Oh, we're half way there
Oh oh, livin' on a prayer
Take my hand, we'll make it I swear
Oh oh, livin' on a prayer
( Bon Jovi )
Upped the ante a tad today - 99 minutes at 3% and it felt great. Really sweated out a lot of work-related angst and anger ahead of an important meeting on Monday, and got through the run quite well. Now to wait and see how the legs hold together over the next 48 hours.
Track du Jour: The old favourite ... you just gotta run to this.
A compromise run today - sort of a very long run and sort of a hill climb - in all three hours of continuous uphill, and it went damnably well. Mentally tough (i.e. boring) but physically OK. Happy now.
Track du Jour: New Radicals, for a bit of a change.
(05-08-2012, 05:59 PM)marathondan Wrote: Stonking, mate. Not a distance I could even dream of at the moment.
Ta, Dan. It's nice to be at a point where a standard training run is a half marathon... amazing what you can do when you put your mind to it.
Just got to knock off that full marathon distance now, which is looking more like being at the Sydney marathon on September 16. Training for it, anyhow.
(07-08-2012, 09:05 PM)Mid Life Crisis Man Wrote: Just got to knock off that full marathon distance now, which is looking more like being at the Sydney marathon on September 16. Training for it, anyhow.
Funny how fast we fall. After a successful 27km outing I succumb to a head and chest cold which has laid me low. I attempted an easy 10km yesterday morning but only managed 25 minutes of wheezy, coughy, snuffly pointlessness.
However Mrs MLCM and I are currently in the Blue Mountains for a couple of days R&R and I'm feeling better already, so remain hopeful for a good outing at Sundays City 2 Surf 14km fun run. I had considered a run whilst up here, but snow overnight made me comfortable with the thought that pure R&R will be better for me.
It’s the night before race day and I’m in bed fast awake, my neck aching, my knee throbbing and rain drumming on the roof. Not, it seems, ideal conditions for the fast approaching race start in a few hours time. I try to recall EG’s epic Zurich Marathon– I remember it had rained then as well and I wondered if it would likewise bode well for me in terms of a fast race, but then I remembered I had promised Mrs MLCM I would make a “sensible” decision in the morning based on the weather and condition of MLCM joints and neck. This wasn’t to be a marathon, just a 14km fun run and of no great consequence if I “gave it a miss” and I was under orders to “take it easy”. Fair ‘nuff, too.
The throbbing knee came courtesy of an ill-advised jog up and down the “Giant Staircase”, a 900-step torture-trail cut into the side of a Blue Mountains cliff. Mrs MLCM had strongly suggested we should do this the previous afternoon, so of course we did. At the time it seemed no big deal – we breezed down and up again in 51 minutes (and could have done it ten minutes faster) despite the warning signs telling us how treacherous it was and to allow “2 hours for the return trip”. 900 steps down and 900 steps up, with views to get the already thumping heart pumping even faster – brilliant stuff, but afterwards, as I hobbled another half hour along the cliff top walk back to the car I realised the jolting descent had perhaps not been the best thing for my knees so close to a race.
The aching neck however was a mystery. Muscular in nature, I don’t recall doing anything to cause it and have to wonder if it isn’t tension caused by a less than Utopian work environment at the moment. Either way it was damned uncomfortable, and as I lie awake I recalled the same moment twelve months before, when an aching back likewise threatened to prematurely end my chances in the world’s biggest fun run.
Anyway. Enough of this pity party. I did eventually drift off to sleep, and when I awoke was pleased to find I had scored a two out of three in the overnight game of general improvement – the rain had stopped, as had the throbbing in my knee. The neck was still sore, but a couple of ibuprofen tablets eased the aching and a short time later, following my standard race day breakfast of toast with Vegemite and a banana, I was more or less happily ensconced on the 7:15 train into the city for my second crack at the annual City 2 Surf 14km fun run – the world’s largest such event with 85,000 entrants, most of them oddly intent on being on the same train as me.
After half an hour of listening to a carriage-full of complaints about plantar fasciitis (“it just won’t go away – it’s been years now!”) and fervent discussions about the pros and cons of Vibram Five Fingers (“I can see the sense of it, but $200 for a rubber sock!?!”) we arrived at Town Hall station and burst onto the platform and rushed the exits. Unlike last year, this time the station manager was being sensible and had all the turnstile gates open so our departure was both quick and dignified. Last year we each had to show our race bibs to the pedantic Jobsworth on the gate to prove we had legitimately travelled without a ticket (public transport being free to runners on race day) which of course did nothing for a speedy exit or our tempers.
The walk from the station to the start line however was the same this time – thousands of runners all over the city streets like an enthusiastic rash, whilst late-night revellers and early workers emerged from their night clubs and coffee shops, for the most part utterly dumbfounded that their world had apparently been invaded by gibbering madmen in shorts and singlets.
Last year I was about the first of the 85,000 runners to arrive. This time I more sensibly arrived just 12 minutes before the gun went and so wasn’t standing around in the cold for too long. Last year it had rained quite heavily and I spent the best part of a miserable hour sheltering under trees listening to annoyingly good runners despairing over whether or not they could “crack the hour”. This time there was no rain. It was grey and windy and generally pretty miserable, but apart from an inconsequential few minutes of barely visible misty drizzle at the start, it remained dry and cool throughout.
Waiting for the start gun I bided my time looking around at my fellow runners. The thing that struck me most was the proliferation this year of coloured running shoes. I thought my lime-green edged Brooks were vibrant, but it seemed just about everyone else had shoes so gaudy in colour I felt quite dull by comparison. Also making me seem dull was a much larger contingent of fancy-dress runners than last year. Spider Man was clearly super-hero du jour but I also saw a man dressed as a banana and another with a birthday cake hat complete with flaming candles.
Standing there in the starting pen I decided that I really do like this race. It has an undeniable friendly buzz about it. Perhaps it’s just the particular wave I’m in (“Green” group, which is the second of the six main starting waves) but there’s a nice balance between the serious business of running and the fun of getting out for a bit of a lark in what is, after all, the world’s biggest run. Yes, we’d probably all like to run a PB and may have even trained for it, but no-one’s going to mind if you accidentally get in the way and block their path, especially if you’re wearing a Batman cape or are running in scuba gear. Even the helicopters (four of ‘em!) covering the event keep a respectful distance and sort of hum like a friendly swarm of bees rather than annoy with their more usual deafening and incessant whock whock whock.
This year even the main announcer is excellent. He’s not trying to be funny, nor is he trying to fire us up with inane drivel. Perhaps because all the usual A-list starting gun celebrities are in London, he’s operating single-handed and just does the job thoroughly and efficiently, telling us what we need to know, explaining (for example) the difference between yellow group (walkers and pram-pushers) and gold group (charity places) and the consequence of starting in the wrong wave (disqualification) whether having done so deliberately or not. As I found last year, the organisation of this race is stupendous, as it needs to be when you have 85,000 entrants and who-knows how many spectators trying to find baggage trucks, porta-loos, starting pens etc. The result is a happy, relaxed crowd and despite my dislike of crowds I feel quite at ease standing near-naked in a public place amidst a crowd of strangers. Rather like a nightmare that feels somehow ... nice.
Soon enough the MC yells “Go!” (no gun or cannon – rather quaint really) and we shuffle hopefully forward, then stop, then shuffle some more. This goes on for some time, but eventually we hit the timing mats and the shuffling turns to jogging and then quickly into a serious “Whoa! Wait a minute guys” sprint. Yep, we’re heading out way too fast, but as usual it feels comfortable and it’s easier to go along with the crowd than to slow to the desired pace. Actually, I don’t have a race plan at all, other than to try and enjoy the race. I don’t recall what my time last year was and intend to basically ignore my watch, other than to ensure I don’t go out too hard and fast. Well, that was the theory at least, but the first couple of kilometres do indeed go too fast. The third kilometre is a bit of a climb and I’m panting quite hard by the end of it. There’s a bugger of a hill (our own “Heartbreak Hill") at the 6km point though, and I’m determined to tackle it well, so now that the crowd has thinned a little I slow it down to a more sensible pace and try to enjoy the experience.
Around the 4km mark I collide slightly with a man running in a dazzlingly hi-viz fluoro green running top complete with long sleeves and similarly bright fluoro orange hi-viz running shoes. “Sorry mate” I say, “I didn’t see you there”. Although a couple of the other runners around us laughed he apparently had heard that joke more than once before and made a point of ignoring me. I plough on.
Kilometres 4 to 6 are generally flat and pass through exclusive Sydney Harbour-side suburbs. The rich set are a determined lot and nothing, especially not tens of thousands of loopy runners will prevent them crossing the road to their favourite ristretto and a brioche breakfast cafe. Rather more worried is the look on the face of a man with a suitcase in hand, obviously destined for the airport but now stuck in the middle of the road and suddenly aware that the taxi rank he is attempting to reach not only has no taxis, but also that the road is going to be closed to all traffic for the next several hours, as the numerous road signs have been making abundantly clear for the past few weeks. Even so, I can’t help feeling a pang of sympathy for the poor blighter as he does some serious re-thinking about how he is to get from the middle of 85,000 runners to the airport. One wag yells “Running late mate?” but he goes unheard as the man’s panic starts to set in.
I run on some more.
Despite the threat of rain, a large number of bands and DJs of all types line the route and brighten the mood with everything from trad jazz to Zappa and a fair bit of doof doof. I love it all but my favourite was a police band standing outside the Rose Bay police station playing a bizarre brass arrangement of “Don’t Stop Til You Get Enough” and making me wonder if that was their monthly motivational “reach your traffic infringement notice quota” music.
As well as the music, the crowd support was also fantastic, and despite the fact we were running through Sydney’s hoi-poloi suburbs many stood or sat by the side of the road cheering us on, with little kids giving us high-fives and handing out lollies all the way.
Just after the 6km marker we hit Heartbreak Hill and a long, twisty hill climb begins. It’s probably only about 1.5km long, but sections of it are troublingly steep. I slow to my training pace or a little above and plod along at a steady rate. I’m pleased to be passing maybe thirty or more people for each one that overtakes me, and before I know it I’m at the top and realise my hill training has paid off. I allow myself my only drink for the race, pick up the pace and start to feel very, very good.
There are still a couple of short but sharp hills to go, but the net overall from this point is downhill to the finish at Bondi Beach, so I really open up for a quick second half and what should be negative splits. Around the 11km mark I run into two people from work so slow down for a while for a bit of a natter. I also have a chat with a man who has run the New York Marathon three times and insists that I run it too, saying it is even better organised than this race and an unforgettable buzz. I promise him I will do it one year... soon...ish.
All this chatting brings us to the final downhill stretch to the finish and I really let fly with a fast downhill stretch to Bondi Beach. A final run along the Boulevard before doubling back for the last hundred meters or so to the finish line and ... done! I stop my watch at 1:19:32 and am well pleased. Later I discover that’s just 15 seconds slower than last year. Had I run with a race plan and not slowed to chat so much I’m sure I could have knocked a few minutes off that time... well, never mind I had a lot of fun and there’s always next year for a PB.
The crowd of finishers oozes forward and we’re handed our medals while the announcer congratulates us all and gives us directions on how to find ... buses, baggage, corporate tents etc. but not what I’m really after ... water! Where’s the water? I’m looking all around and can’t see any God-damned water! I’m just starting to wonder about the organisation of the event after all when out of the crowd an angel appears with a huge tray of water bottles and smilingly hands them out to all and sundry... actually a better system than queuing for self-serve, so once again I have to be impressed with the race organisers. Great job!
I follow the signs to the bus, hop on, it immediately leaves and takes us the train station where I impatiently wait a full minute (God-damn!) for a train to arrive. I hop on, it leaves immediately and deposits me a few minutes later at Town Hall station where I change platform exactly as my train home arrives. I hop on, it immediately leaves and slowly post-race blues start to set in as I realise it’s all over for this year. Yep, I have my medal and a good time, but the crowds have gone now and so has the friendly buzz and banter of the race. It may only be a humble 14km fun run, but it has a certain, special ... something.
[Cue music . Dim house lights. Cue follow spot on lead]
No singing!
[Kill music, kill follow spot, house lights on]
Right. Sorry. So, now it’s back to some serious training.
Have to agree with the Grand Fromage on the numbers. Man alive, that's a lot of people to sort out! Sounds more like Pamploma than Sydney.
Lovely to have a race report to read on here, too. Sounds like a good day out. And well done on your time. I rather like the idea of running races in that way, stopping to smell the roses and chat to the locals, only to find you're remarkably close to your previous best effort. Says a lot for your underlying fitness.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Thanks, gents. Somewhat surprisingly, the official results gave me a time of 1:19:10 - actually five seconds inside my time from last year, so a PB after all. Quite how my timing and official timing differed by quite so much I fail to understand, however I guess I'll take the better of the two and claim it.
Also a little surprising is how sore my legs have been since race day, so today I opted for a gentle recovery run rather than the intervals I had planned. I set the treadmill at a slow, flat canter and settled in to watch the movie/documentary Running On The Sun: the Badwater 135 about the 2000 Badwater Ultra. This is (as the name suggests) a 135-mile run from the depths of Death Valley to Mt. Whitney through some of the severest country on Earth.
There have been a couple of movies made about this race - Running On The Sun being the first of them. Directed by multi-Emmy award winning Mel Stuart, who died last week and was better known as director of the classic 1971 version of Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory (with Gene Wilder) and also of the TV series Welcome Back, Kotter , this is not (as I initially thought) some amateur's attempt to document the race with handycams and a small budget. Rather this is a well-crafted and serious attempt to convey just what the race is about and what goes through the minds of its participants. And it does it fantastically well - the progression of pain, blisters and vomit is fast and furious and really makes you understand just how insane ultra-running is.
And yet, and yet, somehow the damned thing is incredibly inspiring as well. I was pretty much mesmerised for the whole 100 minutes. When it was over I have to confess I was fairly shaking at the thought of it all, and quite determined never to attempt anything on such a scale myself. And yet then again ... later, and repeatedly through the day that followed I found myself entranced by the race entrants and what they went through in their efforts to win a stupid belt buckle, which is the only prize, and then only if you finish inside 48 hours. And throughout there is little but pain and suffering - even for the race winners who suffer every bit as much as the back markers and those who fail, some of them within sight of the finish line. One of the runners sums it all up when he says "at the moment I'm just trying not to throw up on my shoes"... it's that kind of race.
This movie takes you to the dark side of running; to the incomprehensibly insane self-flagellation that has no reward save a handful of equally insane people clapping the finishers at the end, the finishers then fading back into obscurity with nothing to show for it other than a brass clothing accessory. And somehow, thanks to Mr. Stuart's skill, he makes it very appealing. Like insects drawn to a blue neon light, you just know you shouldn't go there, but damn it, it's soooo pretty! Well done, Mr. Stuart, you may just be the ruin of me. Rest in peace good sir.
Back to the hill climbing today - just time for a 10km jaunt before work, but made it a little faster and a little steeper this time. Whilst it was completed fairly comfortably, it again left me with the realisation that there's still a heck of a lot of work to do before race day.
There's also the small matter of the marathon, and on that score there's good news. Work has finally confirmed I'm not required on race day so I have now entered the Sydney Marathonwhich is exactly 4 weeks hence. It'll be good after all this time to finally get the marathon-running monkey off my back, doubly so to get it done soon so that I can then properly focus on the Point 2 Pinnacle. I feel ready for the mara, less so for the P2P, and whilst there's still plenty of time before the mountain race, it's going to take a brutal amount of hill climbing between now and then to be properly ready. This will be my third assault on the mountain, and to be honest it gets harder each time as I become ever more accutely aware of what's required to tackle the monster.
So a big few weeks of running ahead. Am I excited? You bet!
Made up on hearing this news, not least because we'll get a Big Race Report
You don't need me to tell you that a marathon is a monster and should be approached as such. That said, you are in great shape to take it on, and from your approach to training since P2P your mind seems right (well, you know, as regards running the distance, anyway). Envious of East Sussex.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
OK it's official - I am now entered into both the Sydney Marathon on Sep 16 and the Point 2 Pinnacle ("the toughest half marathon on the planet" they now boast) on Nov 18. Yee har and all that.
A return to my old friend, the intervals session today, with a 10x800m workout. Always tough, these none-the-less leave me feeling fan-bloody-tastic and knowing I've put in a good session. I did these at about 10km PB pace, but in reality I should (according the various training programs I've read) be doing these at greater than 5km PB pace. Never mind, it's a good enough work-out for now.
16.17km (10x800 + warm-up, cool-down and recovery laps), 1h39m
Following the euphoria of London 2012 I thought it might be fun to see how we measure up to the super elite.
Have you ever timed your 'best' 800/ 400/ 200/ 100? I was 'disappointed' that the 5k/ 10k races weren't quicker. We've seen four sub-fifteen minute 5ks at Hove ParkRun in recent times.
When I was attending track sessions a few years back we used to do 200 metre intervals (with a 100m walk/ cooll down in between), timed by Sam. He used to growl the seconds at us as we cross the line. I think my best was about 30 seconds (I'd have to look back on here to be sure).
Anyway, I jacked that in as the bouncy track caused serious hamstring knack. I've not been back since.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
(20-08-2012, 09:48 AM)marathondan Wrote: Naturally, I want to know your race plan!
OK but I'm not forming a race plan until after my last long run next Saturday. I can say that it will be conservative, as I'll be looking to firstly, just finish the bugger, and secondly, not kill myself in the process.
I figure after the first mara is done, then I'll have a time to beat, will better know how I handle the distance and can then more properly devise a race strategy.
But, as I say, I'll let you know more after my long slowie on Saddy.
(20-08-2012, 09:57 PM)Mid Life Crisis Man Wrote: I can say that it will be conservative, as I'll be looking to firstly, just finish the bugger, and secondly, not kill myself in the process.
It has been a rough week at w*rk. Long hours, constantly changing schedules, overtime on top of that and aggro thrown into the mix; it is a hard and not happy time at my place of employ. Such are the testing times we face, even here where we're relatively untouched by the GFC.
Because of shift changes I had already pushed back my long run from Saturday (today) to Monday, but then yesterday they threw a Sunday night shift at me, which gave me a dilemma... I'd be too tired for the long run run Saturday morning, but there was no way I can do a run on Monday after a night shift, meaning I'd have to either knuckle down and tough it out today, or push the long run back to Tuesday morning, and that didn't really suit because we were supposed to be going away on Tuesday. Grrr.
So I thought Saturday morning would be the best option, as it couldn't be worse than the latter stages of a marathon anyway, and as it transpires I now have to work a long 14-hour day on the eve of race day (another cancelled rostered free day - such is life at the moment) ... it seemed worth a shot.
Well, let me tell you - it really wasn't worth a shot at all. Just as you can't go into a race under-prepared, nor should you tackle a 4-hour long run in a distressed, dishevelled, exhausted state.
I was down for the count after just two and a half hours, and I'll now have to try somehow to tackle this long 'un again on probably Wednesday whilst we're out of town. Wish me luck on that one.
This is annoying because any other time today's distance at that pace would be a snip. On the day I needed to fire, I couldn't. Fortunately all is not lost and I still have time to pick up the pieces. But the last long 'un (32 - 36 km) needs to be soon.
22.96km, 2h29m
YTD: 992.6km
Track du Jour: Not sure how you categorise these guys - sort of ska, sort of pop, whatever, it's a great running track.
Robust August
![[Image: runningonthesun.jpg]](http://www.grose.us/pics/runningonthesun.jpg)
