FEBRUARY 2005 - Week 1

[Sweder]

Due to my inability to keep it short, I will chop up my diary entries a little from now on.
Heeeeeeere's February . . .

[Sweder]

Time of day: 19:30 Hrs
Location: Withdean Stadium running track
Conditions: Light drizzle, chilly

Circuit: (tonights' times in brackets)
Warm up (1 x 400 metres, gentle jog untimed)
1 x 300 metres (01:06)
1 x 800 metres (03:35)
1 x 300 metres (01:09)
1 x 800 metres (03:38)
2 x 300 metres (01.11, 01:10)
1 x 800 metres (03:45)
2 x 300 metres (01:12, 01:09)
1 x mile (07:36)

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes . . .
Just when I was looking for a nice, comfortable, familiar session, they upped and changed on me. At least now I don't hate 1000 metres any more . . . I hate 800s instead.

Following the exhertions of Sunday (there's no doubt you invest a lot more energy into a formal race than you do a training session) I was reluctant to go tonight. I knew I would be unable to turn up and 'take it easy', partly because Tony and Sam would not allow it, but mostly I have little or no common sense.

I will, however, be gearing down my runs this week, with the longest weekday run being no longer than five miles. There is great value in easing up every three weeks or so, where injuries can be assessed and batteries re-charged.

In all a good session tonight. The mile was only 3 seconds slower than last week, and I started very slowly tonight, building to a strong finish. A day off tomorrow

[Sweder]

Time of day: 0745 Hrs
Location: Lewes to Black Cap round trip
Conditions: Cool, drizzle, sticky underfoot
Time: Untimed

Untimed! Why? Because sometimes you just have to.
This will be alien to you stat-monkeys out there, but I just felt like getting out the door and running without all the fuss.

Despite the drizzle and the last-minute bail-out by my scheduled running partner it was a lovely run. Ironically it was pretty quick (I would say that without back-up, wouldn't I?). After a rest day yesterday and in the knowledge that I'm having a 'gentle' week I relaxed, my pace increasing naturally as the run developed.

I fed my Hill habit with the unyielding 2.5 mile climb to Black Cap, and it felt good . 'Hi, my name's Sweder, and I'm a hillaholic.' I took the hounds, although this proved a mistake as a local farmer had moved sheep into the fields at the top. This lead to a frantic gathering of dogs and a diversion to the last 500 metre climb. My dogs are loving, gentle hounds and, rabbits aside, would not wilfully harm another creature. However, sheep like to run, and if anything runs the two long dogs will give chase. To a concerned farmer observing through a gun sight this constitutes sheep worrying, and a licence to shoot . . . I'd rather not think about that.

No run tomorrow morning (there's a JDRF committee meeting at 08:30 in London) so it looks a like an evening lope through the town.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

You ran without timing it??!?!? Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

[Sweder]

Ah, we flush out the stat-monkeys . . .
Quick Feb update: I'm on strike. Well, not really, but I'm having some sort of anarchic episode. Scheduled for a late night Lewes lope yesterday, I did go into town . . . but only to pick up a takeaway. A couple of pints of (very well presented) Guinness later, feet up, rubbish telly . . . marvellous!

This morning ripples of guilt wash over me as I consider an unscheduled plod up to Black Cap. I'm staring down the barrell of 14 offroad miles tomorrow, and having bought new offroad boots yesterday - Mizuno Wave X10s, mud-grey, sleek, sexy - feel it would be sensible to break them in on a short offroad meander.

It was a big money day in the Jog Shop yesterday. Not only the offroaders but 2 pairs of Thorlo socks (probably the most comfortable socks in the world) and to cap it all my FLM Big Day shoes: Addidas Adistars with Ground Control System Ar Ar Ar . These babies are gorgeous , far too nice to be desecrated by my ugly plates of meat. The Man from Addidas happened to be at the Jog Shop with his laptop/ foot mat gizmo. For the uninitiated, this comprises a rubber mat over which you are invited to jog, right foot impact then left foot impact. The readout on the laptop shows your impact point, rate of pronation and roll, indicating the most suitable shoe structure for your running style. There was a 3D graphic to demonstrate the condition of my foot on landing. The picture looked like the schematic of LV 426 as the Nostromo came into land in 1979, a geologists wet dream of peaks and troughs. I nodded sagely, hand on chin, wondering what the hell it all meant and if I was related in some way to some form of prehistoric amphibian.

The store guy brought up about a hundred pairs of shoes in various outrageous designs and colours. The first Mizunos fit beautifully (no surprise to me) but they were canary yellow with red stripes - I'm talking LOUD. I reasoned that you'd have to be very very good to wear shoes that bright, and enquired if they came with a free pair of shades. They did not. We moved on.

To spare you the next 45 minutes it all came down to 2 pairs: a set of Grey/ Red Mizunos, a brand I have been very happy with over the last 2 years, or the Addidas Adistars. You should know that I had no clue that the boffin was from Addidas, and I have to say he made no remarks to steer me either way. He was very happy when I went for the Adistars - for the almost imperceptable difference in feel. He then revealed his allegiance to the brand and I express surprise that he had not attempted to influence my choice.

'If the shoes aren't right for you, we'd rather you didn't buy them' he said.
How refreshing.

[Seafront Plodder]

My kitchen has a bigger floor area than The Jog Shop!

I really cannot see how anyone can be recommended a shoe based on the premise that you land on a rubber mat - (which, incidentally you probably have to chop your stride to hit full on) - running about 10 ft in your day clothes.

How is that supposed to mirror your stride, gait and plant after miles on the road?

[Sweder]

Not sure, but I'm happy to take their advice as they manage a multi-million pound industry and use this technology for better runners than I. I'll take their expertise over JJB Sports any day

The secret to landing on the mat correctly is in looking forward and jogging normally - not looking down to hit the mat. We did this several times to get the most 'natural' tread possible. The limited length of the jog shop did not hinder the process.

But if you think about it, what IS your natural gate/ average stride? You're going up hill, down hill, on a side slope . . . rarely completely flat. The benefit of the read out is to see how your foot lands and 'unfolds' on the ground - you can do this walking or running; the impact pattern will be the same, only the impact pressure will vary.

[Sweder]

Time of day: 10:00 Hrs
Location: South downs, Lewes to Black Cap and return
Distance: 5 miles
Time: 44:36
Conditions: Cloudy, dry, cool breeze
Companions: 3 Hounds
Soundtrack: Planet Rock (Aerosmith, Oasis, Thin Lizzy, Rush, Meatloaf)

Guilt won out and I decided to hit the trail in my new Mizunos.
The first thing to note about off road boots is they are far less spongy than road runners. The soul is harder with little or no cavity (to prevent accumulation of mud/ cloven hoofed animal gifts/ general downland detritus) and initially I worried about extra impact on the ankles and knees.

I set off at a gentle pace. Mindful of Nigel’s wise words regarding poor runs following competitive halves, I determined not to expect too much this weekend. The boots felt good – solid on the loose ground, supportive with excellent grip. I pushed on past the stables, offering the Shearer salute to a couple of jockeys returning from morning gallops. The sheep are once again in the field at Black Cap, but this morning they’ve elected to camp on the far side. The dogs are more interested in potential bunny action in the woods to my right, and they streak across the springy turf, tails waving, in pursuit of imagined prey. I reach the summit in 23:44. 9.34 minute miles – not bad uphill, although what breeze there is has helped me on the ascent.

A brief rest and we’re off back down the slope. I haven’t noticed the boots for a while, which is an excellent sign that they’re spot on fit-wise. The dogs close ranks with me and form a Canine Convoy on the flint-strewn path. The image brings to mind my HGV training, and some words of wisdom imparted by my teacher.

My instructor was a gem of a man. Roy was a grizzled highway veteran, a hulking, wrinkled sage of the road. He had a unique style that included planning routes around the best transport cafes in the South East and the deployment of a rolled-up tabloid newspaper. The latter came to the fore when, relaxed and into my role as a budding Yorkie star, I'd rest my left hand on the gear shift, right hand still on the wheel, slipping into King of the Road mode . . . thwack!
‘Always keep 2 ‘ands on the wheel son. Always.’ Thwack!
This method proved highly effective. Today, some 15 years later, as my left hand drifts towards the gearshift in repose, that gravelled voice drifts up from my memory. I re-grab the wheel and straighten my posture, glancing nervously to my left. Sorry Roy.

Roy had a collection of sayings relative to guiding 38 tons of motorised metal through the busy streets of South London. On pulling away from a set of lights: Thwack! with the newspaper.
‘You just crushed that 5-year old kid.’
‘What 5 year-old kid?’
‘The one you didn’t see come up the inside on 'is bike. You didn’t re-check your pavement mirror’.
Harsh, but effective.

The phrase I recalled this morning as my convoy cruised through the stables and into the sheep field and the gentle down slope towards home related to Roy’s general philosophy on driving HGVs.

‘You gotta make progress’ he’d say. ‘That’s what it’s all about. Not speeding, not taking short-cuts. Making progress.’ What he meant is that whilst you have to take great care when in charge of such a potentially lethal weapon, it's your duty as a driver to reach your destination as efficiently as possible, without fuss, excess speed or elaboration.

And it’s this thought I take into the weekend.
I will make progress. I won’t record an impressive time, I won’t lead the pack to muddy glory. I will sit back and run efficiently, relax into the run, enjoy the scenery and chalk up 14 miles to conclude a restful week.

Next week? That’s a different matter.

[Sweder]

Time of day: 09:00 Hrs
Location: Brighton Marina
Route: Off-road Brighton/ Saltdean/ Telscombe Tye/ Snake/ Gallops
Distance: 14 miles
Duration: 02:22
Conditions: Cold/ Breezy, brightening to sunshine. Dry underfoot.

Game Plan:
Make progress. Take it easy, hang back, ease up after a hard workout last Sunday. Let the quickies go and keep your head down towards the back of the pack.

Preparation:
A good pasta meal on Saturday night, quiet evening in front of the goggle box, early night, up early, coffee and toast and a leisurely drive to Brighton.

Fat chance.
For starters it was a friends’ 50th bash in town and Mrs Sweder was insistent that we would attend. My view, that we wouldn’t be missed if we no-showed, was driven by the fact that I was feeling lazy but mainly by the knowledge that the evenings’ entertainment was to include a Caley – full on, take-your-partners-by-the-hand, dozy-doh country dancing.

I argued that such activities (in cowboy boots no less) invited injuries: twisted ankles, stomped toes.
I was always on a loser though, and reluctantly accepted my fate.

To make matters worse two things happened:
1. We didn’t eat before we went out
2. They had Harvey’s Best in kegs

The former was not such an issue until the latter came into play. 6 pints and a couple of half-hearted reels later we stood at the end of the evening, discussing whether it was obligatory for the male members of the band to have Bobby Charlton comb-overs (they all did). The subject of food arose, and someone suggested a curry. Oh dear.

Suffice to say, I awoke, late, this morning, with a feeling of dread.
I managed the toast and a good measure of water, scrabbled about for my water bottle, mobile phone/ stop watch, reminded myself for the tenth time that I needed to grease the nips and promptly failed to do so. I arrived at the start point 30 seconds before departure, forgetting to start the stopwatch, my game plan very much a distant, foggy memory.

‘You look rough’ a helpful remark from one of the horribly fresh-faced ladies, stretching enthusiastically and with a fabulous degree of elasticity.
‘Hmmbbblebubble’ I replied. I sketched a light summary of the evening.
‘Blimey, you need a Biohazard symbol on that shirt!’ she laughed.
‘Best stay upwind of you today.’

The 3 mile warm up took 31 minutes, a modest pace. Despite my best intentions I found myself in the leading group. Frankly it would have been tough to go much slower, and I felt OK. After the drinks break at Saltdean we set off up Telscombe Tye. Mercifully the sea breeze helped us up the ¾ mile climb. My pace was modest yet still I joined the leaders. A good deal of the previous nights’ excesses had by now escaped me, mostly via perspiration, and my decision to risk the weather by not wearing a windcheater was paying off.

The new off-road boots, tested on a 5 miler yesterday, performed well, picking up minimal mud, providing good grip on the tacky pathways. We drove on. An hour into the run I still felt comfortable, although refrained from joining in with the casual banter of my co-runners. Listening in on the conversation I learned that today’s’ finish, an additional mile and a half on the end of the run, was 'an absolute pig’. My companions assured me I would not enjoy it.

Up the snake without mishap. I took a Pineapple flavoured Gel before the ascent, the sticky fruit-flavoured oyster doing a job. At the top, Laurence, the Fit Large Man, announced he was feeling ‘out of sorts’ and would be cutting back to 12 miles, missing the Gallops. This was as blatant an opportunity to bail out as I would get, but I declined. I deserved the extra pain, and would have felt churlish using another’s misfortune to avoid it.

30 minutes later I gave myself a severe bollocking. We’d reached the racecourse and turned East, crossing the road and heading down the gallops adjacent to Brighton racetrack. The downhill lope was OK, a mixture of sand and woodchips creating a comfortable carpet. The climb up past East Brighton golf course no problem. But now I entered Ovingdean with it's narrow streets and hard pavements. I found myself going backwards. Digging in I managed to keep a measured distance behind the frontrunners, but I was working too hard. I knew the last mile or so along the cliff tops would be wind-assisted, and that kept me going. Through the tunnel and onto the grass, I wondered where that wind was now. I’m sure it was there, but the lactic acid welling up in my legs negated any benefit the slightest of breezes could offer.

Last week in Almeria Nigel had observed that he was able to register lactic acid build up. This enabled him to throttle back and keep the threshold below critical. His words bounced around my vacant skull now, sadly of no use. Any throttling back would result in a grinding halt, with no guarantee of a re-start.
Plod on, I told myself; you can stop at the Marina. Only a mile to go.

Calves screaming, lungs dragging in air, an image from It’s a Knockout popped into my head. For those unfamiliar with this televisual feast, It's a Knockout was a fantastic game show, featuring teams from across Europe, pitted against one another in a series of bizarre, fairytale-esque games.

In one such game team players had to run along inflated gangplanks to retrieve coloured balls and return them to their base. Opposing teams operated foam-filled water cannons, attempting to knock off the runners and add to the slime coating the runways. Each runner was attached to their base by a length of strong elastic. As they reached the farthest targets they would slow, stop and then slide unceremoniously backwards. All the while, that doyen of sports commentators Stuart Hall described proceedings through a hail of hysterical laughter. You could imagine the tears streaming down his face as he screamed ‘The Belgians! HAHAHAHAHA!’

Well Stuart, this morning it’s the Lewesians, the elastic rope is biting hard, and there’s not much laughter around. I dug deep again. And again. Damn that curry. Damn the beer. Damn damn damn. And then the finish, so close! The four finishers ahead of me stretching out against the marina parapet. I found the last vestige of energy to crank my torso upright and finish looking vaguely like a runner.

Yes, it was tough, but I’m pleased as punch to have got through it. We’re upping it to 15+ next week, but I doubt it’ll be as hard going. For one thing I’ll be sure to avoid any Saturday night barn-dancing.

[El Gordo]

Sounds like a good run, Sweder. I managed 15 stately miles yesterday afternoon, though I'd not had the pre-run beer and curry to inspire me. I managed it though with just 1 x 2 minute walk break, so I was pleased.

Gets kinda tough after 10 miles though, eh?

[Sweder]

Certainly does old boy. But don't it feel good afterwards

[El Gordo]

It felt great last night as I sat in the pub over a couple of pints, grinning from ear to... there.

That makes 42 miles for me in the last 7 days.

Crikey.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

You two are starting to scare me.

[Sweder]

You did well Andy, although I can imagine it was no hardship hitting the streets in Spain; it was certainly an inspirational backdrop.

I had a pretty light week, following Nigel's advice on post Half fallout. I think it worked, as I'm feeling pretty good the morning after my long run, and will certainly get out for a 3 mile recovery tonight. I'm certainly looking for 40 mile weeks minimum from here on in.

[suzieq]

I don't know how you even got up to run after 6 pints, never mind do well for most of it! I'm so careful about having even one glass of wine...I'm thinking I should change my running strategy.

[Bierzo Baggie]

Check this link out to see a great athlete in action
http://www.jim-wallace.co.uk/events/2003...062003.htm
Don't try this at home kids......

[Sweder]

Great stuff, an inspiration to us all.
Particularly impressed with the London to Brighton run - that sounds like a real challenge. Me? Back to toddling around Lewes, thanks.