Mighty May

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

I seem to be up to my old tricks again...

Do you want to know what a runner's midlife crisis looks like? Well this is it: up and on the road in running kit by 03:40 in the morning, not just to run, but to complete a fairly tough hill repeats session and finish in good enough time to still arrive at work by 6 a.m.

So why didn't I run after work? Well, that's where it becomes an existential crisis, for I had arranged to drink beer after work with a colleague and discuss cerebral matters and the affairs of state (well, football, mainly), and still return home in time to prepare dinner for Mrs MLCMM and myself. All this without falling asleep, spilling my beer or rambling incoherently. That's a bit of challenge at the best of times, for me, anyhow.

Anyway, it's not over yet. I've done the run part (seven repeats; two more than I had planned) and arrived at work alright. Now I'm thrashing this post out in a quiet moment, working on the principle that tonight I'll be too hammered tired.

In running terms, it's a good start to May, although my legs and left knee (in particular) are whining somewhat, although I put this down to the time of day, rather than the intensity of the workout. In terms of cutting down the alcohol and food consumption however, well maybe a little more discipline is needed.

What am I saying??

[marathondan]

Sounds like you need a few more hours in the day. Hope Mrs MCLMM enjoyed the dinner after all that!

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

Sounds like you need a few more hours in the day. Hope Mrs MCLMM enjoyed the dinner after all that!

Cheers, Dan. Dinner was good, and yes, I did prepare it, although I failed to beat my better half home, having drunk twice as much beer after work than expected (we had a lot of football to discuss). She arrived back a few minutes before I did, but I manfully sat her down with a glass of our finest watching one of those cooking shows (that might have been a mistake) whilst I prepared a honey/soy/chicken/stir-fry thing.

Today is a rest day ... from both running and drinking.

Thank Christ.

[marathondan]

Sounds like you need to start tracking the old beer-to-miles ratio stats.

[Bierzo Baggie]

I've never been able to run after work either, always prefer an early start ....but 3:40 in the morning is ridiculous! I take my hat off to you.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

Sounds like you need to start tracking the old beer-to-miles ratio stats.

If it was only beer I'd probably be alright. It's the wine, spirits and cocktails that blow it out of the water, I'm afraid.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

I've never been able to run after work either, always prefer an early start ....but 3:40 in the morning is ridiculous! I take my hat off to you.

Thanks, BB, but it's odd how used you become to this kind of lifestyle. Not that I'd do it if there was any choice... like, if I worked sane, sensible hours, that is. The insanity of it  is somehow, strangely, comforting.

And my crayon drawings have improved out of sight...

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

Concrete training.

Two weeks to race day.

This morning's long, slow run was the same as last week's, i.e. 90 minutes of slow, steady, plodding, followed by a lung-busting 30 minutes at 'race' pace, which of course makes it difficult, but then, that's the point of it, I suppose. According to the book I'm reading, it's the combination of endurance training followed by a longish burst of race pace when you least want it that teaches you about 'finishing strong' and learning more generally to pick up the speed when you are far from feeling as if you can. That's the theory, anyhow. I don't yet know if it really works, but I have to say it's oddly satisfying finishing the long run with a much harder, faster, effort.

The day had actually started rather earlier than intended. It was to be a modest lie-in sort of a morning, coming as it did after four successive early shifts, which included two of the 03:30 super-early starts needed to squeeze in a run. However, at 07:30 this morning there were no less than three concrete trucks lined up, buckets churning as they waited to pour a new platform at the train station across the road. Meanwhile, on the other side of us, our neighbours had employed a roof cleaner who had, I suspect, the city's noisiest compressor set up on their front lawn, which is separated from our bedroom by only a paling fence and their driveway. This compressor and a frightful hissing emanating from the cleaner's pressure hose nozzle on the roof was awakening not just us, but the entire neighbourhood that hadn't already been woken by the convoy of cement trucks at the station. As I lay there now more than wide awake, deafened in my own bed by the various industrial activities which by any normal standards were happening far too early on a Saturday morning, I took stock of the situation and resigned myself to starting my scheduled long run somewhat earlier than expected.

But, to hell with it, if I was up earlier than needed, then I was going to have some breakfast first. A mug of hot tea and not one, but two wicked slices of buttered toast and Vegemite (a rare treat given we consume hardly any bread in these low-carb times) and I was raring to go. Odd then, it was, that as I put on my running shoes, my left knee and right shin started whining pitifully, producing sharp, but in reality fairly lame stabbing pains as if trying to dissuade me from even attempting a run today. These days of course I'm used to these pre-run shenanigans which appear all too often, but almost never have even a modicum of legitimacy behind them. Sure enough, as soon as I tied my shoelaces and stood up, the pain subsided and I went about collecting water, gels and the like before starting the run.

Gels, did I say? Yes, gels. Of course, gels aren't really necessary for a two-hour run, especially of the long and slow variety, but if I'm to attempt the full marathon distance later this year, then one of the big hurdles I have to overcome (apart from the more obvious one of actually running the hundreds of required kilometres in training) is to get my tummy to better tolerate food on the run, and so I'm starting the process early, slowly building the number of gels I can tolerate whilst on these longer efforts.

So, as astute readers may have gathered, I've been trying a few new and different things of late. These include:

   * Disciplined warm up and cool down before and after every run. This has actually proven to be very useful in greatly minimising soreness (and, I hope, injury).

   * Training myself to run with a higher cadence. This, conversely, is proving difficult, but I'm persisting. No obvious benefits as yet.
   * Regularly consuming gels on my longer runs as part of my 'digestive training'. Necessary, but hard to assess any benefit as yet.
   * More cross-training. Well, this is mainly extra walking, but the books say it all counts, so I'm counting it.
   * Improving my breathing and running posture. I think this is working; it's not always easy to tell.
   * Stretching more often. This is definitely helpful, but it's still not ingrained sufficiently to be a daily habit.
   * Drinking less booze. I'm sorry to say that this has been an abject failure.

And so today's gel-munching, cadence-boosted effort gave me a total of 41 kilometres for the week across four runs, which is pretty close to where I want to be at this stage. I still have no clear idea of what sort of time goal I should set for the half marathon, but I'm also fairly relaxed about it. It will be what it will be, and a more-than decent launching pad for what comes next.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

Blood letting.

The sign on the wall of the blood collection cubicle at the pathologist's rooms listed advice for patients about what they could and couldn't do for the rest of the day after having their blood samples taken. A little alarmingly for me, it included this:

4. Avoid all strenuous activity and exercise.

Hmm, well if I'm to take that seriously it puts a bit of a dent in my day and in particular my training schedule. The nurse, having extracted the requisite amount from my arm is laboriously writing my name in full on the labels of the three ampules that she's taken. I wonder briefly if there's any point asking her if that sign and its apparently paranoid caution really applies to a super athlete like me, but her grasp of English doesn't fill me with confidence that she will either appreciate the subtlety of my humorously ironic reference to higher forms of athleticism, or  actually understand what I'm asking at all, given that she seemed hopelessly confused by my initial inquiry as to whether she'd had a busy morning or not. I decide to let it pass and take my chances at sticking to my schedule with its combination of a strenuous intervals session and cross-training.

Blood samples successfully taken, I return home and almost immediately launch into a strenuous intervals session, the first of this campaign. I'm doing Yasso 800s, and have set my aim high; perhaps too high, but I prefer that to being overly cautious. My schedule called for 5 x 800m, each 800m stretch taking 4 minutes, followed by the rest interval of a 400m jog. To add a little spice to the 5:00/km pace, I'm attempting them on a 2% incline, which may not sound much, but adds a surprisingly noticeable veneer of difficulty. After the requisite warm up, the first 800m catches me by surprise, and I wonder if I'm being overly ambitious. But the recovery jog settles me down and thereafter the session goes well; difficult, certainly, but incredibly satisfying to complete. And nor were there any complaints or signs of bruising etc from my blood-letted arm.

But all that was yesterday. Today my schedule called for yet another run; my fourth in five days. Mrs MLCMM looked at me in alarm when I told her I was running again today, and doubtless, my physio would have countenanced strongly against it. However I felt good, my legs were strong and despite the intensity of yesterday's intervals session, I was in fine shape, so why not? Besides, it was my physio who told me to run a minimum of 50km per week, and ideally work that up to 70km per week, all whilst avoiding consecutive run days. Well, he may be a good physio, but those kind of distances are simply not possible for me unless I run four or five times per week, which obviously require consecutive days of running. When the schedule gets especially manic, it may even demand four runs in five days, and so it has turned out. Mind you, this still won't be a 50km week, so the schedule is going to get even crazier in the weeks ahead.

Anyway, the other good news is that today's run was also successfully completed, and while it certainly feels as if I have pushed the envelope ever so slightly, I feel fantastic, so no harm was done. I now have two rest days to fully recover anyhow, so I anticipate being in top shape for my tempo run and the long run on Friday and Saturday. Consecutive run days are again called for, but I now know I can handle them quite well, so no dramas.

But I will enjoy the rest days.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

It's a sin ter

Speak ill of winter.

Ah, winter.

Well, no, not winter exactly... more the promise of the cold, dark, evil season to come. After a few coolish days, then a brief return to summery, mid-20s temperatures more reminiscent of summer, but really just a confidence trickster's attempt to lull us into a false sense of hope and wishful thinking, quite suddenly it's cold, baby, cold. I am quite literally typing this whilst wrapped in a blanket and listening to (what I call) comfort music, the kind that brings only warm, pleasant memories that can dispel the demons who visit to wreak havoc from the frozen wastes*.

Well, OK, let's put this in perspective. Temperature and comfort is, of course, a relative thing. But consider this: here in Sydney we still sleep with an open window, even in May. The heaters are still in their place of winter hibernation and the floor fans have yet to be put away, although it is true to say that, apart from the one in front of the treadmill, they have not been used for some weeks now. And so it has come to pass that our sense of wishful thinking has come to bite us on the bum: an approaching massive high-pressure system has swung cold air up from the deep south, bringing the first snows to the ski fields, and torrential, flooding rains to the southern parts of the country. Hobart, in the southern state of Tasmania, and home of the Point to Pinnacle race, has had 129mm of rain in 24 hours, with 'catastrophic' flooding (a term used more for insurance purposes than any real newsworthiness, so far as I can tell). And even here in Sydney, the colder air from the south has left me shivering under a blanket as I sit at my desk. So sudden has been the transformation that the heaters remain in hibernation mode, but tomorrow may well see that situation reversed. Here in Sydney, the temperature has plummeted and the brisk southerly that has lowered the temperature amplifies the effect with a horrific wind-chill factor that has everyone diving into their trunks of winter clothing for jackets, beanies and scarves. The smarter ones may even have dusted off their heaters and contributed to the growing percentage of global CO2 . We, on the other hand, have been caught short, our summer clothes and light-weight bed linen highlighting the fact that we still incorrectly think that winter is some ways off. And so we are feeling cold, as ridiculous as some of our genuinely cold-climate friends may find that statement.

And so, here I sit, drinking a hot mug of dandelion 'coffee' (do not worry, it's ok, it was preceded by glasses of an aged Hunter Valley chardonnay and rather more recent, but very agreeable, Margaret River cabernet sauvignon), thinking about today's run, the cold and what is to come in this season of discontent**.

My two rest days were, it has to be said, a little less than blissful. My right knee, not usually the one to complain, gave me some grief, being sore and achy throughout, and I had to conclude that perhaps the preceding four runs in just five days had, after all, been a little ambitious. Then this morning, feeling somewhat lethargic and downheartened, I cautiously cut back my scheduled run from a hard tempo affair to an 'easy' evenly-paced one. Even so, I was a little disturbed by how tough it proved to be, though gratified, at least, by my decision to forego the tempo run which would have most likely had to have been abandoned.

These minor hiccups are to be expected I suppose, and generally do surface part-way through any campaign, at least in my experience, and so are of no great concern in and of themselves. But with the sudden arrival of colder weather, the melancholy certainty of further misery as the campaign intensifies and amplified by the worsening weather is only to be expected. And let's be clear about this: this is actually the real battle. The miles and miles of running is not even half the effort. The bigger struggle is in the head, but this is an enemy I now know quite well, and as Moving Waves kicks off for the second time*** I still look forward to the long run tomorrow and am confident of a reasonable outing. The half marathon is now just nine days away, and whilst it won't be a PB (well, nothing is impossible but it seems extremely unlikely) it will be a useful marker for what can or cannot be achieved in the latter half of the year.

I quite like this part of the campaign. The sudden clarity of the difficulty of the task ahead either strengthens or weakens the resolve. I am fairly sure this time which path my resolve will take.

Let's see if I'm right.

*The music, for those old enough to understand, is Moving Waves a.k.a Focus II, by the Dutch group Focus, from 1971, still one of my all-time favourite albums and a great comforter in times of severe stress, such as the onset of winter.

** Dandelion substitute 'coffee' is one of the compromises I've had to make as I come to terms with not being able to drink caffeine in the evenings anymore. It's actually quite nice, or perhaps that's more wishful thinking?

*** This will make no sense unless you have read the previous two footnotes for this dairy entry... erm, which kind of makes this one pointless also. Sorry about that.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

"In the depth of winter, I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer."  - Albert Camus

We are not yet in the depths of winter. In fact, we have only just today brushed the dust off the heaters and readied them for their first use of the season, almost certainly this evening. For today it is cold, wet and windy: a more winter-like day is hard to imagine. Harder still to imagine is how Albert Camus managed to find his inner 'invincible summer' as quoted above. But good luck to him. Perhaps I should read more of his work, for I'm sure there's much to be learned from his wisdom which can be applied to the humble distance runner.

So very far from finding my inner 'invincible summer' was I this morning, that my planned early long run didn't get underway until 10 o'clock, an absurdly late time, but it was so cold that I remained in bed far longer than intended. No matter, it's a day off with no major commitments other than the running schedule and the usual list of domestic chores. The cold does tend to sap my enthusiasm as well, but once underway a little motivation returned. It was to be a repeat of my previous two long runs of 90 minutes at a slow pace, followed by half an hour at race pace. I thus spent 90 minutes dreading the thought of upping the speed to what seemed just then to be nothing more than foolishness, but of course, knowing that it's entirely possible having successfully done it on both of the previous two weekend long runs, I had little choice but to stick with the plan. Of course, it all went just fine and another two hours plus session gets put in the log.

Thus endeth my third consecutive week of over 40 kilometres, this one being the longest. It's also my final long run before the half marathon tomorrow week, with just a week of mini-tapering to come. Tapering for a half does seem a little unnecessary, especially as I'm unlikely to set anything resembling a decent time, but I am due a step-back week anyhow, so it seems to fit well.

While the last twelve weeks of training has gone very well,  any thoughts about inner heroics or invincibility a lá Albert Camus, is definitely out of place. Last year I prepared for the same race by running over twice as many kilometres as I have managed this year, and still I failed to break the two-hour mark (albeit by just 17 seconds). So it will be a case of just seeing how I feel on the day and trying to get around the course without doing anything silly and without being physically sick.

No, my sight is fixed on other races, further ahead, and the long, cold, lonely, winter of training to come...

"Nothing burns like the cold." - George R.R. Martin

[Bierzo Baggie]

Good running MLCM, must say I prefer the cold weather for running, the heat leaves me in a bad way!
And 40km a week sounds like a good distance to aim for. Best of luck with the half marathon!

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

I've mentioned this incredible woman before, but it's Mothers' Day here in Australia, and she is a new mother; I've had the privilege and honour of meeting her and she is worthy of repeated mentions. She is Turia Pitt, an ultramarathoner, horribly mutilated after being caught in a bushfire whilst competing in a race in Western Australia. When I met her she grabbed and shook my hand, saying "Hi, I'm Turia" looking me in the eye as confident as any person I've ever met.

Rather than being beaten down by her burns, pain and enduring more than a hundred operations, she has turned her story into a lesson for all. Her courage and determination is nothing short of astonishing.

Be moved. She is amazing.

   

Turia Pitt

[suzieq]

Good luck in your upcoming race MLCMM!

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

Thanks BB & Suzie!

This morning was my last serious run before race day and at the (what is becoming) now usual serious start time of 03:40 for another series of stupidly early hill repeats. Fortunately, it wasn't too cold this morning, although it is definitely jumpers and heaters weather here.

The hill reps went really well; much faster and one rep further than my previous hill reps session, so I'm well-pleased. And my day at work went very well, too, knowing I had a good run in the bag and feeling suitably chuffed about it. And no complaints from knees or calf muscles is a bonus, too.

Just one more, short little outing will do me now until Sunday. I'm getting impatient, but the day will come soon enough.

[marathondan]

Best of luck in the morning MLCMM!

[marathondan]

Good job Sir! Negative split! Is that a PB?

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

Good job Sir! Negative split! Is that a PB?

Thanks, Dan. No, not a PB but a good enough run. Race report follows... very shortly.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

2018 Sydney Half Marathon Race Report

It's dark. One of the problems with racing in Australia is that for a couple of reasons most running events start so damn early. I'm standing at the bus stop on the Pacific Highway and I'm shivering, despite wearing a track suit, a fleece and a beanie. I'm alone for the moment, but soon enough a handful of other runners turn up, one of them fiddling with a gel belt containing no less than six Hammer brand gels. Rather a lot of gels for a half marathon you've got there, I say by way of making small talk. The young guy fiddling with the gels looks vaguely embarrassed and says he was just making sure. At that moment the bus arrives, perhaps for the better killing the conversation rather short.

On the bus, which already contains a couple of dozen other runners, I can't help but notice that by comparison I am very much over-dressed, about half of them wearing only shorts and a single layer running top. I feel suddenly quite old and a little foolish. But never mind. I've never enjoyed the cold, and years ago swore I'd do everything I could to avoid being cold ever again, and so I'm rugged up.

As we cross the Sydney Harbour Bridge, the first dim dawn is revealing itself and it cheers me a little. The bus deposits us at Wynyard and we walk the ten or so minutes to the race start at Hyde Park. A few hundred meters short of the park we pass the only open café that I've seen, called Legal Grounds, (it being located near the law courts), and I nearly stop for an espresso, but the queue is already long, and half a dozen more people just ahead of me decide they also need coffee, so I decide to forego the caffeine hit and continue walking.

I arrive at Hyde Park bereft of caffeine but in plenty of time, and already the park is alive with thousands of lithe, athletic people swarming everywhere; disturbing the small colony of fruit bats in the Chinese banyan trees there who flap about squawking their disgust. Not squawking, but instead cheerful and patient are the enormous queues for toilets, and whilst there's still ample time, I'm rather glad for not needing them.

Similarly long are the queues at the bag drop area, and so I avoid shedding my warm layers as long as possible, but eventually I judge the time has come and remove tracksuit bottoms, woolly socks, my fleece and beanie and stow them in the transparent, biodegradable bag we have to use these days, and which were handed out at number pickup in the previous two days. And so I join the now even longer queue at bag drop and slowly we trudge our way forward. At least it is now daylight and whilst still not warm, the day is sunny and cheering.

My bag successfully dropped I find my way to the rear of the green group starting pen. Again this year the MC is Pat Carroll, holder of the Australian half marathon record which he set in this very race back in 1994 with a time of 61:11. His other claim to fame is in being one of the most irritating MCs ever, and his non-stop banter, which mostly consists of haranguing runners to whoop things up and other such inanities, very quickly begins to grate. The announcement that the police have yet to fully clear the roads ahead and that there will therefore be a delayed start does little to improve my worsening mood.

However it is a delightful morning, and so I take in the surroundings and try to soak up the atmosphere which is generally buoyant. One of the first things that I notice is the complete absence of helicopters this year, instead there is a new generation of presumably cheaper drones which buzz quietly about, I suppose taking advantage of the lack of any breeze this morning. And whilst it's still chilly, the absence of a wind-chill factor is most welcome.  

I eventually cross the line close to thirty minutes after the official start time and begin a slow jog. It's not too easy in any case to build up a head of steam as the crowd is quite dense, despite the race organisers' efforts to spread the crowd of runners over a longer period of starting times. 

The previous week had been a hectic one for me, being both mentally and physically draining, and I'd had precious little time to think much about race tactics. My training had gone quite well, but with insufficient speed work to be in any way confident of my usual half marathon target of 2 hours. So instead I settle in as best I can to a comfortable pace intent on just seeing how I go and what eventuates. The inadequacy of this race plan becomes apparent at the 2km mark when I was more than a little taken aback to be overtaken by the 2h20m pacer. I knew I was travelling perhaps a little too 'within myself' but I didn't expect to be that far back. I therefore resolved to up the pace a little and slowly ramped things up somewhat. The crowds were still thick so this wasn't altogether easy, but by the fifth kilometre I was begin to really stride out and at the 6km mark caught and overtook the troublesome 2h20m pacer. From here on my pace was much better, and while I knew by now that my opening kilometres had been really too slow to hope for my usual target time of 2 hours, I was running reasonably fast and felt strong, which is all I suppose that I was really hoping for.

I crossed the half way point in 1h01m30s and felt strong enough to think that I could at least finish in negative splits and probably just a minute or two beyond the two hour mark, and so I pressed on at the same pace as much as possible. I was then very pleased to catch the 2h10m pacer at 14kms, which really helped me realise that I was now running well. In fact, it transpired that I ran the middle 10 kilometres of the race at close to PB pace. The 16th kilometre is, however, the killer section, with a long, steepish, narrow section when you least want it. Another hill climb at the 18th kilometre also make the second half of this race much more difficult than the first half. Despite this, I finished strongly; indeed probably the strongest I've ever finished this race. I have run this event six times now, with a PB of 1h54m45s, and even then I struggled over the last few kilometres. This year, my official time is 2h02m30s, well off my PB and only my fourth fastest time in this event. But! It was a negative split, which is difficult to do on this course; I felt strong throughout, and the crowds were such that I was ducking and weaving for the whole duration. It makes me think that a sub-2hr half is definitely not out of the question. A little more speed work in training, and some better race tactics and I think it would definitely even have been a possibility today.

I went into this race questioning my reasons for doing so, but it went well and left me buzzing, and as a range-finding event for other races later in the year, it was incredibly useful indeed. As an added bonus, the finisher's medal this year is much nicer than previous efforts. A nice solid, round, classic design is a big improvement on previous years.

In short, a great day, and a result I am very happy with.

So, what's next?

   

[Antonio247]

Well done, MlCMM! Beautiful report! I'm sure you can do a sub 2 hours again soon.


Saludos desde Almería.