'Well, yes ... and here we are again' Hunter S. Thompson
Greetings and felicitations; welcome to this shiny new year.
A fitting way to kick off a month of beerlessness seemed to be the Jog Shop New Years Day Hangover run. Afforded the generous start time of 11 am the run is billed as a four mile loop along the Undercliff from Brighton Marina to Rottingdean with the return along the cliff-tops. The sun blazed above a frozen Sussexscape still waering a light dusting of last night's snow.
I rocked up at five to eleven, casually strolling along Madeira Drive towards the gathering point at Black Rock. It was here that I noticed the Jog Shop flags fluttering in a stiff-ish breeze, just next to the large yellow flag marked 'start'. Eh? Then noticed a number of familiar faces milling about ... with running numbers pinned to their shirts and jackets. Cue large, heavy penny dropping in Hollywood slo-mo to clatter noisily on the icy pavement. It's a proper race.
There was nothing for it but to pin on a number and get in line. I'd already been spotted by a horribly fresh-looking Chris 'Austin Powers' Mallinson and a beaming, sun-glass-wrapped Lycra Tony, so no chance of backing out now. The next forty minutes was an unedifying eyeballs-out thrash.
I finished. I banked 8 kilometres. I froze - the wind-chill was well below zero. I sucked a lot of air and I shed a lot of sweat, so I guess all things considered it was a fair enough start to the year. I couldn't escape the feeling I'd been bush-whacked in some way but any attempt at complaint would have been considered ungrateful and not a little churlish. At this point I'd like to make clear had I known this was a race I doubt I'd have run 6.5 kilometres around Lewes last night, albeit at a leisurely pace. It's all I'm saying.
Happy New Year everyone.
Testing core balance timing myself on one leg after the race (Simon trying same on bike). Thanks to Jase for the photos
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Approaching the end of the final lap on this morning's Brighton & Hove ParkRun I felt an all-too familiar twinge in the back of my right leg. It's not rocket science; my third run in 48 hours has proved a folly bordering on the dangerous. My poor, soft, sofa-dwelling hamstrings are wondering what on Earth is going on. The message was unequivocal: easy there, big fella. I throttled back (ho ho, if you had seen my appalling floundering on laps one and two you'd love that line) to ease gingerly across the line still (barely) under my personal acceptable limit of 25 minutes. Added to EG's NYD brush with his errant calf this comes as a timely reminder that New Year enthusiasms, admirable as they might be, should be tempered with an acceptance of harsh realities and the fragility of the regenerating runner's body.
Speaking of regeneration I was pleased to note the howl of anguish uttered by my offspring as the New Doctor emerged at the end of a singularly disappointing chapter in the iconic BBC series, Doctor Who. As a child I never accepted the new Doc with anything but scorn and a loudly-decreed vow to abandon the next series by way of protest. Funny how we're* wooed over time, rallying on behalf of that same cursed insurgent when his career-ending metamorphosis is thrust upon us. Wither the first female Doctor in this enlightened age? Or Doctor of Colour to borrow the popular PC vernacular? Or, given the BBC's current preoccupation with elevating homosexuals to high-profile positions, the first Gay Doctor? I suppose on that front we've had Cpatain Jack, if you'll pardon the expression. I doubt even Graham Norton could deliver a camper vision than bug-eyed, scarf-wrapped Tom Baker and his chilling catchphrase, delivered with a heart-stopping lunge; would you like a jelly baby? No wonder the Daleks took a sabatical.
An impressive turn-out on a very cold Hove Park morning. Around 200 runners out before 9am on a sub-zero Saturday reminded me that in terms of derranged people prepared to abandon a perfectly-heated duvet (not to mention toasty spouse) to venture out into hard frost and bone-chilling wind, I am not alone. The sight of the happy throng queing up after the run, steam rising from the kalaidescope of running vests in the strong winter sunshine, warmed the cockles. They looked like a stable of racehorses after a thrash across the gallops.
Good luck to all our runners at the Cross Country thrash in Stanmer Park this afternoon.
Don't forget to pack your spikes.
* 'We' being those who still have truck with the series. I willingly accept there are those amonst us who would gladly remove their own teeth rather than suffer a minute of it.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
I reckon this year everybody should concentrate on stretching and warming up/down properly. Even if you've only got a couple of minutes here and there it's enough to give them a quick stretch. It worked wonders for me when I had problems a couple of months ago. All the best for 2010 Sweder.
(03-01-2010, 10:56 AM)glaconman Wrote: I reckon this year everybody should concentrate on stretching and warming up/down properly. Even if you've only got a couple of minutes here and there it's enough to give them a quick stretch. It worked wonders for me when I had problems a couple of months ago. All the best for 2010 Sweder.
Wise words, GM, thank you. I do stretch more than I used to, but still don't do anywhere near enough. The challenge seems to be to create a habit out of it, rather than think of it as some chore that has to be worked up to.
El Gordo
Great things are done when men and mountains meet.
At work have a stretch-break when others might have a smoke or when you're waiting for the kettle. Easier if you're working at home granted.
If you're watching telly. Particularly the news etc where you don't need as much attention.
You get the general idea.
Always have a warm up and down before and after a run, particularly a race. And I would always recomend a run to warm-up and warm-down. Although you might not feel like it when you finish.
Like you say EG: build the habit and keep them niggles and injuries at bay.
A wonderful sun-kissed jaunt up the frosty Serpent today, dragging a swarm of eager newbies behind me. There's nothing more rewarding than listening to bouyant chirruping replaced by saw-sucking breaths and determined grunts.
The hamstring made itself known early on so I deferred, determined to take things easy (hence my shepherding duties). That said I clocked 19.77 kilometres in a frighteningly fast 1:54; that's 8 minutes quicker than my pre-Christmas effort. The climb up the snake had my right thigh giving me heavy hints to take it easy. I deployed my Reading Half 2005 strategy of turning my right toe in a few degrees, changing the angle of my stride. That did the trick. The idea is to engage other parts of the errant muscle, thus protecting the tight area long enough for it to relax. I couldn't push as hard as I'd have liked at the end of the 2 mile ascent. Despite this being my fourth run in four days I felt surprisingly full of vim and vigour.
Regrouped at the head of the Snake my charges were relieved to hear we had only three miles to go, and most of that down hill. I set off again, upping the pace gently to finish the last 2 miles at sub-5 minute kilometre pace. I'm delighted at how good I feel now. I did stretch - a few times when we caught our breath at certain points on the run and again at the end - but I readily accept this has to become habit rather than occasional chore.
Charts below: 1. Elevation 2. Pace
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
I'm envious. It's a fantastic day out there. Hmmm. If ever a day was made for running... Instead, it's choice 2. Just had a text inviting me to the pub to watch ManU-Leeds, and I see that Leeds are leading after 25 mins. Looks beautifully set up.
I won't preach about the hamstring -- you know better than I do what to do/avoid. But good luck with it. We need to keep the forum warhorse fit, or we'll all share the gloom.
El Gordo
Great things are done when men and mountains meet.
Wow. Fat bastard to run supervisor in 2 months. I'm impressed...
Just to make you feel a little bit err....down , you do realise that your January temperence may encounter choppy waters at the belated MGSAGM later on this month?
(03-01-2010, 01:35 PM)Seafront Plodder Wrote: Wow. Fat bastard to run supervisor in 2 months. I'm impressed...
Just to make you feel a little bit err....down , you do realise that your January temperence may encounter choppy waters at the belated MGSAGM later on this month?
Err ... the two are not mutually exclusive.
I'm still a fat bastard
Re: MGS AGM. I'll cross that rickety ole bridge when I come to it.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
I signed up for another of Ladyrunner's mid-week liveners this morning. For the second week running I got more than I bargained for: 20.15 kilometres of unrelenting, blood-freezing hills in dead-on 2 hours. Just the three of us today, Jen, sporting two paits of gloves, completing our well-wrapped triumverate. Before the off I managed to startle one of Ladyrunner's cats. The disturbed feline looked me up and down before taking refuge on top of a wall cupboard. After a second examination of the intruder from this lofty perch the clearly unhappy creature began to convulse noisily before projecting a thin steam of vomit in my direction. When it comes to sartorial elegence it seems everyone's a critic.
We set off from Hollingbury, running down through the frosted fields of Stanmer Park and across the grounds of Sussex University before climbing the long haul up to Black Cap. We stumbled along the frozen, rutted path, eyes scanning the terrain in an attempt to navigate the ankle-twisting humps and hollows without mishap. Ahead and to our left, framed against the bright sky on the brow of a hill, stood a family of wild deer, ears twitching, heads turned to observe this huffing puffing human train. Jules got very excited, yanking out her camera to snap some shots. She carried on snapping as we jogged up the hill until, inevitably, Mother Nature stuck out a slippery leg to send her tumbling. With no damage incurred other than slightly-bruised pride we struck out for the summit.
It was an odd feeling, approaching this familiar spot from the south. I'd done so before on the Lewes Downland 10when I'd found the going especially tough at this point. The climb was no less exhausting today and I was relieved to turn left onto the South Downs Way to run along the spiny ridge towards Ditchling Beacon. What little breeze there was - a mercy given winds' propensity to lower temperature - came at us out of the west. The forecast suggests the chill on our faces was a portent for heavy snow, even now falling steadily across the Midlands and heading south.
We scampered home, enjoying the gravitational advantage of the closing miles being predominantly downhill. Over coffee LR and I talked Almeria, in particular running goals. Much depends on my hamstring (which despite a few niggly twinges had the good grace to behave fairly well). We agreed that, all things being equal, I could do a lot worse than use Jules as a pacer in an attempt to edge closer to 1:40. We'll see.
Below: Satelite SportsTracks map with route; Elevation/ distance map
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
(05-01-2010, 02:20 PM)Sweder Wrote: We agreed that, all things being equal, I could do a lot worse than use Jules as a pacer in an attempt to edge closer to 1:40. We'll see.
Fighting talk! Almeria just got a bit more interesting for the spectators...
Let's hope the hamstrings hold up and you can give it a good shot. How things change in a month!
(05-01-2010, 02:20 PM)Sweder Wrote: We agreed that, all things being equal, I could do a lot worse than use Jules as a pacer in an attempt to edge closer to 1:40. We'll see.
And um, that would be a PB perhaps? A couple of 12 milers and your tune has changed.
(05-01-2010, 02:20 PM)Sweder Wrote: We agreed that, all things being equal, I could do a lot worse than use Jules as a pacer in an attempt to edge closer to 1:40. We'll see.
And um, that would be a PB perhaps? A couple of 12 milers and your tune has changed.
Ee, 'twas ever thus with that lad....
El Gordo
Great things are done when men and mountains meet.
(05-01-2010, 02:20 PM)Sweder Wrote: We agreed that, all things being equal, I could do a lot worse than use Jules as a pacer in an attempt to edge closer to 1:40. We'll see.
And um, that would be a PB perhaps? A couple of 12 milers and your tune has changed.
He definately had a 'glint in his eye' and a 'gleam on his face' on Tuesday when he was talking about beating last years time and following me round to pace him
I agree a few more 12 milers and a few weeks of dieting and he could achieve this. He is running very well - I am fit and he is not too far behind me. But you must watch that hamstring Ash - I would hate to see you injured now so close to Almeria.
(06-01-2010, 08:41 PM)Mid Life Crisis Man Wrote: And um, that would be a PB perhaps? A couple of 12 milers and your tune has changed.
Ee, 'twas ever thus with that lad....
I know where I'm at compared to previous years and I see no reason to pile on the pressure by declaring an out-and-out PB attempt. Presumably we all line-up in the hope (over the expectation) of a decent run. My Almeria times have been poor at best compared to other halfs - this might be explained by my propensity to launch down that first 2k slope to the seafront. My hope is that by following the more experienced LR from the off I might learn something about pacing the start of a race.
The hamstring is almost certainly a symptom of weak quads. I'll try to do something about that in the next couple of weeks.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
(07-01-2010, 10:54 AM)Sweder Wrote: The hamstring is almost certainly a symptom of weak quads. I'll try to do something about that in the next couple of weeks.
Cycling. Single best thing for runner's quads. Guaranteed.
(07-01-2010, 10:54 AM)Sweder Wrote: The hamstring is almost certainly a symptom of weak quads. I'll try to do something about that in the next couple of weeks.
Cycling. Single best thing for runner's quads. Guaranteed.
Sweder would love spinning classes.....
El Gordo
Great things are done when men and mountains meet.
With a weekend in The Smoke ahead I needed to bag some miles today. The problem was should I risk the slippery trial of the town's compacted-ice pavements or the lottery of knee-deep snow drifts up on the downs? The hills were always likely to win. With clear blue skies, strong sunshine and more heavy snow-laden clouds invading from the south west I wrapped myself in several layers, harnessed the dogs and set off. Picture postcard perfect scenes unfolded as I laboured over the well-trod paths onto the moth-balled fields. Here I struggled manfully through light, soft, knee-deep drifts, run-wading up the unrelenting hill, past the stables (looking rather like a ski lodge) and off into a glorious white wilderrness. This was hard graft, exhausting. My high-lift knee-action was taking its toll; I must've looked like a carthorse having a go at dressage. After two miles I'd slowed to a run-walk, sweat pouring off my face. I've run on soft-sand beaches and that's a good deal easier than this.
I rested at Black Cap, remembering the last time I came up here in thick snow with the hounds (February 2007 it turns out). I'd videod them charging around the milestone, yapping wildily as they frolicked. I'll dig out the link and post it here:
Standing there, wind whipping the icing sugar top layer off unblemished fields of sparkling white to swirl off into the east, I drank it all in. The homeward trail was easily spotted, my heavy tread carving an ugly trench through the hitherto pristine snow. With a huge sigh I set off again. Willow, our cocker spaniel, struggled badly. Not only are her legs too short for her portly countenance to clear the drift her paws iced up into cold hard balls. I tried to peel the ice from her pads but she yelped in pain. We both stode bravely on, no doubt sharing thoughts of an afternoon in front of a rageing wood burner, though I suspect I'm the only one planning to watch the cricket.
7.8 of the hardest kilometres I've covered in a long, long while.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph