Compared to the struggle of Sunday's 12km, today's 6km was a relative rip snorter. In fact, it was even a PB, although as far as PBs go it's not that great a statement as I've only ever done 6km runs in training, so it's still a long way short of race pace. I covered the 6km in 36:06 - this should be much closer to 30 minutes dead to be on a par with my 5k race pace, but I was just pleased to put in a good 'un, and it's confirmation that I'm getting some way back to previous fitness levels.
Track du jour: A toss up between the classic Yes track Siberian Khatru and Arzachel's Queen St. Gang (remember them?) - yep, it's pretty much winter here and I'm being somewhat melancholic and going through a prog rock phase.
Cross training. Just 30 mins of bike today - long days at work (12hrs+) mean a slight re-scheduling of this weeks training, but nothing too drastic.
Meantime, I'm feeling good.
Track du jour: Bit of a surprise this one; Bert Kaempfert's That Happy Feeling. Am I showing my age/senility? Are Bert Kaempfert fans even allowed to run marathons?? At least SP will be happy that it's not U2.
12-hour days at work and insomnia (overnight, not at work ) made today a compulsory rest day from all things athletic.
However, there was one bright spot - Fox Sports, which I refuse to pay for but can access at work (I work in the electronic media) had two fabulous programmes on late this afternoon which I was able to watch slabs of - they showed the tremendous semi-final of the UK Snooker Championship where the sublime Ronnie O'Sullivan (how talented is that guy?!) scored a perfect 147 in the final frame to snatch victory and a place in the final - rarified sport to be sure.
Then followed a pleasant surprise with a repeat of the coverage of the Great Edinburgh 10k* on the 4th of May, which one of Australia's favourite daughters, Benita Johnston won in sensational fashion. Nice looking course too, with that long brutal hill around 4 - 5 km which is where our Benita ran away with it - clearly as a hill lover Benita should be gracing our site here.
But right now I'm beyond knackered and need to catch up on some zeds. I'm up again at 4 a.m. for a 13 hour day (no breaks - we have Dickensian working conditions here thanks to years and years of conservative government, so be warned). And I have to slot in a 6km somehow tomorrow evening if this week isn't to end up shot to hell.
Track du jour: REM's Bad Day
*The lead-up event to stillwaddler's fantastic Great Manchester 10k a couple of weeks later.
Interesting character, Ronnie O'Sullivan. His dad is/was a career criminal, well known to the London underworld, and to the police. Extortion, drug trafficking and porn if I remember rightly. Ronnie grew up in the family mansion, never went to school, and did nothing but play snooker on the full size table that dad had had installed. Whether this could be described as a privileged or a disadvantaged background is up for debate I guess. But it sure made him a great snooker player.
El Gordo
Great things are done when men and mountains meet.
El Gordo Wrote:Interesting character, Ronnie O'Sullivan. ...Ronnie grew up in the family mansion, never went to school, and did nothing but play snooker on the full size table that dad had had installed. ... it sure made him a great snooker player.
On the other hand, wagging school to play snooker at the local pool hall (owned by the father of one of the girls in my class - hence we had an understanding ) did nothing for my snooker* career. :o
Didn't do a whole lot for my academic career either, come to think of it... :mad:
A 13 hour shift began at 5 o'clock this morning. This was the third such consecutive day of archaic worse-than-slave-like working conditions for MLC Man. No breaks, no daylight, no windows, go to work in the dark, go home in the dark, and spend the last hour tearing the paint off the walls with what's left of one's fingernails through utter desperation to be out of there - such is the legacy of conservative government in Australia. And people wonder why I'm a socialist. Sheesh.
Anyway, all through this I'm dreading the prospect of returning home dog-tired and still needing to complete a 6km run to stay on track with my schedule. Is it insane to stick with it in such trying conditions? Would it really - cosmically speaking - matter if I hit the booze instead and stuffed the training schedule in the metaphorical, or even literal rubbish bin?
Well, actually, yes. It does matter. And it made me angry. Not at first, but it was bubbling away inside.
In sheer bloody-minded desperation I drove home insanely fast, quickly changed into my running gear and jumped on the treadmill before I had time to stop and think about what I was doing. This was a pre-meditated attempt to trick myself into completing the run before I had time to think about it. After all, it was only 6km - if I didn't stop to analyse it, it would all be over before I knew it. But if I allowed myself to contemplate it, I would talk myself into the sensible option of hitting the piss instead. And that would be the thin end of the wedge and all that...
So. I jumped on the treadmill before my brain even registered that I'd got home and in the door. For the first half km I just plodded along at a warm up pace. But then something strange happened. Really strange, and totally unexpected. The second song I heard on my run did something weird to me. There was just something about it - it was really primal and on exactly the right beats per minute and it just got under my skin. All that pent up anger and frustration at the effing conservatives who ruined this effing country with their effing labour reforms and effing attitudes toward the average poor bloody effing worker spilled out and seemed to surge into my legs...
I ran faster and faster and then faster still and smashed my PB for 6km. I felt fan-bloody-tastic and discovered in rather incredulous style that sheer utter bloody mindedness is an astonishing performance enhancer.
And now, an hour or so later, I again know for sure that there is a God because the end of my run and my settling down to my first alcohol since last Sunday coincided fortuitously with the airing of one of the all-time greatest ever pieces of television - the "Elephent and the Hen" episode of Black Books. And so now I feel completely satisfied and would even invite (should they come knocking at my door) one of those puss-filled conservative politicians I've been moaning about in for a drink and a viewing of my running log... and maybe an earnest discussion about Marxist economic principles for an encore.
Sorry, but I'm always a bit Bolshy after a PB.
So a mad, mad day. A mad three days in fact. There's still the small matter of a 20km long run on Sunday, but just now I feel utterly indestructable. Bring it on, I say! I'd do it now if there wasn't a half-full bottle of red sitting in front of me...
Where's me red flag?
Oh, there it is...
Track du jour: The Particles (a little-known 70s Sydney band) Let's Bang Bits Of Wood Together, for getting under my skin and allowing me to slap down a mighty PB in the face of adversity, into which I laughingly spit. Ha ha!
Sounds like a smashing session. I've had one or two of those 'unexpected corkers' over the years; they can really lift a campaign from trudgery-drudgery into second and third gear. Enjoy.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Well another cracking run today, but this one wasn't an angry, belligerent one, in fact quite the opposite. Today's schedule called for a long slowie of at least 18km, so I headed out to Seven Mile Beach (which is actually six miles long, so um, er, oh never mind) for an out and back trot.
Seven Mile Beach is a fantastic place for running - long, wide, flat and firm sand all the way: it's immensely popular with walkers, runners, cyclists and horse riders, although I was a bit surprised this morning to see only one other runner. Perhaps they'd all done the noble thing and gone running at the crack of dawn, whereas I'd taken the rare opportunity to sleep in this morning.
There were heaps of walkers and their dogs today, but they tend to go no further than 4-5km from the western car park end, and so I had the last half of the beach entirely to myself, apart from the wildlife of course, consisting mainly of pacific gulls and cute but shy pied oyster catchers.
Bliss!
It's a crescent shaped beach which is both good and bad - good that you can always see your goal but bad in that the observed goal is so bloody far away!
As a bit of an experiment after EG's comments on ipods, I took no music this time and tried instead to meditate on the sound of the surf. I think it must have worked, because I settled into a good rhythm very quickly and maintained it for the whole distance, going up the beach in 61 minutes and and back in exactly the same time.
The distance and pace didn't really tax me too much at all and I felt really good at the end. Clearly the training is paying off! However, I went home, had a spot of lunch and promptly fell asleep in the middle of writing up this post, so obviously it did require a bit of effort. But it's a great feeling to not be intimidated by this distance any more. The main problem today was boredom. Deserted sandy beaches are great, but maintaining the "wow" feeling for two hours is a little tricky. Next time I might take some music.
That looks like a real opportunity to get inside your own head MLCMan - slightly hypnotic too, what with the goal always in sight but seemingly never nearer. Very Zen.
I'd say this is excellent prep for a marathon; there are times in races when you feel like you just aren't ticking off the miles. For SP in new York the 'endless' streets stretching out with mile upon mile of bobbing heads was a soul-destroyer. For me today it'll be that last mile of beachfront after descending Seaford Head; the darned finish line just never seems to arrive. Anything you can do to help take on the beast of dispair and kick its tail is money in the bank.
Good work fella.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Adelaide Marathon Campaign - Week 3 of 16
Are Bert Kaempfert fans even allowed to run marathons?? At least SP will be happy that it's not U2.
) made today a compulsory rest day from all things athletic.
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