25-31 October - 91 miles
Monday - 13 miles (4am; 9pm)
Tuesday - 6 miles (am)
Wednesday - 9.5 miles (am)
Thursday - 14.5 miles( 4am; 10pm)
Friday - 16 miles
Saturday - 16 miles
Sunday - 16 miles
The marathon was only 2 weeks ago, but I am already back in the thick of training, as it is now only 2 weeks to my first ultra marathon, an 82 mile race over 3 days! Okay, I can hear some of you asking, why on earth did you plan an ultra marathon 4 weeks after running a marathon, especially one you gave everything to. All I can say is, good question, however, I think a multi-stage 3 day race will give me a a very small taste of what life will be like in the MDS.
So, no sooner had Amsterdam come and gone, but I had to start to train for the Ultra. I have to admit I thought I would be back in training a couple of days after Amsterdam, but it was four days before I could even walk properly never mind think about running. I had put my body through so much during that race that I felt empty and sore for days afterwards. I finally managed a 3.5mile run on the Friday night, but I was stiff, sore and short of energy. Saturday was the same, although I managed a 6.5 mile run with my dad, and Sunday I took a rest day owing to a little bit of a hangover and because my body simply didn’t have it in it to run!
So last Monday, 15 October, training started properly with a run to work and then a longer run home. It has been a hard week, as my muscles still continue to ache following Amsterdam. The first half of my week was all about getting my legs moving again and get back into training. I went back to club for the first time on Thursday, which was great. In order not to do myself a mischief I joined in with one of the slower groups, but still worked really hard and despite my legs feeling pretty tired and stiff I began to feel my old-self returning.
The Druid’s Ridgeway is a 3 day race covering 29.5 miles on day one, 27.5 miles on day two and 26.5 miles on day three. So, the second half of this week was all about preparing for the race, so I decided to run 16 miles on Friday, 16 miles on Saturday and 16 miles on Sunday.
On Friday and Saturday I was in Oban for work at a conference, so I knew I had to fit my runs around my work schedule. On Friday, I went out at lunch time, just in time for the torrential rain! However, it didn’t bother me one bit, as I was disappearing down a single lane, country road surrounded by beautiful countryside and hills on my left hand-side and the sea on my right. Being lost in that scenery and being lashed in rain meant I didn’t pay any attention to my watch for the first few miles, but just enjoyed my running. I was, therefore, a little surprised to see that I was clocking sub 7 minute miles. It didn’t feel that quick and I carried out on knocking out the miles all the way through my 16, so that I finished my run in 1 hour 48 minutes. I was really pleased, as this was the fastest I have run since the marathon.
Later that day my legs began to feel a little stiff and achy later in the day and I did wonder how I would be able to get through another 16 miles on Saturday.
On Saturday morning at 6am and in pitch black and rainy conditions I repeated the same run and again it was a fantastic feast of beauty, as on my way back over the last eight miles I was treated to moody autumnal sun rise, which washed the sea, hills and trees in greys and oranges. I didn’t go quite as quick that morning, but I took it deliberately slowly over the first eight miles, as I did struggle to see where I was going! I managed to pick the pace back-up over the last 8 miles and run 7 minute miles. My legs had felt pretty stiff and sore at the start of the run, but they did loosen up as I went. Later that day my legs were pretty stiff and with the three hour drive home I was not looking forward to a third 16 mile run on Sunday.
Thankfully, Sunday morning at home meant that I would be heading to Craiglochart to do the 16 mile run with the club. I picked up Colin and we arrived at the tennis centre carpark to find a fair few of the usual bunch stretching and chatting away. I have to admit I was feeling pretty stiff in my quads and calves, but knew I would be able to make it with the gang. We set off.
I ran with Niamh for a bit and we chatted about running, what else is there to chat about. I then ran with Robert Riddle and Bryan for a bit, before Bryan slowed down to chat with an old friend he’d made on the Water of Leith the week before. With Bryan chatting away, Robert and I sped away and to my surprise I found we were picking up a pace towards 7 minute mile pace and then under. Just before the 4 mile mark Robert turned off to head back, as he was only doing 8 miles. I suddenly found myself on my own and a glance behind showed the rest of the group about 45 seconds behind. I decided to press on as I was pretty sure the rest of them would catch me soon.
My pace got quicker and I was really pleased to find myself running around 6.45 pace. The stiffness in my legs had eased greatly and I was feeling pretty good for my third long run in as many days. I reached Balerno and just as I left the Water of Leith Ben came flying back down the other way. He had set off at some pace at the start of the run and was doing a fair pace on the way back. I looked back and couldn’t see any of the others, so pressed on alone. I started to head up the hill and a quick glance back and I could make out Colin and Bryan about a minute or so behind me. I turned back and carried on toward the top of the hill. I have to admit I was pretty pleased. The last few times we have been out running on a Sunday the three of us have raced it hard to the top of the hill and I have lost out the last two times. I smiled to myself as I knew I would be there first and wouldn’t need to bust my lungs and legs to get there! I still went pretty quickly though at sub 7 minute mile pace. At the top I pressed on and even quickened my pace. I couldn’t believe that I felt so good. It was a perfect day, with cool crisp air, bright skies and not a breath of wind, so a perfect day to run well.
I ran through the forest and passed the nine and a half mile mark when I heard the distinct sound of Bryan and Colin behind me. Sure enough I turned round and saw the two of them bearing down on me. I was gobsmacked! I was at least a minute a head of them at the top of the hill and had got quicker over the couple of miles since then running 6.30pace. They must have run two consecutive miles at sub 6 minute mile pace! They caught me at the 10 mile pace and both looked pretty knackered. They took great pride in telling me that they weren’t prepared to let me run away and leave them lagging well behind. I was impressed with their dedication in the pursuit. We continued on at a really quick pace and chatted away about running, training, and just about everything else. Again, I was really impressed that my legs felt so fresh and the three of us chatted fairly easily as we knocked out 6 minute miles over the last 6 miles home.
Of course the three of us couldn’t just run home together. That would have been far too sensible, so as we entered the last mile and moved on to the canal, Bryan dropped the hammer and left Colin and I standing. I was too tired to chase at that pace, so let him go. At first I thought Colin was going to stick with me, but after a few seconds he cursed and called Bryan a name and then shot after him. Again I didn’t go. I watched as Colin caught Bryan and then go past him before Bryan retook him. The two of them battled a bit and then slowed, so I took my chance and pushed a little to catch them. I caught them both just as we entered the last 400m and even pushed ahead of them, but I had nothing else and the two of them charged past me and finished a few seconds ahead, with Bryan just keeping Colin behind. We ran our 16 miles in 1hour 45 minutes, an average of 6.30 pace.
I was really pleased to finish my third 16 mile run in such good shape and so fast. My first week back has been really good and I feel as though I am well on my way to being ready for my first ultra. I have another hard week’s training ahead as I look to increase my miles and repeat the exercise of running three long runs back-to-back over Friday, Saturday and Sunday.
Tuesday, 2 November 2010
Thursday, 21 October 2010
17 October: Amsterdam Marathon Race Report
Amsterdam Marathon: 2.39.30, 71st place out of 8000
Heavy rain and strong winds lashed the plane as it touched down in Amsterdam in the dark of Friday night. I pressed my face against the window and sighed. I was nervous enough as it was, okay I hate flying, but really it was the marathon that was dominating my thoughts. I had trained and worked so hard. Getting on the plane I felt in the shape of my life and was full of confidence for a good run, so to see the weather was more than a little disheartening. I had run 5 marathons before this one and I have been plagued by poor conditions, gale force winds and baking hot days, which I think have affected my runs and times. The signs for this one weren't good.
Saturday was an easy day. Our early morning 2 mile run was nice and it was good to stretch the legs, however, Dan and I both felt a really strong breeze blowing between the streets. I watched as it skipped over the canals sending ripples across the water, rocking barges and rattling the trees and their leaves. The weather was really worrying me now and my dreams of a super PB started to fade.
Dan and I went to the expo picked up our numbers and then headed back to the hotel where we continued our first marathon of the weekend, all the Star Wars films. As we worked our way through the mediocrity of the prequel trilogy and on to the quality of the original films, I couldn't help but think about 'The Force'. I knew, as I watched Darth Vader and pals swing their lightsabers and wield the force, that I would certainly need to conjure up my own magic for the race. I would need the force, for sure. As a child I had loved these films as they had filled me with inspiration and hope. It was certainly the perfect choice for afternoon entertainment, because it brought back all those great childhood memories and put me perfectly at ease and took my mind off the weather. After a nice dinner of pasta and water with the rest of the gang I was more than ready for a good nights sleep and an early start.
I was really nervous from the moment I woke up, but I quietly went about getting myself ready for the marathon- breakfast, water, energy drink, Vaseline, deep heat, and kit on in the right order. I hung my head out the window, desperate to get an idea about the wind strength, which I had worried about ever since we landed.
Thankfully a beautiful, golden morning sun was winking in the sky above and not a breath of wind could be felt anywhere. The air was calm, crisp and cool the perfect weather for running a marathon. Still nervous, but excited we left the hotel. Dan and I got on a rather packed tram and got to the stadium with about an hour and a half to spare. It gave us some time to drop the bags, sit in the stadium and catch up with Niamh who we spotted wondering across the track. The three of us sat in the stadium for a little longer contemplating the next four hours and then it was time to get on the track to our starting pens and get ready for the start.
As soon as I started warming up I felt good. It was a relief. I always worry about those few warm up miles, as they usually tell you straight away what your race is going to be like. My legs felt fresh and light, although not perfect, as I could feel a little heaviness in my quads and a slight tightness in my right hamstring. Having said that, my legs have never felt perfect before any race,and I wonder if they ever will or should? I did some stretching and on the whole I felt ready. I was in the first starting pen and just behind the elite Kenyans (about as close as I got for the whole race!). Standing there just behind the start line, my body warm and ready, my quick short nervous breaths visible in the crisp cold air, I looked toward the first corner of the track and thought of all the possibilities of everything that could happen. I thought of all the things that could go right or wrong, but I was ready to roll the dice and take my chance. Then the stadium filled with the sound of the Chariots of Fire, which blasted out of every speaker and with every beat my heart rate moved up another notch, as it sounded the final countdown before the start. With one final deep breath the gun went and we were off.
I tried to stay calm and not shoot off out of the stadium as if it were a 200m a rep on a Tuesday night, but it was very difficult, as so many runners around me did sprint off, that, combined with the sound of chariots of fire carrying me down the track, the screams and cheers of the crowd calling out and the sheer excitement of what was happening made me feel as if I was running on air. I did go off a little quick, but once outside the stadium I reigned myself in and brought myself to a six minute mile pace. Six minute mile pace is exactly what I wanted and planned to do as I sought to get that sub 2.40 time I'd hoped for since I started training for the marathon back in July. The first mile was pretty easy and felt comfortable and with the crowds swelling by the roadsides shouting their support, it was a great mile.
By the end of the second mile I started to feel it in my lungs and legs. My breathing felt a little laboured and my legs felt heavier than I thought they should. I immediately began to do a performance appraisal. I wondered what I'd done wrong and asked myself questions like why was it tough already? I thought back to my training and remembered all the 16 mile runs that I had done at 6 minute mile pace. I started to have a mini-panic and wondered if things would begin to quickly unravel. I even thought about slowing down and concentrating on just getting a PB. It should have been easy to run at this pace, or so I thought. It then dawned on me as I ran through my third mile, still at 6 minute mile pace, that none of the 16 mile runs I had done had been easy and every mile of those training runs had been difficult. The difference was I had prepared myself for my training runs to be tough, whereas here, maybe because of my taper and a sense of looking back on training with rose-tinted glasses, I'd thought the first 16 miles of the marathon would be easy. This realisation and a fourth mile at the required pace made me switch my mind to training mode and I told myself that no matter how tough each mile was I would get to that 16 miles on time and on target and then just take it from there. It worked and instead of thinking of my legs I looked up and concentrated on the road ahead.
After five miles the little pep-talk in my mind had clearly begun to work, as everything felt a little easier. I also realised that the large group I had been running just behind was now behind me. I looked up and saw a 100m gap between myself and then next group. I was keen for support and as I moved through this mile I was still holding my pace, but pulling away from those behind me. I hit 6 miles and was stranded on my own, there was nobody with me. It was at this point I made a conscious decision to put my foot down and catch the group in front of me, which had about seven or eight members. I was worried that running on my own would leave me flagging when the tough miles came and allow my pace to drift. I knew I needed the comfort of a group to share the work. I picked up my pace and although I could feel my breathing get tougher and my legs creak in protest I spent a third of mile pursuing the group ahead.
Looking back and with the benefit of hindsight I think this was the smartest decision I have ever made at any point in any race I have ever run. Catching the back of that group I quickly found shelter and support. I settled in at the back and hung on to their heals as my lungs and legs recovered from the extra effort they had just put in. By the end of the seventh mile I was still on pace and now in a group. We had moved well out of the city by now and were working along a tarmac track beside the Amstel river. It was still bright and calm and the weather was good. It was great running in the group, as over the next couple of miles my body swung from feeling great to tired. The group helped, as when I struggled I clung to their heals or sat in the body of the runners and forced myself to hang on, knowing that staying with them would give me the mile times I needed. When I felt good I stayed with the group, holding myself back and saving my energy and strength for later.
We moved through the next 3 miles together and as we approached the 10 mile mark I began to notice that I was leaving the group as they were falling back. I checked my watch and realised that I was holding my pace, so they were getting slower. It took me less than a second to make the decision to press on. I was not giving up my required pace and I didn't trust the group behind me to get back up to speed.
Ahead of me I could see another group, they were less than 100m ahead and I again made the decision to put in a bit of effort to catch up with them. I stayed with this group, which included a couple of the elite female runners and their pacers. Again it was a group of about eight and again I sat in the middle or towards the back. Miles 10 and 11 felt pretty tough and the sanctuary of the group was great. At about 11 1/2 miles we turned sharply, ran over a bridge and then made another sharp turn to go up the other side of the river and back towards town. The turn brought with it a stiff breeze. It was the end of the perfect weather and I silently cursed.
I made another conscious decision at this point and that was to sit in the pack. I knew it was selfish, but to be honest I didn't care. Hiding in the pack was the best way I could shelter from the wind. I wasn't about to let the weather ruin my race. With the two pacers of the elite women acting as shields for their runners I took shelter too. I never once went to the front. Together the pack moved through half way and I crossed the timing mat in 1.19.10 - slightly ahead of my target time. I was pleased and although I could already feel the run in my legs and lungs I knew I had more. I knew, from my training, that I had 16 miles at 6 minute mile pace, so I knew I could do three more miles at that pace.
I noticed after we passed half way that the group was beginning to thin out as people began to drop back. One of the elite woman was slowing and as a result her pacer dropped back with her. I snuck in behind the elite dutch girl, or at least the name on her racing number suggested she was, and looked round for more runners. We were on our own. We had, however, crept up on the next group, a large group of about ten runners. The dutch girl seemed determined and she not only caught this group, but pushed to the front of it, led by her pacer. I sat at the back for a while, using them as a shield against the wind. We passed the 15 mile mark and I said to myself that I had one more mile at 6 minute mile pace and then I would be into new territory. Territory I had not been in during my training. Still, I was feeling good and it was then I noticed that elite dutch girl was moving away from our new group. I looked around me and the group seemed to be struggling as a whole. There were a lot of laboured faces and their breathing was far heavier than mine. I looked at my watch. I was on pace, but only just. I decided to go with the dutch girl, after all she had led me this far. I quietly moved my way through the group from the back to the front and pulled alongside the dutch girl behind her pacer.
We ran together as we crossed the 16 mile mark in a time of 1.36 - exactly where I wanted to be. My training had told me I could make it this far and that it would all be about the last ten miles and at last I was there. Best of all I was feeling good. The tightness in my legs and lungs that I had felt from the start were still there, but I had become accustomed to them, almost comfortable with it. It was at this point I had a rather strange moment. I suddenly decided that everything was good and I was easily going to finish under 2.40 and that the job was done. Feeling great, as we left the river and hit the big roads leading back to the city I left my new dutch friends behind and blasted through the next drink station and out on my own dreaming of glory and super fast times.
I got to 18 miles, still on course and still feeling great, but as inevitably happens in almost every marathon I found the wall just after the 18 mile marker. It was a real dose of reality for me. I didn't slow, but all of sudden maintaining my pace became much tougher. I actually shook my head in anger at this point. I was annoyed at myself for thinking it would be that easy. It made me realise that I was on the edge in terms of achieving the time I wanted and it would only take a few slow miles to push me over the 2.40 mark. I couldn't afford bad miles, I had to push through the wall. Thankfully, my dutch friends were back. They had slowed and fallen back a few yards at the drink station, but had picked up the pace to catch me up. They had also brought a friend and as the three of them passed me I tucked in behind. I really needed them, as I struggled on that 19th mile. I found the back of their heels and hung on for dear life. I kept telling myself, through the aches of my legs and heavy heaving of my lungs, just to hold on, not to let them get away, to keep going one mile at a time. They pulled away slightly, but I still went through 19 miles on time and best of all I seemed to have successfully scaled the wall as everything seemed that little bit easier. I even managed to pick up my pace and catch back up with my dutch friends. I decided this time that it was better to just stay with them for as long as possible, as they were pacing it well and running strongly. I couldn't afford to do anything stupid.
I felt great over miles 19-22. I hung on to the dutch runners comfortably, but I still knew that a few bad miles would take away my dream, so I concentrated. I worked hard and focused as much as I could on keeping everything together. I started to check my watch more and more to make sure I wasn't slipping. I began to do what I call 'marathon maths', where I start to work out what is the slowest I can possibly run per km over the remaining distance and still get the time I wanted. Every km mark (the course was marked in kms not miles) I passed I did a quick calculation and every one told me that I had nothing to spare, a few seconds at best. In my mind I worried, but kept telling myself to keep going.
I crossed 23 miles feeling strong and fast, as if nothing could stop me, but it all changed in a few strides. My legs suddenly began to tighten and creak with tiredness. I started to slow. My dutch friends were picking up their pace and were moving away from me and this time I could do nothing about it. We had pulled away from the other runner that had been with us, so I was now on my own. It was the worst possible moment to find myself on my own. I looked at my watch and it confirmed what had I feared, I was slowing. Thankfully not by too much, but enough to worry me. I started doing more marathon maths. I could afford to run at my new pace and still make it. I would start to eat into the little bit of spare time I had built up over the previous 22 miles, but I would have enough. I slowed some more.
This is where a marathon moves away from being a physical sport to a mental one. The battle with your mind is a crucial one and one that I have had in every marathon I have ever ran. I started to feel heavy, slow and sluggish. My legs cried out for leniency, for rest, to slow down. My mind began to agree with them and I started telling myself that 2.41 or 2.42 was a fantastic time and one I could live with. I started to concede and to tell myself that I had still done brilliantly. I then got angry with myself and told myself that I had come for sub 2.40 and that I shouldn't leave with anything less. I pleaded with my legs for just just 2.5 miles more of hard work, when they ignored the pleas I ordered them. Every step I pushed and worked and forced myself. I started to break things down into quarter miles and checked my watch and my pace. It was painful and every step seemed to take forever. I went through mile 24 in 6.15, my slowest mile. The next quarter mile saw my pace drop to 6.40 and I realised that things were slipping. I reacted by deliberately picking up my pace and pushing the pain and aching in my legs to get myself back on pace. Despite my internal struggle I was still passing people, but I barely noticed anyone. I was in my own world. I reached the last mile in a total time of 2.31. I was still on target, but I knew it would be close.
With every step I willed myself forward. I had moved into Vondelpark knowing the end was close, but the park is on a slight uphill gradient and I cursed it and swore. I was still slowing down, but holding on. I passed 25.2 miles and I knew I could afford a slow mile and still make it, but I also knew it would be close. My neck, arms and back had begun to ache now and my lungs began to rattle and rasp with every breath, as my body started to tell me it had had more than enough of the marathon. I pushed on, my quads burning, my hamstring tightening and tweaking with every step.
The crowd were great and I could hear them cheering, a french person shouted: "Allez, Allez Richard!" as she read my name on my number. It filled me with emotion, as she and other complete strangers who I had never met nor ever would were willing me on to do well. People shouted and cheered, a British person told me it wasn't far and to keep going. It all helped. It pushed me on and probably saved me valuable seconds. I wish I could thank them.
After what felt like an eternity in the worst fire pits of hell I left the park (In reality I had only spent a mile and a bit in there). Back on the road I knew it led to only one place, the stadium. I looked at my watch and it told me I was close to the 26 mile mark, but the 1km to go sign was still nowhere to be seen. It was at this point I realised that either the course was long, or I had found some extra meters, or that my garmin had been a little over enthusiastic in clocking up the miles. It was a little demoralising, as I knew I had less time to play with than I had thought. I tried to put my foot down, but there was nothing there. I was empty. I had one pace left and that would have to do. I finally reached the 1km to go mark and my watch read 2.35.something. I had about 4 and a bit minutes to make it. I started to panic. I started to imagine crossing the line in 2.40.01 and just missing out.
I could see the end of the road where the turn would lead us into the stadium and I knew I had about 600m to go. At this point someone passed me at considerable pace and I just instinctively went with him. I latched on to his heels and pumped my arms and quickened my step. Everything burned and ached, but there was no way I was giving it up. My tow began to pull away, but I still kept going. We entered the stadium, just as my watched ticked over to 2.39. I had about 250m to go and feeling sick with adrenaline and nerves I tried to sprint as if it were a Tuesday night rep at Meadowbank. I turned the corner and the final bend and could see the line and the clock. I could see the time- 2.39.12. I had a 100m to go, and I knew I was going to do it. I knew it.
A wave of emotion swept over me and as I sprinted towards the finish line I could feel tears in my eyes, my heart began to skip with excitement and I felt an uncontrollable smile creep across my face. I crossed the line in 2.39.34 (2.39.30-chip time) taking over 11 minutes off my PB.
I had done it. With a clenched fist I punched the air screaming out in delight. I fell to my knees and kissed the track, a track that had for a second time fulfilled my dreams (in 2007 I ran my first sub 3 hour marathon at Amsterdam). I rolled around on the floor totally elated and slightly in pain. With the help of a steward I climbed to my feet and looked back down the finishing straight, took a deep breath and soaked in every feeling and emotion to fill my mind with as much to remember for as long as I could. It was a special feeling and even now as I sit here writing this, reliving that day and that moment I can't help but feel emotional, excited and thrilled about my achievement. What may be more worrying is that far from temper any running bug or aspirations I have it has made me more determined and more ambitious. In short, I can not wait to get my trainers back on and get out running.
Heavy rain and strong winds lashed the plane as it touched down in Amsterdam in the dark of Friday night. I pressed my face against the window and sighed. I was nervous enough as it was, okay I hate flying, but really it was the marathon that was dominating my thoughts. I had trained and worked so hard. Getting on the plane I felt in the shape of my life and was full of confidence for a good run, so to see the weather was more than a little disheartening. I had run 5 marathons before this one and I have been plagued by poor conditions, gale force winds and baking hot days, which I think have affected my runs and times. The signs for this one weren't good.
Saturday was an easy day. Our early morning 2 mile run was nice and it was good to stretch the legs, however, Dan and I both felt a really strong breeze blowing between the streets. I watched as it skipped over the canals sending ripples across the water, rocking barges and rattling the trees and their leaves. The weather was really worrying me now and my dreams of a super PB started to fade.
Dan and I went to the expo picked up our numbers and then headed back to the hotel where we continued our first marathon of the weekend, all the Star Wars films. As we worked our way through the mediocrity of the prequel trilogy and on to the quality of the original films, I couldn't help but think about 'The Force'. I knew, as I watched Darth Vader and pals swing their lightsabers and wield the force, that I would certainly need to conjure up my own magic for the race. I would need the force, for sure. As a child I had loved these films as they had filled me with inspiration and hope. It was certainly the perfect choice for afternoon entertainment, because it brought back all those great childhood memories and put me perfectly at ease and took my mind off the weather. After a nice dinner of pasta and water with the rest of the gang I was more than ready for a good nights sleep and an early start.
I was really nervous from the moment I woke up, but I quietly went about getting myself ready for the marathon- breakfast, water, energy drink, Vaseline, deep heat, and kit on in the right order. I hung my head out the window, desperate to get an idea about the wind strength, which I had worried about ever since we landed.
Thankfully a beautiful, golden morning sun was winking in the sky above and not a breath of wind could be felt anywhere. The air was calm, crisp and cool the perfect weather for running a marathon. Still nervous, but excited we left the hotel. Dan and I got on a rather packed tram and got to the stadium with about an hour and a half to spare. It gave us some time to drop the bags, sit in the stadium and catch up with Niamh who we spotted wondering across the track. The three of us sat in the stadium for a little longer contemplating the next four hours and then it was time to get on the track to our starting pens and get ready for the start.
As soon as I started warming up I felt good. It was a relief. I always worry about those few warm up miles, as they usually tell you straight away what your race is going to be like. My legs felt fresh and light, although not perfect, as I could feel a little heaviness in my quads and a slight tightness in my right hamstring. Having said that, my legs have never felt perfect before any race,and I wonder if they ever will or should? I did some stretching and on the whole I felt ready. I was in the first starting pen and just behind the elite Kenyans (about as close as I got for the whole race!). Standing there just behind the start line, my body warm and ready, my quick short nervous breaths visible in the crisp cold air, I looked toward the first corner of the track and thought of all the possibilities of everything that could happen. I thought of all the things that could go right or wrong, but I was ready to roll the dice and take my chance. Then the stadium filled with the sound of the Chariots of Fire, which blasted out of every speaker and with every beat my heart rate moved up another notch, as it sounded the final countdown before the start. With one final deep breath the gun went and we were off.
I tried to stay calm and not shoot off out of the stadium as if it were a 200m a rep on a Tuesday night, but it was very difficult, as so many runners around me did sprint off, that, combined with the sound of chariots of fire carrying me down the track, the screams and cheers of the crowd calling out and the sheer excitement of what was happening made me feel as if I was running on air. I did go off a little quick, but once outside the stadium I reigned myself in and brought myself to a six minute mile pace. Six minute mile pace is exactly what I wanted and planned to do as I sought to get that sub 2.40 time I'd hoped for since I started training for the marathon back in July. The first mile was pretty easy and felt comfortable and with the crowds swelling by the roadsides shouting their support, it was a great mile.
By the end of the second mile I started to feel it in my lungs and legs. My breathing felt a little laboured and my legs felt heavier than I thought they should. I immediately began to do a performance appraisal. I wondered what I'd done wrong and asked myself questions like why was it tough already? I thought back to my training and remembered all the 16 mile runs that I had done at 6 minute mile pace. I started to have a mini-panic and wondered if things would begin to quickly unravel. I even thought about slowing down and concentrating on just getting a PB. It should have been easy to run at this pace, or so I thought. It then dawned on me as I ran through my third mile, still at 6 minute mile pace, that none of the 16 mile runs I had done had been easy and every mile of those training runs had been difficult. The difference was I had prepared myself for my training runs to be tough, whereas here, maybe because of my taper and a sense of looking back on training with rose-tinted glasses, I'd thought the first 16 miles of the marathon would be easy. This realisation and a fourth mile at the required pace made me switch my mind to training mode and I told myself that no matter how tough each mile was I would get to that 16 miles on time and on target and then just take it from there. It worked and instead of thinking of my legs I looked up and concentrated on the road ahead.
After five miles the little pep-talk in my mind had clearly begun to work, as everything felt a little easier. I also realised that the large group I had been running just behind was now behind me. I looked up and saw a 100m gap between myself and then next group. I was keen for support and as I moved through this mile I was still holding my pace, but pulling away from those behind me. I hit 6 miles and was stranded on my own, there was nobody with me. It was at this point I made a conscious decision to put my foot down and catch the group in front of me, which had about seven or eight members. I was worried that running on my own would leave me flagging when the tough miles came and allow my pace to drift. I knew I needed the comfort of a group to share the work. I picked up my pace and although I could feel my breathing get tougher and my legs creak in protest I spent a third of mile pursuing the group ahead.
Looking back and with the benefit of hindsight I think this was the smartest decision I have ever made at any point in any race I have ever run. Catching the back of that group I quickly found shelter and support. I settled in at the back and hung on to their heals as my lungs and legs recovered from the extra effort they had just put in. By the end of the seventh mile I was still on pace and now in a group. We had moved well out of the city by now and were working along a tarmac track beside the Amstel river. It was still bright and calm and the weather was good. It was great running in the group, as over the next couple of miles my body swung from feeling great to tired. The group helped, as when I struggled I clung to their heals or sat in the body of the runners and forced myself to hang on, knowing that staying with them would give me the mile times I needed. When I felt good I stayed with the group, holding myself back and saving my energy and strength for later.
We moved through the next 3 miles together and as we approached the 10 mile mark I began to notice that I was leaving the group as they were falling back. I checked my watch and realised that I was holding my pace, so they were getting slower. It took me less than a second to make the decision to press on. I was not giving up my required pace and I didn't trust the group behind me to get back up to speed.
Ahead of me I could see another group, they were less than 100m ahead and I again made the decision to put in a bit of effort to catch up with them. I stayed with this group, which included a couple of the elite female runners and their pacers. Again it was a group of about eight and again I sat in the middle or towards the back. Miles 10 and 11 felt pretty tough and the sanctuary of the group was great. At about 11 1/2 miles we turned sharply, ran over a bridge and then made another sharp turn to go up the other side of the river and back towards town. The turn brought with it a stiff breeze. It was the end of the perfect weather and I silently cursed.
I made another conscious decision at this point and that was to sit in the pack. I knew it was selfish, but to be honest I didn't care. Hiding in the pack was the best way I could shelter from the wind. I wasn't about to let the weather ruin my race. With the two pacers of the elite women acting as shields for their runners I took shelter too. I never once went to the front. Together the pack moved through half way and I crossed the timing mat in 1.19.10 - slightly ahead of my target time. I was pleased and although I could already feel the run in my legs and lungs I knew I had more. I knew, from my training, that I had 16 miles at 6 minute mile pace, so I knew I could do three more miles at that pace.
I noticed after we passed half way that the group was beginning to thin out as people began to drop back. One of the elite woman was slowing and as a result her pacer dropped back with her. I snuck in behind the elite dutch girl, or at least the name on her racing number suggested she was, and looked round for more runners. We were on our own. We had, however, crept up on the next group, a large group of about ten runners. The dutch girl seemed determined and she not only caught this group, but pushed to the front of it, led by her pacer. I sat at the back for a while, using them as a shield against the wind. We passed the 15 mile mark and I said to myself that I had one more mile at 6 minute mile pace and then I would be into new territory. Territory I had not been in during my training. Still, I was feeling good and it was then I noticed that elite dutch girl was moving away from our new group. I looked around me and the group seemed to be struggling as a whole. There were a lot of laboured faces and their breathing was far heavier than mine. I looked at my watch. I was on pace, but only just. I decided to go with the dutch girl, after all she had led me this far. I quietly moved my way through the group from the back to the front and pulled alongside the dutch girl behind her pacer.
We ran together as we crossed the 16 mile mark in a time of 1.36 - exactly where I wanted to be. My training had told me I could make it this far and that it would all be about the last ten miles and at last I was there. Best of all I was feeling good. The tightness in my legs and lungs that I had felt from the start were still there, but I had become accustomed to them, almost comfortable with it. It was at this point I had a rather strange moment. I suddenly decided that everything was good and I was easily going to finish under 2.40 and that the job was done. Feeling great, as we left the river and hit the big roads leading back to the city I left my new dutch friends behind and blasted through the next drink station and out on my own dreaming of glory and super fast times.
I got to 18 miles, still on course and still feeling great, but as inevitably happens in almost every marathon I found the wall just after the 18 mile marker. It was a real dose of reality for me. I didn't slow, but all of sudden maintaining my pace became much tougher. I actually shook my head in anger at this point. I was annoyed at myself for thinking it would be that easy. It made me realise that I was on the edge in terms of achieving the time I wanted and it would only take a few slow miles to push me over the 2.40 mark. I couldn't afford bad miles, I had to push through the wall. Thankfully, my dutch friends were back. They had slowed and fallen back a few yards at the drink station, but had picked up the pace to catch me up. They had also brought a friend and as the three of them passed me I tucked in behind. I really needed them, as I struggled on that 19th mile. I found the back of their heels and hung on for dear life. I kept telling myself, through the aches of my legs and heavy heaving of my lungs, just to hold on, not to let them get away, to keep going one mile at a time. They pulled away slightly, but I still went through 19 miles on time and best of all I seemed to have successfully scaled the wall as everything seemed that little bit easier. I even managed to pick up my pace and catch back up with my dutch friends. I decided this time that it was better to just stay with them for as long as possible, as they were pacing it well and running strongly. I couldn't afford to do anything stupid.
I felt great over miles 19-22. I hung on to the dutch runners comfortably, but I still knew that a few bad miles would take away my dream, so I concentrated. I worked hard and focused as much as I could on keeping everything together. I started to check my watch more and more to make sure I wasn't slipping. I began to do what I call 'marathon maths', where I start to work out what is the slowest I can possibly run per km over the remaining distance and still get the time I wanted. Every km mark (the course was marked in kms not miles) I passed I did a quick calculation and every one told me that I had nothing to spare, a few seconds at best. In my mind I worried, but kept telling myself to keep going.
I crossed 23 miles feeling strong and fast, as if nothing could stop me, but it all changed in a few strides. My legs suddenly began to tighten and creak with tiredness. I started to slow. My dutch friends were picking up their pace and were moving away from me and this time I could do nothing about it. We had pulled away from the other runner that had been with us, so I was now on my own. It was the worst possible moment to find myself on my own. I looked at my watch and it confirmed what had I feared, I was slowing. Thankfully not by too much, but enough to worry me. I started doing more marathon maths. I could afford to run at my new pace and still make it. I would start to eat into the little bit of spare time I had built up over the previous 22 miles, but I would have enough. I slowed some more.
This is where a marathon moves away from being a physical sport to a mental one. The battle with your mind is a crucial one and one that I have had in every marathon I have ever ran. I started to feel heavy, slow and sluggish. My legs cried out for leniency, for rest, to slow down. My mind began to agree with them and I started telling myself that 2.41 or 2.42 was a fantastic time and one I could live with. I started to concede and to tell myself that I had still done brilliantly. I then got angry with myself and told myself that I had come for sub 2.40 and that I shouldn't leave with anything less. I pleaded with my legs for just just 2.5 miles more of hard work, when they ignored the pleas I ordered them. Every step I pushed and worked and forced myself. I started to break things down into quarter miles and checked my watch and my pace. It was painful and every step seemed to take forever. I went through mile 24 in 6.15, my slowest mile. The next quarter mile saw my pace drop to 6.40 and I realised that things were slipping. I reacted by deliberately picking up my pace and pushing the pain and aching in my legs to get myself back on pace. Despite my internal struggle I was still passing people, but I barely noticed anyone. I was in my own world. I reached the last mile in a total time of 2.31. I was still on target, but I knew it would be close.
With every step I willed myself forward. I had moved into Vondelpark knowing the end was close, but the park is on a slight uphill gradient and I cursed it and swore. I was still slowing down, but holding on. I passed 25.2 miles and I knew I could afford a slow mile and still make it, but I also knew it would be close. My neck, arms and back had begun to ache now and my lungs began to rattle and rasp with every breath, as my body started to tell me it had had more than enough of the marathon. I pushed on, my quads burning, my hamstring tightening and tweaking with every step.
The crowd were great and I could hear them cheering, a french person shouted: "Allez, Allez Richard!" as she read my name on my number. It filled me with emotion, as she and other complete strangers who I had never met nor ever would were willing me on to do well. People shouted and cheered, a British person told me it wasn't far and to keep going. It all helped. It pushed me on and probably saved me valuable seconds. I wish I could thank them.
After what felt like an eternity in the worst fire pits of hell I left the park (In reality I had only spent a mile and a bit in there). Back on the road I knew it led to only one place, the stadium. I looked at my watch and it told me I was close to the 26 mile mark, but the 1km to go sign was still nowhere to be seen. It was at this point I realised that either the course was long, or I had found some extra meters, or that my garmin had been a little over enthusiastic in clocking up the miles. It was a little demoralising, as I knew I had less time to play with than I had thought. I tried to put my foot down, but there was nothing there. I was empty. I had one pace left and that would have to do. I finally reached the 1km to go mark and my watch read 2.35.something. I had about 4 and a bit minutes to make it. I started to panic. I started to imagine crossing the line in 2.40.01 and just missing out.
I could see the end of the road where the turn would lead us into the stadium and I knew I had about 600m to go. At this point someone passed me at considerable pace and I just instinctively went with him. I latched on to his heels and pumped my arms and quickened my step. Everything burned and ached, but there was no way I was giving it up. My tow began to pull away, but I still kept going. We entered the stadium, just as my watched ticked over to 2.39. I had about 250m to go and feeling sick with adrenaline and nerves I tried to sprint as if it were a Tuesday night rep at Meadowbank. I turned the corner and the final bend and could see the line and the clock. I could see the time- 2.39.12. I had a 100m to go, and I knew I was going to do it. I knew it.
A wave of emotion swept over me and as I sprinted towards the finish line I could feel tears in my eyes, my heart began to skip with excitement and I felt an uncontrollable smile creep across my face. I crossed the line in 2.39.34 (2.39.30-chip time) taking over 11 minutes off my PB.
I had done it. With a clenched fist I punched the air screaming out in delight. I fell to my knees and kissed the track, a track that had for a second time fulfilled my dreams (in 2007 I ran my first sub 3 hour marathon at Amsterdam). I rolled around on the floor totally elated and slightly in pain. With the help of a steward I climbed to my feet and looked back down the finishing straight, took a deep breath and soaked in every feeling and emotion to fill my mind with as much to remember for as long as I could. It was a special feeling and even now as I sit here writing this, reliving that day and that moment I can't help but feel emotional, excited and thrilled about my achievement. What may be more worrying is that far from temper any running bug or aspirations I have it has made me more determined and more ambitious. In short, I can not wait to get my trainers back on and get out running.
Tuesday, 28 September 2010
28 September 2010: Taper time!
My taper started yesterday with a very gentle 6 mile run to the gym for some abs and core work. I then had a deep tissue massage with Kirsten, which although painful in places wasn't too bad and she told me that my muscles were in pretty good shape so was I pleased.
Tonight I went to the track and did 12*400m with one minute recovery between each rep. It was the first time I have been to the track for a wee while, as I have been focusing on slightly longer reps on Tuesday nights with 1 mile reps and 800ms. I certainly felt it in my lungs after the first couple of reps, as they heaved heavily each time I crossed the line. I planned to run all my reps between 70 and 75 seconds, which I managed to do, but it felt like a massive effort. Interestingly, as I got tireder towards the end of my session my times actually got quicker on average. I think this was because my stride and form improved as I got used to be being back on the track again.
I was pretty shattered when I finished, but found enough energy to hit the gym for some more abs and core work. Running home I felt good and allowed my mind to dream about Amsterdam and play out some of the scenarios that might happen. I particularly like to imagine myself entering the stadium at Amsterdam with 2.30-something on the clock and dashing through the finish line to get a sub 2.40.
Tomorrow is a rest day. Hope I can cope!
Tonight I went to the track and did 12*400m with one minute recovery between each rep. It was the first time I have been to the track for a wee while, as I have been focusing on slightly longer reps on Tuesday nights with 1 mile reps and 800ms. I certainly felt it in my lungs after the first couple of reps, as they heaved heavily each time I crossed the line. I planned to run all my reps between 70 and 75 seconds, which I managed to do, but it felt like a massive effort. Interestingly, as I got tireder towards the end of my session my times actually got quicker on average. I think this was because my stride and form improved as I got used to be being back on the track again.
I was pretty shattered when I finished, but found enough energy to hit the gym for some more abs and core work. Running home I felt good and allowed my mind to dream about Amsterdam and play out some of the scenarios that might happen. I particularly like to imagine myself entering the stadium at Amsterdam with 2.30-something on the clock and dashing through the finish line to get a sub 2.40.
Tomorrow is a rest day. Hope I can cope!
Sunday, 26 September 2010
Sunday 26 September: The last big weekend!
Weekly Mileage: 95 miles
After my amazing training session on Thursday I took it easy on Friday with a gentle 4 mile run in the evening to loosen my legs and stretch them out. Saturday I did a 12 mile run with 15 intervals of one minute fast and one minute slow, which I did along the shores of Cramond. I spent Saturday afternoon and evening at the wedding of two of my best friends, Simon and Jen. It was a brilliant day and the evening was spent dancing away until the early hours of the morning. I finally got to bed at 2.30am shattered and it seemed like no time at all before my alarm was going off at 7.30am for my long Sunday run.
Through bleary eyes I sipped coffee and stared out the window at was a beautiful blue sky and shining sun. The leaves on the trees were still, as there was clearly not a breath of wind in the air. A perfect day for running. It was, however, bloody freezing! I sat in my car with all my kit on, my big thick gloves and the heating blasting out at full. I picked up Dan and we drove to Craiglochart.
Today was my last long run before my taper, my final 26 mile run. Despite being tired and having slightly sore feet from a night of dancing I was feeling pretty good and was actually really looking forward to it. With a good gathering of club members we set off. In my group today was Dan and I, as well as Niamh, Colin, Bryan and Steve Manian joined us for the first six miles. We took the first three or four miles fairly easily and chatted away. As we approached Balerno we picked up the pace slightly and started discussing the joys of the two hills that take you from mile 6 to mile 8 of the run.
We all love these hills as much as we dread them. In recent months we have been tackling them a little harder and there has always been a little bit of pushing each other to see who can get to the top first. Today we openly talked about how it had become a little bit of a race and then started to discuss weather or not we would make today's venture up the hill a wee race. At first I thought it was a bit of light banter, although I did expect the usual jostling, but when Bryan turned to Colin and I and said, "Where does the hill start?" I knew the race was on. I replied that we were already on it as we had left the Water of Leith and were on the roads in Balerno. Bryan quickened his step instantly and pulled away. I turned to Colin and said, "he's serious!". I then picked up my pace and gave pursuit pulling ahead of Colin. I heard Colin swear under his breath and then pick up the pace to catch me. Niamh and Dan were far too sensible to join in with our shenanigans and kept a steady pace.
Bryan was trying hard to get away, but we managed to catch him and pull alongside him, we pretty much stayed that way for the first hill, although Bryan was about a stride ahead of Colin and I towards the end. We flew up the first hill at an impressive pace. I could feel my right hamstring tightening and my quads aching slightly, but I had committed myself and there was no way I was going to let either of them drop me. We reached the top of the first hill, Bryan a stride ahead of Colin and I, but all pretty much together. We eased off slightly, took a breath and had a wee chat, as we cruised down the road towards the foot of the next hill.
Once there Bryan again moved to the front and forced the pace. Bryan had told us several weeks ago that he loves to lead and hates to be behind people, so Colin and I have pretty much come to expect his moves to the front. Unfortunately for us, however, Bryan has the ability to stay at the front once getting there. I managed to catch him and move away from Colin and as I began to move past Bryan he increased his pace and we ran side by side with Colin a stride further back. As with the first hill we really threw everything at it. We certainly weren't taking it lightly and all three of us were determined to be first to the top of the hill. As we approached the last 250m I could really feel my legs begin to tire and my lungs burn. I thought for a second about how this little race might effect the remaining 18 miles I would have to complete once we got to the top of the hill, but at this point I really didn't care. I just wanted to get to the top first. We were pretty much together as we did reach the top. Bryan had managed to get their first with a couple of strides advantage over Colin who was a dip over the line ahead of me. It was a great feeling running the hills that hard. I was pretty annoyed not to have got there first, as I usually get to the top of these hills first, but I am putting it down to the heavy mileage.
Next week I'll only be doing 16 miles and will have done far less training during the week, so fully expect to get their first. I am sure Colin and Bryan will read this, laugh and say no chance. They'll also remember this blog entry and remind me of it, if either or both of them get their first next Sunday.
After we got to the top we were pretty spent and so eased off to a very gentle pace, as Niamh and Dan caught us up. By the time we got to the 10 mile mark we had all picked the pace up again and were running sub 7 minute miles as a group. There we stayed for the next five miles, running pretty quickly and still finding the breath to chat away, which was great. By the time we came back to the canal it was time for Bryan and Colin to turn off and finish their 16 miles. Dan, Niamh and I continued along the canal to complete our extra marathon training miles. Niamh did a couple before turning back, while Dan and I continued on. Dan was doing 24 miles so we had a few more miles together. I was pleased that we continued to keep a good steady pace at around 6.50pace, but what was really good was that I felt so strong, particularly in my heart and lungs. They didn't feel tired at all. My legs were a little stiff and tight, but probably from the hill race that we had enjoyed earlier.
Dan turned back to finish his 24 miles leaving me just less than 7 miles to finish. I decided to try and pick up the pace, as I was feeling good, the conditions were great and this was my last long run before the beginning of my taper. I managed to successfully move pace up to 6.45 miles and then into 6.30s and by my last mile I was flying and really enjoying myself. My last mile was 6.15 and I could have continued. I finished the 26 miles in 2.58.15 and couldn't get the smile off my face. Back at the car park I caught up with Niamh and Dan who both felt good about their runs and we talked about Amsterdam for a while and how great it would be if we could all get PBs. I really hope so, that would be great!
My hard training is now done and I feel like I am peaking at just the right time. In fact I reckon I could easily do another hard week's training. I have been looking forward to my taper and I really hope I get it right with a good mix of rest, quality training and nutritional food. No doubt within days of starting my taper I will be complaining about it and wishing I was doing more miles, but we'll see. Until then I am just going to enjoy and reflect on some good training over the last 13 weeks. I think I will review my training in tomorrow's blog entry.
After my amazing training session on Thursday I took it easy on Friday with a gentle 4 mile run in the evening to loosen my legs and stretch them out. Saturday I did a 12 mile run with 15 intervals of one minute fast and one minute slow, which I did along the shores of Cramond. I spent Saturday afternoon and evening at the wedding of two of my best friends, Simon and Jen. It was a brilliant day and the evening was spent dancing away until the early hours of the morning. I finally got to bed at 2.30am shattered and it seemed like no time at all before my alarm was going off at 7.30am for my long Sunday run.
Through bleary eyes I sipped coffee and stared out the window at was a beautiful blue sky and shining sun. The leaves on the trees were still, as there was clearly not a breath of wind in the air. A perfect day for running. It was, however, bloody freezing! I sat in my car with all my kit on, my big thick gloves and the heating blasting out at full. I picked up Dan and we drove to Craiglochart.
Today was my last long run before my taper, my final 26 mile run. Despite being tired and having slightly sore feet from a night of dancing I was feeling pretty good and was actually really looking forward to it. With a good gathering of club members we set off. In my group today was Dan and I, as well as Niamh, Colin, Bryan and Steve Manian joined us for the first six miles. We took the first three or four miles fairly easily and chatted away. As we approached Balerno we picked up the pace slightly and started discussing the joys of the two hills that take you from mile 6 to mile 8 of the run.
We all love these hills as much as we dread them. In recent months we have been tackling them a little harder and there has always been a little bit of pushing each other to see who can get to the top first. Today we openly talked about how it had become a little bit of a race and then started to discuss weather or not we would make today's venture up the hill a wee race. At first I thought it was a bit of light banter, although I did expect the usual jostling, but when Bryan turned to Colin and I and said, "Where does the hill start?" I knew the race was on. I replied that we were already on it as we had left the Water of Leith and were on the roads in Balerno. Bryan quickened his step instantly and pulled away. I turned to Colin and said, "he's serious!". I then picked up my pace and gave pursuit pulling ahead of Colin. I heard Colin swear under his breath and then pick up the pace to catch me. Niamh and Dan were far too sensible to join in with our shenanigans and kept a steady pace.
Bryan was trying hard to get away, but we managed to catch him and pull alongside him, we pretty much stayed that way for the first hill, although Bryan was about a stride ahead of Colin and I towards the end. We flew up the first hill at an impressive pace. I could feel my right hamstring tightening and my quads aching slightly, but I had committed myself and there was no way I was going to let either of them drop me. We reached the top of the first hill, Bryan a stride ahead of Colin and I, but all pretty much together. We eased off slightly, took a breath and had a wee chat, as we cruised down the road towards the foot of the next hill.
Once there Bryan again moved to the front and forced the pace. Bryan had told us several weeks ago that he loves to lead and hates to be behind people, so Colin and I have pretty much come to expect his moves to the front. Unfortunately for us, however, Bryan has the ability to stay at the front once getting there. I managed to catch him and move away from Colin and as I began to move past Bryan he increased his pace and we ran side by side with Colin a stride further back. As with the first hill we really threw everything at it. We certainly weren't taking it lightly and all three of us were determined to be first to the top of the hill. As we approached the last 250m I could really feel my legs begin to tire and my lungs burn. I thought for a second about how this little race might effect the remaining 18 miles I would have to complete once we got to the top of the hill, but at this point I really didn't care. I just wanted to get to the top first. We were pretty much together as we did reach the top. Bryan had managed to get their first with a couple of strides advantage over Colin who was a dip over the line ahead of me. It was a great feeling running the hills that hard. I was pretty annoyed not to have got there first, as I usually get to the top of these hills first, but I am putting it down to the heavy mileage.
Next week I'll only be doing 16 miles and will have done far less training during the week, so fully expect to get their first. I am sure Colin and Bryan will read this, laugh and say no chance. They'll also remember this blog entry and remind me of it, if either or both of them get their first next Sunday.
After we got to the top we were pretty spent and so eased off to a very gentle pace, as Niamh and Dan caught us up. By the time we got to the 10 mile mark we had all picked the pace up again and were running sub 7 minute miles as a group. There we stayed for the next five miles, running pretty quickly and still finding the breath to chat away, which was great. By the time we came back to the canal it was time for Bryan and Colin to turn off and finish their 16 miles. Dan, Niamh and I continued along the canal to complete our extra marathon training miles. Niamh did a couple before turning back, while Dan and I continued on. Dan was doing 24 miles so we had a few more miles together. I was pleased that we continued to keep a good steady pace at around 6.50pace, but what was really good was that I felt so strong, particularly in my heart and lungs. They didn't feel tired at all. My legs were a little stiff and tight, but probably from the hill race that we had enjoyed earlier.
Dan turned back to finish his 24 miles leaving me just less than 7 miles to finish. I decided to try and pick up the pace, as I was feeling good, the conditions were great and this was my last long run before the beginning of my taper. I managed to successfully move pace up to 6.45 miles and then into 6.30s and by my last mile I was flying and really enjoying myself. My last mile was 6.15 and I could have continued. I finished the 26 miles in 2.58.15 and couldn't get the smile off my face. Back at the car park I caught up with Niamh and Dan who both felt good about their runs and we talked about Amsterdam for a while and how great it would be if we could all get PBs. I really hope so, that would be great!
My hard training is now done and I feel like I am peaking at just the right time. In fact I reckon I could easily do another hard week's training. I have been looking forward to my taper and I really hope I get it right with a good mix of rest, quality training and nutritional food. No doubt within days of starting my taper I will be complaining about it and wishing I was doing more miles, but we'll see. Until then I am just going to enjoy and reflect on some good training over the last 13 weeks. I think I will review my training in tomorrow's blog entry.
Thursday, 23 September 2010
23 September 2010: Feeling great!
I know I am a few days behind. The consequence of an extremely busy few days. Instead of catching up with the earlier training sessions from this week I am just going to jump into today's, because it felt so good. Tonight was my 20 mile run with 16 miles at marathon pace, which I did last week as well, and the week before.
Again, like the previous weeks, I was actually nervous before my run. My left heel was again giving me some grief. It was at the bottom of my heel in a different area to my recent Achilles problem. I kept getting a strange pinching sensation, which would come on at different times with no warning and in no similar way. It was odd and I was really worried that it might be the sign of something serious. I was worried that at some point during my run tonight it would give in or tear and that would be the end of Amsterdam, so I was apprehensive as I pulled on my kit in the toilets at work.
I set off and met up with Seamus, who after last week, was keen to come again and have another go as part of his marathon training. We jogged for a bit before reaching the usual starting point and ploughed straight into it. In order to get the sub 2.40 time I really want to at Amsterdam I need to run at 6.06 minutes per mile pace. This was again my target for each mile tonight. The first mile felt remarkably easy and we coasted through it in 5.57. As I was feeling good I decided to keep the pace up rather than ease off. I decided to experiment and see how long I could hold a faster pace for. Seamus was happy to keep the pace up too, so we pressed on. I felt a lot more comfortable in my legs this week compared to last and all was good with my left heel. I did, however, conitnued to worry slightly about it and was constantly on the look out for any sign of trounle. The next couple of miles ranged between 5.56 and 6.01. Unfortunately at this point my watch packed in, which angered me greatly. Thankfully Seamus had his watch and I knew where the 8 mile marker was for turning round so would know the overall time. My anger actually translated into speed, as I was worried that I would drop off the pace without being able to check my mile marks. We flew for the last 3 miles and reached our turnaround point in 47.40 well ahead of the 48.40 target time for a sub 2.40 marathon.
We stopped for a quick stretch and toilet break and then turned back round to do the return 8 miles. Seamus gallantly gave me his watch, as we both expected that I would finish a little ahead, so I could get my precise time. The best thing about this week was I genuinely felt comfortable right through all the miles. Unlike last week where I had a few troublesome miles, this week I had very few problems. I'd pulled slightly ahead of Seamus over the last 8 miles and so was on my own for a bit, which was fine as I felt relaxed and in control of my pace. Without remembering exactly where the mile marks were it was difficult to know exactly how well I was running, but I felt strong. There was a stiff breeze blowing into our faces and although it may have slowed me slightly it didn't disrupt my rhythm.
Last week in the final 2 miles I had begun to struggle and although I managed to hold a good pace I was totally exhausted at the end of it. Another step seemed impossible never mind another 10 miles. Today, however, I felt good in the last two miles and finished really strongly. I am fairly certain I could have continued and done a few more miles at the end, which is a great sign for the marathon. I completed the second 8 miles in 48.18, which although slightly slower than my first 8 miles was still well inside my target time and into a head wind probably would have evened it out a little more. My total time for whole 16 miles was 1.35.58, a minute and 43 seconds quicker than my target time for a sub 2.40 and one minute and 38 seconds quicker than last week. Job done!
Seamus wasn't too far behind me and finished his second 8 miles in 49.12. We both felt really good and as we completed our cool down jog we talked about the confidence a good session like this gives you. With us both having marathons coming up this is the perfect session for that. I feel great after tonight's session, really good. I now know that I can run 16 miles at an overall pace faster than I need to get the time I want. I felt so strong at the end of my session that I know I can keep the pace up too. With some good rest I know my legs and lungs will be even stronger than than they were today, which will help in those last 10 miles. Today I ran those 16 miles (on top of a 1.5 mile warm up) without taking on any energy gels, energy drink or water, so for those last 7-8 miles I will have been depleted of energy levels and not running at optimum performance. Energy levels that I will be able to maintain during the marathon by refuelling with water and energy drinks at regular aid stations. This will give me a boost.
I am signing off tonight in such a positive mood, you can probably tell. Despite a few aches and groans in my body I feel as though I am peaking at just the right time. I have been looking forward to my taper for a couple of weeks now, but the mood I am in right now, I could quite happily do annother couple of weeks hard training!!
Again, like the previous weeks, I was actually nervous before my run. My left heel was again giving me some grief. It was at the bottom of my heel in a different area to my recent Achilles problem. I kept getting a strange pinching sensation, which would come on at different times with no warning and in no similar way. It was odd and I was really worried that it might be the sign of something serious. I was worried that at some point during my run tonight it would give in or tear and that would be the end of Amsterdam, so I was apprehensive as I pulled on my kit in the toilets at work.
I set off and met up with Seamus, who after last week, was keen to come again and have another go as part of his marathon training. We jogged for a bit before reaching the usual starting point and ploughed straight into it. In order to get the sub 2.40 time I really want to at Amsterdam I need to run at 6.06 minutes per mile pace. This was again my target for each mile tonight. The first mile felt remarkably easy and we coasted through it in 5.57. As I was feeling good I decided to keep the pace up rather than ease off. I decided to experiment and see how long I could hold a faster pace for. Seamus was happy to keep the pace up too, so we pressed on. I felt a lot more comfortable in my legs this week compared to last and all was good with my left heel. I did, however, conitnued to worry slightly about it and was constantly on the look out for any sign of trounle. The next couple of miles ranged between 5.56 and 6.01. Unfortunately at this point my watch packed in, which angered me greatly. Thankfully Seamus had his watch and I knew where the 8 mile marker was for turning round so would know the overall time. My anger actually translated into speed, as I was worried that I would drop off the pace without being able to check my mile marks. We flew for the last 3 miles and reached our turnaround point in 47.40 well ahead of the 48.40 target time for a sub 2.40 marathon.
We stopped for a quick stretch and toilet break and then turned back round to do the return 8 miles. Seamus gallantly gave me his watch, as we both expected that I would finish a little ahead, so I could get my precise time. The best thing about this week was I genuinely felt comfortable right through all the miles. Unlike last week where I had a few troublesome miles, this week I had very few problems. I'd pulled slightly ahead of Seamus over the last 8 miles and so was on my own for a bit, which was fine as I felt relaxed and in control of my pace. Without remembering exactly where the mile marks were it was difficult to know exactly how well I was running, but I felt strong. There was a stiff breeze blowing into our faces and although it may have slowed me slightly it didn't disrupt my rhythm.
Last week in the final 2 miles I had begun to struggle and although I managed to hold a good pace I was totally exhausted at the end of it. Another step seemed impossible never mind another 10 miles. Today, however, I felt good in the last two miles and finished really strongly. I am fairly certain I could have continued and done a few more miles at the end, which is a great sign for the marathon. I completed the second 8 miles in 48.18, which although slightly slower than my first 8 miles was still well inside my target time and into a head wind probably would have evened it out a little more. My total time for whole 16 miles was 1.35.58, a minute and 43 seconds quicker than my target time for a sub 2.40 and one minute and 38 seconds quicker than last week. Job done!
Seamus wasn't too far behind me and finished his second 8 miles in 49.12. We both felt really good and as we completed our cool down jog we talked about the confidence a good session like this gives you. With us both having marathons coming up this is the perfect session for that. I feel great after tonight's session, really good. I now know that I can run 16 miles at an overall pace faster than I need to get the time I want. I felt so strong at the end of my session that I know I can keep the pace up too. With some good rest I know my legs and lungs will be even stronger than than they were today, which will help in those last 10 miles. Today I ran those 16 miles (on top of a 1.5 mile warm up) without taking on any energy gels, energy drink or water, so for those last 7-8 miles I will have been depleted of energy levels and not running at optimum performance. Energy levels that I will be able to maintain during the marathon by refuelling with water and energy drinks at regular aid stations. This will give me a boost.
I am signing off tonight in such a positive mood, you can probably tell. Despite a few aches and groans in my body I feel as though I am peaking at just the right time. I have been looking forward to my taper for a couple of weeks now, but the mood I am in right now, I could quite happily do annother couple of weeks hard training!!
Tuesday, 21 September 2010
Saturday 18 - Sunday 19 September: Another weekend of running
Weekly Mileage: 90 miles
I've been a bit slow to update this blog lately, sorry about that. I was away this weekend and was quite busy so didn't get the chance. Anyway, back to the running. I was in Whitehills for the weekend with Gail visiting her family. On Saturday morning I decided I needed a change of scenery from the usual road routes I run while I am in Whitehills so I hit the Forestry Commission website and looked for some forest trails. In the end I found some trails that are used in the winter as cross country ski trails in a place called Clasindarroch. It took me ages to find the place, it may well be the North East's best kept secret! After getting lost several times, turning round and driving up and down the same road over and over I got annoyed and threw the map across the car. I was just about to give in when I pulled up alongside a pick-up. The driver, a friendly farmer helped point me in the right direction and I eventually found my way to a deserted car park.
It was worth the wait. I found the most secluded forest and within them were beautiful trails of broken stone and moss covered dirt paths. They stretched through dense fir trees and up on high ground looking out across the beautiful North East countryside. I had the most enjoyable 12 mile run and with the hilly trails I felt as though my legs got a really good workout.
On Sunday I was up early and out the door at 8am hitting the roads around Whitehills for another 26 mile run. It was a cold crisp morning, but a good day for running. The roads around Whitehills are very undulating with some big hills and some nice descents, and I found the first 13 miles pretty tough going. As has become a feature of my recent runs I was constantly on the look out for signs of pains and aches in my legs and I found plenty. My right leg ached from the hip down and my left leg was sore in the calf. Thankfully, it was the ache I associate with tiredness rather than injury and it was a case of endure rather than worry.
Turning back after my outwards 13 miles I found it a little easier and managed to pick up the pace. Although the aches were still there, they seemed to ease. It's funny, but you'd think after weeks of long 20 mile plus Sunday runs that I would be bored and fed up of running them, however, on Sunday I found myself at mile 19 smiling away as I ran down the road trying to pick up the pace a bit. It felt really good. I was ignoring the aches in my body and just letting it flow with the pure joy of stretching out one foot in front of the other. Even the hills didn't feel too bad and over the last two miles I found myself zipping along the road at 6.20 pace.
Having said all that I was pleased to finish another week's training and leave myself 7 more days of hard training before I taper. I am still very much looking forward to my taper. Despite the good feelings I enjoyed during my run today my body still ached a lot and is clearly in need of some down time before Amsterdam.
I've been a bit slow to update this blog lately, sorry about that. I was away this weekend and was quite busy so didn't get the chance. Anyway, back to the running. I was in Whitehills for the weekend with Gail visiting her family. On Saturday morning I decided I needed a change of scenery from the usual road routes I run while I am in Whitehills so I hit the Forestry Commission website and looked for some forest trails. In the end I found some trails that are used in the winter as cross country ski trails in a place called Clasindarroch. It took me ages to find the place, it may well be the North East's best kept secret! After getting lost several times, turning round and driving up and down the same road over and over I got annoyed and threw the map across the car. I was just about to give in when I pulled up alongside a pick-up. The driver, a friendly farmer helped point me in the right direction and I eventually found my way to a deserted car park.
It was worth the wait. I found the most secluded forest and within them were beautiful trails of broken stone and moss covered dirt paths. They stretched through dense fir trees and up on high ground looking out across the beautiful North East countryside. I had the most enjoyable 12 mile run and with the hilly trails I felt as though my legs got a really good workout.
On Sunday I was up early and out the door at 8am hitting the roads around Whitehills for another 26 mile run. It was a cold crisp morning, but a good day for running. The roads around Whitehills are very undulating with some big hills and some nice descents, and I found the first 13 miles pretty tough going. As has become a feature of my recent runs I was constantly on the look out for signs of pains and aches in my legs and I found plenty. My right leg ached from the hip down and my left leg was sore in the calf. Thankfully, it was the ache I associate with tiredness rather than injury and it was a case of endure rather than worry.
Turning back after my outwards 13 miles I found it a little easier and managed to pick up the pace. Although the aches were still there, they seemed to ease. It's funny, but you'd think after weeks of long 20 mile plus Sunday runs that I would be bored and fed up of running them, however, on Sunday I found myself at mile 19 smiling away as I ran down the road trying to pick up the pace a bit. It felt really good. I was ignoring the aches in my body and just letting it flow with the pure joy of stretching out one foot in front of the other. Even the hills didn't feel too bad and over the last two miles I found myself zipping along the road at 6.20 pace.
Having said all that I was pleased to finish another week's training and leave myself 7 more days of hard training before I taper. I am still very much looking forward to my taper. Despite the good feelings I enjoyed during my run today my body still ached a lot and is clearly in need of some down time before Amsterdam.
Thursday, 16 September 2010
Thursday 16 September: It's still all about marathon pace!
Mileage: 20 miles (16 miles at marathon pace)
As I am writing this I can barely keep my eyes open. I am shattered! Tonight's session was one of the hardest I have ever done, but I feel great now that I have done it.
Again, my calves have ached throughout the day, but thankfully not as bad as yesterday and I really do think the heel pads were behind the trouble. Running today I noticed the way my foot was landing was definitely different to yesterday when I had the heel pads in. It felt more natural and comfortable, so I think I've made the right decision in taking them out. Garry and Steve gave me some good advice, which was to try using the heel pads on short recovery runs, as they do provide protection to the heel, and over those distances probably won't affect my calves. I'll probably give that a go.
With the ache in my legs and the doubts I have had with my running recently I was nervous before my run today. It's an odd sensation, one I sometimes get before a big race. I guess it shows how important I consider good training to be and what Amsterdam means to me. I am still frightened that something, somewhere in my legs is just going to pop or tear and ruin everything. I am also worried that I won't be able to run as fast as I want to or need to.
I took a slow jog towards the canal where I was due to meet Seamus who planned to come and do the 16 miles too. On my slow run I could feel the calves pulling and aching, but elsewhere I definitely didn't feel too bad. I adopted the attitude that I would simply run as planned for as long as I could or until something physically stopped me from running. I stretched and prodded my muscles a bit while I waited for Seamus and although far from confident I was ready.
When Seamus arrived we jogged a bit further along the canal and at 2 miles in we started the 16 mile run. The plan being to run for 8 miles along the canal and then turn back and do the second 8 before cooling down with a couple more slow miles. My aim to run under 2.40 in the marathon means that in order to secure a time of 2.39.59 I need to run at 6 minute and 6 seconds per mile for every mile. A tough ask. Like last week where I did 14 miles at this pace my plan this week was to step it up to 16 miles.
It went better than I expected and the first mile was fairly easy and I had to control myself to keep from dipping under a 6 minute mile. In fact the first 8 miles were all pretty similar and all close enough to the 6.06 per mile I needed to make me happy. What made it even better was that for a lot of those first 8 miles we ran into a very stiff breeze, as well as having to contend with a lot of cyclists and human traffic. With the canal path quite uneven and rocky in places it was definitely not the easiest 8 miles, but I hit half way in 48.51 exactly one second behind my target time. not bad at all. My legs had felt okay. My left leg felt great and pretty lose and free, but my right leg was tight and heavy and my calf and hip ached quite a bit, especially for the first 4 or 5 miles. At 8 miles I stopped for a quick toilet break and a stretch and Seamus caught me up having been a little bit further back.
We then looked back down the canal and headed for home. I was a little stupid at this point and dashed off at a pretty quick pace. I could tell that I was running fast, but my Garmin was telling me that my pace was around 6.15, so I pushed on. I should have realised that the watch was just adjusting the pace and hadn't settled. When I looked at the watch again it told me that I was at 5.40 pace - far too quick. I slowed a little to try and get back some control, but still finished the mile in 5.51. It was too quick and I felt myself slow quite a bit in the next mile, which I finished in 6.12. It was a tough mile that hurt my body and my lungs. Definitely a valuable lesson for the marathon, running miles too quickly will definitely affect my rhythm and pace. After the bad mile I did settle back into a more controlled, steady pace and actually began to feel quite good. My legs felt okay as did my heart and lungs. I cruised through the half marathon distance in 79.46, thirteen seconds quicker than I needed. Last week I had really struggled in my last mile, but tonight it was no problem and I still felt good. Mile 15 was tougher though and I started to find my lungs and legs working harder to keep my pace up. I did the usual Jedi mind trick on my legs by promising them only one more hard mile, but then keeping it going. If the fifteenth mile was tough than the last one was really hard work. I could feel my lungs clawing at all the air around my mouth as I desperately tried to suck in the oxygen I needed. My legs burned and screamed to stop, but I kept going and my last mile wasn't bad at all. My final time of 1.37.36 made me 5 seconds ahead of my target time. Job done.
I was pretty elated when I stopped, but then the thought struck me - if that was what I was like at 16 miles, how on earth would I manage another 10 miles at that pace!! That would have been impossible. I am trying to convince myself that rest and tapering will take care of that and I'll have the endurance I need to keep going beyond 16 miles. I waited for Seamus who had taken it a little easier on the way back and after some stretching we finished off our last couple of miles very slowly to complete the 20 mile run.
I am knackered, but very pleased! It has filled me with confidence for the marathon, but I've still got more work to do. I need to repeat this session next week. Hopefully I'll run the same pace, but the 16 miles will feel that little bit easier.
10 days to taper!!!
Today's 16 mile splits:
6.04
6.05
6.11
6.08
6.06
6.06
6.03
6.08
5.51
6.12
6.08
6.07
6.01 (half marathon time: 79.46)
6.07
6.09
6.09
Total: 1.37.36 - 5 seconds ahead of schedule
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