A new month and a new start to my FLM training.
I'm aiming to leave the mixed bag that was February behind me, to stride into March with renewed enthusiasm and vigour. The hamstring remains silent, the back bearable. The weather is bizarre, yet not altogether prohibitive to sensible, return-to-action training runs.
I'm planning a 5 miles-ish plod with the Mighty SP on his home turf this evening. Nothing quite like thumping up and down the seafront in a blizzard!
A pre-Reading tests for the leg, my lungs and my health in general at comfortable pace.
More news as it happens.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Hi Sweder, i hope you are injury free, or thereabouts. i keep forgetting that were getting close to FLM. I loved last week's pictures. It's true that Surrey's more picturesque (cough!), but the Downs, North and South are lovely. My bit of Spain is more like Mid, or North Wales - a different kettle of fish completely.
I've good memories of Lewes aswell, many years ago I was in a B&B there while I commissioned a telephone exchange in Ringmer. I have to say though, i cannot understand why you drink Guinness when in Lewes there's one of the finest breweries in the South of England - Harveys do some wonderful beers.
You are so right, RB. However, don't be fooled into thinking I'm soley a Guinness man. The Black Gold is my drug of choice when on the road, 'tis true; however, when at home I defer to the wonderful Harvey's Best Bitter.
The real gem though is the winter mix ' The Mother-in-law.
A fine blend of Old and Bitter. Delicious.
Hmm, note to self: must organise RC lope combined with Brewery Tour.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Time of day: 18:20 hours
Location: Seaford seafront, home of the Seafront Plodder
Duration: 56 minutes
Conditions: Cold, breezy
Companion: Seafront Plodder
An inconclusive test of recent injuries, this. Inconclusive in as much as I've had no discernable adverse reaction except for the slightest tightening in my hamstring. No real pain, but a gentle reminder that all is not peachy in this department.
The run itself was a pleasure. First time out in over a week, good company, SP apprehensive as he too had been off his feet for a while and had just announced his decision to defer London till next year. We set off at a most leisurely pace, wind at our backs heading East, sea to our right. Ahead the mighty Seaford Head rose in the near darkness, snow clinging to the crest almost luminous in the encroaching night.
We chatted casually about this and that, all the while my highly trained sensors sweeping my right thigh for signs of trouble. A mile gone and we paused to stretch out below the cliffs. As in Almeria SP and I suffered the fashion faux pas of turning up in matching yellow windcheaters. A third runner appeared from the gloom, also identically attired. We looked like extras in a Fyffes commercial.
Thoroughly stretched and cooling quickly in the night air we turned and started back into the biting cold wind, keeping steady pace at around 11 minute miles. This piece of seafront property is an ideal testing ground, being pancake flat and well paved. Any injuries making an appearance on this circuit would have to be taken very seriously and would almost certainly rule Sundays Reading Half out of the equation.
As I swept for hamstring pulls, SP focused on his calf. Lower limb pain had almost forced SP to retire from the Brighton Half at the end of February (though he gamely finished in a respectable time). As it turned out we both completed the pre-agreed 5 miles without undue concern, but each with a reminder of our recent ailments. SPs calf did start whinging, although it never reached Andy Robinson proportions. And my hamstring, without intruding on my progress, continually whispered to remind me of its presence.
Today, in the warmth of my office, I can still hear the whispering. I am obliged to approach Reading as I did Brighton, with extreme caution and prepared to withdraw at the first sign of trouble. I plan a dart out tomorrow night (another flat 5 miles or so) which should smoke out any serious setbacks. Fingers, toes and hamstrings crossed.
During the jog SP reminded me of Andys remarks concerning fitness credits and how we spend them; saving them up for a major run, or cashing them in directly for beer. I wonder if you can guess what we did last night?
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Following the 5 mile plod with SP on Wednesday night I decided against a further tester before Reading. This is partly because there was still 'something there' after Wednesday, but also, as SP pointed out, there's bugger all to be gained from another 5 mile plod before the half.
So, I'm definitely going, on the basis that
a) this is, for me, a training run
b) I'm prepared to withdraw at the first sign of trouble
That said I'm getting unaccountably excited.
I think its the combination of an unknown circuit, meeting up with the RC crew again (Andy, Antonio, SP and possibly post-race, Nigel) and the amazing upturn in the weather. I awoke to gorgeous skies over Sussex - dazzling blue with sparse, high white cloud laced with occasional darker streaks, what my Grandfather used to call 'Battle of Britain' skies.
I spoke to SP about our injuries and the wisdom of going at all this Sunday. Then I read Suzie Q's post, and I felt her pang of regret at not being there, and I knew I had no option. Man, I love this stuff.
Good luck to everyone running this weekend, be it at the Reading Half, in the snowy heights of Calgary, along the tricky Hogsback, across the ridges of Berzio. Galloping through Galiçia, or running through a huge list of fine Southern Reds with your family.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
It's a fantastic morning here in West Berkshire too, which bodes well for the race tomorrow.
My own anxieties revolve around the logistics - how many people are turning up here? Will they be late? Will I find Antonio in that bookshop in Shepherds Bush this afternoon? Where will we eat this evening? Will we get to the car park in good time tomorrow? Will we get out again without queuing? Which pub should we go to afterwards?
Oh yeah, and tucked in between these worries there's a half marathon to do, which I've barely even thought about. More questions: what should I wear in the race? It will start off freezing but warm up pretty quickly. Should I take stuff to leave in the baggage lorry and risk having to queue up? Or avoid the queues but risk freezing to death?
I'm not really worried about these things. They're just bits of random, manufactured anxiety designed to keep the adrenaline pumping for the race. As Sweder hints, the much greater emotion is excitement, and these other concerns are just ways of trying to keep it in check.
And a nice thought about the universality of running. The website allows us to communicate, but it's running itself that is the true link between all of us here, and between all runners beyond us. Long may it continue.
See you tomorrow guys.
El Gordo
Great things are done when men and mountains meet.
If I was excited earlier, I'm bl**dy fizzing now.
Not only am I jazzed about Reading, I've just had some excellent news regarding next weekend. As regulars here will know I've had a miserable February running-wise (along with a few others). March was to be my saviour month, getting me back on track for London . . . but I have to go to Hong Kong for 7 days next weekend. This means missing TWO weekend long runs, plus limited opportunities for mid-week training. Don't get me wrong, I'm not ungrateful - many people would love to spend a week in HK, especially as it's the same week as the rugby 7s . . . but I am concerned about running.
So I surf the net for possible runs going on out there, and what do I find? Next weekend is only THE weekend of the Forbidden Hash, a veritable running fest. Check out this link: http://www.wanchaih3.com/forbiddenhash/forbidindex.htm
I've e-mailed the (mis)management and requested a place (I get in at 08:45, registration starts at 11:00) in the Sunday run. For those unfamiliar with Hashing, it involves a large bunch of ex-pats (Brits, Aussies, Kiwis, Yanks) coming together for a paperchase (they have several ranging from 45 minutes to 2.5 hours) through the countryside. This is followed by a street party at the finish where humiliation rituals (and in this case, a drag queen beauty pagent) are washed down with copious amounts of beer and curry.
No SP, this is not a waking dream ,this really happens.
And it looks like I'm going to be there. Just have to dust off my old Danny La Rue kit and I'm in.
As we used to say in my old roadcrew days: Woooaaaarrrrrgh!
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Time of day: 10:05 (delayed until 10:35)
Course: Reading Half Marathon town course
Distance: 13.1 miles
Duration: 1:52ish – to be confirmed via Championchip timing
Conditions: Dashed cold, breezy, dry, some sunshine
Companions: Andy RC, Andy SP, Antonio & Kev
A rude awakening, and the portents from Saturday were not good.
I warmed up for this Half Marathon by adjudicating throughout Phoebe’s sleepover party – 11 x 10 year-old girls, high on pasta and sugar, ‘sleeping’ in our living room. I’ll spare you the details; suffice to say my final gambit was to offer any post-midnight noise-Monsters a night camping out on the trampoline. This had the desired effect, and I managed at least 5 hours slumber before rising to put the coffee on.
SP arrived at 06:10 sharp, bleary-eyed and anxious in equal measure. His mood reflected my own perfectly. SP is carrying an unpleasant calf strain; I have my well publicised hamstring to worry about. We escaped without waking the monsters. I felt a twinge – not the leg, but guilt as I abandoned my dear Wife to the clutches of the fearsome brood. All this on Mothers’ Day, too. The journey to Andy’s, a hefty stones’ throw from Reading, passed without incident or delay. Not surprising, as most sane people were still snuggled up in warm beds, dreaming about the first coffee and croissants of the day.
On arrival we met El Gordo, Antonio and EG's mate, Kev. Kev immediately announced his ailments and affirmed that he had no idea if he’d finish the race. We laughed, and assured him he was the second fittest member of our quintet. Antonio still bears the injury he exacerbated during the Almeria half at the end of January, and this morning he was prepared to ‘see how things go’. Armed with this extraordinary excess of confidence we set off for the start, though not before Andy recited a small but perfectly formed text from Niguel wishing us well.
Discussions on route turned to clothing strategy. Despite being a beautiful day – clear blue skies, the promise of strong sunshine and light, easy winds – the morning air carried a deep cold rarely felt in these parts. I decided to keep my layers and in particular old sweatshirt until the last possible moment before stuffing Old Faithful into my bag and hurling that onto the bag wagon. This I did without counting on the race organisers dreaming up a 30 minute delay. There’s enough whining in this post to gain honorary citizenship of Australia, so I’ll keep it brief; we were bloomin’ freezing.
Finally underway, sans Antonio who had, in a wonderful cameo of Spanish prevarication, waited until the last possible moment to seek the gents just as we set off toward the start proper. Despite our best efforts we would not meet up again until the finish. My early pace was gentle, but in no way leisurely. The constant dodging and slipstreaming through the impressive field (around 10,000 entrants) required fierce concentration to avoid collision. After a few minutes I settled into a loping rhythm, finding some personal space amongst the Lycra and discarded plastic bags. Anxiously I sought the first mile marker, but to no avail. I was worried – it’s one thing to protect an injured leg, another to take half a day to complete the course. Then, relief, and a feeling of quiet confidence as ‘MILE 2’ hove into view. I’d missed the 1st marker, no great shock with all the bobbing and weaving.
The first incline had me throttle back and shorten my stride, all the while keeping tabs on the back of my right thigh. So far, so good. I chugged on, still comfortable, running within myself. Through 3, missed 4 and then ‘MILE 5’ appeared – and so did the familiar glow from the back of my leg. Bloody hell! OK, stay calm – let’s see how this goes for the next mile. My inner selves, Mr Macho and Captain Sensible, began to bicker. ”YOU said if it started hurting you’d . . .”
“Awww SHUT UP you big Jessie. I’m just going to see how it goes for a bit . . .”
I thought of my Physio, and I knew what she’d say. But it really wasn’t too bad, just a warning, a slight tightening up. I focused on relaxing (sounds contradictory, but it can be done), re-checked my stride and plodded on. ‘MILE 6’ and the sensation had subsided a tad. Other than the obvious I felt very good – comfortable, breathing easily, still passing a quantity of early speed hounds – so I kept on. Half way at 01:00:06, a respectable time, but to be honest I had no idea (still don’t) how long it took for us to cross the start line. I knew I was on sub 2 hour pace, and that was just dandy.
Miles 7, 8 and 9 cruised by – Andy RC remarked later how this race seemed to fly by, and it really did. Often Half Marathons can drag, but not this one. Perhaps it was the number of runners, or the surprisingly good support along the route, but the miles were dropping at regular, short(ish) intervals and I still felt ridiculously comfortable. Just after 9 miles an impressive young lady flew by, clad in figure-hugging grey running suit with a red bobble hat set at a jaunty angle. I grinned and stepped on the gas . . .
ERR – ERR – ERR – ERR warning: system overload, reduce speed immediately! Red lights everywhere. The Hamstring from Hell, quiet since mile 7, reminded me that any lapse of concentration, or delusions of athleticism, would be severely dealt with. I settled back into a gentle lope once more, suitably chastened.
Past Mile 10, and the mighty Madjeski Stadium rose from the horizon. Of course we still had 3 miles to go, so this must be some ugly, sadistic horror from the organisers. ‘Here’s the finish, so we’ll have you run right up to the stadium entrance and veer off at the last minute for a 2.5 mile lap of the local business park.’ Charming. Once again I felt the urge to press on a little quicker. I had no clue as to my time. Time was not relevant – I wanted to run, I mean really run, flat out hammer time. My internal conversation was like a classic episode of Star Trek.
Captain James T ‘Ego’ Kirk, bellowing dramatically for more power.
Scottie ‘Hamstring’ Scott, screaming back that without more dylithium crystals (or at least, Ralgex) ‘She cannae take anymore Cap’n: She’s gonnae blow!’.
I pressed a little. Nothing. Pushed again, no reaction. Lengthened the stride by a foot - ERR – ERR – ERR . . . damn! OK, let’s forget it. Just finish, be happy to finish, and enjoy the knowledge that you could have gone a lot quicker. Despite holding back I still passed a few runners, many walking, as we once again approached the home of Reading FC. This time we were not to be denied, and just as in Almeria a month before, we dropped down an access ramp into a packed and vibrant sports stadium. Happily, on this occasion, there was no final circuit required, just a straight run for the line.
One side of the Madejski, adjacent to the finishing straight, was packed with cheering friends and families of the local participants. The MC, maintaining an admirable degree of enthusiasm nearly an hour after the winners crossed, whipped up regular cheers and applause for the incoming athletes. Most welcome it was, too. In spite of everything I kicked for home, although it was a pretty modest kick! The race clock, clearly displayed above the finish, showed 1:57:35 - somewhere around 1:52 nett (to be confirmed); under the circumstances pretty good. On past the finish line, through the marshals, into my foil blanket and towards the medals, goodie bags and chip retrieval. I reflected calmly on finishing a race I perhaps should have withdrawn from, on the possible damage I’d inflicted on my poorly leg, and on what might have been if I’d been fit.
Back at the trailers, hastily pulling on my sweatshirts (plural) against the strengthening cruelty of the icy wind, I reflected further. Despite the injury I realise I’m in pretty good shape. For the first time – ever – I feel I could have happily gone on and finished a full marathon. Not really surprising, as, in reality, I’ve been tapering, albeit enforced, for the last three weeks, and today I was pretty much at optimum performance (barring the lame limb). The trick now will be to nurse the leg through March whilst keeping a ‘holding’ training pattern, a neat trick; I’ll need a considerable amount of help to pull off.
Everyone of our stricken group finished and, apart from SP who had struggled with his calf strain from mile 6, all seemed pretty happy with our performance. Kev managed a sub 2, Antonio finished without a major reaction (although he was getting fairly intimate with his hamstring when SP and I departed). EG was a little unsure but thought he may have achieved yet another PB (something to do with his Garmin shutting down temporarily when he took a mid-race detour into a bush).
Reunited we escaped the growing madness enveloping the Madejski, heading for the nearby car park, EG’s house, and ultimately a well-earned pint. It was great to see M again, and I should apologise publicly for not accepting EG and M’s offer of what smelled like a fabulous luncheon. In mitigation I had a White Knight act to perform, making up for lost time with my girls.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Congratulations on another PB in 2005 Andy. You are the man!
Sorry to have missed Niguel and the flock, and again to have departed so soon. 1:50:44 . . . 35 seconds outside a PB. That's the second Half in a row I've been within a minute with a (literally) lame excuse. One of these days . . .
As far as the hamstring goes, it's not bad at all, just a little sore. I suspect SP is having more trouble with his calf - he seemed to be in a good deal of pain with it on the way home.
Thanks again for sorting out the logistics. It was a lot of fun and I'll definately be back to Reading for the PB I left behind. I'll bring 2 legs next time
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Congratulations to you all for a great race. Sounds like it was a good one, besides the freezing cold. And Andy getting another PB! You're on a roll Andy, must feel real good.
I was thinking about you guys when I woke up Sunday and knew you'd be done the race by that time and wondering how it all went.
Time of day: Mid morning
Location: Lewes - Black Cap round trip
Conditions: Bright, high cloud, slight breeze, mild
Distance: 5 miles
Duration: 44:53
Companions: 3 hounds
Soundtrack: Planet Rock
A trunkated synopsis today as I'm late for a meeting in London.
This was an unscheduled blast to Black Cap & back. I had to rise early to speak to a colleague in the Far East, and I had a PM appointment in London. Basically I saw the gap, and went for it. Glad I did, too.
I was keen to attend to a couple of issues. First there's the hamstring. Any lasting damage post Reading? Then the run-rust, letting the legs spin for a few minutes after the Half. And the dogs needed a good long run, Willow reminding me this morning by depositing the mauled remains of a Sylvanian Squirrel onto my office chair.
Results?
The climb to the summit took 24:43. Not bad, better than par and I felt good. The hamstring was there, in as much as I could feel some reaction but no real pain. The run rust fell away easily over the first half mile; I felt strong, full of running.
The return (20:10) was controlled. The leg did not enjoy the descent, the action of brakeing seeming to cause more discomfort. By the time I reached the last sheep field, where I would normally motor, I held back even more, aware that all was not quite right.
I've strapped on the ice as I check my e-mails before a quick shower and dash up town. The pain (such as it was) has ebbed and I'm left wondering just what this injury really is. More stretching and a good grope about might help (it usually does ), but a return to the Physio seems inevitable.
PS: Springsteen Born to Run was the soundtrack highlight. Just on the steep climb to BC, too. Marvellous.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
I've never suffered bad feet, at least not as a result of running.
This is a man who has never suffered a single blister as a result of running. OK, I get my fair share of other niggles, but considering my feet are large, flat and designed for driving a paddle steamer, I get off pretty lightly.
Tonight however I noticed some unsightly growth on both feet.
I've taken a photo (below) on the offchance that anyone out there might recognise the problem and offer a remedy?
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
March 2005 - Episode One: A New Hope
