T Minus 12 hours

I'm so nervous I can hardly type; I keep hitting the wrong keys, so if this post contains even more typos than usual, you know why.

I haven't been as nervous before a race for a long time. After 13 marathons, they are no longer something to lose sleep about. 3 Connemara Ultras make me a veteran in that respect as well. But the 50 mile distance is new and I'm a bundle of nerves.

I could not sleep Wednesday night and despite spending 9 hours in bed I only slept for 5 of those. I figured that's not too bad, it might mean I should be able to sleep Thursday night, which was almost true. I fell asleep at 10:30, but was awake at 5 am, so only partial success on that front. I don't expect to sleep much tonight. I'll be getting up at stupid o'clock and have already set 2 alarm clocks, but I don't expect to need either of them, really.

The training was short but intensive. I took it easy for a couple of weeks after the Cork City marathon, but the Killarney leg of the 32-marathon challenge forced me to up the long runs faster than normal. This turned out to be a good thing, I had no trouble adjusting and it meant I got more long runs under the belt than I would have otherwise. The meat and bones of this training cycle were the marathon-or-longer training runs, and I managed no less than 7 of those over a 5 week period, starting with that Killarney marathon and ending with 2 weekends of 30+/26.5+ back-to-back long runs. This had been looking extremely daunting on the training schedule, but I managed it by never looking further than the next run. When it came to it, I just did it and it turned out to be much easier than anticipated, though of course I had started training from a very high endurance base.

If this kind of training was the right thing to do, I cannot tell. I do wonder if a marathon-style training with a few long runs would have been better, because that's what worked extremely well for Connemara, but at the same time I'm glad I did it this way, for no other reason than that I now know that I can handle this style of training.

Training (excluding taper):

7 weeks

Total Number of Miles (excluding taper):

542
70, 75, 79, 77, 64, 92, 85

Average mpw:

77

Highest weekly mileage:

92+

# runs of 26.2 or more:

7

# of PRs:

0

Injuries:

1 complaining achilles tendon (didn't miss any training runs though)

Ailments:

1 nasty allergy attack (still scarred)

One thing that was different this time was the lack of races. Since most races take part over the weekend, I would have had to sacrifice a long run to participate and I did not think this would be a good idea. So I only ran one race in that period, the 4 miler in Kilgobnet that was held on a Friday evening and which had gone surprisingly well.

My troubles from earlier this week seem to have gone up in smoke. My knee is fine, my achilles is fine, my resting HR was back to 43 yesterday. Maybe it really was just your bog-standard taper madness.

One more night, sleepless or not, and then it's time. I have been waiting for this moment for an entire year.

1 Sep

5 miles, 42:28, 8:29 pace, HR 138

2 Sep

3 miles, 24:46, 8:15 pace, HR 135

Taking Stock

4 days to go. Less than 4 days to go, actually. It’s getting close.

I’m in the third week of my taper. After finishing the training with two 90-mile weeks, I ran under 50 miles during my first taper week and under 40 during the next one. This week will see hardly any mileage before the race. In theory, I should be well rested, recovered and fresh by now. Am I?

Am I f***! My right achilles, which has been acting up at times, is sending a few dodgy signals. However, my right knee feels worse. I can’t put any weight on it when kneeling down, and when I flex and straighten it, it responds with a very noticeable and ever so slightly disconcerting plop. I seem to have overcome the worst of the allergy attack from 2 weeks ago, but I still have some scars from that incident and now the skin on my hands has started peeling, which may or may not be related to that incident. I have measured my resting HR 3 times over the last 10 days. Before my allergy, it had been 41. Last week it was 46, at the beginning of this week it was 46 again and this morning it was 49!

This isn’t quite the standard taper-induced phantom pain, but I’m still hopeful it won’t impact on my race. My knee, which stared acting up Saturday evening, seems to be on the mend and kneeling down is not required during a 50 miler anyway. My heart rate is a bit more worrying, but since I expect the most limiting factor to be muscle breakdown rather than cardiovascular limitations, it may not be factor. When running, the knee is mostly fine but the achilles feels slightly worse, but I’m still hopeful this will all just magically disappear between now and then.

Monday was another rest day and today called for merely 6 miles, albeit with 3 at half-marathon effort. This seems a bit aggressive, 4 days before an ultra, but I’m working under the assumption that whoever created the schedule knows more about ultra running than I do and I followed it to the letter. Apparently the taper seems to have had some positive effect as I ran the 3 miles at 6:22 pace, but the last mile was slightly downhill and gave me a few seconds that way. To be honest I was not bothered about the pace at all, a tempo run at this stage does not seem to have much in common with Saturday’s race.

Only two days ago the various weather forecast websites could not have been more different in the prediction, but they seem to have converged. The met office is predicting widespread rain for Saturday and both wunderground and metcheck are not far off that forecast, at least for the morning. In marked contrast to last year it looks like we won’t have to worry about unseasonably high temperatures this time round, to put a positive spin on that. Then again, experience shows that with 4 days to go, these things are still very much open to change.

31 Aug

6+ miles, 42:48, 7:04 pace, HR 157
incl. 3+ miles @ 6:22 pace

The Final Week

I think this is the worst part of training. With only 6 days to go, I’m bouncing off the walls, having too much time and energy on my hands without knowing what to do with it. Sitting around and waiting for time to pass is not in my nature. Somehow I have to manage to get through this week without going nuts, and without driving Niamh mad.

Since I’m well into my taper, there was not much running going on. 5 slow and easy miles on Wednesday were followed by 7 miles on Thursday, which included 3 miles at marathon effort. That felt remarkably easy. I fell into a pace that felt right, but 7:05 pace is almost certainly a bit faster than my true present marathon pace. It’s the pace I set during my PB almost 2 years ago and I’m definitely not in the same kind of marathon shape, with the lack of speed work.

Friday was yet another rest day but brought a major boost to my spirits when Niamh and the family returned from Valentia, ending my lonely existence here in Caragh Lake. I don’t think I have ever been so happy to see them.

Over the past few weeks I did most of my training during the weekend, but with only one week to go not even that is the case any more. The schedule called for 90 minutes on Saturday, which I used for a last run on the Kerry Way. One of my targets for this training was to get as much climbing into my legs as possible and since the trails have a lot more climbs in them than the roads, that’s where I ended up for much of the miles. I ran a decent effort and reached the top of Windy Gap in 47 minutes, a good bit faster than usual. I turned around there, but the return leg only took slightly over 42 minutes, leaving me just short of the 90 minutes.

Since it was a nice weekend I spent the rest of the day gardening. Maybe complete rest would have been more beneficial for Dingle, but I really don’t think Niamh would have accepted that excuse. There was much to do, and I’m hardly going to do it next week.

Today was even easier with an easy 60-minutes jog, which I extended by a small margin, running 8 miles along Caragh Lake. The sun was shining when I left, but the strong wind brought up some dark rain clouds out of nowhere, leaving me soaked. It was bright and sunny again by the time I got back home. More gardening followed, and thankfully I more or less managed to finish it all.

The blackberries are spectacular this year, both in quantity as well as quality. We have enough for a big amount of jam, we have been eating them for desert most days as well as stuffing them into our mouths whenever we felt like it, and I’m presently experimenting making blackberry sorbet. With a little bit of luck it will come out as good as it sounds. As much as I hate those thorny plants for the rest of the year, around this time all is forgiven. But I guess I better not stop my race in Dingle for picking berries along the way, tempting as it may be.

25 Aug

5 miles, 43:33, 8:42 pace, HR 138

26 Aug

7 miles, 52:38, 7:31 pace, HR 153
incl. 3 miles @ 7:05

28 Aug

10.7 miles, 1:29:23, 8:21 pace, HR 159
much of it off-road up to Windy Gap

29 Aug

8 miles, 1:04:36, 8:04 pace, HR 146

Niamh Was Right

Moving back to Caragh Lake was definitely the right thing to do. Within 24 hours of leaving Valentia I noticed that the angry red markings on my body were receding quickly. I stopped looking like a lobster in boiling water and slowly started to take on a more human touch. The nights are still rough; while the worst of the itch has gone, it is still there. I had troubles falling asleep on Sunday because every time I was about to drift off I was jerking awake with yet another itch somewhere on my body. When I finally managed to sleep, I kept waking again and again. Last night was similar, but slightly better. But things are clearly improving.

I didn’t even think of running on Monday, but this morning I went out for 7 quick miles in the morning. With 11 days to go, this was my last strenuous training run. I knew that the long runs for the ultra would destroy my leg speed, but just how much that happened has left me slightly shell shocked. I really struggled to keep the pace below 7-minute miles. Not so long ago, that was my planned marathon pace, even though I never quite managed to keep it going for the entire 26 miles. Now this is basically a half-marathon effort.

For Connemara, I had to hold myself back to run 8-minute miles at the start and I managed to average that for the entire 39 miles. Now this feels unreasonably fast. After crossing the line in Connemara in 5:15, I thought that I could easily have managed another 11 miles in 2 hours, which would have given me a 50-mile time of 7:15. Right now, on the other hand, I would be delighted with a time of 7:30 for Dingle.

Should I have fewer really long runs for Dingle, and done more of a marathon-style training cycle like I did for Connemara? Or are these just the usual taper-induced doubts?

Of course it’s too late to change anything now. All I can do is get rid of the remnants of the allergy, stay healthy for another 10 days, and show up at the start line well rested. I should be able to do that.

24 Aug

7 miles, 48:08, 6:53 pace, HR 167

Still Itching

Good God! I do not wish an allergy like this on my worst enemy! I’ve been itching like mad since Tuesday, and 5 days later it’s still almost unbearable. By Thursday I felt a bit better but looked worse as the rash had now spread literally all over my body, including a few angry looking marks on my face, which did get me some attention at the office. Those marks have died down somewhat, but the itch remains, and the antihistamines seem to have stopped working.

I still don’t know what caused it; Niamh’s mum said she sprayed some starch over the bedclothes while ironing them, which could be the problem, but there’s no way of telling for sure if that’s the case. I have slept in a different bedroom the last few nights, but in order to recover I reluctantly took Niamh’s advice and returned home to Caragh Lake today (Sunday), where I’ll spend a lonely week on my own while the rest of the family are on their holidays. When I went back into the offending room to pack my suitcase, I could sense my entire body starting to tingle. That may or may not be a purely psychological reaction, but it shows that I really had to get out of that place.

I have slept almost 10 hours per day over the last 3 days. On Thursday and Friday I went to bed immediately after returning from work and was asleep within seconds, staying like that for a couple of hours. Normally that would mean I would be unable to sleep at night, but not so this time; I slept solidly until 7:30 on both occasions.

That meant no running on Friday, but in all honesty I was not feeling up to it anyway. My feet are also slightly but noticeably swollen, which had me a bit worried about my weekend runs. It might be taper time, but there’s still a bit of running to do.

For Saturday I decided to drive the car to the little car park at the foot of Bray Head and run up to the tower and back again. That way I would never be more than 10 minutes away from the car in case my foot, or anything else, got me into trouble. The road featured climbing a bit over 400 feet on a bit more than a mile on a dirt road, and then the same in return. The first out-and-back took a couple minutes more than 20 minutes, and I figured I would end up doing 5. However, I managed to speed up with every loop, and by the end of the fifth I was still well under 2 hours, so I did a sixth one. Since my singlet felt really uncomfortable rubbing against my raw skin, I took it off. It may have looked horrid and God knows what the few other people thought, seeing a topless runner (bar a HR strap), covered in red bruises running up and down that mountain, but that’s not my problem. The main thing for me was that the run went well and I felt good. I still slept for 3 more hours immediately after coming home.

Emboldened by that good run I did the Valentia loop on Sunday, basically following the cycling section of the Valentia Triathlon, but going the other way round and from a slightly offset starting point. Again I took off my top after a couple of miles because it was really uncomfortable, but running under the warm sun without water made that a good choice anyway, apart from the way I looked. I had forgotten about the relentless 400 feet climb towards Gheogean, but I survived. The loop was only a tad longer than 11 miles, just over 18 km, confirming that the triathlon's cycle leg had been a bit short, and I added a good bit at the end, again to get over 2 hours. Since all my long runs had been at such a slow pace, I ran a bit faster today, but was surprised just how tough sub-8 pace felt. This used to be my cruising pace not so long ago, today I had to work hard for it, albeit on rather tired legs and not feeling particularly well.

With the ultra less than 2 weeks away, the mileage is declining rapidly. I’d love to feel good about recovering from the heavy mileage of the last few weeks, but feeling good is not on the agenda at the moment. But safely back home in Caragh Lake, I’m optimistic I’ll be back to normal in a short while.

21 Aug

14.22 miles, 2:08:18, 9:01 pace, HR 152

22 Aug

15.54 miles, 2:00:14, 7:44 pace, HR 160

The Incredible Itch

Wow. That was quick. Three days ago I was a highly trained ultra runner in the best shape of his life, eagerly anticipating the next challenge. Today I’m a pathetically moaning shivering wreck.

Niamh moved to Valentia on Monday and I followed suit on Tuesday. Having a holiday house just 45 minutes drive from home is certainly an unusual setup, but that’s the way things are with us. It means that everyone else is in holiday mood while I have to commute from Valentia to Killorglin on a daily basis, but I can live with that.

However, just a couple of hours into the first night I woke up with incredibly itchy neck and shoulders. It got worse and worse as the night progressed, and the next morning I detected a few red blotches on my skin. I suspected an allergic reaction to the washing powder, so I brought our usual stuff back down in the evening and immediately washed all the bedclothes. Since I regularly suffer from hay fever, I always have some anti-histamines handy, but after a couple of hours it became clear that the Claritin had no effect whatsoever, but luckily Piriton does provide some relief from the itching. However, it also makes me drowsy and feeling cold.

Soon into the second night it became abundantly clear that washing the bedclothes had not done anything for me, and for the rest of the night I slept in little Maia’s bed, where there was just about enough room for me and where I could get a few hours of sleep. At least it proved that the problem was related to the bed in the front room.

However, today I’m covered in red spots, on my hands, face, neck, back, shoulder, … and I can even feel a few bumps on the inside of my mouth. However, only the neck, shoulders and hands are really itchy, the rest is just looking really bad but not bothering me otherwise. I’ll bring my own pillow and duvet from Caragh Lake tonight, and if that does not solve the problem I will have to stay at home on my own next week. Oh, and if I’m still as itchy as now (it is unbelievable, honestly, you have no idea!), I’ll get a doctor’s appointment.

The running is almost coincidental that way. I still felt pretty good yesterday morning and did a set of 3x2 miles at half marathon effort, on the totally flat Valentia shore road, which went pretty well. Today, however, my legs felt swollen (they probably are) and the thighs were rubbing together, not a particularly pleasant feeling. I had hoped the running would release the body’s endorphins and take away the pain for a while, but that was only partially true. My neck and shoulders felt indeed better temporarily, but the uncomfortable feeling in the legs made up for that.

After running to the point of exhaustion on a couple occasions the last few weeks, I thought I would be able to take a fair amount of pain. Apparently I was wrong. This really is unbearable!

17 Aug

5 miles, 42:26, 8:29 pace, HR 133

18 Aug

9 miles, 1:04:37, 7:10 pace, HR 153
  incl. 3x2 miles @ 6:37, 6:41, 6:41

19 Aug

5.7 miles, 49:16, 8:39 pace, HR 139

Another Tasty Sandwich

Even though I had to switch my long runs to the weekend, I still try to minimize the impact on family life. It might mean getting up at 6 am on a Saturday like last week, or it might meant getting creative when it comes to a workout.

Niamh wanted to go to Valentia on Saturday to spend the day with her parents and sister (and baby niece!) but was worried about me running all day when she would have to mind the kids. My suggested solution was for me to run to Valentia as my workout, which was accepted, though I had to promise not to arrive in Valentia before 2 o’clock. This one was easy. One lie-in later, I left Caragh Lake at 9:30 in the morning, the unloved back-bag strapped on to my back because the next 5 hours would have to be self-supported.

I estimated it would take a bit less than 5 hours to get there, so I took the scenic route with an extra mountain pass crossing at Windy Gap. That’s the same route I ran 4 weeks ago on another long run, but then I had turned around to get back home; this time I would just carry on. The weather left room for improvement, it was a dull, drizzly day with low clouds and low visibility, but considering I had to carry all my water with me, a hot day would have been a problem, so I guess I had no reason to complain.

Having gotten comfortable with the slow Ultra runners’ shuffle over the last few weeks, I noticed straight away that I was much slower than 4 weeks ago, from the very start. Back then I had started with an 8-minute mile, this time I was already 90 seconds slower at that early point and that pattern would continue. Still, I was astounded to check my watch when I reached last month’s turnaround point. Back then it had taken me 2 hours 18 to get there, today I was a whopping 24 minutes slower, over a distance of less than 15 miles (most of it off-road with 2 mountain passes along the way). I continued on; that part happened to be the worst as far as footing was concerned. The muddy, boggy section made running impossible for about a mile, and of course my feet got thoroughly wet. Eventually the surface improved again, and I was sorry to come out of the woods and back on the road, which felt incredibly hard and unforgiving after all those miles on dirt roads.

At that point I made a major cock-up; I had neglected to study the map in detail beforehand, even though I knew how badly the Kerry Way is signposted at times. They basically assume that either you know the way already or that you have a map handy at all times, neither of which applied to me, and I promptly missed the next turn. I could see Caherciveen a few miles in the distance but became concerned when the road headed back into the mountains. Eventually it dawned on me that I had not seen a signpost for at least 2 miles and decided to find my own way. A right turn down a tiny boreen was a sign of desperation because they tend to end in the middle of nowhere and I was quite likely to get stuck. I came across a herd of cows and almost caused a stampede (how on earth can those massive creatures be afraid of one single puny human?), managed to cross a river by wading through the water and was more than relieved to stumble across a road that led into exactly the right direction. Following that road, I must have crossed the Kerry Way twice, once the main section and once more the Caherciveen spur, but I did not see one single signpost for the entire way. Eventually I ended up on the N70, the main Ring of Kerry road, which luckily was not too busy at the time. A massive bonus came along half an hour later in the form of Niamh and the kids, making their own way to Valentia. This enabled me to get rid of my now empty bag. As the water bladder had gotten emptier and emptier, the bag had started bouncing more and more and the shoulder strap was rubbing against my neck, which was getting rather sore. Now, well over 4 hours into the run, I was more than glad to continue with just a handheld water bottle.

I made my way into Caherciveen and on towards Reenard, where I caught the ferry to the island. After covering so much distance on foot it felt weird to use a mechanical vehicle for the passage, but as far a swimming to the island is concerned, for me that’s very much a case of been there, done that, no need to do it again.

I was still 15 minutes short of 5 hours (not counting the 5 minutes on the ferry of course) so I did an extra lap through Knightstown before making my way home. The kids intercepted me and raced me to the finish, where I came last of course. I was happy to be done, but when I took off my Garmin I realised that I had covered 29.9 miles, so I put my shoes back on again and did an extra minute (the in-laws were about to have me certified at that point), just to come up with a round number.

Believe it or not, I felt great with no soreness, neither in the muscles nor the previously troublesome achilles.

We were back in Caragh Lake for Sunday and the contrast to Saturday was extreme, with a very warm, sunny day. Niamh thought the universe was playing a trick on me with those conditions for my last long run, but I was glad to be running in sunshine for a change. I started with a loop around Caragh Lake and after topping up my water bottle added an out-and-back section, along the Kerry Way again. I got very tired after about 13 miles and was highly tempted to call it a day after the first loop, but really did not want to chicken out of my very last long run. That first loop had been considerably faster then yesterday, about 8:40 pace; not exactly lightning fast but considerably faster than most of the really long runs. I paid for this pace with very tired legs, but decided that a climb up to the Kerry Way would provide the best training effect. After all, running on tired legs is the entire point of these weekend runs.

At one stage on the trail I passed a group of 4 horse riders, and the lady at the end of the group shouted a warning to the rest of her friends “watch out, jogger coming through!” This made me laugh out loud, after running 50 miles in the last 24 hours I did not classify myself as a jogger at that point, but I don’t think arguing that point with the lady would have led anywhere.

I seemed to revive on that stretch and I came home after running slightly more than a marathon, 4 sunny hours later with a topped-up tan but quite dehydrated and gasping for water. Nevertheless, the main training for Dingle had been completed successfully, and now it’s tapering time. Monday was a rest day (now that’s tapering!), and the race is only 19 days away!

Nutrition:
Saturday: 3 gels, 1 granola bar, 1 Amino: ~530 calories
Sunday: 2 gels, 1 bar, 1 Amino: ~450 calories

Weekend Mileage: 56+
Weekly Mileage: ~85

14 Aug

30 miles, 5:01:27, 10:03 pace, HR 138

15 Aug

26.83 miles, 4:00:06, 8:57 pace, HR 141

Puck Fair

Considering how much I ran over the weekend, I felt amazingly good this week. There was no muscle soreness to speak of; even the quads seemed in perfect condition. My one problem was my right achilles, which was really sore Monday evening. When I started moaning about it, Niamh cut me short, stating that she would be surprised if I had no troubles after all those miles. Maybe she knows more about running than me, because I was indeed surprised. Of course, this is the same achilles that had acted up a few weeks ago, but I thought I was over that as there had been no beep from it since.

Anyway, I iced it on Monday and resolved not to go running if it was still as sore Tuesday morning. Immediately after getting up it felt perfectly fine so I put on my gear, including an ankle wrap just to be on the safe side, and went out for a very easy 5-miler. The soreness was almost completely gone for the rest of the day and I thought I’d cracked it.

Imagine my surprise when it felt worse again on Wednesday, after another easy run, this time over 8 miles, but it was still nowhere near as bad as on Monday. Stubborn (read stupid) as I am, it didn’t stop me from doing my one faster session this week on Thursday, 10 miles with 2x3.5 miles at HMP. This went reasonably well. If I were training for a marathon I would be a bit unhappy about paces of 6:44 and 6:47, but I’m training for an ultra instead and I’m fine with that.

That tempo run brought me into Killorglin, which even at 7 o’clock was much busier than usual. There were several traders already putting up their stands for the last day of Puck Fair and I passed King Puck the 467th, looking very content and relaxed 3 stories up. We have already done our thing there, bringing the kids to the Fun Fair on Tuesday evening. With 4 children, each ride costing a minimum of 2 Euro each and lasting for maybe 2 minutes, the money was flying out of our wallets, unbelievable. There is always a great buzz in town when Puck is on and it puts Killorglin on the map, but the downside can be seen as well with people lying in the gutter passed out from drink on a regular basis. Allegedly it is the festival in Ireland where the most Guinness per head is consumed, though I cannot vouch for the accuracy of that statement (looking around, it sounds believable, alright). Obviously that kind of stuff isn’t compatible with training and I tend to stay away as the evening progresses.

There is just one more big weekend in store, then it’s already tapering time. I can’t believe Dingle is only 3 weeks away! I’m confident I’m in shape and I have trust in my training; bring it on.

10 Aug

5 miles, 44:06, 8:47 pace, HR 128

11 Aug

8 miles, 1:06:36, 8:20 pace, HR 133

12 Aug

10 miles, 1:11:29, 7:09 pace, HR 154
incl. 2x3.5 miles @ 6:44, 6:47

Eating Up The Miles

I had been nervously anticipating this weekend ever since I pinned the training schedule onto my wardrobe. 9 hours of running over 2 days – now that, finally, is Ultra training!

It was that training session that made me switch my long runs from early mornings (very early mornings!) to the weekend. It’s just not feasible to run that much before work and still expect to function; the sleep deprivation alone would knock me out, never mind the miles.

Still, since my presence was required in the house from lunchtime, I got up as soon as I woke at 6 am, had some breakfast, waited a bit to let it settle and was out of the house by 7 o’clock. It was a miserable drizzly grey morning but by concentrating purely on running I managed to tune out the drab conditions.

I started by doing an extended 16.5 miles loop around Caragh Lake, which would enable me to resupply at that point. I don’t like running with a rucksack and a handheld bottle was all I needed. Tucked into my fancy new ultra runner shorts were a granola bar, 2 gels and a flask of water mixed with a teaspoon of chia seeds. The idea for those were obviously gleaned from that one ubiquitous book about ultra running that everybody seems to have read, though I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to resist the temptation of barefoot running. I have used those seeds before, but only pre-run to stock up on carbs before a long run, never on the run itself. As it turned out over the next couple of hours, not only are those seeds pretty awful to swallow (it’s what I expect swallowing a handful of tadpoles would be like), my stomach revolted and let me know how unhappy he was. That’s why you try out things during training runs, of course - one more thing I can chalk off the list for Dingle. Say, anyone want to take an unwanted bag of seeds off my hands?

The stomach eventually settled when I ate my bar; during my marathon days I would never even have contemplated eating solid food on the run, but the right food at the right time works very well at the slower ultra paces. After completing the first loop I did a smaller loop around the Devils’ Elbow, going the opposite direction of my first loop for a few miles and including a wickedly steep climb up to the ridge, where I was pleased to find that my legs were in very good shape. They had started sending worrisome signals between miles 13 and 16, but once my stomach had settled the legs seemed to follow suit and I recovered very well. At one stage the pace had dropped to about 9:15 or so, but I recovered and by the time 4 hours were up I had covered just over 26.5 miles, and the gels came back home, untouched.

I slept a bit longer on Sunday, but apart from that my morning started in the same fashion and I was out of the house at 7:40. In marked contrast to the day before the sun was shining and it looked like a marvellous day, which helped the spirit. I guessed I could do with every bit of support, because today would not be easy. The legs felt not exactly sprightly, but considering I had run more than a marathon the day before, they were in excellent condition.

I started with the same loop as on Saturday, but running a bit slower. As recently as four weeks ago it would have been unthinkable to run as slow as 9-minute miles but I got into that habit very quickly; you don’t have a choice once the back-to-back runs start in earnest. After crossing Blackstones Bridge about halfway through the loop and making my way along the lake shore towards home I started getting tired; especially the hips seemed to suffer, but at that point I concentrated purely on finishing that loop and didn’t think about even one step beyond that point. I had originally planned to just refill my water bottle, but I ended up going back home, changing my top, using the toilet and eating a banana. I thought it was a very short break but according to the Garmin it took almost 10 minutes, which surprised me. It shows how quickly time can pass and in a race situation you would not want to spend that much time idling around.

Anyway, as soon as I was ready I was out of the door again. The banana was another thing to try in training. I’ve heard that they will be offered at aid stations in Dingle and had to test it out in training. Thankfully it turned out to be much more agreeable than the seeds from yesterday.

I had planned to do a double loop around the lake for a long time, basically from the moment I signed up for the ultra. Since then I have done countless single loops, and each time I had shivered at the thought of doing it again on tired legs. Now it was time to do it for real. Since the first 16.5 miles had taken me 2:35, I ran a shorter version for my second go, only 15 miles but it included the wicked climb from yesterday. Then again, while exhaustion was slowly creeping into all systems, I knew I would be able to finish without much hassle. On the long downhill from the highest point both of my shins started to hurt quite badly and I was grimacing as I went along. A flatter loop would have been easier; on the uphills I was hurting from sheer exhaustion, on the downhills I was hurting from the shins, but on the flat parts I was moving along steadily, fairly slow but constantly making progress. I passed the marathon mark a few minutes after 4 hours and rewarded myself with a celebratory carbohydrate gel. Oh the joy!

I was exhausted, but as I ran along the lake I remembered that I had felt tired at the same location yesterday, then more so at the same point on my first loop, so of course I was knackered now. It was hard work to keep going on tired legs, but I was perfectly aware that this was pretty much the point of the entire weekend.

Actually, much of the run was done on autopilot as my conscious self switched off completely and the final miles passed almost by default. I made my way home fro a second time, did one loop around the house to make up the full 5 hoursin celebration, and stopped after well over 31 miles, about 51 km. My first ever back-to-back marathons (plus bonus miles) were done.

Surprisingly I was alive enough to do 90 minutes of gardening work later on, but called it a day before collapsing. I didn’t do any running on Monday morning and the legs, while stiff, are in reasonable condition. Cycling the 5 miles to work was surprisingly easy but after sitting at my desk for an hour or two my right achilles started acting up and was very sore for the rest of the day. I’ll have to see how this develops. Apart from that one twinge I feel perfectly fine, but somehow I don’t think the speed workouts are going to happen this week.

By the way, if you think of ultra running as a means to control your weight, think again. Both on Saturday and Sunday, for the rest of the day I kept eating anything in sight, and I was not picky. Carbs, proteins, fat, they all ended in my stomach. The only edible thing I managed to resist were the remains of Maia’s half-eaten apple from a few hours earlier, but only just.

Weekly Mileage: 92.3
Weekend Mileage: 58.27

Nutrition:
Saturday: 1 tsp chia seeds, 1 bar, 1 Amino: ~ 275 calories
Sunday: 2 gels, 1 banana, 2 Amino: ~ 550 calories

7 Aug

26.59 miles, 4:01:19, 9:05 pace, HR 136

8 Aug

31.68 miles, 5:00:04, 9:28 pace, HR 133

Midweek Training

On Tuesday I woke up feeling really tired and highly tempted to bin the workout but got up anyway, after which I finally bothered to actually check the time. It was 4:20 am - time to get back. History repeated itself exactly one hour later, with the one difference that this time I checked the time before getting up. When it was finally time to get up for real at 6:15 I felt really happy about having had 2 lie-ins already this morning.

Last weekend had been an easy one with “only” 5.5 hours of running so I was fresh enough for a bit of speedwork during the week. I started with 6 mile repeats at about 10-mile race pace, which according to some calculators out there is now as slow as 6:35, so that was my target. It seemed achievable enough but when I struggled to get even to 8-minute pace during the 2 warm-up miles, doubts started creeping in. Anyway, I run these by feel rather than the watch, which is easily achievable because I start wheezing as soon as I go over the threshold and immediately know to hold back. The first 3 repeats were a tad on the slow side with 6:39, 6:43 and 6:43 again, and I noticed my right quads hurting towards the end of the third one, the exactly same spot that had been really sore the day after last week’s 400s. At the start of the fourth repeat I noticed a runner far ahead of me, and – funny how this works – this turned out to be the fastest repeat without even trying at 6:26. I caught up with him right at the end of the mile, at which case we started chatting. He was an American tourist on holidays, about to drive off to Dingle and up North later that day and very much enjoying his Irish holidays (that, or he was being polite). We had a nice enough chat for me to ignore the beeping of the Garmin for my next repeat and we ran together for three quarters of a mile before parting ways, me going right towards home, him left to finish his loop. I did the last 2 repeats at that stage, which meant I did not lose any of my workout; the average pace of the repeats was 6:38, a wee bit slower than planned but close enough.

The five miles on Wednesday would have been entirely unremarkable had they not yielded my lowest ever heart rate for a run. I checked back through my logs and this was indeed the lowest value since records began. I take it as a sign that my aerobic engine is in great shape, even if last week’s race showed up deficiencies in my anaerobic one, just the way you would want it for an Ultra, of course.

I felt recovered enough on Thursday for a few miles at marathon pace, even though I don’t really know what my marathon pace should be like. Then again, as I’m running purely by feel, that doesn’t really matter. The original plan was 5 miles at that effort, but as I felt perfectly fresh at the end of that I decided to keep it going until back home, and the 7:06 pace felt easy enough. If this were the pace I could hold for an entire marathon it would be reasonably close to a PR, though I won’t be able to test this out.

I didn’t set the alarm this morning but resolved to go running if I woke up in time and felt like running, both of which happened and 5 more miles were duly added. The schedule might be calling for a rest day but I think if I feel as good as now a recovery run is better - as long as I’m able to keep the pace slow enough, which is not a problem. It’s astounding how quickly I have managed to fall into the slow Ultra shuffle as soon as the serious Ultra training started last month.

3 Aug

10 miles, 1:12:43, 7:16 pace, HR 154
incl. 6x1 mile @ 6:39, 6:43, 6:43, 6:26, 6:46, 6:35 (avg 6:38)

4 Aug

5 miles, 44:39, 8:56 pace, HR 126

5 Aug

9 miles, 1:05:31, 7:17 pace, HR 153
incl. 7+ mile @ 7:06

6 Aug

5 miles, 32:31, 8:42 pace, HR 131

The Mountain And Me

According to the schedule, Friday was a rest day. I had changed things just a bit by running a race in the evening, so I was a bit nervous how my legs would hold up during the weekend. On the other hand, this was an easy weekend and I was reasonably sure I'd survive, even without a rest day.

The legs were not exactly springy when I left the house Saturday morning, but they were not too bad either, especially considering that they had been so sore 24 hours earlier. The run was only for 2.5 hours, so I ran it the old-fashioned way sans water, which saved me from carrying a bottle around with me for hours; instead I drank as much as I could stomach beforehand. I did bring a gel with me for emergencies, but brought that home untouched. I started out slowly enough to ensure that the run was always going to be easily manageable, but caught myself speeding up to 7:30 pace towards the end without even noticing. One extended lap around Caragh Lake later I was back on our driveway after 140 minute and did another short out-and-back segment to reach the time quota, which also brought up the mileage to 17.5.

Sunday started in very similar fashion, except that this time I carried a bottle of Amino drink with me and had a gel as well as a Granola bar in my short pockets. This was the first time I wore my new LD-shorts, designed for ultra runners, and testing out the gear was as much on the agenda as training my legs. The first thing I learned was that putting both the gel and the bar into the same back pocket didn't work very well, but separating them into smaller pockets was fine and within a couple of steps I had gotten used to them.

My original plan was to head over Windy Gap into Glenbeigh and turn around after 90 minutes, but as soon as I got to the first climb I saw a dirt road heading up towards Seefin mountain that I had never been on before, and curiosity won out. Two weeks ago the mountain part run of the Cappanalea Adventure Race must have gone along that route, so I figured it should be safe enough for me, even though I was not equipped for mountains, had no map and the visibility was sketchy at times. The road ended at some stage and I was left following a vague trail through boggy area. Because of the low clouds I was not able to see the mountain itself and ended going up towards my left, heading upwards. This was fine early on, but all of a sudden I realised that the territory had changed and the drop was almost vertical. Then whatever was left of the trail turned straight upwards and I decided to leave it at that, at an elevation of about 1200 feet. With my lack of equipment and my lack of knowledge of the terrain this was dangerous and I turned back before I would become a statistic. Later on, when I uploaded my data into Google Earth, I found that I had been going the wrong way anyway. On the bog, Seefin had been towards my right, not the left, and I was on the slopes of a secondary peak.

After eventually coming down the mountain, I saw that my average pace was slower than 13-minute miles. I guess crawling around a mountain side isn't the same as running on a road.

I followed my initial route and ran on the Kerry Way towards Windy Gap, depositing my bottle along the way so that I would not have to carry it all day. Pondering the fact that I was training for a 50-mile road race I decided that for the rest of my training I would stick to runnable terrain. It's one thing to get as much vertical into the training to steel the quads, it's a different matter if the footing does not allow running. While these training runs were all about time on feet, at least I wanted to spend that time running, not crawling on all fours at times.

Anyway, when I reached the pass between the mountains at Windy Gap, I saw another trail on my right, leading onto the ridge towards Seefin again and in spite of what I had decided 20 minutes earlier went up there, exploring again. The territory here was much easier, as witnessed by plenty of sheep eying me nervously, and almost runnable. Eventually, at about 1400 feet, I came across a fence blocking my way, though I could have gone across had a look at the watch not convinced me to turn back. I got one more lesson, namely that it's easy to find your way uphill but much more difficult to track back downhill, but the navigational functions of the Garmin, rudimentary as they might be, turned out be be a great help.

I picked up my bottle on the way back, only to be stopped in my tracks as I looked at the empty container, stunned. It was tightly closed and could not possibly have leaked, so someone must have taken it, either drunk the content or simply spilled it, then closed it again and put it back. Whoever the malicious wanker was, I hope next time on the trail you break your leg, arsehole. Luckily I wasn't particularly thirsty and made it back home without problems. I found it quite funny that I had covered fewer miles than the day before, despite being out there for an extra half an hour. I'll stay off the mountain for the rest of my long runs, but me and Seefin aren't finished yet with each other.

As you are probably aware, I don't get a lot of lie-ins, and I was really looking forward to one on Bank Holiday Monday. How Niamh managed not to get strangled by me after accidentally setting her alarm clock for 7:30 I'll never know, she would have deserved it no doubt. I did not manage to fall back asleep and I can't cope with staring at the ceiling for long, so I went out into the rain for a 5-mile recovery run instead. The decent feeling in my legs and the low HR told me that I didn't really need a full rest day anyway.

That was an easy weekend. The next two won't be. I'm a bit apprehensive, truth to be told.

Congratulations to Gerry and Ken for completing the 32-marathon challenge today. There are no words to do justice to their achievement.

31 Jul

17.5 miles, 2:30:40, 8:36 pace, HR 142

1 Aug

16.7 miles, 3:02:04, 10:54 pace, HR 134

2 Aug

5 miles, 43:43, 8:44 pace, HR 129

Too Fast For Me

The main reason why I had done quarter-mile repeats on Wednesday was Friday’s race. I didn’t want to completely disgrace myself on home ground and did not want to show up completely unprepared, and Wednesday’s workout was a last-minute attempt to get the legs used to running at that speed again after weeks of 9-minute miles.

On Thursday morning I figured it might not have been such a great idea because my quads were very sore. How one can run 48+ extremely hilly miles over the weekend without problems and then suffer from 2+ miles of speedwork is beyond me, but apparently that can happen. Things had improved a bit, but not much, by Friday morning when I did a 4-miles wake-up run, by now rather worried what a race in that state might do to my legs.

Kilgobnet lies well off the main road between Killorglin and Beaufort and even some locals would have slight troubles finding it on a map. Nevertheless, it has hosted a 4-mile race for many years. The turn-out was in line with previous years, I guess about 60 runners, with maybe a dozen walkers. It was also hosted by “my” club, Star of the Laune, though in all honesty I do nothing more for them but wear the singlet from time to time and pay my fee once a year. Still, Anthony, Michael and me looked splendid together in out bright orange shirts.

The race might be small but it is fiercely competitive and the standard is very good. A decent sized group sped off from the start, and even though I remarked to John that we would catch some of them before the end, I knew that the majority would be out of reach. Phil caught up with us and he and John eventually and slowly pulled away from me, just as I caught up with Anthony. Then Michael came along, and for a few strides I was the last of the club’s runners, but I managed to pull ahead of Anthony. Michael, on the other hand, ran like a man possessed and it came as a major surprise that I had no chance whatsoever of keeping up. A glance at my Garmin told me I was doing 5:40 pace, suicidal pace as it was and speeding up even more was definitely not on the cards. All I could do was watching his bright shirt slowly but surely disappear into the distance.

After about a mile I caught up with Seamus, which is what tends to happen in all short races – he pulls away at the start and eventually I catch him. I lost my place again when a yellow singlet went past me, but after about 1.5 miles I got one place back going down the only real incline of the course where I managed to pass Humphrey. After all that jostling, we finally had a settled field.

About 1.7 miles into the race, just before the spanking new bridge that reminds us of the heady days of the Celtic Tiger when the government thought nothing of spending 1.5 million Euro on a bridge over a miniscule river that gets used by a mere handful of people (but it’s a very nice bridge indeed, that’s for sure), the race turns left again, and oh sh*t, I was heading straight into the wind without another runner that might have served as a shield anywhere near. Actually, the wind was not strong at all but it was definitely noticeable and all we could do was push on regardless.

I managed to avoid looking at the pace or HR field of the Garmin, figuring (correctly) that I would not like to see the numbers, but I could not resist temptation to sneak at the distance field every now and again. When I thought we must be about halfway through, it said 1.8 miles. When I thought it must be close to 3 miles, it said 2.5. None of that was good news, and the fact that I kept looking at it was a bad sign of my increasing desperation. A blue shirt caught up with me and for a moment I thought it was Seamus again but it was a young lad, passing me like I was standing still. For a bit I tried to hitch a ride but he was going much too fast and there was no way I could have matched his pace. 2.6 miles into the race I thought that if this were a 5k, this is where I would have to start my drive for the finish and was glad that I could stay at the present pace instead, but of course I was well aware that this was a rather short-sighted view of things. Shortly before the 3 mile mark we turned left again and things got even worse because the road went uphill now, only very gradually but enough to multiply the torture. Twice I could hear footsteps closing in one me and twice I managed to pull away again, even though even a miniscule increase in pace multiplied the perceived effort. The third time the footsteps came close I heard two different rhythms. Just great, being passed in the last mile is bad enough; having two runners catch up is even worse! A runner in a green shirt (the eventual winner of the M45 category) went passed but the other runner (Humphrey, as it turned out) faded again and I ended up in the middle between the two of them as we slowly got pulled apart again. As we got closer to Kilgobnet the yellow singlet seemed to fade ahead of me as I started my kick for the line. Unfortunately I had been in the red zone for so long that there was nothing left in the tank to increase pace by much, and even though I managed to maybe halve the gap there was no way I could have caught him, and I crossed the line in 24:27. That was 15 seconds slower than my PB, but that had been set 2 years ago during a summer of speed work, and with my present Ultra training this was better than I could have hoped for. The average HR had been 180 and for the last mile it had gotten stuck at 185 for long, uncomfortable spells, so it definitely was not for lack of trying.

Did I enjoy it? To be brutally honest …. no, not really. I loved the socialising and banter both before and after the race, but the 4 miles of the race itself felt too much like hard work and I’m not used to running at almost 6-minute pace any more. My mile splits tell a story of a less-than-ideal pacing strategy, fading with each mile, 5:47, 6:07, 6:14 and 6:16, as I clearly paid the price for trying to keep up with some faster runners early on.

Michael had finished in about 23:30, easily winning the M50 price, an absolutely astonishing performance and he was rightly pleased with it. I missed out on the M40 price to Phil (just as well, seeing as I had been passed by both the winners of the M45 and M50 categories), but managed to win a spot price in form of a pink rain suit which just happened to fit Lola very well, so the rest of the family were more than happy with my evening. After the race I stood there and chatted for a long while, including today’s winner who was very nice and modest about his abilities, pretending to be impressed by my training for the Ultra. As much as I enjoyed the running scene, I think for the actual race itself I feel more at home at Dingle.

29 Jul

5 miles, 41:40, 8:20 pace, HR 134

30 Jul

am: 4 miles, 36:20, 9:03 pace, HR 129
pm: 7 miles, including:
   Kilgobnet 4-mile race, 24:27, 6:07 pace, HR 180, ~15th place

Thank God I Did Not Forget

For some reason, 13 years ago to the day, Niamh lowered herself to my level by agreeing to be my wife for the rest of our lives. Amazingly, she still claims not to regret a thing. 13 years. It can’t be unlucky, can it?

Almost as amazing as her lack in taste (or is it sense?) is the difference in my legs compared to last week. Although I inflicted pretty much the same punishment during the weekend, the quads, which were in a sea of pain 7 days ago, are perfectly fine. Can they really have adapted so quickly? I’m a bit weary of this – after the Killarney marathon 2 weeks ago I thought my legs were super strong, only to be taught a humbling lesson one week later, and I know there is still work to do before I can confidently say that I’m prepared for 50 miles, but the signs so far are good.

My shin was still a bit sore on Monday and so I checked the mileage on the shoes I had worn on Saturday. Niggles like that are usually a sign that I need to take a pair of shoes out of rotation and indeed, there were 600 miles on those runners and the reward for several months of faithful service was a one-way trip to the bin. Luckily, I already had a replacement pair waiting in the cupboard.

6 very easy miles on Tuesday left me feeling fresh enough to attempt a speed workout this morning and I chose a set of 400s to get some proper leg speed. Since I had not run fast for a very long time and my legs were still bound to be affected from this weekend’s double workout (as well as the one from the week before, and probably the marathon from the week before that as well) I would have been perfectly happy with 90-second-repeats, but I got a nice surprise by consistently being a good bit faster than that. I did not run back-and-forwards like I normally do for short repeats, but ran along the lake instead, which meant some of the repeats were net-downhill while I had to pay back on others, which explains most of the time differences between the repeats.

91, 88, 84, 81, 85, 87, 87, 89, 84 (avg. 86.6)

I’m very happy with those numbers. I thought my fast-twitch fibres would have atrophied my now.

I also got 2 new shorts, which will hopefully go some way of solving my problem of bringing stuff along for long runs because they have no less than 5 pockets each. I haven’t tried them out on a long run yet, that will come on the weekend, but I was definitely impressed by the prompt delivery from the states. Some companies are good like that and if their shorts are as good as their service, I will be delighted.

27 Jul

6.1 miles, 54:26, 8:55 pace, HR 127

28 Jul

8 miles, 1:00:08. 7:31 pace, HR 151
incl. 9x400 repeats (400 rest)

The End of Solitude

I had no idea I would miss them so much, but I was counting down the hours until my loved ones' return to Kerry. Though, after dealing with the boys' non-stop fighting for the rest of the day, I was wondering what exactly I had been missing. Reality has returned very quickly.

I had gotten up reasonably early on Saturday to give myself the chance to have some porridge for breakfast and 90 minutes time to digest it before hitting the road and still be home before the rest of the family. The initial weekend weather forecast had been pretty good but the closer we got to Saturday the worse the predictions became and it was indeed a dreary and drizzly morning. At about 9:30 I left home to the last of the raindrops but the low cloud cover remained. I could see the hills I was heading for covered in white fluff but every time I got there the clouds had lifted just high enough to avoid my presence. The road went up and down a few times until I arrived at Loch Acoose, about 8 miles from home, on the Kerry Way, going the other direction to last week. This was right at the foot of the highest peaks of the Reeks, which contain 9 of the 10 highest mountains in Ireland (with the missing one, Mount Brandon, not far away in Dingle), but unfortunately due to the low clouds the views were nowhere near as good as they could have been.

Since I had run out of water last week, I carried a little pack with a water bladder on my back. I had gotten that 2 or 3 years ago very cheaply in one those German discount stores and it had resided unused in the back of my cupboard ever since. You get what you pay for, the pack kept rubbing against my back, I was sweating madly and I was worried about it chafing, but it was still better than running out of water halfway through a 4-hours run.

I initially missed the turn-off from the main road, but from reading the map I had a pretty good idea where it should be, so I turned around and went down the road that I thought was the right one, even though I still could not find a signpost, no matter how hard I looked. As it turned out, the road was indeed the right one and I did spot the marker on my way back. It felt like running into the wildest and most remote part of the country but I was surprised to find not just one but two farms along the way. As stunning as the surroundings are, I could not imagine living up there, taking self-reliance pretty much to its reasonable limits. Running further upstream the little Gearhanagour Stream, the road turned into a trail, the trail turned into a bog and then I was surrounded on all sides by a massive cliff, hundreds of feet high and no visible way out. Luckily this was the one section of the Kerry Way that was well signposted and I followed a series of markers, scrambling up the almost vertical face, on all fours at times. Progress was so slow that several times the Garmin's autopause feature kicked in even though I was genuinely pressing on. Eventually, and almost exactly 2 hours into the run, I finally emerged at the top of a saddle, looking down the other way into the breathtakingly beautiful Bridia valley, though in all honesty I would not fancy living there. Right at the foot of Carrauntoohill, this really is wild countryside. I took plenty of photos, but be it the low light, the crappy camera or lack of skill of its operator, not one of the photos came out the way I hoped.

Last week, 40 miles down the other direction of the Kerry Way, I had turned around at a sign. To my surprise, I found an equivalent one here. Had I carried some money with me, I would have gone down to sample the delights of the Cookie Monster's Cafe (come on, how could you possibly resist that in the middle of nowhere), put as I was literally penniless I turned around and scrambled down the rock face towards Loch Acoose again.


I felt reasonably good, but my right shin was hurting, and the longer I got on the more it hurt until I was in agony, especially on the downhill stretches. Since I had 1200 feet of elevation to lose from the turnaround point to my home, there were a slot of downhills to do, and it was not the most fun I've ever had, truth to be told. I also was getting hungry, the bowl of porridge had been a long time ago, and eventually I gave in and ate the Powerbar that I had brought along. The last time I had one of those, probably 5 years ago, they had tasted awful and were really hard to chew, but it seems like things have improved; that one was really yummy and easy to eat. I still would not dream of actually buying that kind of artificial stuff. I had gotten it in a goody bag of one of my races. I tried to remember where, and it might even have been last year's Boston marathon, over 17 months ago! In that case it would almost certainly been out of date, but it sat well in my stomach and sustained me for the rest of my run. I didn't touch the gels I had brought along with me.

Eventually it dawned on me that running downhill was faster than uphill, so I would be home in less than 4 hours, so I took a slightly longer route coming down the last mountain, which also avoided the steepest part of the road, for which my shin was thankful for, and I was back home a couple of minutes past the 4 hours mark. This would have been sufficient, but the Garmin showed 25.17 miles and I decided, having run so far I might as well turn this into a marathon and headed out for a few more minutes until I had 26.41 miles on the clock.

Sunday morning was similar to Saturday, except that I also had to prepare breakfast for the kids, and again I was out of the house at 9:30, 90 minutes after a bowl of porridge. Thankfully the legs felt much better than they had a week ago, but that's not to say it was an easy run. It was hard enough going, but at least this time I did not have to stop myself from moaning in pain on the downhill stretches. The quads were in much better shape than 7 days ago. If that was due to the slightly lower Saturday mileage, the fact that I had gotten a break from running while climbing up and down the cliff at the halfway point, the slower pace, because my legs were already stronger than before, or if it was a combination of some or all of these points I don't know, but I appreciated the difference. I headed around Caragh Lake again but as I neared the 10 miles mark decided to up the ante slightly and headed on the Kerry Way on a punishing climb up towards the slopes of Seefin Mountain, following the tracks until I got closer to home rather than using the usual route of the road alongside the lake. I was rewarded with beautiful views but also screaming hamstrings. Last week it had been the quads that were giving out, this time it was definitely the back of the legs that complained vociferously. I took one gel at that point, but shortly afterwards I passed some blackberry bushes with almost ripe fruits, the first ones of the year. That was good enough for me and I interrupted my run and greedily ate about 2 dozen of them. Following the road down the other side of the mountain I reached our driveway after about 2 hours 25 minutes. After a quick top-up of the bottle with some water I was ready for more and headed towards Ard-na-Sidhe. I was unsure which way to go but must have decided that I had not punished myself sufficiently yet and ran up the road on the side of Devil's Elbow that I occasionally use for hill sprints. There were more views to be gotten from the picnic spot, but eventually I had enough and headed for home, which I reached once more after 3 hours 20 minutes. That was still 10 minutes short of the original target, but since I had done 15 minutes extra on Saturday I could not muster the energy to add another mile and stumbled through the door, by now completely exhausted. This was slightly shorter than last week but with a lot more vertical gain and loss, and at least as tiring.

Niamh, in her immaculate timing, had pancakes waiting for me. Has any runner ever had a better wife? Now I definitely remember what I had been missing all week. Welcome back, honey! Don't ever leave me behind again!

Nutrition:
Saturday: 1 Amino + 1 Powerbar = 386 cal,
weight pre-run 151.2, post-run 149.4 (minus 1.8 lbs)

Sunday: 1 Amino + 1 gel + blackberries = 263 cal,
weight pre-run 150.6, post-run 146.2 (minus 4.4 lbs, oops)

24 Jul

26.41 miles, 4:20:36, 9:53 pace, HR 135

25 Jul

21.88 miles, 3:21:37, 9:13 pace, HR 139

Home Alone

I had been racking my brain who the person from the Rás na Ríochta had been who had recognised me last Saturday near Windy Gap, until I looked up the results from said race to find the name Peter Walsh – of course, the guy I had run with for most of the final 13 miles in Connemara, back in April! Thank God that’s solved, it has really been bothering me.

This blog entry should be as short as my recent runs, so Ewen will rejoice. The legs were still a bit on the sore side on Thursday, but I decided to at least try and get some faster miles under my belt for this week. It was really windy and initially I decided to do the Ard-na-Sidhe road because of it, but then changed my mind and took on the elements on the Caragh Lake road. The faster part came in the middle of my 8-mile run in the form of 2x1.5 miles. The first part seemed ok with a pace of 6:36, which wasn’t exactly brilliant but as good as it would ever get with my weary legs. However, this was with the wind on my back and also slightly downhill. Obviously I had to pay for that on the return journey and the corresponding stretch only yielded 6:56 pace, fighting against the blustery wind.

It turned into a beautiful day and I could not resist another run after work in the bright sunshine. Since the family were still absent, I kinda felt obligated to do at least one double workout during the week, so I ran for 5 miles, just because I could. It’s not often that I have the opportunity. It did strike me that it would have made more sense to run easy in the morning and do the workout in the evening, but by that time it was too late. I checked the Garmin after 2 miles and even though I could have sworn I had run about 9-minute-miles up to then, the display begged to differ and I was close to 8-minute pace. I did slow down a bit for the rest of the run.

I was quite surprised to feel some fatigue in the legs this morning. I blame the evening run, with the halved rest period, rather than the tempo miles. This was not really a problem today, but could come back to bite me tomorrow for my next long run. I admit to being a bit apprehensive about it. My legs don’t feel recovered from the last weekend, and to put some more punishment on them feels risky. But I will try and stay close to the schedule and that means 4 hours tomorrow and 3.5 hours on Sunday.

The family will be back tomorrow. The house has started to feel really quiet without them. It's too big for one person. I guess it's a sign that I really miss them.

Talking about missing, I will miss tomorrow's 5k in Killarney that is run annually as part of the Killarney Summerfest. That's the first time in 5 year that I won't be there, and I'm sorry I won't see a few friends that are bound to be on the start line. It just does not fit into my training. The long runs don't leave room for a 5k race in-between.

22 Jul

am: 8 miles, 59:46, 7:28 pace, HR 154
      incl. 2x1.5 miles @ 6:36, 6:56 pace
pm: 5 miles, 41:22, 8:14 pace, HR 136

23 Jul

5 miles, 43:12, 8:38 pace, HR 134

Pain Killers

After finishing my run on Sunday, my back was really sore, and every time I made the wrong movement I was almost wincing in pain. It must have been caused by running in a tired state so that my form had badly deteriorated, hunched over like a octogenarian. It really had me worried for a while, but on Monday that had already gone away, after just one night’s sleep.

Unsurprisingly, that was not the end of pain; for the last 3 days I have paid for my long weekend with a pair of very sore legs. At least the pain is completely symmetrical, both legs sending identical symptoms from the same muscles. Looking at a that picture, the Vastus Medialis is the worst affected, with the Vastus Lateralis coming a fairly close second. The Stick has seen a lot of action again, but my quads were so sore initially that I was wincing almost before it even touched my legs.

My usual test for leg soreness is walking down the staircase at work. On Monday, I had to hold on to the handrails for support. At first I was wondering why I was as sore as after a marathon, then I remembered that not only had I done more than a marathon on Saturday, it also included 3 mountain passes, followed by more of the same on Sunday. Of course I was sore!

By Tuesday I managed to walk down without holding on, though it still hurt a lot. Today, Wednesday, there is just some residue of soreness left, so recovery is going well. Which is good, because I intend to do more of the same the following weekend. Eventually, or so I hope, my quads will be rebuilt with sufficient strength to sustain long, steep downhill miles during the first third of an Ultra, which is exactly what lies in wait in Dingle.

Unsurprisingly, the training schedule went out of the window over the last 3 days. I took Monday off completely (actually, that was according to schedule) and only did 5 miles on Tuesday, starting out on my tippitoes initially and then waiting for the endorphins to kick in, which took 3 miles. Wednesday morning was similar, but already a good bit easier. It’s a wonderful feeling when the body-internal drugs kick in and take the pain away. I could get hooked on that. Oh, hang on …

20 Jul

5 miles, 43:36, 8:43 pace, HR 131

21 Jul

6.1 miles, 53:31, 8:46 pace, HR 130

Training Camp

It was Saturday morning, exactly 10 o’clock that I waved Niamh and the kids good-bye. They were on their way to Dublin for an entire week, leaving me to fend on my own for 9 days. Freed from the shackles of family life, I fully intend on doing what every other married man with children would do in the same situation: I will run a lot!*

This week will be my Dingle Ultra training camp, but unfortunately and highly inconveniently I still have to go to work from Monday to Friday. I still have one wife, four children, one mortgage and one racing habit to maintain, and neither of those comes cheap.

As Maia very rightly pointed out, “Daddy has to stay home to do running and working.” She might only be 2, but she’s clearly clued up.

Anyway, 5 minutes after the car had gone down the driveway I followed along the same route myself. I was keen to get going because the weather forecast was not promising and as I was heading into the mountains I intended to make the best of the last few dry hours. I headed up to the Kerry Way, the closest point of which is just over 2 miles from home, and headed towards Windy Gap. I was completely caught by surprise by the fact that the Rás na Ríochta adventure race was on at the same time and I encountered a few dozen mountain bikers over the next 4 miles, first the ones from the mini-version, but shortly after crossing my first mountain pass** of the day at Windy Gap the leaders of the real race came along. I was completely taken by surprise by the fact that the second rider greeted me with “hello Thomas, marathon man”, and he was gone before I had recovered from the shock of being recognised. I had only barely been aware that the race would be on that day and since I never looked at the race map I did not know that I would be running along the course. I would have chosen a different route had I known. In the end it didn’t really matter and I didn’t interfere with anyone’s race.

Anyway, after Windy Gap the road dropped all the way down to sea level, first on a very stony trail, then on a small road. After Glenbeigh and Rosbeigh there was a mile of single track before another couple of miles on the road uphill to Mountain Stage and then the best part of the day, a few miles along the slopes of Drung Hill, 800 feet above the sea (and 700 feet above the main road) with views to die for, along the Iveragh peninsula and across the bay towards Dingle. The photos really don’t do it more than 1% justice. Oh yes, I did carry a camera in my waist pack. After last Saturday I decided not to pile too much stuff into my short pockets any more and brought a little waist pack, and since there was some extra space I brought the camera along with me. Don’t expect it to be a regular occurrence, though. I even had my mobile with me and sent a few pictures to Niamh while she was on her journey.

Anyway, after crossing another mountain pass beyond Drung and about 15 miles and 2:18 into the run I reached a little sign that I took as the turnaround point. I intended to cut out Windy Gap on my way home, and the shorter return journey should give me roughly 4 hours of running, or so I thought. My main problem was that despite rationing my drink, my only bottle was now empty. Unless I took a detour I was at least 5 miles from the next house and I was getting rather thirsty, so eventually I re-filled my bottle from a stream. I had encountered plenty of water, but with loads of sheep within the vicinity I did not trust the water. This little stream came out of a forest straight down the mountain and I decided to take the risk. The yellow-brownish colour was not too appealing, but the peat surface meant this in itself was not a bad sign. I retraced my footsteps back towards Mountain Stage and then towards Glenbeigh. I was getting really tired now. It probably was not just the miles but the vertical gains and drops that killed my quads and I was really struggling. A gel revived me sufficiently to make it to Glenbeigh, but I had to fight some serious nausea; I wondered if the water was responsible for that. When I finally made it into Glenbeigh itself I stopped by the Tower Hotel where they graciously re-filled my (empty again) bottle. I was so thirsty that I finished two-thirds of it before I had even left the premises, but decided that I would make the last 4 miles home without another top-up. I surprisingly managed to tune into The Zone for the rest of the run and made it home after 27.5 miles in 4:17:08, about 20 of them off-road, completely and utterly exhausted and aching just about everywhere. I stepped on the scales to find that my weight had dropped from 152.8 pounds pre-run to 148, a loss of just under 5 pounds. Considering that you can expect to lose 4 pounds from depleted glycogen stores alone, this was better than expected, about 3% weight loss. After feeling so dehydrated I had expected a much greater loss. I was no good for anything for the rest of the day, just slumped on the sofa watching the Tour de France. These guys are spending 4+ hours on the bike day after day, but at least their sport is not weight bearing. I did wonder how I was supposed to run again tomorrow, aching as I was all over. In hindsight I had started out too fast, but what’s done is done.

I slept less than expected and was up well before 8 o’clock, only to find that the weather forecast had been wrong and the rain had not moved on overnight. I did plenty of housework (yes, I’m a domesticated man, me) despite my sore legs, and by 10:30 got fed up with waiting for better conditions and got ready to head out again. The plan for the weekend had been 4 hours on Saturday and 3:30 on Sunday, but my legs were so sore I decided to cut it short. However, to ensure that I would not take it too easy I did the loop around Caragh Lake, which would give me 16.5 miles without the opportunity of bailing out early, which I guessed would be a good thing. I briefly wondered if it was really such a good idea heading out with already weary legs, but of course that was pretty much the entire point of today’s run. I took it very slowly, not even doing 9-minute miles. By mile 3 I reached the base of the first hill and surprisingly it got easier from then on as I tuned into The Zone again, where I have spent a surprising amount of time recently. The weather didn’t help, the wind blew the rain straight into my face but I hardly noticed. The uphills were fine, but the legs were on fire on the downhills and I really had to stop myself from moaning loudly. A flatter route would have been much easier today, but again, putting myself through the wringer was the entire point of that run. I felt really bad after about 11 miles, but a gel at that point had amazing effects and revived me so much that I didn’t even mind running out of drink again a few miles short of home.

As soon as I got home I emptied an entire bottle of sports drink in one go. Then I got into the house, refilled my water bottle … and headed out for another 6 miles. I’m not sure what possessed me at that point, but I thought it would be neat to cover 50 miles over the weekend and I was 6 miles short. On the way to the turnaround point I was surprised to see that my pace had declined all the way to 10-minute miles, but I guess for an Ultra runner that’s not a bad pace to train in. After turning around 3 miles later I decided to end my dead man’s shuffle and stride out a bit more, which immediately dropped the pace to about 8:30, very slowly accelerating further. I was still hurting, but it felt good to feel like a runner again. I had noticed that my form had deteriorated badly whenever I was not concentrating; I was running hunched over, taking short steps, looking like an old man. It took conscious effort to straighten up, but over the last few miles I could feel the form improving again. The last mile was much faster again as I could smell the barn, and even the downhills hurt a lot less that way. The schedule had suggested running the last hour at marathon pace, but that was cloud cuckoo land nonsense and never going to happen. I surprised myself by managing the last mile at that pace, but that was it.

These were by far the hardest back-to-back training runs I’ve ever done but surprisingly I felt much better than the day before. A week ago I had gotten cocky by running almost 30 miles feeling really good and this weekend has brought me back down to earth. Ultra running is tough, after all it’s supposed to be hard, and a lesson in humility was well needed. Somehow I don’t think the mile repeats are going to happen next week. Instead I’ll try and recover over the next 5 days to do it all over again. Eventually I hope to get the hang of it.

Btw, in case someone is interested, I deliberately kept the nutrition on the low side to get my body used to running in a depleted state. On Saturday I took 500 ml of Amino, about 800 ml of water and 2 gels (318 calories). On Sunday I took 500 ml of Amino, 500 ml of sports drink, 500 ml of water and one gel (373 calories).

Weight: Saturday: pre-run 152.8, post-run 148
Sunday: pre-run 150, post-run 148.2

* no, there’s no need to comment on that particular point
** yes, I use the term rather loosely. Anything over 1000 feet is a mountain pass here.

17 Jul

27.5 miles, 4:17:08, 9:21 pace, HR 147

18 Jul

22.67 miles, 3:31:30, 9:19 pace, HR 140

Another Short One for Ewen’s Benefit

One thing I learnt on Saturday was that I like running long more than running fast. I guess that’s why I’m drawn to Ultras. Cruising along at 8:30 pace I felt like I could continue doing so all day. That’s obviously not the case, but I did cover almost 30 miles without even feeling particularly tired. It bodes well for Dingle, but there’s more to it. I wonder if I have lost my competitive edge as far as races up to the marathon are concerned. That does seem to happen to most runners as they get older, but I was not aware that I might have reached the stage already. I still want to chase a better marathon time, but will I have the willpower to do all those tempo runs and intervals week after week, when my first thought of each and every one of these days will be “oh no, speedwork!”?

I only did one run over the last 2 days, namely a set of mile repeats on Thursday. I did the 10-mile pace runs I had missed out on Tuesday. It was very windy, so I changed my original plan of running alongside my usual route and went towards Ard-na-Sidhe instead. The trees there don’t provide much shelter, but enough to take the worst out of it. The repeats were a bit uneven; against the wind was s good bit slower than the other way, unsurprisingly. Running back and forwards on the same stretch of road I met a couple walking in the rain 4 times and another fella 3 times. It was starting to get embarrassing, but thankfully I was done before I our roads crossed yet another time.

I didn’t set the alarm for today, just resolved to go running if I woke up in time, which I expected to do. I didn’t. The rest day, as stated in the schedule, did indeed happen.

Yesterday evening when cycling home from work, my rear tire exploded. Thankfully it happened close to home and on an uphill stretch. I don’t want to think how it might have ended had it happened 30 seconds earlier on the opposing downhill stretch, so I guess I was lucky. I even had all the needed replacement parts at home and I managed to fix it without swearing loudly (Niamh usually insists I fix the bike out of earshot of the children). My mechanic skills must be improving.

After a dry and sunny first half of the year, the wind and rain have returned, and everyone is resigned to it already. It feels like business as usual, after the last 3 horrible, rainy summers we’ve had. Just a bit of sunshine every now and again makes such a difference. I really hope the present set of rain fronts is just temporary. Ironically, the rest of Europe is experiencing a massive heat wave. It’s just here that we seem to be in a different world altogether.

15 Jul

8 miles, 58:32, 7:18 pace, HR 160
4x1 mile @ 6:39, 6:29, 6:29, 6:26

Moving Swiftly On

Running a marathon at 8:21 pace has the distinctive advantage of not requiring any real time for recovery. I went out for 5 miles on Sunday feeling perfectly fine, but I did spare a thought for Gerry and Ken; running another marathon would not have been at the top of my wish list that day; it reinforced the magnitude of their undertaking and I am even more in awe of the lads now. I’m glad to read that things are improving for Ken; after Saturday I had great doubts if he would be able to continue, but it looks like he’s pulling through.

I followed the weekend with another easy run on Monday, and then I started thinking about my training. Ever since Connemara in April I have not been training but recovering, first from that Ultra and then from the Cork marathon. With less than 8 weeks until Dingle, it is high time to get serious again. I found a training schedule on Runner’s World, possibly the first ever piece of information from that source that I have looked at (not true, I liked the core workout videos as well). I printed it out and hung it on my wall, though of course I’m jumping in halfway through the program. But since I have just managed to run a marathon without feeling tired I think I should be fit enough to keep up.

Niamh took one look at the schedule and said “I’m going to be a running widow!”. That’s true to some part; for the first time since taking up running 6 years ago I intend to do my long runs on the weekend. Running 5-hour long runs before work just isn’t feasible, not even for me. But Niamh and the kids will be in Dublin for the next 2 weekends and there will be a taper later on, so the really long family-abandoning runs will be limited to about 4 weekends, which I can justify, both to Niamh and to myself.

Then she took a second look and theatrically proclaimed “What’s this? Do my eyes deceive me? What’s the meaning of the word ‘rest’?”, at which point I obviously pointed out that this schedule would be only a rough guideline, not to be followed slavishly. Actually, now looking at it in a bit more detail, it isn’t all that impressive. The weekdays are pretty much the same all the way through. Instead of following to the letter I will try and listen to my body and adapt training accordingly.

Tuesday called for a set of repeats, and since I had not looked at the program properly I thought it would be miles at marathon pace when they should have been at 10-mile pace. Never mind, 3 days after a marathon this felt fast enough as it was. I did 7 repeats, and the target was my (Garmin-adjusted) pace from the Cork marathon of 7:15. What I did was 7:04, 7:07, 7:00, 7:07, 7:20, 7:20, 6:58, which was just a tad fast, but the differences between each repeat closely match the elevation profile and the effort was very constant. I might do a few faster miles tomorrow to make up for the mix-up but will see how the legs feel first.

I followed this up with another easy run this morning. The thought of a couple of long runs on the weekend ensured that I kept the effort very, very easy. That’s a good thing, and I hope I can keep this going for all of my recovery runs. I suspect they have often been too fast in the past, leading to less than ideal workouts. Then again, I also suspect this is a very common mistake amongst runners.

My resting HR was 43 this morning, a good bit higher than the 39 I measured 2 weeks ago, but then again I DID run a marathon at the weekend. With that in mind, I think this is a pretty good reading.

12 Jul

6.1 miles, 51:18, 8:25 pace, HR 134

13 Jul

10 miles, 1:15:05, 7:30 pace, HR 153
incl. 7 miles @ 7:04,7:07,7:00,7:07,7:20,7:20,6:58

14 Jul

5 miles, 43:04, 8:37 pace, HR 133