Time of day: 18:30 Hrs
Location: Lewes Town Centre
Distance: 3.5 miles (est)
Duration: 00:39:37
Conditions: Damp, Windy
Might be nearer to 4 miles but spent at least 3 or 4 minutes messing around with Walkman/ Discman - no more intermittent DAB radio for me - only to learn after much bashing and swearing that batteries were kaput.
Easy paced lope through the town to loosen up after Sunday long run.
Comfortable, although calves a little stiff. Knees holding up well and lower back pain much improved following adjustments to posture.
Objective this week is to repeat last weeks' distances/ sessions to compare notes and monitor progress, so:
Tonight: 3.5 - 4 mile gentle recovery run
Tuesday - 1 hour track session (200/ 300/ 1000/ 1500 metre circuits)
Wednesday - rest
Thursday - 8 miles offroad (am)
Friday - 8 miles road run (pm)
Saturday - rest
Sunday - 12.4 miles offroad
Plenty of thoughts generated tonight, especially with the absence of soundtrack, but decided to save them for another day.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Circuit: (tonights' times in brackets)
Warm up (2 x 400 metres, gentle jog untimed)
2 x 200 metres (00:40, 00:40)
1 x 1000 metres (04:38)
6 x 200 metres (00:40, 00:37, 00:34, 00:38, 00:38, 00:40)
1 x 1000 metres (04:54)
2 x 300 metres (01:17, 01:14)
1 x mile (4 laps) (08:09)
I blame the M&Ms.
I felt horribly tired all day. During the afternoon I started to look ahead to tonights' track session with a growing sense of unease. I left my wallet at home today (I do this once a year without fail) managed to bum a sandwich off a colleague for lunch and fatally failed to chow down late afternoon. Heading home in the truck it dawned on me that I couldn't tuck into Mrs Sweders' finest Lasagne when I got home. Well, I could, but I'd run like Johny Vegas in diving boots through quicksand if I ate that much that late. I started to panic - what will happen if I eat nothing before the session? Is there anything in the truck I can eat?
Aha! A half-consumed family pack of peanut M&Ms, skulking in the compartment between driver and passenger seat. I'm saved. I dutifully finished off the pack, finding new and exciting ways to eat a peanut M&M - from the simple, devastating crunch, to the slow suck of the outer coating followed by the gentle melting of the chocolate, leaving the naked, un-salted peanut . . . crunch crucnch crunch.
I got home, chatted with the family and pottered about . . . but I still felt knackered. On with the lycra, on with the running shoes (complete with caked on downland mud ), grab the water bottle, suck in the gut in front of the mirror . . . and exhale. Absolutely cream crackered.
I realise this is defeatism; I'd convinced myself all day long I was going to have a bad session, and by God I wasn't going to let myself down by perking up at the last minute. Back into the truck as Alan Green lamented the propsects for tonights' cup tie at Turfmoor, and I set off for Withdean, a small yet perfectly formed rain-cloud hovering just above my head.
The warm-up laps felt OK, and I loosened up a little. The first 200s felt fine, each in 40 seconds dead - a comfortable, respectible pace. Then the first K - oh, so very ugly. Set off way too fast, slowed up far to much, finished sucking wind like an extra from SuperSize Me running for the bus . Style, rythmn, control . . . none of these had accompanied me this evening. Half way through the 6 x 200s I went potty, leading off and going hell for leather to see how fast I could go. I actually thought 'what the hell are you doing?' as I thrashed, eyeballs out, around the inside lane. 34 seconds and no-one passed me. Boy am I clever! Having an ordinary session, knackered before I fell out of bed this morning so I morph into Micheal Johnson with a further 40 minutes of the session to go. Out-bloody-standing.
Unsurprisingly the session tailed off, capped by a +8 minute mile to finish, exacly one week after I'd crowed about never exceeding 8 minutes for the mile in this session again. Oh pride, ye cometh before a fall! (Sorry Will).
But you know what? All this whinging and self-pity aside, I did it; I completed the session. I came up with a miriad of totally valid reasons not to, including Mrs Sweder saying (non too helpfully) 'don't go if you're not feeling up to it'. It was too cold, my shoulders ached, I got twinges in my calves, loss of will to live, blah blah blah . . . but I did it. After all, it's just a bad day at the office. End of. Move on, nothing to see here.
As I plodded resolutely around the Withdean track to complete the last mile I glanced up at the seats in the main stand. A couple of ladies, young girls really, had opted out of the last part of the session and were chatting away. And tough as it was, and much though I'd rather have curled up to watch Burnley dump Liverpool out of the FA Cup tonight , I smiled and kicked on. It's a night to tick the box on the schedule and move on.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Time of day: 07:50 Hrs
Location: South Downs (Black Cap, Falmer, Lewes)
Conditions: Breezy, light rain, mild
Distance: 5 miles
Run time: 1 hour
Soundtrack: SP
Companions: Gypsy, Tess, Willow, Jody (SP's hound), SP
SP agreed to accompany me with his Garmin to measure this circuit and to get some offroad work under his belt. We opted for an early start to minimise the impact on our working day, and I was a little disappointed to see the overcast conditions. This run is best experienced in clear, dry conditions for optimum view value.
As the start is the best part of 2 miles uphill we set off at a very gentle pace.
Ive said before this is far from ideal Id like to get at least a mile on the flat first, to warm up before the hill work. SP voiced his agreement with this view. Maria, local speed merchant, shot past us in the opposite direction with the obligatory raised palm. She was on the down slope but I'm sure she was exceeding the speed limit.
Onwards to the racing stables, and were still climbing.
Itll be lovely on the way back I panted to SP.
Grunt said SP. He didnt sound convinced.
Light drizzle greeted us at the stables. At this point I start a running dialogue with my hounds, convinced theyre about to mount some nefarious assault on the equine population. Of course this is unfounded paranoia on my part. Besides Im sure my constant whittering is getting on SPs nerves. Hes either too much of a gent, or too knackered, to mention it.
Our first walk break is taken after the stables, partly due to congestion on the bridleway 3 racehorses have just embarked on their warm-up walk, jockeys chatting and apparently at ease with our close proximity. Also, mindful that the thin air at this altitude might have an adverse affect*, partly to give SP a breather. He later said the walk breaks were for my benefit I wont engage in Wenger/ Fergie style bickering here, but read my previous Thursday posts
* Black Cap is 669 feet above sea level.
Onward, ever onward . . . and much to SPs evident dismay, upward.
Black Cap, it transpired, is 2.44 miles from the start of the downs (Ill call that 2.5 miles from my house then). This is a slight disappointment to me, although I had always accepted it may be less than the previously estimated 3 miles. The views, though hampered by the conditions, were still impressive, and we took a moment to pick out various landmarks. Seaford Head was a vague smudge on the horizon. So too the high-rises at Shoreham, although the vista inland was a little clearer.
Lets push on for a bit I offered, mindful that a turn-around here would yield a modest 5 miles when Id hoped for 8. Err . . . could do, replied SP. Then again, we could head back.
To be fair the rain was a little heavier at this point, my windcheater starting to show signs of fallibility in the wet. OK, lets head back.
We set off on the down slope, and I muttered a silent prayer of thanks that Sp would at least find this part more enjoyable. Not so.
Running downhill is just as bad as running uphill he announced.
My blackened toenails getting bashed about, Itll be off soon. Nice visuals, SP. He kindly revealed the offensive article after the run, and I can confirm the black bits are now turning white as the nail detaches from the toe. Yummy.
Still, it was easier and our pace picked up to a comfortable lope. SP had another observation, and I agree 100 percent; running on uneven terrain, albeit better for the knees and back, is extremely dodgy. You have to keep an eye on the ground immediately ahead, hence my continual stooping style. Both SP and I have turned ankles in the past (non-running related sports injuries) and have a pathological fear of this most painful and debilitating injury. For my money I prefer the risks off-road, saving my joints for the punishment that is a road-run Marathon. SP favours tarmac training.
Is this the Odd Couple or what?
That said he was grinning like a fool when we got back to mine for a coffee.
I feel fantastic he declared.
Should have bloody well gone on then I replied, a little ungraciously.
He also made in improper suggestion which, to retain some decorum in this post, I shall refrain from sharing. To be fair, it was affectionate.
Actually, though, this was a very useful session for both of us. SP is resolved to mixing a few off-roaders into his schedule, and I can stop fooling myself about the mileage on my local run.
Footnote: At the end of our run, in the (vacant) sheepfield, we attempted a little Garmin Art experiment. At time of writing I have not seen the results; no doubt if theyre totally naff SP wont post them, but it did raise the spectre of a Garmin Art section of this (or perhaps the Garmin) website. Can you see what it is yet?
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Nice report Sweder. On the subject of the Garmin measuring a slightly disappointing 2.44, remember that there is some disagreement about the accuracy of the gadget when measuring hills. In other words, does it know that you're climbing a hill? If it doesn't, then it is likely to underestimate the distance you've travelled. I feel sure that it's supposed to take undulations into account, though I seem to recall some correspondence on the RW forums suggesting that the Garmin had what you might call "an altitude problem".
El Gordo
Great things are done when men and mountains meet.
A comforting thought, Andy. I'll defer that one to SP, as it's his gadget and he has the handbook. I prefer to err on the pessimistic side when it comes to estimated distances, so I'll stick with the mileage for now.
By the way, the above Garmin readout was run entirely to SP's specifications, so all complaints on a postcard to . . .
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Truth be told I wasn't much looking forward to this run. Sweder caught me off guard when I agreed to go over and join him, but I'm glad I did.
I found it quite tough, but next time, if there is a next time, I'll be ready.
You can count on the number of early morning runs I've done on the fingers of one hand. I'm not used to that, or the mile-and-a-half uphill start or running off road dodging rabbit holes and horse poo. But it was fun.
I've felt great all day, although the hour and a half tennis I have this evening might be a struggle!
Postscript to SPs concerns over Tennis; I played an hour and a half of fairly gentle badminton this evening, and you could have played acceptable double-bass on my hamstrings. Definately need to stretch more after the hill work.
I've decided to repeat the run + 3 miles tomorrow morning before work - best be off to bed then.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Time of day: 07:50 Hrs
Location: South Downs - Lewes - Black Cap - Plumpton Colledge Loop
Distance: 8.2 miles
Duration: 01:23:18
Conditions: Clear, Sunny, Cold, Westerly breeze
Companions: Gypsy, Tess, Willow
Soundtrack: Planet Rock, The Rock Specialist
We're so sorry, Uncle Albert.
Albert Einstein, according to those in the know, wasted the second half of his life.
Early on he discovered that E=MC2, and a whole new and dangerous world opened up for mankind. Later, as the world of Physics looked for new and exciting theories, Einstein began a fruitless search for the Formula for All Things, the equivalent to E=MC2 that would explain all life as we know it.
Einstein's failure at this time was, apparently, a refusal to embrace the New Physics - Quantum Mechanics. He ended his days, wild-haired, silver mustacheod, administered by maids and nurses, producing reams of calculus in his bed. A sad end to a brilliant mind. The irony is, as Physicists embrace the String Theory as the likely source of the Formula for All Things, Quantum Mechanics, the New Science eschewed by Einstein, appears to be at the very heart of the answer to his final conundrum.
OK, what in blue blazes has this to do with me, or my run?
Well, without SP and his beloved Garmin I'm reduced to writing reams of calculus in an attempt to estimate my distance covered this morning. Oh, and all the above was on telly last night. Ahem.
Knowing that my house to Black Cap was 2.5 miles, I used my mobile phone/ stopwatch to record split times. It looks something like this
Home to Black Cap - 00:27:57 = 2.5 miles (uphill into wind)
Black Cap to Turn - 00:46:46 (less 27:57 = 19 minutes) (uphill into wind)
Total run time uphill into wind: 47 minutes
If time for 2.5 miles is 28 minutes this = 11.2 mins per mile
Therefore, 47 minutes at 11.2 min per mile = 4.1 miles
I didn't complete a maths exam in all my time at school and sixth form.
I loved English, English Lit and History but I abhored Maths - I couldn't see the point of all those numbers, all those equations. Until today.
For the record the return leg splits (downhill, wind assisted) were
Turn to Black Cap - 01:01:47 (15 minutes)
Black Cap to home - 01:23:18 (21 minutes)
Return run rate: 8.7 minute miles
I trust you're all as cheesed off with these equations as I am, so here's a bit of light hearted nonsense. I listened to Planet Rock on my portable DAB - note to self: perfect reception at all times up here! - and got the usual mixed bag: Queen, Bowie, Golden Earing, Deep Purple, The Eagles. But there was one song that sticks out, and it made me think about famous rock tracks with nonsensical lyrics. This particular tune makes absolutely no sense whatsoever, yet remains a favorite on rock and classic rock stations the world over.
Pop (Rock) Quiz: Name the song and the artist
Clue: It mentions in the lyric one of the finest candy bars of the 1970's - The Curly Wurly. Really, it does. Honest.
Thanks for watching, and, if you're spinning in your grave, I'm so sorry, Uncle Albert.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
3 little girls with only 50 pence
Had to take, had to put
The Curly Wurly back
Swoop swoop, scoop scoop
Slip down easy
"Slang King" by The Fall - one of the more prolific Brit bands to come out of our era... in fact, they might still even be around somewhere terrorising young girls in their wheelchairs. But careful Sweder, you're showing our age.
You're right there SP . . . wrong ball park I'm afraid.
It seems I may need to drop a hint here . . . I'll pop in a line or two from another part of the song.
I suspect this will do it . . .
Some silicone sister with a manager mister told me I go what it takes
She said "I'll turn you on sonny to something strong
play the song with the funky break"
Like I said, most nonsensical lyrics known to Mann . . .
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
OK, so I didn't want to make things TOO easy.
Forgive me MLCM, I was taking liberties with the lyric.
Still, if you know what the hell they're on about, feel free to share . . .
"And go-cart Mozart was checkin' out the weather chart to see if it was safe outside
And little Early-Pearly came by in his curly-wurly and asked me if I needed a ride
But she was...
Blinded by the light,
revved up like a deuce,
another runner in the night
Blinded by the light
She got down but she never got tired
She's gonna make it through the night"
Like I said, not a whole lotta sense.
I guess this belongs in 'non-running diversions'.
Aw, heck.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
It all seemed to make sense way back when we used pharmaceuticals (and Curly Wurlys) to make sense of the world; but I agree - these days I can't quite get a handle on the existentialist message apparently buried therein.
Time of day: 09:00
Distance: 12.6 miles
Terrain: Offroad - hills/ downland
Conditions: Dry, cold, muddy/ wet underfoot - strong Northerly wind
Duration (run time): 02:07:00
A repeat of last Sunday's run, except this morning a cruel, biting Northerly wind awaited as we gathered, shivering, above Brighton Marina.
I was feeling a little delicate - not sadly following a good night on the town, rather due to an upset stomach and, as a result of Phoebe suffering the same, a disjointed night's sleep. Still, I felt confident that I could complete the scheduled 12+ miles.
As the 30+ runners awaited the start (this group grows each week) I calculated the areas of the run where the wind would bite hardest. Unfortunately this would be the 3/4 mile climb from the seafront up Telscombe Tye, and at least part of the Snake, our mile+ climb to the top of the downs. With this is mind and in view of my poor night's rest I determined to set off at easy pace. Within 30 minutes I was leading the group on our warm-up along the clifftops, finding the hill climbs easy going and pushing the pace on the up-slopes. I do have a serious pace management issue, one I must address or lose any hope of making significant progress in April.
The serious inland climbs proved testing for the pack, and our gang of four from last week broke away. I have to say the wind was bitter. I've never run in gloves, but I saw a need this morning and will invest next week - my hands were blue, and I resorted to withdrawing my hands inside the sleeves of my windcheater. Not being the most stylish exponent of the off-road run this hardly impeded my progress, but I must've looked pretty funny, not that my co-runners could care less. Heads down, teeth gritted against the icy blast, we battled across irregular, water-logged farmland and rock-strewn access paths.
SP made an interesting observation last week. During our run to Black Cap on Thursday he opined that the problem with running in beautiful countryside along potentially treacherous terrain was one had little opportunity to enjoy the view. His point was proven today, as the combination of stong winds and slimy footholds threatened injury at every turn.
I read somewhere that sliding - as in the little sideways slips your feet make on loose ground as you land each footstep - can cause micro-tears in your groin and legs. If that's accurate I probably need serious nanobot attention. Our female companion observed the downhill sections were like skiing - she was grinning like an eedjit as she raced past me, sharing this view, as I feared a fatal tumble.
My problem (as is SPs) with this kind of running is (apart from loving it ) I have suffered horrible injuries playing football by 'rolling' my ankles. This is where your standing or landing foot gives way (usually to the inside) and the bottom of your leg hits the ground. Yes, it really is that nasty. It's a 6 week minimum lay-off, so not something you can recover from at this stage of your training.
With memories of spaghetti-like ligaments to the fore I eased up as conditons on the final part of our run deteriorated further. We splashed through muddy puddles of undetermined depth, sliding on the exits with no room on either side. I let the other three pull away. They're younger, and perhaps have no history of such horrors to inhibit their progress. In any event, I reasoned, a couple of minutes on my finishing time (which is more or less irrelevant at this stage) beats 6 weeks on crutches by a (soggy) country mile.
I got in at 02:07 - running time, I stopped the watch at our catch-up points when I'd got my breath and was ready to set off - which all things considered was fine. We deviated our run-in, swapping the eminently sensible (paved) Wilsons' Avenue for the Brighton Racecourse gallops. This added to our distance by a paltry 0.2 miles - had we taken the new route we were supposed to it would have added 1.4 miles - and was not in my view worth the gamble. All's well that ends well, as they say.
My usual endorphin rush was tempered by the cold and the hangover from the concentration on the terrain. On reflection I'm happy with the run and looking forward to some warm-weather training with the RC team in Almeira in 6 days' time
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Circuit: (tonights' times in brackets)
Warm up (2 x 400 metres, gentle jog untimed)
2 x 200 metres (00:40, 00:40)
1 x 1000 metres (04:33)
6 x 200 metres (00:40, 00:41, 00:40, 00:41, 00:41, 00:39)
1 x 1000 metres (04:55)
2 x 300 metres (01:11, 01:12)
1 x mile (4 laps) (07:33)
That was a very cold session.
I tried out my new gloves (lovely!) and the X-Socks (very nice) tonight. I don't know the temperature but the track was icing up through the session. The first 200's were fine, but I noticed on the first kilometre lane one on the bends was getting slippery. By half way through the 6 x 200's most of the back straight was deadly, with everyone wheel-spinning as they tried to accelerate.
Happily no-one took a tumble, although the split times on the short runs suffered. Eventually we got to grips (sorry ) with the conditions and I was very pleased with my 2 x 300's. One of the guys I run with on Sunday was at the session. He missed Sundays' mud-fest through 'flu and was madder than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. He was worried that missing a long run would set him back. I assured him this was not the case - in fact I found my illness over Christmas enforced a break from training and I actually came back feeling pretty good. Besides, you can't train hard when your body's not happy, so you may as well rest up.
When it came to the mile he came up to me.
'What's your PB for the mile in these sessions?'
I mumbled incoherently into my Chris Brasher 10K Memorial Run vest, now nicely damp and starting to freeze in the bitter night air.
'What? Seven-forty-something? Well, we're going to beat that tonight!'
I could cheerfully have kicked his backside at least half that distance, but part of me thought 'what the heck?'
My problem on these sessions is changing my breathing patterns to suit the distances. I'm fine on the short bursts - there is no discernable pattern, just a frantic sucking of air - but have trouble adjusting for full laps. I decided to ignore the breathing issue and concentrate on staying with some of the more comfortable milers. This worked for a lap and a half, by which time I felt as though I'd taken one long inward breath and held it. I started huffing and puffing, maintaining this ludicrously swift (for me) pace, until around 2 and a half laps when my heart stopped trying to bail out through my throat and my lungs appeared to have found some sort of rythmn.
7:33 was better than I had hoped for, and to be honest I felt just as knackered after that as I did last week after my + 8 minute shuffle. I had a little daydream as the colour returned to my face and limbs and I attempted to stretch the knots out of my calves. 07:33 x 26.2 miles divided by 60 minutes . . . about 3 hours 20. OK, so it won't happen, but it is interesting to know what 03:20 pace feels like on reasonably knackered legs, albeit for just the one mile.
A good solid session. I left, best wishes for the weekend race ringing in my ears (I had of course told everyone about the RC team visit to the Almeira Half Marathon, and especially about the projected 16 degrees C and the money-back-guaranteed sunshine). At least I won't have to worry about Almeira icing up
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Time of day: 14:30 Hrs
Route: Lewes to Black Cap loop
Distance: 6 miles
Duration: untimed
Conditions: Sunny, dry, cold
Companions: Dogs + Tim and Simon
Hmm, this was an unplanned excursion and I'm not sure it was a wise one.
Fate played a hand as my truck suffered from electrical Vampirism on the school run - someone or something had sucked all the power from the battery and the blighter wouldn't start. I had jump leads, and Simon lives just around the corner, so I popped in on the offchance he was at home. He was.
Over a cuppa he told me he and Tim were getting (gently) back into running after various illnesses and may go up to Black Cap this afternoon. As it looked like I would be stranded at home I jumped at the chance for an easy lope with the hounds.
In retrospect I should have considered two things before agreeing.
1: I had a vigorous track workout last night and this, Wednesday, is a scheduled rest day for that very reason.
2: SP had given me a good talking to only yesterday about overdoing my training and suffering injuries/ burn-out before the big day.
But then, I am a bear of very little brain.
So off we set, at a very leisurely pace, loping up the Downs to Black Cap.
As we climbed in the crisp, cold air, me smiling to myself at the excellent value my new gloves provided, I started to get occasional complaints from one or two areas. Don't ask, but for some reason I had elected to wear shorts for the first time this year. It goes back to the discussion on Legs: to cover or not to cover, and the fact that on Sunday I'll be running a half marathon in +60 degrees - leggings will not be an option. So I wanted to get the pins out and try running sans lycra to see if my legs would fall apart. And now they were.
Shins started first: 'err - this is a rest day, Brain. Brain? Hello? Anyone there?'
I shut Brain off and continued. Next it was Heels, or Left Heel to be precise. Blessed with a tread style only slightly lighter than Diplodicus I hammer my heels. They bruise every time I go out, and even the X-Socks had not stopped the customary track-bashing last night.
'Oi! I thought you were supposed to be putting me up today. What's going on then? Where's me bowl of 'ot water followed by the arm of the sofa? I'm warnin' ya, this is gonna HURT big boy!' Abrasive little sod, my left heel. I hung up on him too, and plodded on.
At Black Cap Tim and I waited for Simon, drinking in the stunning views along the Sussex coast and inland to Kent and beyond. Tim announced he'd found a new route back that added a mile to the 5 mile round trip SP and I did last week. I should have pointed out this was supposed to be a recovery run for me and 2.5 up and down without deviation, hesitation or repition would do just fine. Instead I heard myself say 'Excellent! Sounds like fun.' There's no hope for me. None.
And off we went. Not that it was particularly taxing, you understand; a bit uphill and bit downhill, a couple of muddy fields. The dogs took the opportunity to dab some Oeu D'Vacca Merde behind their ears and along their flanks - all the better for sneaking up on the rabbits, so I believe - meaning that my first duty on arrival home would involve the bath (as planned) but not for me.
I am, it will be no surprise to anyone, knackered. Being the 'glass is half full' type I can see the bright side: no run tomorrow, and a light run on Friday morning before we head for Almeira, should leave me reasonably well rested for the half. Honest.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
JANUARY 2005 - Back in Action
and lower back pain much improved following adjustments to posture.
) with the conditions and I was very pleased with my 2 x 300's. One of the guys I run with on Sunday was at the session. He missed Sundays' mud-fest through 'flu and was madder than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. He was worried that missing a long run would set him back. I assured him this was not the case - in fact I found my illness over Christmas enforced a break from training and I actually came back feeling pretty good. Besides, you can't train hard when your body's not happy, so you may as well rest up.