the 2012 24-hours race in Bangor. I could see the rain coming in horizontally, the first lane of the track was completely flooded, I was more exhausted than I had ever been before, people kept running past me and I was barely a quarter into the race. It was probably the lowest I had ever felt. After months of preparation I had to face the fact that I sucked at ultra running and my greatest wish was that Niamh would all of a sudden turn up at the side of the track and get me home into a warm, dry, soft bed.

Of course, things didn't turn out that way. It wasn't Niamh who turned up at 3 am but Finn O'Mara and she kept encouraging me and joined the fun herself for the second 12 hours. My exhaustion eventually switched itself off after a few more rough hours and a few hours later I was running in second position, a place I would never relinquish even though an Irish international runner kept battling me for hours, and all of a sudden I had moved straight from no-hoper status right into the middle of the elite field. Unreal.

I was rather taken aback after the race when chatting to Eoin Keith, the Irish record holder, when he told me it would be interesting to see where I could go on now after that performance. I had just run the race of my life and all he wanted me to do was to go on and better it?

He was absolutely right, of course. That race had become history the second the horn had sounded and there is no point in resting on one's laurels. Can I push on? Can I better my performance? If so, by how much? Might I even achieve the IAAF standard?

During the first lap of the Donadea 50k, all the way back in February, Don Hannon (later this year the winner of the Wicklow Way Race) grabbed my arm and asked me if I was going to win the 24 hrs championship this year. Initially I just looked at him blankly until he explained that the European/World championships would take place only a few weeks before Belfast, possibly taking the entire Irish elite squad out of contention. This was news to me but I refused to get excited, which saved me from feeling disappointed when those championships were cancelled, allowing the full contingent of our elite runners to take part in Belfast and more importantly, to be at their best. I immediately came to the conclusion that I preferred things this way. A stacked field might inspire everyone on the track to up their game, including myself. I'd much rather come, say, fifth and reach my mileage goals than come second with a result that would leave me slightly embarrassed.

Besides, even had the top elites been taken out of the equation, there is always at least one runner who comes seemingly out of nowhere and races him or herself into contention. I should know. Two years ago that runner was me.

Two more sleeps / sleepless nights. I'm torn between fear and anticipation.

14 Jul

5+ miles, 44:20, 8:47 pace, HR 125

15 Jul

5 miles, 43:20, 8:40 pace, HR 128

16 Jul

5 miles, 43:45, 8:45 pace, HR 125

Tapering

I know I'm not the only runner who hates the taper. It goes completely against my nature and my running OCD isn't being properly satisfied. I can count down the days before the race to remind myself that this won't last long, but I'm still itching to go out and just run.

After Wednesday's tempo effort I did some recovery runs in the following days, much more recovery in fact than I am used to. I only ventured out for 5 miles on both Thursday and Friday, and at crawling pace. It didn't feel all that great on Thursday, it just felt awkward and not properly running. I got much more into the groove on Friday when I managed to tune into that effort, in marked contrast to the previous day when I had to force myself to run slowly and had to consciously put the breaks on on far too many occasions. As a result, Friday's HR was a whopping 5 beats lower than Thursday's, even though the pace had be quicker!

The HR was higher up on Saturday again, but on that occasion I blame the very humid conditions. It wasn't particularly pleasant and I was absolutely drenched in sweat even with the low effort. I noticed a few reasonably local runners complaining about the humidity as well, so I clearly was not the only one.

I went up to Windy Gap on Sunday again, enjoying the views once more, even if the weather could have been better (mind, it could have been worse). I pushed the effort a bit on the final miles home, just to get the legs moving one last time. They won't be doing that again in a while!

The taper madness is definitely trying to take hold. Early during the week my left knee started hurting; phantom pains like that are just part of every taper and the less notice you take the better. One thing I did not imagine was a cough that developed midweek one evening and was followed by a headache the next day. I might have been fighting off some mild infection, who knows, but that is now gone as well. Better last week than the next week, I suppose.

The effort I ran on Friday was exactly what I am hoping to do in Belfast. If I can get into the groove early on like that, I will have a good race. Of course I am not expecting to run 8:45 pace in Belfast for 24 hours, but if I can start out at that effort, I know I can hold it for a very, very long time. I averaged 8:15 in Portumna for 100k and on a decent day 8:45 should therefore be maintainable for many hours. Mind, I'm not sure what running through the night will do to me this time round - it was by far the worst aspect of last year's race.

5 days to go. Time to start getting scared.

10 Jul

5+ miles, 44:46, 8:51 pace, HR 131

11 Jul

5 miles, 43:42, 8:44 pace, HR 126

12 Jul

8 miles, 1:09:26, 8:40 pace, HR 132

13 Jul

10.75 miles, 1:32:51, 8:38 pace, HR 144

   Windy Gap

Tick Tock

The countdown for Belfast has reached single digits. This is about to get real.

Like so many runners, I am never quite sure what amount of training would be appropriate during the taper. I used to do a fairly conservative taper with a big reduction in mileage, but I did notice a few funny things happening that way. For one, my best races always used to be tune-up races, hardly ever goal races. And last year I did manage to surprise myself on several occasions, most notably the 2:56 marathon I ran in Killarney last year after no taper at all; in fact, that had come at the end of a fairly tough week.

However, an ultra, especially a long ultra, may well be different and I am still left guessing. The choice was easy last week as I was recovering from the Waterford marathon, even though the legs never even felt like I had been running a marathon (or almost a marathon). This week is trickier, do I add a few workouts and if so, how many and what kind of workouts?

Following the (not universally accepted) idea that the taper should see a reduction in mileage but slight increase in intensity, I eventually decided that I would do a mountain run on the weekend and one faster run midweek.

The mountain run was one I have done many times before during this training cycle, twice up and down Windy Gap. I never once pressed the pace and recorded one of my slowest times on that route but was very pleased that I was able to run up the very steep ascent to the gap more or less entirely on autopilot. Not so long ago that run used to feel so tough that I thought it might kill me.

Two easy days followed and I did a tempo workout this morning, nine-and-a-half days out from race day. Many programs contain such a run to rev up the engine at this point of training, the 3x1 mile repeats I used to do when following the Pfitzinger/Douglas program being a prime example. After not doing any fast running for so long I did not quite feel up to mile repeats, so I settled for 2-mile repeats instead. I plugged a figure of 6:30-ish pace out of thin air, but in fact ended running almost entirely by fell, I checked the pace maybe once or twice early on each repeat and not at all after the first minute.

It felt like hard work at times but was perfectly doable and I never pushed too hard. One thing I noticed straight away when looking at the numbers afterwards was that my pace/HR ratio was well down, the VDOT number was significantly lower than any training runs I have done in weeks. I actually take this as a good sign, I'm much more efficient when running at a slow pace than at tempo pace, which is what I want to be for an ultra.

And now even the mellow taper-workouts are more or less complete. I'll do some very short and slow runs at ultra pace, one more mountain run, and not much more.

This really is it, training is done.

6 Jul

12+ miles, 1:50:42, 9:02 pace, HR 146, Windy Gap x 2

7 Jul

8 miles, 1:02:33, 7:49 pace, HR 135

8 Jul

8 miles, 1:04:34, 8:04 pace, HR 135

9 Jul

10 miles, 1:10:36. 7:04 pace, HR 157

   3 x 2 miles, 6:23 pace (HR 160), 6:26 (168), 6:29 (167), ~4 mins recovery

Moving On

There are just two more quick thoughts about the Waterford marathon.

One, I was fairly sanguine about the whole fiasco until I got an email yesterday where they are celebrating how great it all was and how many runners got new PBs on their new course. This really pissed me off. Of course runners get PBs if the course is short, problem is they are all worthless. I was perfectly prepared to forgive an error but the complete lack of response and acknowledgement from the organisers has now completely turned me off the race. I won't be doing it again and I will advise any runner who asks me about it to pick a different one.

Two, since I was able to run a 3:07-ish marathon 2 weeks after a 100k without killing myself, I would also have been able to run 3:15 2 weeks after a 50 miler. Therefore me chickening out of the 3:15 pace group in Cork was entirely needless. Next time I will have more confidence in my body. You live and learn, I suppose.

Anyway, let's move on. Robert Osfield left some cautionary comments about pace. He reckons I should be running 10-minute miles in training because I am going to be running 10-minute miles in Belfast. Robert knows what he is talking about, he just ran a great race in the 95-mile West Highland Way Ultra over in Scotland and the race report is well worth reading, check it out.. My argument against that was that running 10-minute miles in training on fresh legs has nothing in common with running 10-minute miles in a race after 15 or more hours when the entire reason for 10-minute miles is that you cannot lift your legs any more. But since I very much respect Robert's opinion, I investigated this further. I went back to the training bible I had been using this year, Training for Ultra Running. Amongst other gems it includes an entire chapter dedicated to 24 hours racing that draws its wisdom from the likes of Dave Cooper, Mike Newton or Don Ritchie. I like the old-school approach and those runners were hard as nails, and none of them ran 10-minute miles in training. In fact, they often ran hard right up to the race itself, though one of them acknowledges that running a 20 miler the day before a 24 hours race might have been a mistake.

I'm not copying that approach either, I don't think I would survive that, but I will compromise. I do run 10-minute pace at the start of every training run anyway, that's how I operate, until the pace picks up naturally. I will do a few runs at very slow pace in the next two weeks, especially the week of the race, but I won't entirely be doing that. In fact, I am planning on doing 2 or 3 fast runs as well.

The last few runs have all been very easy, with the pace on Friday coming as a bit of a surprise. I couldn't tell that I ran a marathon a week ago, recovery from that has taken no time at all. The HR in the last 2 days has been a bit higher than expected, which I can't quite explain, but I won't panic just yet. It's not the first time that happened and in the past it always settled down quickly.

2 Jul

10.8 miles, 1:35:35, 8:50 pace, HR 143, Windy Gap

3 Jul

8 miles, 1:03:19, 7:55 pace, HR 139

4 Jul

5 miles, 38:06, 7:37 pace, HR 142

5 Jul

8 miles, 1:02:51, 7:51 pace, HR 142

July Already!

Well, there certainly has been plenty of talk on the usual running websites about the Waterford marathon and its shortcomings. The organisers are keeping a rather low profile all of a sudden, which is a shame. In a way, I do feel sorry for them - they clearly put a lot of work into the organisation and got just about every little detail right, but obviously took their eye off the big things and forgot to get the single most important item right.

Personally, I was probably the least affected marathon runner of the field. I was only using this as a training run and I got exactly that. Another 2 minutes of running would not have made any difference. It still counts as a marathon in my list, but I sure am glad that it was not a PB run.

Recovery has been going remarkably well. Only 2 days after the marathon I could no longer tell by the feeling in the legs that I had run a marathon, it just felt like I usually do the day after a normal long run. As such I am reasonably confident that I did not do myself any harm by leaving my Belfast race out on the roads in Waterford by running too fast.

Which brings me to the next point. At the time of writing Belfast is only 17 days away. Usually I'd have been counting down the days for ages by now, becoming increasingly impatient like a little kid before Christmas. This year, however, I always kept focusing on the next training race and since they kept coming thick and fast there was always something big coming in the very near future. I was always either recovering from the previous run or getting ready for the next one, which left no opportunity for impatience.

By now I'm getting the details for Belfast sorted. I do have a crew and I do have a race plan. Last time I had great success with my strategy of walking 5 minutes every half hour right from the start. I thought long and hard about this but despite the staggering success this strategy has brought me, this time round I will try and run as much as possible and only revert to walking once I can no longer run. I am definitely taking a risk here, abandoning a highly successful strategy, but at the very least I want to see how the other plan will work out. I know I'm in great shape and capable of running for many hours without break, even if I don't know how things will differ when running through the night.

I guess I am officially tapering now, but since this week was always going to be reasonably easy after Saturday's marathon, that's hardly noticeable. I still need to get my head round it, no more 100 mile weeks, probably no more double days, what am I going to do all day? I might even start fixing things in the house (easy now!).

29 Jun

5 miles, 42:59, 8:36 pace, HR 131

30 Jun

5+ miles, 40:04, 7:56 pace, HR 134

1 Jul

5+ miles, 38:58, 7:43 pace, HR 139

A Short Viking

Waterford is a very long way from Kerry. I only realised just how long a way when Google maps told me the drive was well over 3 hours from home, and at that realisation I ditched the original plan of making it there on Saturday morning, booked a B&B instead and drove there Friday after work.

Unlike the B&B in Portumna this one worked out well and I managed to get a reasonable amount of sleep. For once I arrived at a start line well rested. Maybe that was a factor why I felt better than expected.

When asked of my plans I had no real idea and would have been happy with anything between 3:15 and 3:30. I only had started feeling okay again a few days ago following the 100k in Portumna and hadn't done a lot of running in the meantime, at least by my standards. I therefore positioned myself a good bit behind the 3:15 pacers and then we set off.

I took it very easy during the first mile and then gradually, almost imperceptibly, accelerated a bit. Before I knew it I was alongside the 3:15 pacers and had a little chat with Alan before heading off, hoping that his call of "see you later" would come true after I had crossed the finish line, not several miles beforehand.

The course criss-crossed the city of Waterford for the first 8 miles in a seemingly random fashion, taking in a few hills, but nothing major, or at least certainly nothing that would have felt like a major hill so early in the game. I noticed that I kept storming past dozens of runners, especially on the uphills, and quietly wondered if I was running a bit too fast.

This was not a goal race of mine but the last long training run before Belfast. The idea was to run it at 95% effort, injecting a good workout into the leg muscles without destroying them. When I checked the HR I was a bit surprised to see the numbers in the high 150s, even low 160s on some climbs. That wouldn't be alarming, but in the last few months, since I started doing all those long runs, I have never really managed to get the HR up into those levels, except when climbing really steep mountain trails. I dialled the effort back a smidgen but still kept moving up the field.

The half marathon and full marathon runners had started together, which is why there were plenty of runners around me and catching them one by one was great fun and kept my spirits high during those early miles. We finally turned away from Waterford heading into the countryside after 8 miles, and the support from the sidelines reduced to virtually zero. But I kept seeing enough runners ahead of me to keep the chase and the fun going. I just managed to catch up to a reasonably big group at mile 10 when the half-marathon runners finally split off and every single runner near me went the other way. I went from being surrounded by a dozen runners to being completely on my own in an instant. The next marathon runner was at least a minute ahead of me and I only saw him on a long stretch of straight road, apart from that I might as well have been on a training run, albeit one with regular water stations.

At the 10-mile marker my Garmin showed 10.1 miles, a fairly normal reading in a marathon. However, the 12-mile marker came into view much too early and I passed it with only 11.67 miles on the Garmin. I wasn't particularly bothered, I have seen a lot of misplaced mile markers over the years. However, it did not correct itself by mile 13 or at the timing mats at halfway. Indeed, when one of the 3-hour pacers who had finished his job and handed over duties at that point, asked me what the mileage was on my Garmin (12.9), it confirmed to me that I wasn't the only one who had noticed that something was amiss here.

Nevermind, I still had my race to run and made it into Tramore, which eventually appeared another mile later. It was good to have some support again from the sidelines. I still felt mostly good and fresh, but my right hamstrings and glutes were a bit tight, which was a bit of a pain in the arse. It did not affect my running pace and not my enjoyment either. Somewhere around the 15 mile mark I saw race leader and serial marathon winner Gary O'Hanlon come the other way looking good and with a respectable lead on his pursuers as I headed towards the promenade.

This was probably the stretch I enjoyed the most, the place was buzzing with loads of spectators giving generous applause, the weather was nice without being too hot (just about) and I enjoyed running along the seaside. I had never been to Tramore but it sure is a very nice place in a lovely setting.

We did a little loop through the town, avoiding the one steep climb that had people moaning and bitching like mad last year and eventually headed back towards Waterford, seeing the runners behind us come the other way. I managed to pass one runner, my first one since mile 10. I saw the 3:30, 3:45 and 4:00 pacing groups come the other way, Grellan and John Desmond especially telling me I was running way too fast, the jokers.

And still all the mile markers kept coming too early, generally 0.2 miles ahead of the Garmin, and by now I was seriously wondering if the course was going to be short.

The climb out of Tramore turned out to be a real drag. It was one of those climbs that would have felt fine after 5 miles, but with 18 miles in the legs it was a different story, and the fact that there was a stiff breeze against us didn't help either. I started wondering if I had overcooked myself rather that taking it a touch easy, as had been planned. One runner passed me, local man Michael O'Mahony, who I had traded places with a couple of times earlier on, and he was moving very well indeed.

I noticed one curious thing. All mile signs were placed where someone had painted a little red number on the tarmac.It was the same at mile 20, the big white sign right beside a little red painted 20, except that it had come with only 19.8 miles on the Garmin, just like all the other recent mile markers. However, when my Garmin said about 20.1 miles there was another little "20" painted on the pavement, in the same writing and exactly the same colour but crossed out. For crying out loud, that one would have most likely been spot on!

We finally crested that hill soon afterwards. I had passed an ambulance with one runners sitting inside, so I guessed I had gained another place (he didn't look too bad. No idea if he finished, though). Another runner came into view and it was the familiar face of Barry Casserly. He asked if he could tag along when I caught up with him, which I obviously had no objections to. Barry is a quickly improving runner and had hoped for a sub-3 today but had blown up at mile 18 and that hill had given him a good beating, which is of course a rather familiar story, my own first sub-3 attempt had been an exact carbon copy of that. I told him I wasn't exactly feeling too hot either, but we shared the next couple of miles together. In fact, I think my pace increased a tiny bit with his presence, but maybe that was just a false subjective feeling with the growing fatigue. He had also noticed the wrong mile markers and we both agreed that the course was most likely going to be short. Somewhere between miles 23 and 24 he dropped off again, having struggled for a while, but he would still finish right behind me in the final results.

Closer to mile 25 we turned off the road into some "Eco Park", which wasn't what I would have liked at the time as it took us away from any potential support from the sidelines and back into loneliness. I did pass a few half-marathoners, so at least I wasn't entirely on my own. The legs were rather tired at that point and wanted this to be over. However, the end came very quickly, just after we left the Eco Park we turned into a stadium, ran three quarters of the lap (the soft bouncy surface felt weird after almost 26 miles on tarmac) and finished in front of the grandstand.

My time was 3:05:26, but the Garmin had recorded 26.04 miles and I guess this was about a quarter of a mile short, so on a correctly measured marathon this would have been a 3:07 time. Indeed, a few minutes after I had finished I saw one lad receiving his medal and without breaking stride he ran another stadium lap before finally stopping. He may well have been the only runner to have run a full marathon today.

I chatted to a lot of other runners, including the pacers from 3:00 all the way to 4:00, and every single one of them confirmed the short course. It was worse for the pacers because the never knew if the course was going to be short or if there would be a long mile towards the end to make up for it, and they all came in 2-3 minutes early, despite all of them running a very slow stadium lap (I have seen faster laps in the 24 hours race!). It was worse still for guys running for a time, a friend of mine (hi Pat!) was going for his first sub-3 and had finished in 2:57, which would still have been sub-3 on a correct course but it left a slightly bitter taste with him.

It is a real shame. Everything else about the race was good, I liked the course, the water stations were just right and enthusiastically manned, Tramore was particularly good and the overall organisation of a high standard. But providing a correctly measured course (the half was correct, btw. Only the full was out) is an absolutely fundamental requirement and relegates all the positives into minor territory. It did not really affect me as I got my desired training run, but I do feel sorry for some of the other runners.

27 Jun

5 miles, 40:25, 8:04 pace, HR 134

28 Jun

26 miles, 3:05:26, 7:07 pace, HR 157

   Waterford Viking marathon, 19th place, 5th M40

29 Jun

5 miles, 42:59, 8:35 pace, HR 131

Weekly Mileage: 78

Fatigue And Recovery

I guess I can't complain.

When I started on my present training cycle, I knew there was a decent chance of me getting injured. The mileage was unprecedented and the long runs even more so. I heard the words "you are mental" on several occasions, including from guys who have run very long races themselves and I always knew I was pushing my boundaries.

Well, I never got injured. Just tired.

Magic happens only when you go outside your comfort zone, and that was very much what I was trying to do.

The last few runs the legs have felt reasonably okay (apart from Monday morning), but goodness gracious me, the pace had slowed down to such an extent that a snail on Prozac might be tempted to charge past me.

A few things since Portumna have been a bit confusing; I have mentioned my weight already in a previous post, which has now almost returned to pre-Portumna level (maybe still half a pound heavier). The HR data is even stranger, initially my HR bounced back quickly, just like after all the other long races I have done recently, only to all of a sudden slump again. I'm not sure why that would be the case. Overtraining could obviously be a factor, but I can't rule out my hayfever either, which right now is very bad but hopefully the worst of that will soon be behind me, partially because it always recedes around that time of year, partially because the weather is about to worsen again. One thing of note is that the values were improving as long as I did only 5 miles each day but dropped as soon as I ran a bit longer, though correlation does not imply causation and I'm not convinced that running 8 or 10 easy miles would cause such a slump.

Anyway, this morning (Thursday) all seems to have changed and running felt so much easier, it's hardly believable that we are talking about the same runner here. The legs felt fine, the effort was easier, the pace faster, you name it. Maybe it's because it was raining - it certainly helps the hayfever.

I'm running the Waterford marathon on Saturday, which will be my last long run before Belfast. As I'm not pacing, there is no pressure whatsoever. I have no idea how it will go, until yesterday I thought even 3:30 might be ambitious, today this is looking a lot better already.

23 Jun

am:10 miles, 1:20:29, 8:03 pace, HR 135

pm: 5 miles, 38:41, 7:44 pace, HR 141

24 Jun

10.8 miles, 1:38:12, 9:06 pace; trail run up to Windy Gap

25 Jun

8 miles, 1:04:38, 8:05 pace, HR 134

26 Jun

8 miles, 1:01:44, 7:43 pace, HR 138

Lonely Boy

To be honest, I haven't got a lot to say, just too much time on my hand.

Niamh and the kids packed up and left for Dublin for 2 weeks, leaving me alone to look after the cat (at least I think that's what I'm supposed to be doing). As much as I'm going to miss them, this arrangement has 3 major benefits:

1. I can run when I want to
2. I can use the car for Saturday's trip to Waterford
3. I get to watch the World Cup in peace

The timing couldn't be better, then :)

Last week was an exceptionally easy one (I know, I've mentioned that before) with only 43 miles, the second lowest mileage of the year (the lowest was the week after Connemara). The legs sure took their time to recover but got a little bit faster every day. They are still not back to normal, but normal is a very relative term. It took a while for the mind to recover as well, it wasn't until the weekend that I actually felt like running a bit more than 5 miles at recovery pace.

My weight has been a bit strange, I kept adding on weight every day after Portumna until about Wednesday and then it gradually started to come down again, though I'm still up a bit. I'm used to seeing an additional 2 or 3 pounds for a few days after an ultra, it's mostly water retention where the fluid keeps seeping from damaged muscle fibres. After a few days that gets fixed and I spend a day visiting the toilet every few minutes. This time it wasn't like that at all, the weight kept creeping up gradually and is now disappearing just as slowly.

One more thing. I had the sad news that the 50-mile Dingle Ultra is going to be held for the last time this year, it will be replaced with a 39-miler in future, which somehow doesn't attract me at all - who wants to do a fun run if you're used to be doing the real thing! That's a real shame as the 50 miler could have become a real classic. Anyway, it would be great to see the race bow out on a high and if you want to do it (I know you do!), this is your last chance, so off you go and sign up. I just did.

20 Jun

5 miles, 40:42, 8:08 pace, HR 129

21 Jun

8 miles, 1:03:19, 7:54 pace, HR 136

22 Jun

10 miles, 1:17:55, 7:47 pace, HR 140

Weekly Mileage: 43

Post Portumna

I had a closer look at my 5k splits from Portumna:

00 -  25k: 25:13 25:09 25:12 25:04 25:00
25 -  50k: 24:23 24:23 24:38 25:12 25:22
50 -  75k: 25:34 25:37 25:21 25:07 25:55
75 - 100k: 26:53 26:53 27:19 27:41 28:06

The first 70k are pretty impressive, if you don't mind me saying so. The pace did slow down after that but never in a disastrous fashion. The last two laps were slower but more because I conciously decided not to push as hard and risk a cramp; had I been in a close fight for a place I'd have taken that risk, obviously with uncertain outcome.

Overall I'm pretty happy with this. In Doneadea, back in February, I started strugging after the marathon mark. In Staplestown I got to 50k before seriously feeling the effort, and in Portumna I got to 70k, which is very nice progress. I'm far better conditioned for a long ultra race than I've ever been.

That's another point that I still have to get my head round properly: training is more or less done. Belfast is only 4 weeks away. Yikes! This week is an exceptionally easy recovery week, next week will see some higher mileage, though I don't know how high yet. I'll play it by ear. It will also see the Waterford marathon, and again I don't know what I'll do there and will play it by ear (I won't be setting any records, that much is certain).

I am still undecided on what shoes I will wear in Belfast; I recently started breaking in my final (sniff!) pair of Brooks Green Silence; my pair of Saucony Kinvara, which I used in Portumna, has now over 700 miles on them, which should make the decision to opt for the Brooks a no-brainer, except that I find the Kinvaras wonderfully comfortable at the moment. The temptation is definitely there to use them in Belfast, but it seems rather unwise to use such an old pair for a 24 hours race. I'll definitely bring 2 pairs, but I have never switched shoes in a race before and don't really plan on doing so in Belfast either, so in all likelihood whatever pair I am wearing at the start will still be on my feet 24 hours later.

This week has been exceptionally easy, and will remain so for a bit longer. My tried and tested recovery strategy is to run 5 miles each day, which leads to faster recovery than full rest. Sunday's run started with a truly pathetic hobble at 14-minute mile pace but thankfully got better soon. I have been getting a little bit quicker every day, but I'm only running once a day - I think doing 2 runs a day prolonged my recovery after Staplestown. I'll see and compare next week to find out which works better.

17 Jun

5 miles, 43:48, 8:46 pace, HR 123

18 Jun

5 miles, 42:13, 8:27 pace, HR 127

19 Jun

5 miles, 41:48, 8:22 pace, HR 126

I Ran 100 Kilometres ...

and all I got was this lousy medal!

or

I Ran 100 Kilometres ... and gained 2 bloody pounds!

or

I Ran 100 Kilometres ... and had the best time ever!

Ok, I like the last one best. Let's stick with that.

After running very well in last year's 50k and enjoying every single step along the way, I decided that the following year I'd be back for the Big Boys' race. I did waver a few times but finally got the courage to sign up for it - only to find out that it had been sold out! Luckily, they re-opened registration for a limited number of extra entrants and I got it.

The immediate race preparation wasn't all plain sailing either. I had booked a B&B in Portumna for the night before the race so that I would be able to get a good night's sleep and wouldn't have to get up at three o'clock in the morning, but unfortunately my room turned out to be above the bar where they played music until well after midnight and the bed was the most uncomfortable one I have ever slept in, so that effort backfired and I arrived at the start line feeling distinctly sleep-deprived. Having said that, I rarely sleep well the night before a race and it never seems to have any effect on the eventual outcome.

The lesson in Staplestown 4 week ago had been to pace myself a little bit better and I formulated a very simple race plan. I resolved to head out at 8-minute-mile pace (5 mins per km) and hold that for as long as I could, and then somehow make my way to the finish, however long that would take. I had entered my Staplestown race time into some calculators and got an expected 100k time of approximately 8:55, which seemed rather slow, as my initial hunch had been a 8:30-ish finish. However, 50 miles and 100k seem rather closely related distances and my expectations at the start were closer to 9 hours.

Nevermind, 8-minute-miles it was and it sure felt exceedingly easy at the start, easy enough that anything slower would probably have felt awkward. Gerry Duffy ran alongside me right at the start but must have decided to back off a little bit, the painful memories from Staplestown obviously still etched into his mind. At the out-and-back section the 2 Polish runners, Thomas Klimas and Maciej "Magic" Sawicki, were a bit ahead of me and Magic told me to catch up and run with them, but the pace felt a little bit too hard and I decided against it. Thomas had run with me for 7 laps in last year's 50k here before falling slightly behind and finishing a couple of minutes behind me, but had since proven his fine form by finishing second in the 127k Wicklow Way race, giving eventual winner Don Hannon an almighty fright and a real battle. Magic has nothing left to prove either as a serial finisher of the Connemara 100 (miles, that is). I very much expected the eventual winner to be Vasiliy Neumerzhitskiy, the defending champion as well as course record holder, which saved me from fretting about a potential victory and ensuring I could relax and just enjoy my own race.

Two runners joined me, Vilnis Pleite, a fellow sufferer in Bangor's dreadful conditions two years ago, and Andrew Greaney, who I had paced in last year's DCM and who had shared most of the laps in Donadea back in February with me. The three of us were chatting along happily as we made our way around the early laps of the course. The race is held in Portumna Forest Park, a lovely setting, and passed the Marina as well as the remains of Portumna castle on its 5k loop, which we would have to complete 20 times. Because just over 2k is on an out-and-back stretch, you invariably meet all other runners plenty of times, no matter if they are running faster or slower than you. I guess it also makes it easy to see where your rivals are, but that was of no concern to me today.

The 50k started with us, so it was busy right from the go and all the faster runners were doing the other distance - with one notable exception. I had told Billy Holden before the start that if he took off at 7-minute pace once more I was going to kill him; he seemed to read that in a slightly different way and figured that 6:20 pace would therefore be okay. He was well ahead of everyone else and at one point, much too early, (25k? 30k?) lapped our little group and was soon gone again. I was left shaking my head at his pacing tactics.

Vilnis was completely surprised at 25k, marvelling that a quarter of the race had already passed. We all felt as fresh as daisies, though I'm sure nobody was under any illusions that things would remain like that. In fact, it was only about a lap later that I noticed that my hamstrings were getting tight. This was still a bit early to be getting into trouble, barely a third into the race. But for the time being it was still easy enough to remain on pace, even if it meant I had to start working for it. In fact, the pace must have increased slightly as the average pace figure on my Garmin eventually went from 8:00 to 7:57. Having said that, I paced myself by feel, not by watch.

This race doubled as my last really long training run for Belfast and I had one more thing to experiment with. In Connemara as well as in Staplestown my stomach had started revolting at some point and I think it was down to sugar overload from gels and sports drink. I had since done a bit of research on the internet and settled for some new sports nutrition, Hammer Perpetuem. It sounded pretty good with all natural ingredients, plenty of protein and no simple sugars, and I was sold. I got a big tub of Caffe Latte flavour, though Vilnis told me that Strawberry tasted much better. In fact, I was rather disappointed by my first bottle, which tasted somewhat like an incredibly watery coffee and took me 7k to finish, but further bottles went down much easier and I was spared the sickly sweet feeling in my stomach that had bothered me in those previous two races (not that it had stopped me from having a great race in Connemara).

There was some slight confusion at km 40 when Vilnis thought we had covered 45, but no such luck. The other man in trouble was Billy, who clearly started to pay the price for his early pace. He would have run a great marathon in about 3:05, but unfortunately he had signed up for the 100k. By that point we had unlapped ourselves and kept gaining about 1k per lap. I told the other guys that I feared for the worst and doubted that Billy would be able to finish.

Mind, I no longer felt all that great myself. I actually got plenty of compliments from many of the other runners out on the course how relaxed I was looking, but I certainly did not feel overly relaxed. The pace was still holding steady but it was no longer easy and the legs felt rather heavy. I thought I still had Staplestown in my legs, plus the Cork marathon and all the other long races I have done this year and the accumulated fatigue might have been telling. However, a certain amount of suffering is inevitable in a 100k and was very much part of the plan, and no amount of whining would help.

We passed the marathon in about 3:30 and kept going through 50k in about 4:10 (give or take a minute) and then we were in the second half already. The course had been rather busy since the half-marathon start at 9 and was getting very quiet again, but all that changed when the marathon commenced at 12 o'clock, by which time we had already accumulated 5 hours of running each. We were still doing 8-minute pace and I figured that maybe at some point late in the race I might be able to tag along with the 3:45 pacer (my friend Chris) for a while, hoping that that would be roughly my pace closer to the finish.

As I grew tired, I noticed that my gait was changing and I started running more on my toes. This seems counter-intuitive, I'd usually expect a runner to go more on his heels as fatigue grows. However, striking with your forefoot when tired doesn't strike me as the worst thing that could happen and I was quite happy to leave the legs and feet to whatever gait they came up with naturally.

Vilnis had started complaining at some point and I gave him one of my s-caps (sodium and electrolyte tablets, highly recommended) to help him out, but as we went through the finish for the 12th time at 60k, he announced that he would be dropping back now and our group was down to Andrew and me. Andrew had his own stomach troubles that got worse and worse, and neither an s-cap nor a bottle of Perpetuem seemed to sort him out and by 65k he wanted to drop back as well. I managed to goad him along until the next aid station at 68k, but at that point he dropped back as well and from here on I was on my own, though still surrounded by all the other racers in the 50k, 100k and marathon.

For all of the first half the 3 of us had been in 8th, 9th and 10th place. By now we had caught one runner and I was quickly making up grounds on two or three others. Thomas Klimas was looking very strong and quickly decimating the leader's advantage. Magic and Vasilij were running together and looking good, until all of a sudden Vasilij was gone - he had dropped, very much to my surprise. I never made up any ground on Magic, we must have been running the same pace for most of the race and always passed each other on the same spot at the out-and-back section between the Marina and the castle. To be honest, I did expect him to falter at some stage. Thomas Klimas, on the other hand, looked like a dead-cert for the win, even when he was still minutes behind the leader. It also started dawning on me that Billy was looking much better and moving a lot faster again than he had a couple of hours ago. I did draw level with him eventually, but that had taken much longer than I would have expected. He clearly had recovered very well.

At 70k I went through the finish looking and feeling good and soaking up the applause once more. By 71k I had hit the wall. It really happened that quickly. I struggled badly through the next lap. Every step hurt, every breath hurt, everything hurt. I remembered that the last 30k in Staplestown, 4 weeks ago, had been rather ugly (I won't forget them in a hurry), and reckoned I was in for a repeat. 4 very painful kilometres later I went through the finish once more, now feeling utterly spent and completely empty. I even felt like the applause from the spectators was hesitant. I must have looked like crap.

Then I saw one of the helpers with a banana slice in her hand. I don't think I have ever eaten banana in a race before, but somehow it felt right so I grabbed it and ate it in one go.

The effect was magic. Within a couple of minutes I was running happily again, bouncing along the forest road and up the little hill. The quick turnaround seemed nothing short of magic. It didn't quite last, the last k before the finish kept growing longer and longer again, but I kept taking one slice of banana after each lap and it would pretty much get me around one more lap.

Somewhere around 80k I lapped a couple of friends once more, and one of them made a comment along the lines of "great to see that you are getting tired as well", which I found funny though it probably isn't exactly the most encouraging thing I'd heard that day. And believe it or not, he was right.

I went through the 80k mark with 6:44 on the clock, so I must have run pretty much the same pace as in Staplestown for the same distance, but thankfully I was feeling a lot better. Some of that was certainly attributable to the better pacing, but I'm sure the weather had something to do with it as well. The weather forecast had been very hot but luckily for us runners it was a fairly cloudy day. The temperatures may just about have touched 20 degrees but with the lack of direct sunlight it was much more manageable.

The 3:15 pacer went past me at some stage, moving so fast that I was startled. In fact, the pace difference was so great that I first thought they must be the 3:00 group, even though there was no such thing that day. Even so, I was still moving reasonably well, catching another struggling 100k runner, and I noticed that the guy who had taken over the lead from Billy had pulled out himself, though he very sportingly stayed on at the finish and kept encouraging the other runners.

I still thought the marathon runners had been on the course for only a short time when I caught a glimpse of the race clock at what must have been 90k and realised that they had been going for 2:38. Wow, doesn't time fly when you're having so much fun!

With 90k on the clock I had to deal with one more problem, namely the calves started cramping. This did not come as a complete surprise after so many hours of running, especially with the forefoot striking taking a greater toll on my calves. I took one more s-cap tablet, which may or may not have helped, but the real response was to slow down a little bit. There was nothing much to gain, I was several minutes behind Magic and several minutes ahead of Billy, so third place was assured, and a minute more or less really didn't mean much at the time. Going slightly slower caused less of a risk - if the legs had gone into full cramping mode, it certainly would have cost a lot more time, never mind the pain that would have accompanied that, so I was content to just jog my way round the last 2 laps.

The stomach felt full from the bananas and I didn't take one for the last lap, but at that point I could smell the finish and did my best to enjoy the glory stretch. Coming round the final corner I saw 8:33 on the clock and stretched out my arms as I crossed the line, more to signal to the spectators and marshalls that I was done rather than a means of celebration, though I was rather glad that I could finally stop running.

I had come third behind Thomas Klimas and Magic, a strong Central European showing, with Billy as the first Irishman in fourth place after his Lazarus-like resurrection halfway through the race. Thomas K's performance was incredibly impressive, last year he had not been able to stay with me and just one year later I wouldn't have had a hope of beating him. He has only been running for 3 years - it's scary to think how good he might become in another couple of years. Magic had impressed me just as much, I think this was the first time he had beaten me, and my expectations of him faltering and me catching up were clearly wrong. I was delighted that my other prediction had been even more wrong though, and Billy had not only finished but finished very well, and if he keeps improving and learns how to pace himself better I'll be left in the dust by yet another up-and-coming runner.

I had beaten the calculators' predictions by a massive amount, which felt rather good. I was pleased with the time, the performance and the podium finish. Most of all, I had a great time. I'll be back again.

All race photos by Iain Shaw. Thank you for the sterling work, Iain, and the consistently high quality photos!

11 Jun

8 miles, 1:03:36, 7:57 pace, HR 131

12 Jun

5 miles, 40:38, 8:07 pace, HR 129

13 Jun

5 miles, 39:12, 7:50 pace, HR 131

14 Jun

Portumna 100k

8:34:02, 8:15 pace, HR 144, Third place

15 Jun

5 miles, 48:18, 9:39 pace, HR 124

16 Jun

5 miles, 46:23, 9:16 pace, HR 121

Ups And Downs

I had a great little 10 mile run on Saturday morning and sure thought that the recovery from Cork was now well under way. Unfortunately I followed that up with an entire series of blah runs. Very unusually, I felt worse on my afternoon run that day than for my morning run, and that was followed by an 11 mile run on Sunday morning where I had to grind out every single mile out of the legs. I tried to tell myself that I had felt a lot better towards the end of the run than at the beginning, though in retrospect that was most likely just wishful thinking - or, maybe, I had felt truly awful at the beginning.

The legs felt bad enough for me not to run a second time on Sunday, even though I was very tempted, seeing as I had amassed 95 miles during the week and a short little recovery run would have pushed me into 3 digits once more. However, in the end I decided that would be running miles entirely for the miles sake and left it at that. It was almost certainly the right decision, the legs still felt like crap on Monday morning and not at all inclined to run faster.

With the Portumna 100k looming rather ominous in my very near future, that's not the best position to be in. I have obviously gotten myself well ahead of my recovery and need to step back a bit. I decided to ditch every evening run this week and just be content with running once a week. I also cut back today's (Tuesday's) mountain run and climbed up the Windy Gap just once rather than the planned double ascend. I considered binning the mountain altogether but reasoned that an entirely different stimulus to the road miles might do the legs some good (possibly wishful thinking, again).

The weather forecast was a bit ominous with thunderstorm warnings all day today and I was rather nervous looking out of the window at 6 am. I mean, I'm as daft as they come but not even I would consider running up a mountain in thunderstorms, but a blue sky and beautiful sunshine spoke an entirely different language and off I went, enjoying the view as well as the weather, and the legs felt surprisingly good. maybe I could have done the double crossing after all - no, let's not go there.

I'm now going to do 3 very easy days, which suits me very well as it works both as recovery as well as a mini-taper for Portumna. I have no idea what to expect; my vague notion was to run around 8:30 but my recent time in Staplestown would have me much closer to 9 hours. As a result, I don't even know what pace I should go out with - chances are, it will be too fast. Ah well.

I checked my body fat this morning, for the first time in ages. The scales give me 9.8%. usually I need to be under 144 pounds for the body fat to show below 10%, this time I'm still a pound or 2 heavier. I think I may have more legs muscles from all those mountain running, which is probably a good thing. (Note: the body fat scales might not be accurate but they are consistent, and if they give me a reading of under 10% for 146 pounds rather than 144 then I'm fairly confident that they indeed show a change in my body composition)

I'm getting old and senile. Twice this week I forgot to set the alarm clock. Both times I woke up on time anyway, but I better not keep pushing my luck.

7 Jun

am: 10 miles, 1:16:00, 7:36 pace, HR 130

pm: 5 miles, 39:49, 7:57 pace, HR 135

8 Jun

11 miles, 1:24:55, 7:43 pace, HR 134

9 Jun

10 miles, 1:18:34, 7:51 pace, HR 134

10 Jun

10.7 miles, 1:32:19, 8:37 pace, HR 137, Windy Gap

Post-Marathon

With the Cork marathon run at a relatively pedestrian pace, I was hoping I would not be in need of much recovery and might even get a week of "real" training under the belt.

I probably should have known better. The legs, while not sore, were quite stiff and I had the usual post-marathon concrete pillars effect. It meant I had to follow my usual recovery routine af nothing but 5 mile runs, though I could not help but notice that a couple of those afternoon runs this week were a lot faster than what I would normally call recovery pace. It's not as if I had pushed the pace - I just switched on the autopilot as soon as I started running and 5 miles later noticed that I had been a lot quicker than expected.

The HR has once again rebounded immediately after the marathon, which is always reassuring.

It's still only 4 days since the marathon, so I guess I can't complain. Since I have been going through the same routine a few times already this year, I pretty much know what to expect. In a few days the heavy feeling will lift one morning and I can run for joy again. But with a 100k to follow next weekend there won't be an opportunity to go mad (well, unless I really want to punish myself next Saturday), so easy running is pretty much all that's on the menu, with one mountain run thrown in for good measure.

The weather has mostly been lovely this week and I'm developing quite a nice tan, so much so that I keep getting asked where I had been on holiday. Sadly, this sunny weather seems to have ended now, today was rather miserable and the forecast for the weekend isn't great either. I was a little bit sad I'm not doing the Dingle Adventure Race this year, but looking at the weather I'm rather relieved I don't have to climb Mount Brandon over slippery stones. Good luck to all the competitors.

3 Jun

am: 5+ miles, 42:03, 8:19 pace, HR 126

pm: 5+ miles, 39:05, 7:54 pace, HR 128

4 Jun

am: 5 miles, 40:05, 8:01 pace, HR 132

pm: 5 miles, 37:30, 7:30 pace, HR 139

5 Jun

am: 5 miles, 40:30, 8:05 pace, HR 129

pm: 5 miles, 38:04, 7:36 pace, HR 137

6 Jun

am: 8 miles, 1:03:34, 7:56 pace, HR 132

pm: 5 miles, 38:52, 7:46 pace, HR 130

The Easy Shift

I had plenty of guilty feelings as I stood at the start of the Cork City marathon. I have been pacing it for the last 3 years, always doing the 3:15 pace group. In fact, back in 2011 Jo had given me my first ever 3:15 pacing gig when I was still nervous about doing that pace band and her confidence in me had been very re-assuring. However, 2 weeks ago, somewhere around mile 35 in Staplestown, it dawned on me that I would not have the legs to run that pace so soon after a 50 miler and I sent her an email. As a result, the one 3:15 pacer was entirely on his own while the 3:30 group was oversubscribed with 3 guys, and it was clearly my fault.

The Cork City marathon pacers

The least I could do was to at least do a good job at the 3:30 group. Pacing in Cork is always made trickier than expected by the funny Garmin readings. I don't know if it's because we are losing the satellite signal when we go through the tunnel but my Garmin always read at least 26.5 miles at the end. We had to keep a close eye on the official mile markers (thank God they are accurate!) and run a little bit faster on the Garmin than expected. Luckily, running 3:30 makes the maths trivial, 8-minute miles are all that's required and I was confident I would be able to work that out.

Still easy at 2.5 miles

I acquired a new friend because Aishling from Ennis was in a very chatty mood and we soon were BFFs. However after a few miles she must have decided that I wasn't a good enough friend (or maybe just not fast enough) and she moved a bit further ahead (she eventually finished in 3:27, well done)

The 3:30 pacers, and it's busy. Photo by Doug Minihane

Whatever you do when you talk about running, don't start whining to me. Distance running is a sport for people who get their head down and get things done rather than whinge and whine about it, and anyone complaining that the Cork course is tough will get short shrift, including the one runner who started whinging and whining to me at some point during the race. Sorry, the Agony Aunt was elsewhere today.

Water, water everywhere. Photo by Doug Minihane

Another runner who was with us that day was my friend Marty, who I had been in contact with for several years and who I first met in person here in Cork, at the start of the 2010 marathon. We happen to support the same football team. He promised to teach me some of the new songs (I haven't been to Manchester in a very long time) and I was looking forward to belting out "Who the f*ck are Man United" at mile 20, but around mile 17 or 18 he was gone. I was worried he might have run into trouble, but as it turns out he had felt too good to stay with us slow coaches and finished 5 minutes ahead of us.

"We're 30 seconds ahead!" Photo by Doug Minihane

At mile 15 the half marathon route merged with the full marathon and it got really busy for a while. Initially the half marathon runners around us were running a tad faster than our pace but that soon settled, and for the last few miles our group consisted of runners from both distances.

It was quite warm, though nowhere near as hot as some people claimed. It threatened to heat up on several occasions when the sun shone directly onto us but for the majority of time it was cloudy and much more manageable. The organisers were very well prepared and put on plenty of extra water stops, for most of the route we got water at almost every mile, which made a very big difference.

1.5 miles to go. Photo by Peter Mooney

As is inevitable we lost a lot of runners from our group on the hilly section between miles 17 and 20 but most runners who made it that far seemed to be able to stay with us. However, I noticed in the results that I moved from 282nd at halfway to 201st at the finish, which I found both very surprising and rather shocking.

At the end we urged everyone to move ahead and get the best possible time, which a few managed to do. We still had about eight marathon runners with us, plus a sizeable number of half runners. I checked behind me and decided that the gap to the next runner was too great for him to still break 3:30 and the pacers crossed the finish in one line (think Arsenal 1990 defensive line). Turns out I had underestimated one runner's determination and a strong sprint finish got him home just in time, though with chip time he actually had a much bigger cushion.

The plan had been to finish in 3:29:30 and we did it in 3:29:28, which is rather precise pacing, even if I say so myself.

3 pacers finished in unison

Splits. Note the positions!

The Garmin had measured a whopping 26.66 miles at the end; a good thing we did not have to rely on those measurements (and I am not even for a second claiming that the course is mis-measured). Unfortunately my HRM started misbehaving during the second half, which makes it hard to read any meaningful amounts of data, but I think the HR drift was minimal.

While I still felt guilty about not pacing 3:15, I got the bonus of still feeling very fresh at the finish. The legs felt like they could have gone around a second time without bother, not that I was about to test that theory. I was a lot stiffer after driving home to Kerry but a few hours of working in the garden actually improved things significantly and got some bonus points from Niamh.

I really enjoyed every minute of it. I can't wait to do it again. And hopefully next time I won't cry off at such a late stage.

2 Jun

Cork City Marathon, 3:30 pacer

3:29:28, 7:59 pace, HR ~141