It’s been a deflating week so far.
Bank holiday Monday: I went out for a languid 16 miler but just ground to a painful halt after about 7 miles, overwhelmed by fatigue and a sense of foreboding about the way my training is fizzling out. Got home to find that some kids had set fire to the trees at the bottom of my garden.
Tuesday: No run, but someone broke into our shed and nicked enough tools to give me a great excuse not to do any gardening for a while. The only good news of the week.
Wednesday morning: Set off for a nippy 4 miler before breakfast. Gave up after 100 metres, strangely exhausted.
Wednesday evening: Turned up at the running club for an evening of inspiration, but my group were doing an out-run, so I spent an hour plodding 5 miles round the track on my own. Not unpleasant, it has to be said. On the way home, feeling pleased with myself, someone drove into the back of my car. We both pulled over. As I got out, he drove off. The registration was false.
Thursday evening:
A juddery 4 miles, exposing some odd aches in my right calf. No crimes against me to report, for the first time this week.
I see now that I made some fundamental errors with Monday’s long run. Under-hydrated, and I had nothing to call upon when my energy started to wane. I’ve another longie to confront this weekend, and I’ll approach it better. Today I called into a sports shop in Maidenhead and asked if they sold energy gels. “Er, is that something to do with training shoes?”
I tried the cycle shop instead, where I unearthed someone whose knowledge surplus was equivalent to the previous guy’s deficit. I sauntered up to the counter, spotted some unfamiliar gels among the clutter but thought I’d buy one to try. He recoiled at the suggestion.
You should think carefully before using gels, he said. Did you know they actually suck moisture from your stomach?
It was years since I’d been in a bike shop, and I was amazed at the mass of crap available for cyclists to buy. The shelves were piled high with glittering chrome whatsits and thingummies. Derailleurs, splined brackets, cranks and tapered chainsets… And such a smell of rubber. The experience was shining a light into some long-forgotten corner of my childhood, when I would haunt these places, buying cheap bits and pieces like puncture repair kits (which I’m delighted to see still come in those handy tins that usually end up filled with bent screws and roasted nuggets of cannabis), and salivating over real racing bikes and mysterious accessories and their wondrous price tags. There’s even more of this junk around these days.
If you’re running or cycling long, you need to ensure you have a constant supply of fluid. Water will do, but some kind of sports drink is preferable. However, if you really must use gels, stick to water. Before a long run, try to drink at least eighty five centilitres of water, or some kind of glucose solution. Much better than gels. Take plenty of liquid with you. You can’t always be certain of finding enough on the way…
Just shut up and give me a gel, I thought. Why are cyclists and golfers so obsessive? This guy was wearing some kind of obscene, fluorescent lycra uniform covered in slogans and go-faster brand names and initials. GT, Turbo, Avid, Laser… From his shoulder hung a cycle tyre, and he wore fingerless leather gloves, making him look like some sexual deviant on his way to a party. He droned on.
The trouble with gels, he was saying, is that they burn your stomach. Yes, they can damage the lining of your stomach if you don’t keep those fluid levels topped up. Make sure you examine your urine regularly…
This was taking the piss. “I’ve changed my mind”, I told him. He looked pleased. You don’t want a gel? “No”, I said. “I want three. Make it four. You’ve convinced me.”
