All best wishes to fellow RC viewers for a great 2005.
My 2004 ended on a sour note as some thoughtless scroat relieved me of my golf clubs following a social 9 holes with my mates on New Years Eve. A plague on thier houses (or possibly caravan), and lets move into the new year with renewed faith in mankind.
The news that the British public raised in excess of 45 million pounds for the Tsunami Relief fund certainly warmed the cockles, but to be honest the best news I could receive arrived when I donned the lycra for a brisk return to the Sussex Downs this morning - Hurrah!
Still bearing the last vestiges of a hacking cough, but feeling infintely better than I had in two weeks, I set off for Brighton seafront at 08:30. On opening the front door I was greeted with a perfect January morning - clean, crisp air, not a cloud in the sky with a watery yet unhindered yellow orb climbing gently over the town.
Tim (fellow telly tubby and recent achillies injury sufferer) arrived to take us off to Brighton where we met up with the Jog Shop crew. This is a fine bunch of athletes, very much in the RC tradition (ie of various and dubious abilities). Most had received hard luck notices from Mr Bedford and have entered Paris - no matter as our races will only be days apart and we can follow the same schedule.
We embarked in leisurely fashion on a gentle 10.5 miler along the clifftops heading East, turning inland at Saltdean and up the mile long muddy climb that is Telscombe Tye. Regrouping at regular intervals we followed a farmland track through fields around the village. Sam, our guide and mentor (as usual stride his mountain bike so as to keep pace with the fastest and slowest in our group) nipping up and down the line like a flourescent Collie, checking his flock and controlling the pace, announced 'an exciting new route'. The 'exciting' part proved to be somewhat of a let-down; a 1/2 mile 1 in 4 climb through a freshly ploughed (and extremely moist) field.
Regrouping at the top of the climb to remove several pounds of freshly churned earth from our shoes, we headed down into the village of Ovingdean and back to the seafront, finishing at Brighton Marina.
At the top of our Somme-like trek Sam dispensed his final instructions:
'Get down to the clifftop and give it some welly for the last mile and a half.'
The man is a sadist. The becalmed, sunny morning we had left at the start had by now been freshened by a stiff Easterly breeze sweeping off the ocean, providing an extra 'fun' element to our finishing stretch. Battling a stiff wind, tired muscles screaming for relief, our mud-splattered group finished in around 2 hours 10 minutes, with a 5 minute spread from first to last.
My immediate post-run reaction was to attempt to cough my lungs out onto the pavement. I feared the worst; however, much to my relief, the wheezing and hacking subsided to be replaced by a self-satisfied glow and a gentle tingle in the legs; we're back in action, and the fun starts here!
The rest of the month looks to pan out like this:
Sunday runs (a repeat of todays' journey next Sunday then extending to 12, 14 and 16 miles off-road)
Monday recovery sessions - 30 minute lopes around Lewes
Tuesday night track sessions - 200, 300, 1 KM and 1 Mile track sessions
Thursday (am or pm) longer runs (1 hr+ or 8 miles)
Friday night town laps
It's so good to be back - I'm off for a pint to celebrate!
Yeeehah!
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
I have vowed to be a little more scientific and frequent with my diary entries. From now on I will attempt entries on the days that I run, with distances or track session details with times.
Yesterday was a blow out. I had intended a 30 minute gentle lope around town to refresh the legs after 10.5 miles on Sunday, but I didn't make it.
I wish I had now - legs are stiff and I need to stretch every 30 minutes or so.
I will attend a 60 minute track session (speed/ recovery work) tonight.
I really hate track work - I'm using the word 'hate' here. After all, it's just running around in circles, and I find the spongy track surface can cause new and odd aches and pains. I feel that my running improved a lot last year from pre-Marathon track sessions (1 per week). The most obvious benefit was improved recovery (after tough hill climbs or sections of long run into the wind). Plus the sessions are supervised and each section is timed, so there's the added bonus of discipline and reliable feedback.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
I'm not sure I agree with what you say about track work being bad because it causes new aches and pains, Sweder. Or perhaps it's not a question of disagreeing, just offering a different perspective. I've read a few times that it's a good thing to run on different surfaces, just as it's a good thing to rotate shoes and vary distances and types of session - the idea being that this kind of variety exercises different muscles in different ways, and reduces the chance of over-use injuries. So aren't the 'new aches and pains' just different muscles being put through their paces? And isn't this a good thing? I can understand you hating track work on the grounds of it being pretty boring - I've done a bit of it myself - but it's probably doing you some good.
I'll stop pretending to know what I'm talking about now. Hope you managed to get out this evening.
El Gordo
Great things are done when men and mountains meet.
A valid point well made. My personal experience of track work is positive - hard for me to say having just crawled home from a nice windswept, rainsoaked 70 minutes session, but it's generally true.
My concerns about trackwork stem from a conversation I had with a much quicker fitter runner than myself last year. It was my first night at the track, all googly-eyed and in awe of the exceedingly fit young people hurtling around the 400 metre circuit at absurd speed. This chap spotted the saucer-like appearance of my eyes and made the accurate assumption that I was a newbie.
'Just got back myself' he offered (as with so many running related incidents in this country, the formality of introductions is deemed superfluous). 'Been out for eight weeks - shin splints. Went too mental last year on the track'.
Yet, I was reluctant to point out, here he was, back again for more of the same.
Sure enough, as we started with repeated 200 metre spurts off he roared as if in pursuit of Olympic gold. I suppose I've answered my own concerns with this tale, yet first impressions last and my 'coach' on the evening, the ubiquitous Jog Shop Sam, confirmed it is very easy to get carried away on the track and, err . . . get carried away as a result.
Anywho, as the Grinch might say, on to the track report . . .
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Time: 19:30
Conditions: Floodlit track (Withdean Stadium, home of Brighton & Hove Albion)
Raining, strong wind, mild temperature (around 10 degrees)
Circuit to consist of following:
Warm up (2 laps, gentle jog)
2 x 200 metres flat out, 100 metre walk recover between
1 x 1000 metres race pace, 100 metre recover (walk)
6 x 200 metres flat out, 100 metre recovery in between
1 x 1000 metres race pace, 100 metre recover (walk)
2 x 300 metres (easy), 100 meter recover
1 x mile (4 laps) as fast as your shattered limbs will allow
Stats:
Best 200 time: 34 seconds
Average 200 time (over session): 40 seconds
Best 300 time: 75 seconds
1000 metres: 00:05:10
Mile: 00:08:23
Discourse (excuses!)
OK, to be honest I was still feeling Sundays' mud-slog in my legs, and I elected (foolishly) to cram in an evening meal (pasta) at 6pm, although it was more like 6.30 pm by the time I got to eat. Eating is a real dilemma after work - I suspect the answer is a snack at my desk at around 5pm and hold the meal for post-session. I'll try this next week and report results.
Felt very good on the 200's, poor on the first 1000 - I think the change in stride and breathing patterns is tough for the amateur plodder. Second 1000 felt a lot better, and the mile was not bad. I got my usual track session blues after the first 1000 and felt certain I wouldn't complete the mile - I get this Frazier-esque feeling (We're Doomed! Doomed!) in the early stages - but happily I got through, albeit in a modest time.
This is now a regular Tuesday feature, and it will be fun to compare times and changes in the circuit as we approach M day.
Next up is a midweek 'Duke of York' session - jog on up to the top of the hill (Black Cap in Lewes, a 4 mile uphill offroad climb) and jog back down again, probably on Thursday morning. Then a 12 k loop with the Jog Shop crew on Friday afternoon - 6k easy out, 6k hard back, and the 10+ mile mudfest on Sunday. Thanks for watching : )
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Withdean. The (hopefully temporary) home of Brighton & Hove Albion.
A couple of winters ago when I first started running, my son got pretty good at tennis and got involved in the county scene. This involved a 2 hour coaching session every Saturday afternoon at Withdean Sports Centre, adjacent to the track.
Now Withdean in just too far for me to drop him off, drive home, ponce about for a bit, then drive back to pick him up. So I starting using the gym and sensibly used the time I was there to rack up miles on the running machine.
After a few too many weeks of listening to some crappy music channel and watching some fat sweaty arse on the rowing machine in front of me, I hit upon the idea to ask whether I could use Withdean running track instead.
"Oh yes" said Sharon on reception, "but you can't use it when Brighton are playing at home".
I think my arguement that I could perhaps still use the track but double up as ball-boy went way over her brainless head!
Incidentally, if you slip past reception and into the dark empty dance studio (the one with the wall length mirror), stand on tiptoe by the window and you'll be able to see about 1/3 of the pitch.
I've twice had the chance to go to matches at Withdean (supporting the other team) but haven't been able to face the experience in the light of what fellow football-sufferers tell me.
I'm keen to incorporate some track sessions into my marathon training. Seems to me the best way of doing speedwork. May even try it this evening.
El Gordo
Great things are done when men and mountains meet.
Not sure where you're located Andy but the Tuesday sessions at Withdean are excellent, with three coaches (basically calling out times and setting the circuits). They are open to allcomers, too. The Jog Shop guys give their time in return for your lucrative visit to their emporium - there are no other fees involved, unless the box office is open at the stadium, then it's a couple of quid max.
SP you should get along - it's a good disciplined session and as I'm doing it you already know the standard is at best variable. By the way, that must be some mirror system they have in that gym - you managed to watch your own arse whilst running? (Shudder) ooh, that's nasty.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
I don't like to pry, y'know . . . OK, might be a bit of a leg for our glorious leader. But then again it might be worth it for a one-off visit; Andy might like to start up his own group in WEST BERKS.
Sunday: 09:00 Brighton Marina, Jog Shop lope.
You can elect to do Saltdean Lido and back (around 7 miles), the Wire and back (8.5 miles) or join us for the mudfest (10.5 miles). There will be groups doing each of these. If you're going to get round Almeira without a stretcher you'll need to get started big lad : )
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
I'm a member of a club in Reading that trains at a track on Wednesday nights. Just haven't managed to get there for ages as I was working away from home. I might get along there this evening. Depends on... ....on domestic considerations.
El Gordo
Great things are done when men and mountains meet.
Time: 09:15
Conditions: Sunny, dry (sloppy underfoot after overnight rain)
Course: 3 mile hill climb from Lewes to Black Cap (public footpath & fields) and return
Total miles: 6
Run time: 01:00:00
Oh what a beautiful morning . . . apart from the screaming hamstrings, still whinging about the track session on Tuesday. Chose to rest yesterday in preparation for this mornings run. I suspect a gentle recovery run would have been more prudent.
Joined by Tim T for today's run. We elected to go after 9 as we each had school runs to complete, and the thought of cramming an hour plus a shower in before 8 o'clock was too horrible to entertain. Also accompanied by my dogs. This is unuisual - I normally would not dream of taking my hounds on a run as they invariably get into trouble. The combination of no road sense, inquisitive nature and the desire to marmalise any feline within a 10 mile radius is prohibitive to relaxed running. This route is devoid of roads or cats, and the occasional rabbit or day dreaming fox would pose little or no problem.
For the record my canine companions are
Tess - 9 year old thoroughbred working whippet
Gypsy - Timid and lovable Lurcher (Greyhound/ Deerhound cross)
Willow - yearling Cocker Spaniel (recently inherited) full-on bundle of energy
I'd been thinking (worrying) about this run for several days. Is it wise to start a session with a 3 mile offroad hill climb? I'd prefer to warm up over a couple of (flat-ish) miles first, but my house is located on the edge of the Downs at the foot of this particular route . . . in the end we elected to go for it and see how things went.
Things, as it turned out, went rather well. The customary appearance of Satan on my shoulder over the first 20 minutes urging an end to this horror came and went, and we climbed easily alongside the gallops towars the summit. Lewes used to have a pukka race course, active well into the last century. The land has since been used as gallops by the Racing stables located on the ridge of the Downs to the North West of the town. The facility is operated by a colourful local named Fitzhayes. I had the pleasure to engage this gentleman when, some years ago in an outrageous bout of 'Get Orf My Land' rage, he attempted to run down my heavily pregnant wife in his landrover. I paid him a visit after the local constabulary informed me that they would log my complaint but were unable to visit Mr Fitzhayes as he had threatened officers on previous occasions. That's OK then. Suffice to say we agreed to differ and no physical harm was offered or delivered on either side, although I did suggest a repeat of the incident could result in great harm to his estate. He must've been quaking in those buckled green wellies . . .
These thoughts floated casually in the back of my mind as we passed the stables. Thankfully no sign of Lord Loon, just a few puffed pleasantries exchanged with some of his riders as they returned the horses from their morning workout.
Speaking of thoroughbreds, back to our runners.
The going underfoot was tricky to say the least. I described the conditions as 'sloppy' - this is wholly accurate. The public footpath runs between the gallops and farmland, both technically off limits (lets save the 'right to roam' arguments for another time). We enjoyed some serious overnight rain, and as luck would have it the adjacent fields drain directly onto the footpath. Running the first mile and a half was a bit like running up an incline coated in fresh porridge, with every other foot-fall yielding in the slime. Normally this would not phase me as I enjoy offroad running in such conditions, but combined with my early run blues the slip-sliding potential for serious injury kept poking me in the ribs.
I ignored these irritations and, bolstered by the fact that Tim appeared to have no intention of stopping, got my head down and pushed on. Once past the stables the terrain improved, both in camber and condition. I relaxed a little, breathing easier and mentally brushing beelzebub off my shoulder; this was fun.
Black Cap is a high point along the Sussex Downs, complete with historic Beacon, used in times past to warn of invading marauders approaching from the coast at Newhaven. The views across the Ouse Valley this morning were fabulous in the wintry sunshine. We took a couple of minutes to cool our jets before starting back towards town, home and a welcoming cup of coffee.
The round trip took just on the hour, and although we had no GPS to confirm I reckon the loop was just under 6 miles. I'll have to beg, borrow or steal SPs GPS watch - or better still entice him out on an early sojourn next week. Now, some 3 hours later, I'm feeling a little tight in the groin, but my knees (notoriously weak) are holding firm. Looking forward to Badminton tonight - does that count as cross-training? - and a 12K clifftop waddle tomorrow afternoon.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Time: 15:45
Location: Brighton seafront/ Marina to Saltdean - clifftop loop
Distance: 10 k
Conditions: 40 mph (gusting to 60 mph) South Westerly gale, damp underfoot, mostly offroad
Run time: 01:03:00
The idea was to set off from Brighton Marina heading East at a gentle pace for 5k, turn and blast back as quickly as possible. The best laid plans of mice and men . . .
With a firm but manageable breeze at our backs 4 intrepid runners, including Jog Shop Sam and two people I'd not met before, set off with the sea to our right. The pace was extremely gentle, and we eased through the first couple of kilometres in comfort. I became slightly suspicious when the usual early run wobble didn't occur. The course is fairly hilly, yet even with a couple of steep climbs I was barely breaking a sweat.
Sam carries an old injury which inhibits his running style, and he dropped back a little on the out leg. One of the other chaps (Nigel I think) stayed with him. I glanced back to make sure they were still in touch when I realised that Nigel was running barefoot. Ian (the fourth member of our party) and I dropped back to meet up and I asked him 'why run bareback?'
It transpires Nigel has suffered some sort of appalling ligament injury that afflicts his metatarsals. He is not long out of surgery and, against medical advice, is running barefoot to 'keep his hand in' with 'minimal risk' of further damage. It occured to me that risking the implantation of broken glass laced with canine excrement might be considered slightly more than 'minimal risk', but I kept my council.
Once again Ian and I accelerated gently, and we struck up polite conversation. I informed Ian that I was just getting back into things after a prolonged lay-off after London 04. I think I offered this by way of apology for our modest pace, but I needn't have worried. It transpires that Nigel is a 3 hour marathon man who is carrying some rather unpleasant knee damage. He has regular surgery and is running in spite of constant pain and the possibility of permanent disablement.
At this point the guardian of my common sense started to bang loudly in my skull; you are running with a bunch of debilitated nutters, old boy. Think about it - the weather is building towards some sort of apocalyptic climax (the skies had darkened considerably and the 'breeze' was just starting to lift me off the ground on the clifftops) and the only people daft enough to be out running along the clifftops with you are all severly injured, running against medical advice and each in his own way several sarnies short of a picnic.
We arrived at Saltdean Lido (half way) and took a 2 minute rest.
I gazed out to sea and was slightly concerned to see a proliferation of white horses charging in with increasing gusto. A gust of wind flashed through us, rippling our windcheaters and making absolutely certain I'd need to get home to a hairbrush before visiting the pub. Nigel announced we'd competed 5k in 30 minutes. Really? That can't be right, we weren't even trying. Hmm, that breeze must've been stronger than I thought . . .
And so the homeward leg, or The Afternoon After Tomorrow as I will remember it.
What are those sticks that skiers use to propel themselves through the snow? We needed them now. We climbed up out of the Saltdean valley and as we broached the crown of the rise the true ferocity of the gale revealed its' ugly face. 'Bloody hell' I shouted, with all the impact of Marceau Marceau. My words, torn from my lips, thrashed back down the hill and into Saltdean.
Several seconds later, Ada Gutbucket, 77, emerged from the CoOp with her shopping trolly and was roundly assaulted by a disembodied 'bloody hell'.
'It came out of nowhere' said the shaken pensioner.
We battled on, Nigel sub-3, true to his word, fairing much better than the rest of us. 'I like running into the wind', Nigel had said. 'I have trouble with my breathing and somehow with the breeze into my face I find it easier'.
Well, complete bullshot or not he was now 200 yards ahead and moving easily away. And, to be fair, the breeze was certainly into his face now. I felt like Ellen Mcarthur; not ready to burst into tears at a moments notice (at least not yet), but in terms of struggling with my windcheater as she might a spinnacre rounding the Cape of Good Hope (or as I felt just now, the Cape of Bob Hope).
We fought on - and it was a fight; this had little to do with running.
Remember, this was to be 5K easy out and 5K hell-for-leather back. Well, we've got the hell and I'm not much for leather in these conditions. Finally the marina hove into view, and I relaxed a little, running easier and gathering pace on the final downward slope to the finish.
The return leg had taken just under 33 minutes - 3 minutes longer than the gentle jog out.
The Wild Man of Borneo would have struggled to get into our photo line-up as we gathered our strength and gazed at one another, faces nicely rouged, laced with seasalt, hair . . . lets not go there. Must get the barbers on Saturday tho.
Roll on Sunday morning, when the first leg of our run today will form the warm up for a 16k offroad hack. If the wind blows anything like it did today we'll have heaps of fun. Thanks for watching.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Time: 09:00
Distance: 16K
Location: Brighton Marina - Saltdean Lido - Telcombe Tye - Ovingdean
Conditions: Windy (30mph West South West), Dry, soggy underfoot
Run Time: 01:55:00
I look forward to the Sunday long run. This is by far the most rewarding run of the week, being both the longest and the most sociable, and in my mind a true yardstick for my progress (or lack thereof) over the week.
However, I awoke, late, this morning with a feeling of dread. I felt tired, knackered before I started. I'd been working hard this week, with my first track session in almost a year and a couple of reasonable mid-week runs, and I feared a backlash today. I managed a black coffee and toast with honey and drove rather too quickly to Brighton Marina. One positive aspect this morning was my mid-week investment in a Nathan water bottle and carrier and new Sugoi windcheater. Last weeks' Sunday run was made considerably tougher by the absence of these essential provisions; I wouldn't have that problem today.
A further boost was the turn-out at the start - 25+ runners, including a number of familiar faces from last years FLM crew. I started to perk up a bit when I heard tales of long layoffs, couch-potatoitis and blatant disregard for training in any form.
We started easily (wind-assisted) heading East to Saltdean. Following Andy's remarks on pre-run stretching (see 'Aches' thread in General Running) I decided on a minimal warmup routine. Our group have a gentle 2 mile lope to Staltdean where we re-group before the offroad section of the run. I elected to stretch there on warm muscles, and I have to say this felt very good.
My main thoughts this morning were 'take it easy, start slowly', and up to this point I'd stuck to the task. We set off up Telscombe Tye, the best part of a mile climb inland on grass and mud, and I found myself towards the front of the pack. What is it with me? Why do I have to run at the front? For one thing the view (in a mixed group) is better from last place, but I suffer some bizarre delusion that I'm a good runner and should be leading. I put a great deal of effort into putting in less effort, yet no-one came past me.
We turned West at the top of the Tye, skirting the farmland and Downs that make up the longer runs to come. One of the regular ladies, a consumate performer on these long runs, joined me and asked if I wanted to 'do the Snake'. This was not, as it may first appear, an outrageous invitation to detour into local bushes for an inpromptu dalliance but a reference to the 2.25 mile climb that forms part of the longer run, and would take us on a 12 mile route. I thought about it but declined. I really wanted to measure my performance against last week's run, and to do so accurately I would have to complete the same circuit.
We chatted some more, and came to the point where the main group turned South West (towards the sea) and my companion headed straight on. I glanced ahead and saw a group about 200 metres ahead, and right on que my Macho-chip buzzed into life and I increased my pace, catching them at the bottom of a steep decline. I felt good, and then realised that we'd reached the foot of Hamburger Hill, the infamous ploughed Field that our mentor had included last week. I'd been forced to walk up most of the hill last week, and had mentally prepared for this moment; I would run, albeit at snails' pace, right to the top. Our group, a 'breakaway' gang of five, formed a single file with two horribly fit looking blokes at the lead. The pace was sensible so I got my head down and dug in. A stubborn gate provided a few seconds' respite for my burning lungs, although I was pleased to note my back and legs were surprisingly quiet.
Another 200 metres and we crested the brow of the hill, pausing to take on water and reduce the sludge now formed on the souls of our shoes. The rest of the run proved uneventful, and I was mentally relaxed having achieved my personal goal of perpetual motion up the muddy hill.
I even managed a bit of acceleration over the last mile, the same finish I had struggled with on Thursday. The wind, whilst still directly into our faces, was a good deal weaker today. I finished third in our group and felt absolutely fantastic.
Something else that occured during my run today, and this is the first time it has happened to me, is I started to think about my RC diary entry during the run. This is a welcome distraction, and although I've forgotten most of what I'd 'written' on route, I hope this continues. I believe we all find quality thinking room on our runs, and if we could develop the capacity to retain our thoughts our diaries would start to reach the heights that Andy and Nigel regularly obtain. I had formed some ideas based on this weekend being the 3rd round of the FA Cup, giant-killing, sporting pinnacles for the underdog . . . but endorphins swarming through my brain devoured my notes, leaving a happy glow and little else.
One thing I want to write is an article/ interview with Jog Shop Sam. I've heard many amazing tales about his running career and I'm eager to get to the heart of the man, share his tales, rude and glorious as I'm sure they are, with my fellow forumites. I have a title - The Legend of Jog Shop Sam - and that's about it; but I reckon I can pursuade him to join me and my tape recorder over a beer or two sometime soon.
Thank you for watching
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Err, no thanks MLC. I could never take over from the Maeistro.
My recent output is down to writing during my post-run buzz (which does seem to last most of the night). That's what happens when you sit on your lard for 6 months and embrace the life anew; endorphin overload.
Rest assured, I'll be down to a few passing grunts when the hard work kicks in . . .
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
JANUARY 2005 - Back in Action
