February 2005 - Week 4

[Sweder]

Thought I'd share some photos from my Black Cap run this week - report to follow. We had a smattering of snow overnight - as usual the South Downs receives the most paltry of flurries, just enough to get you excited. However the light was pretty good so I took a camera along this morning and snapped away.

This first one is of Black Cap seen towards the end of the ascent from Lewes.

[Sweder]

Location: Lewes – Black Cap round trip
Distance: 5 miles off road
Time: 46:59
Conditions: Very cold, some snow under foot, windy
Companions: 3 musky dogs
Soundtrack: Planet Rock (Guns n Roses, Genesis, Thin Lizzy)

This should have been Monday’s run, but frankly I bottled it.
My legs were pretty sore after Sundays’ half, and a gentle lope would probably have been ideal, but by the time I got home from work it was dark, and Lewes snoozed under a light blanket of snow.

There will be a perfectly reasonable geographical explanation as to why heavy snow fall avoids the South Downs. From the layman’s perspective it is thoroughly frustrating. My family would love to be snowed in. Just once. Every year a little white, powdery snow falls and our hopes are raised. Winds blow, the air is filled with fluffy white promises for an hour or two, and then . . . nothing. And so it proved last night. Still, the pressure was on to get a fire lit, and, well, once you’ve started something you’ve got to see it through, right? Besides, my lot can’t be relied upon to feed the fire at the appropriate time and . . oh, all right; I bailed out.

I was filled with regret this morning as my oh-so-stiff limbs levered me out of my pit. Having decided to ditch the track work (I’ve heard from several sources that the Withdean running surface is extremely hard on hamstrings) I realised that there was nothing stopping a morning pop up to Black Cap. A twitch of the bedroom blinds – nope, nothing.

I took the camera on the off chance that some snow had survived the weak winter sunshine to present a pleasant wintry scene. Even if it hadn’t (and it hadn’t) it would be nice to share some of the vistas enjoyed on this 5 mile lope.

The ground proved less hard than I’d feared, and I set off at modest pace on the 2 ½ mile climb. The hounds were happy and raced ahead into the sheepless fields as I warmed to the task. It’s amazing how quickly the stiffness leaves your limbs – about 10 minutes in my case. I chugged along, comfortable, one area of my brain still focused on the right hamstring, but as on Sunday no hint of trouble detected.

At the dewponds we met a forlorn snowman. Seemingly exhausted following some magical nocturnal adventure (the Raymond Briggs cartoon was based on this area – the Downs and Brighton pier clearly detailed below the early aerobatics) this poor iceman slumped facing the rising yellow orb, apparently filled with sad resignation.

Willow decided this stranger was not to be trusted and barked furiously at him. Tess dealt with him in her usual direct style, cocking her leg (most un-ladylike), adding some colour to his lower extremities. Willow, also relieved, sped on to the dewpond, diving under the protective fence and straight into the icy waters. I was sure she’d come yelping out as fast as she’d flown in. I was wrong. The plucky Spaniel wriggled down into the murky depths, eyes and nose protruding, and proceeded to wallow. Willow the wallower. Mad dog indeed.

Onwards, upwards to the stables, quiet this late in the day (it was 10 am), horses safely housed in their warm, hay-laden stalls. And on ,past the sheep fields and the gallops, up the flint-laden muddy track and through the gate. At the penultimate crest I stopped, invigorated, warm, and snapped Black Cap just ahead. Beyond the peak the sun illuminated the next hilltop, laden with sheep, and in the far distance the snow-capped Ditchling Beacon.

We finished the ascent and I stopped the watch – 25:56, not bad for a gentle lope. I took on some cool water and surveyed the views. As suspected most of the snow had gone, surviving only in the shelter of gorse bushes and lea of the hillsides not yet touched by the sun. I took a few snaps (posted below) before setting off for home.

The return was uneventful, the wind strong from the east biting a little harder. I kept myself in check, still monitoring the leg and maintaining a short stride pattern. Back home and some serious stretches (ouch).

I answered a few work e-mails and plugged in the camera to review my pictures. Not bad for an amateur snapper. Then I logged on to RC and saw Nigel’s’ photo from his skiing holiday. Hmm. The abundance of snow’s not the only difference between our pictures. Still always room for improvement. Rumour has it we may get another layer or two this week. If it happens I’ll be back up there, but it’ll have to come in pretty thick and fast to match the Pyrenees

[Sweder]

View South from Black Cap. The sunlight breaks through the snow-laden clouds - but where are they headed, burdened with riches we would gladly recieve?

[Sweder]

View East from BC. The last vestige of last night's snow huddles in the lea of bushes and hilltops. Gypsy (left) turns to me as Tess (white) and Willow (black) race towards the bushes in search of rabbits.

[Sweder]

BC to Lewes: We head home, the chalk cliffs below Lewes golf club in the distance. The (white walled) racing stables are far right.

[Nigel]

That's great scenery, Sweder, reminding me of the Hog's Back around here. Your southward view under a glowering sky is my favourite - very moody.

It sounds from your reports of Brighton and broken hamstrings like you've been running fast and furious, too, pushing the envelope to the limit as usual..... all excellently solid progress towards London, so well done !

[Sweder]

I waved this morning Nigel . . . from the warm comfort of my bathroom, sadly. Best laid plans and all that . . . heavy snowfall (carefull what you wish for) and a flare up of an old disc problem* conspired to cancel this mornings' run. I'll be out tonight and/ or early Thursday though.

*The prolapsed disc plays up once a year without warning. It popped out on Friday last week, but happily doesn't affect my running, other than when I try to sit down afterwards. Just call me 'Zimmerman' from now on . . .

[Bierzo Baggie]

Nice pics..... How many shades of green has the english countryside?

[Sweder]

All of them

[Sweder]

There is a theory which states that if ever anybody discovers exactly what the Universe is for and why it is here, it will instantly disappear and be replaced by something even more bizarre and inexplicable. There is another theory which states that this has already happened.
Douglas Adams (1952 - 2001)

Not quite on the same scale, but in the small, perfectly formed universe that is my body, this theory applies to injuries. No sooner do I shake off (and quite frankly thrash into submission) my errant hamstring than another ailment steps to the fore, gleefully announcing its intention to wreck my training plans. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you . . . my prolapsed disc! (wild applause, limited bowing for obvious reasons). So I bring you this whining report from the comfort of my bean-bag, kneeling most uncomfortably with an icepack jammed down the back of my shorts, large tub of Ibuprofen on the desk, lid loosened for ready access.

Whereas the hamstring prevented running, this latest affliction does not. On the contrary, running (within reason) actually helps. It is the one activity (other than standing still) where the pain actually goes away. You may argue this is because other areas (knees, shins, hips) start a chorus of dissapproval, but I'm not so sure. Technically running increases the blood flow, this in turn feeds the muscles around the disc, aiding support and relieving pain. The disc was already giving me good kicking last week, and post-Brighton Half was the only region of my body not complaining.

So, guarding against excessive jarring on downhill sections, I plan to keep running. I'm prohibited from driving for 24 hours as the latest bout of manipulation settles. So this lunchtime I'll nip up to Black Cap and see how that feels. More to follow.

[Sweder]

Time of day: 13:30 Hrs
Location: South Downs Way – Lewes to Ditchling Beacon (round trip)
Distance (estimated): 10.4 miles
Duration: 1:43:32
Conditions: sleet, snow, northerly winds, wet underfoot
Companions: 3 wet hounds

House-bound thanks to my dodgy disk I decided on a lunchtime lope up to Ditchling Beacon. The 161 kilometre South Downs Way runs from Chichester to Eastbourne. The trail follows the routes and droveways of ancient man along the chalk escarpment and ridges across Sussex. Some of the views from this elevated vantage are fantastic, but today the vista was swathed in a strange, mist-like fog which turned out to be sleet hurtling across the valleys to sweep up the northern face.

Ditchling Beacon sits 5 miles west of Lewes, proudly straddling this historic path. My run started as so many do, with a slow lope up to Black Cap. The 2.5 miles took just over 28 minutes, modest even by my standards, around 2 ½ minutes slower than usual. This was partly due to a concerted effort on my part to go easy on the rough terrain. A misplaced step would do my delicate back no favours, and with slimy footing along much of the trail any slip would be exaggerated. Another reason for my tardy progress was an impressive slice of weather. Not directly head-on, but near as damn it, the sharp N/NE breeze carried tiny iced barbs, hampering visibility and stinging my face.

I took a few photos (posted below) but as you will see sleet-drenched landscapes do not handsome backdrops make. The hounds enjoyed brief respite from the battering by darting into the thickets around Black Cap. Frankly had they startled any Rabbit daft enough to be above ground in this I'm sur they'd have declined the chase in favour of shelter.

We pushed on, leaving the relative safe footing of the sheep fields for the altogether more treacherous prospect of the tacky mud-trail that passes for the main thoroughfare to Ditchling. I’ve extolled the virtues of my new off-road Mizunos before, but today even these fine boots struggled in the conditions. I stopped a couple of times to remove enough sludge to cement a low brick wall, taking to the wispy grass verges in an effort to keep the soles clear of detritus.

Sleet was replaced by lightly driven snow, a less painful, more aesthetically pleasing accompaniment. On past the Agricultural College at Plumpton, the out-buildings barely visible in the valley below. We were greeting by a couple of decent climbs, each with it’s peak wreathed in the strange winter fog. I welcomed the challenge and pushed on, feet happy to be back on springy downland turf. A lone sheep, apparently on sentry duty, eyed us suspiciously from his side of the barbed wire as we cruised by.

We reached Ditchling in 58:52. As I stopped for a drink (and to take more misty snaps) I estimated the distance covered. The ascent to Black Cap paced at plus 11 minute miles, and I reckoned my pace had been similar (certainly no faster) to the turn. This equated to just over 5 miles, but I must say I’d much prefer to know how far I’d gone, and a Garmin of some description seems inevitable.

The return journey saw no respite from the lashing sleet. My only comfort came from the change of aspect, resulting in my left side freezing up and my right thawing slowly. Normally I’d run in vest and gloves (leggings in use today, obviously) but even a thick-skinned Dinosaur needed an extra layer today and I donned my yellow windcheater. The unpleasant by-product of a third skin is the entrapment of leakage. By the turn I was soaked from inside and out, so any thoughts of an extended break at Ditchling were shelved.

We reached Black Cap in 1:22. The return leg from the Beacon to here had taken 24 minutes, 6 minutes less than the outward leg. The last section (Black Cap to home) took 21 minutes, 7 minutes less than the first 2.5 miles. This pleased me, as even with the homeward leg being predominantly downhill this represented an accelerated running rate, in keeping with the Brighton Half and a race strategy I’m keen to develop: start easy, finish strong.

Without getting too intimate the après-run shower was a near religious experience. Large areas of midriff blubber, all but frozen on the run, tingled as they returned to life under the piping hot cascade.

Medics report: I noticed a tightening in my right hamstring in the final quarter mile. Interestingly this was not in the same area as my recent problem, but I applied an icepack and tubesock as a precaution. My back seems to have thrived from the activity. I am blessed (if that makes sense) in that my ‘lapsed disc has split symmetrically, causing equal grief to each side of my body. I’m not sure but I believe had it ‘favoured’ one side over the other I could expect nerve trouble in the leg on that side.
Thank God for small mercies

[Sweder]

Me and the dawgs reach Black Cap on the return leg

[Sweder]

My Mizuno Brothel Creepers, courtesy of trail-slurry

[Sweder]

A Sentry Sheep keeps a watchful eye on my companions as we pass

[Sweder]

The South Downs Way meets the Misty Mountains

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

I need to stop for a cut lunch and a breather just reading about your runs Sweder... and you're doing this with one leg and a broken back!

Muchly impressed I am

[Sweder]

Bitter disappointment this weekend as I failed to complete so much as a 5 mile warmer. A combination of hamstring, back and stinking cold ensured a series of 'days off'. More physio on Monday and we'll see where we are for next weekend and the Reading Half.

Andy missing a 20-miler is not much consolation, but I do believe his intensive digging sessions count as cross-training. I've no doubt you'll slip a crafty 3 hours in the next couple of days, Andy

[El Gordo]

Well if we had light evenings, I might well do Sweder, but as none of the lanes have pavements, my only long run potential round here is along the canal, and I can't do that in the dark.

Don't beat yourself up about it. You did a good 10 miler on Thursday - that can be your long run for the week. You've done two recent half marathon races with another next weekend, so it's wise not to overdo it...

Look at the dates:

6 March - both: Reading Half Marathon
13 March - me: Silverstone Half Marathon You: 20?
20 March - me: 20, You: 15?
27 March - final long run for London. You: 20?
3 April - final long run for Hamburg Me: 20 You: 12?
10 April Me: 12 You: 8?
17 April - You: London Marathon Me: 8
24 April - Me: Hamburg Marathon You: pub

Between next week's half and the traditional final long run (3 weeks before the race), you have 2 weekends. So perhaps a 20 on March 20, a 15 the following one, then another 20. That should definitely be OK. If you're still feeling short of miles you could push the start of your taper back a week, and fit in a third 20.

My plan is to do 2 x 20s. That will be enough for me.

So yeah, it would have been nice to have tucked a really long one under the belt today but it's just not significant in the big picture view. The importance is probably more psychological than anything.

The worry is the injuries. If they don't start to clear up within 10 days then obviously you're going to get anxious. But time isn't an immediate concern..

For my part, it's not been a great running weekend either. I thought I'd aim for a 20 but I hadn't actually planned it, and in the end it just got buried beneath the patio, as it were. Or the base of the shed as it actually was. As you say, it was still a pretty physical weekend and I'm knackered, so I don't feel too bad about that. Just 18 miles this week in total. Not great, but not disastrous either.

[Seafront Plodder]

that's 18 miles more than me Andy.

Not run a yard since the Brighton half, when I almost jacked it in at half way with a painful calf.

p.s. Sweder I note your companions on the last training report were the three mutts.

So, which clever canine took the pic that you're in then?

[Sweder]

Darnation, you noticed! Just don't tell Mrs Sweder . . .

You're right of course, Andy. My Physio is of the same view - you can hold form for several weeks without excessive training, and I've not missed a huge amount (so far). The injuries will clear up . . . if I give them chance to, which means rest. I just like whining - it gives me something to write about when I'm not running or writing about running. On a positive note I'm getting plenty of rest between long runs, which may yet prove beneficial.

There are two other subjects that got my fingers dancing on the keyboard tonight. The Carling Cup final, with Mr Mourinho's thoughtless gesture towards the Liverpool fans - if this guy starts to believe all the hype he'll do something really silly one day soon - let's hope. Nice to see Stevie Gerrard bag one for his new club, too.

And the Oscars. I sat through 2 1/2 hours of Seabiscuit last night - that's 150 minutes of my life I'll never get back. Schmaltzy sacharine-saturated balderdash. Rumour has it The Aviator will sweep Oscar off his feet tonight, and whilst I've not shelled out the silver for this one yet I have a nasty feeling it's out of a similar stable. (I also hated every moment of Titanic except for when DeCaprio drowned). I'm a Scorcese fan, but just because Raging Bull and Goodfellas were (mistakenly) overlooked in the Best Director category, that's no good reason to reward what superficially at any rate appears to be glitzy pap.

I'd like to see Million Dollar Baby sweep with a couple of nods to Sideways. But there again I've never been one for happy endings