In the zone

On Saturday I went to watch the Boys row at Runcorn Eights Head, a grueller of a 6Km Head Race. It brought back 'fond' memories of last years 4.5Km cat and mouse with Liverpool Uni. It was my first time back around boats and I must admit there was a small part of me that wondered if it would rekindle that quiet rowing fire that we oars people all have inside us.

But no, it was lovely to be back in that environment. Especially without the pressure of racing. In fact, you could sum it up as - I came, I watched, I ate cake (and met @alisonsculler who was doing a stellar job of herding the rowing cats).

Afterwards one of the Vets came over and in the course of the conversation found out I was running.

"What are you running?" he asked. "I assume middle distance, as you're not built for a marathon..."

and breathe....

During the course of the next couple of minutes, I found out that apparently I'm not a proper runner as I'm not doing a 1:18 half-marathon. *Sigh* Madness.
I can imagine what ‘you’ve just thought about that. Probably the same thoughts I had.
 I think the truth of it is, the person in question is so used to competition and beating other people. That’s his sole focus. Sad but true. Anyway, as you can imagine that conversation left me thrilled.

Over the next couple of days I have proved that I am VERY much a runner. Better than that, I'm a Squad Runner, part of an amazing team of Penny Lane Striders.

Sunday, was going to be a 15 miler.

After the events of Saturday, a very angry, probably slow and frustrating 15 miler. But I was persuaded to go on an early-doors LSR (7.30am eek). Turned out to the be the best decision of the week. The roads were quiet and the morning beautiful. For the first few miles we were carried along on waves of laughter and it made me realise how beneficial it can be running with a group. After about 6 miles, the work properly kicked in, the pace went from 8:00s creeping down till we were doing 7:20s. The chat got less, but the work was being put down. That wonderful glide of miles passing by, with the rhythm of your feet and breath for company.

It's one of the things I love most about my squad, when the work is being put in, there's silence. The wonderful silence that comes with graft. A deep understanding that everyone is working their hardest and fighting their own personal battle with te pavement.

In the end I clocked just over 13.5 miles, a lot faster then planned but a real confidence boost for the Liverpool Half. If I can do that in training, the previously distant goal I had set myself doesn't seem quite so far away.

I'm back in the zone, focused on the race coming on March 18th. The running zone is a great place to be - I've got all my squad with me, and we will win - each person their own personal race.

Beginnings

AKA why I blame Mike McCann for everything...

I admit it, for the majority of my life I've avoided sport at all costs. I couldn’t see the point in it, the people I associated with it were generally very fit, and as I was carrying more than a bit of fighting weight, it wasn’t something that I was going to have any aptitude at it. The longer I held this opinion, the more it was re-enforced in my head.

TubbyMitch

But this all changed in July 2007 when I signed up for British Military Fitness classes in Sefton Park, Liverpool. I was bored with hating the way I looked, sick of wasting the money of a gym membership I wasn’t really using and thought this might be the change I needed. I was right.  

Having a class three times a week of focused exercise meant that you were never more than a couple of days away from the next session, keeping you on your toes. As you got fitter and the number of press-ups and burpees you could do increased, you strived to achieve more. I started in the beginner “Blues”, but after three sessions, one of instructors said “I don’t want to see you in the blues next session; you should be in the Reds”. *Gulp*, but I gave it a go and still enjoyed it. 

The first of the monthly fitness tests came round in the October, a 1.5Km run followed by various sprints and exercises. We were to do the run first. You could hear my knees knocking together if you stood next to me at the start. GO! And off we went. After 500m I was in about third or fourth place, wanting to cough my lungs up. All of a sudden I heard “Mitch, stop coasting. Get a move on”. 

It sounds overly emotional now, but it felt like the first time anyone had ever believed in me when it came to sport. It was like a rocket and I went for it. A few hundred metres on I just about heard some shouts of encouragement from BMFers not doing the fitness test over the blood pounding in my ears. Quite a few of the faster people were missing that day, but as I turned the last corner I realised I was going to come home first. 

It’s a feeling that I struggle to describe even today. When things aren’t going to plan, or a session seems too hard, I try to remember that feeling and things don’t seem so bad. I crossed the line and was unable to speak for about 5 minutes, the burn in my lungs so great I thought I was going to pass out. In the grand scheme of things, the time wasn’t that fast, but I had done it. Turning that last corner was the beginning of my sporting adventure, a journey I’m still on to this day.

Green, Mean & Keen

But another important thing came out of BMF. Over the coming months I formed friendships with an amazing group of people, one where it didn’t matter how big or small you were, how fast or slow you were. The mutual support and encouragement that flowed around the group was infectious and something that I strive to recreate wherever I go.  We grew together and achieved ever greater things. There’s Ironmen, Rowers, Boxers, Personal Trainers, Footballers, Marathon Runners and Ultra-Runners created from these small beginnings.

Don’t ever tell someone they cannot do something. If you do, expect to be surprised when they prove you wrong.

Race Report - Mad Dog 10K

It was a murky, grey Sunday morning that greeted us at the start of the Mad Dog 10k in Southport. Luckily the ice had gone and the temperatures were vaguely pleasant, although I have to admit to wearing a Skinz layer under my running vest.

I found myself near the front at the start, surrounded my athletic-looking people looking like they were gunning for fast times. Usually, I develop a comprehensive race plan before events, planning it out almost step by step, but not this time.  My head was remarkably clear, serene almost. It may have been the David Gray playing on the speaker system, but rarely have I felt so calm on the start line.

This being the Mad Dog 10K, the race was started with a Howl. Garmin's were beeped and off we went a the usual blistering pace one finds at hte start of a race. I looked down at my watch, 6:00/mile pace, hmmm that's not going to last. After about 800m I settled down into some sort of pace, 6:30s seemed to be coming relatively easily so I kept it there. Ordinarily, I'd be panicking that this was too fast and I should be doing 7:00. However, after the last blog post I decided to take the bull by the horns and go with what felt comfortable.

The Ks soon started ticking off. The course is a big, flat loop on the seafront, circling the Marine Lake and the site of the old Pleasureland funfair (Now sadly gone, many a happy Saturday was spent there as a child). Nothing too much of note seemed to be happening, a couple of runners past me but they generally settled about 30m in front and didn't power off.Feeling good.

At the halfway point, the course turns you round and starts heading back. I looked down at my Garmin at 5Km, and there was the time 20:21. *Fuck, I've PB'd 5K* I thought to myself. I'll come clean, I panicked slightly. The water stand loomed into view, I thought about taking a drink but decided against it and I just...stopped. 

It came out of the blue, my brain just told my body "nice little stop is what you need right now, it wont hurt", and suddenly I was walking. Luckily a guy behind me (a personal trainer) shouted "Don't stop, Get moving!" This was just what I needed as I got moving again, annoyed with myself. I trailed this guy for about a kilometre, building enough momentum to pass him and keep going. At 8km that feeling started again and I started slowing down. "Don't you dare" I heard behind me. It was the shot in the arm, but I was beginning to think things were falling apart. I've done a marathon for god's sake, and here I am stopping in a 10k! The last 2k were torture, but mentally not physically. My legs were saying "we're fine, carry on", by head was saying "WILL THIS NEVER END!" This was different for me. Normally, its the other way round. 

Thankfully, someone came alongside me from Royton Road Runners. Barely a word was spoken between us but he guided me in to the finish. He kept me calm and at a constant pace. I had been hoping to break 43 minutes, but now this was in tatters. I came round the final bend, intent on going for the line with everything I had. 

And then it was over. I doubled over, grabbing air back in my lungs, thinking I'm never doing that again. and then I looked at my watch.

41:33

I did a double take. Had the watch stopped on the way round? Then I saw the distance logged as 6.25 miles.

Given that my previous 10k PB was 46:31 (set in 2009), it came as somewhat of a (wonderful) shock.

Of course, there was a lot to learn from the day, I wouldn't have had the same race hadn't I been helped round by other runners (something I love about running). However, going out of my comfort zone had worked and it can only get better from here.

We're not in Kansas anymore

The left foot hits the pavement and a jolt travels up through your body and lodges itself in your head. Internal checks reveal that you are just about fine. The right foot then follows the left and on you go, except that every step feels like it might be your last. Gone is the vision of yourself as a super fit runner, fearlessly negotiating parks and pavements like they are your own territory. The 'King of the Road' had been replaced with a heaving, creaking, sweaty panting mess who is desperately trying to keep up with the person in front.

We’re not in Kansas any more Toto. We are firmly out of THE COMFORT ZONE.

One of the big lessons learnt whilst rowing was that however much you push yourself, usually there is that little bit more you are able to  get out of yourself -That extra stroke, the extra reach at the catch, the powerful send at the finish. If the seven other people in the boat give that bit extra at the same time it can make the difference between victory and defeat. You learn to inhabit 'the dark place' that is giving everything you’ve got. It wasn’t until I learnt that it was not something to be afraid of that achieved a long held ambition of breaking 7 minutes for the 2k Erg Test.

Running has always tended to be a different beast for me. You tend to pretty much always know your limits. You have speeds that you keep as reference points for different race lengths. As you build more mileage into your legs, these speeds may get quicker, but the change tends to be a drift rather than a step-change.

The fact that these limits have got quicker over the years meant that I’ve never been that hungry to push on for that step change. Indeed, it can seem unneccessary as one of the things I love about running is that you’re always conscious of how far you’ve come since those first shuffly steps.

But Thursday was different. An unexpected 8 mile tempo run that really pushed you into ‘the dark place’. And you know what? After I’d stopped beating myself up, calmed down, got home and sat in the bath, I realised how good it had been for me.

I’m a creature of habit, and if I can do the same thing, building up a routine, I'll love it. So someone else doing something unannounced that I don’t necessarily agree with, is going to cause consternation in my head. 

I think, as you get tired, you tend to warp your sense of reality.

“Everyone else is sailing along. How can they be chatting when my lungs are trying to come up through my throat? Everyone else is finding it an easy gentle bloody jog!”

Rubbish of course. Well maybe not completely, but I went to run with people who are faster than me and so I reap what I sow. Maybe I need to visit ‘the dark place’ more often - I think I’ll find that it’s actually filled with light. The Light of Progress and possibly that step-change that can seem so elusive at times.

I often joke that people should #gohardorgohome but actually I’m not a fan of leaving my comfort zone a lot of the time. 

That changes from now on.

I’m not claiming I’m going to change the world, but I am going to buy a one way ticket out of THE COMFORT ZONE more often.

The Trial of Miles

You may ask where the name of this blog comes from. Some may already know. It comes from a book I have read recently called “Once a Runner by John L Parker. It is billed as one of the best books ever written about running. It’s an inspirational read and I advise all to read it, irrespective of your chosen sport.

For all the speed, effort and anguish that may be experienced on race day, it is nothing compared to the amount of effort it takes to get you to the start line in competitive form. As a comparison, the London Marathon course may be 26.2 miles long, but that seems like a final sprint to the line when viewed through the lens of over 500 training miles to get there. This is true of pretty much all sport. It is the amount of effective preparation beforehand that will generally be an indicator of success when it comes to racing (Rowers look away now and bite your fist).

Of course, the Miles aren’t just those under foot, wheel or through the water. The Miles and also in your head and affect all those around you. Indeed, partners and families can undergo the Trial of Miles without seeking involvement. Putting up with endless hours of training, injuries, missed mid racing-season holidays, Saturday afternoon sofa-bound exhaustion, and the endless repetitive training-related chatter that comes with competitive sport.

Steve puts up with a lot.

Of course, this situation is made easier in some respects if both people in a partnership are involved in a sport. Each will be undergoing their own “Trial of Miles” and there is a lot of be said for the mutual support this can bring. However, for those who fly solo with their passion, the extra Trial one must face is the nagging feeling that you’re affecting the lives of all those around you, by doing what you love. That and boring the ass off everyone around when you talk about another 2k Erg test or 6 mile tempo run.

I may be the one holding the medal, but I didn’t run the London Marathon alone. We both did the Miles.

My name is Mitch...and I'm a recovering rower...

Before

It wasn't an easy decision to stop rowing. When you become involved in team sport, often its the team that carries you along. You suffer the ups and and the downs together, taking solace in the fact that there are others going through the same emotions as you. When someone leaves it feels like the end of a relationship, often with the same "It's not you, it's me" conversations.

In my case I have to admit that it was rowing that was the problem, a sport that demands so much and delivers so little. I remember watching Hugh Laurie on an American chat show describing rowing as "a miserable sport". It tolled a bell in my head because of course he is correct. For every second of joy experienced, there are hours of frustration and pain.

It's still the Sport of Kings (and Queens..more later). 

But this blog isn't here to talk about my rowing days (although they may pop up from time to time). I'm here to discuss there most venerable of past times. Running. AKA the art of putting one foot in front of the other and repeating ad infinitum, at speed. Not quite sure where this blog will go, may end up the ravings of a mad man. Only time will tell.

So about me.

After

I'm 30 years old, live in Liverpool with my partner Steve.

I'm an Electrical Engineer, Cook and running is a big part of my life.

The club I run for is Penny Lane Striders.

My Current PB's are:

5Km: 20:37 (PLS Lamplight 5K 2011)

10Km:  tbc 19th Feb

HM: 01:36:33 (Helsby Half 2012)

Marathon: 03:59:12 (London 2010)

I've done a load of other races as well, as my running career sandwiches my rowing one.

My current goals are:

5k: Sub 20

10: Sub 43

HM: Sub 90

M : Sub 3:30