Mission Creep

The biggest problem with running a marathon is that, it’s not just running a marathon. In an ideal world, you could rock up on the day, bang out your 26.2 miles and then retire to a local establishment for liquid refreshment and scones and back-slaps all round.

For the seasoned club runner, most other distances up to a half tend to be just like that, made all the sweeter by a new PB or scalp taken. But the marathon is a different beast. The training is long and arduous, and will affect all other parts of your life. The sheer amount of time spent training can reduce your social life to a mere trickle. I’m currently on 60 mile weeks (although I don’t train by mileage) and  although I love every minute of it, there isn’t a lot of time to do much else, maybe get a massage. We all know that recovery is just as important as the runs, so it’s unlikely we would finish a morning track session then decide to scale Moel Famau in the afternoon with friends.

Even that bastion of conviviality, the pub, is approached with trepidation due to the impending Long Run the following day. It lifted my heart somewhat last night, when I arrived at Penny Lane Wine Bar last night to find that I wasn’t the only one on the Lime and Sodas. The temptation for beer was great, but I held out, sensibly taking the car so I couldn’t partake in the alcoholic beverages.

Then, after the work has been done, the aftermath can be just as brutal. It can be difficult to do a twenty mile run with race pace sections without feeling like a total zombie for the rest of the day. The sofa is usually the furthest I get on a Sunday afternoon.

Of course, the rest of the household also has to suffer along with the runner as well. The mixture of selfishness, focus and bloody-mindedness brought on by marathon training can be a toxic combination.

I’ll admit I’m struggling on this at the minute. Of course I want to spend time with Steve as I’m out on the roads so much, but I also want to socialise with my squad-mates as they’re going though exactly the same as I am and there’s solace in the sharing of an ordeal. Understandably, my beloved wouldn’t be massively keen on spending an entire evening with a load of runners talking shop.

I’m afraid I haven’t got an answer for this one…

8 Weeks To Go…

Trackside

I realise that this will be the biggest jinx ever, but I’ve had an excellent weeks training so far. Everything has gone to plan and I’ve not had any troubles from my dodgy Achilles *touches wood*. I’ve felt it fleetingly on runs, but I came to the conclusion that it was mostly psychosomatic and if I didn’t let it bother me, it wouldn’t.

Saturday’s session called for some threshold running and some 400m repeats. That sounded like track work to me, so I took the plunge and went for my second ever session training at Wavertree track.

The scene of this morning's crimes against running

 

 A club mate had said he would join me, which I was glad of, especially so as when I arrived Liverpool Harriers people were training. D’oh! I’d completely not thought that they might be there. The coach Tony and James C, who came up to Ribble Valley with me, and a few others. Of course, we each let each other to do our own thing, but I half expected someone to shout across the track “What are you doing Hawkins, that technique is shocking!” In some ways, it was good actually, as when I heard Tony shouting instructions to his runners, they acted as pointers for me – things like relaxation and making it feel easy. 

Myself and Deano found ourselves using Lane 7 & 8 – the session was relentless, after 6 minutes of threshold there were two sets of 6x400m at 5K pace with 60s recovery. And they just kept coming. I worked as smartly as I could, staying relatively relaxed. I find 5K pace strange on a track, as when I review my times, it’s always faster than my 5K times! Deano (an amazing runner) was just starting back from some time-out/injury and so made a graceful exit after putting down some work and I carried on. 

When dealing with multiple reps like that, I find you just have to break it down into its simplest components. I think the things I am learning in races are starting to trickle through and shape how I approach my training. I’m finding that I’m becoming much more focused in my running. Nothing else outside matters, other than the Rep I’m currently doing. If you can block everything else out, it means less to worry about and more focus on the work. The fact that others were running round the track at a much faster speed than me didn’t matter, they were doing a different session to me.  I even found a little mantra for myself as I was going round “make it easy for yourself, so it’s hard for everyone else” Little phrases like that really help my relaxation.

Eventually it was all over (after a second lot of Threshold running). Including warm ups/downs/recovery jogs it was 8 miles of track work – a good day at the office in anyone’s book. I was so pleased I’d chosen the track, its great to mix up the types of training. As much as I enjoy my usual routes, I need to get out of my comfort zone and there is nothing more honest than the track.

If you’ve never used a track before, give it a go. I think you’ll be surprised about how much you enjoy it.

Now just 2 ½ hours to do tomorrow….

Race Report - Mad Dog 10K

Chip Time 40:44, Position 101

I Came, I Ran, I Ran Some More.

This race report finds me in rather a contemplative mood after the race yesterday.

Build up wasn’t the best. Legs were properly done in after last weekend, so I trooped into Ian’s office and emerged not actually being able to walk properly. It’s for my own good, that what I kept telling myself. No running for a few days recovery. 

Surprisingly, Steve came along for the day. It is useful to have someone with you, even if you are aware their main highlight is the 15 or so seconds they see you actually racing, and the rest of the time is spent getting progressively colder standing about. When he found out I had a space in the elite car-park, his first words were “How did you get in here?” Nice, although I took it with the humour that was intended. Mad Dog very kindly separated the sub-40 (yes I know the time above – more later) so they don’t get too held up at the start. It is an impressively well organised race. There was a 30 min delay for the start, but as there was a sports hall to stand in, not really a problem.

After the debacle at Ribble Valley, I made sure I toileted early and got a proper warm-up. Ran some of the course, noting that the wind might be tough on the way back and got some strides in. It actually felt good to be racing. My Achilles wasn’t hurting and I was well rested during the week. In hindsight maybe too rested as I’d only managed to get out on the Thursday after Ian’s Pain-fest Physio Session on Monday night. I was as ready as I was going to be.

 I knew that if I held Threshold Pace I would be on about the 40 minute mark. The race started and off we all went. As in Bristol, I locked into myself, trying to ignore the people around me. We turned onto the coast road and I knew it was a good 2 ½ miles to the turning point. There was lots of too-ing and fro-ing about me. The pace had been quite quick off the start but I wasn’t going to take notice until my Garmin clocked the first mile split. *beep* “6:09 ” Hmm that’s a bit fast. I knew I would need to relax and get into the flow so I gave myself a full body check (Achilles wasn’t hurting) and relaxed into the race. There was a variety of music on the course which was really good, the drummers especially. Mile 2 *beep* “6:26” Now that was spot on and I felt a huge relief. I was feeling really good, working yet relaxed at the same time. If someone overtook me, good luck to them, I wasn’t going to get in the habit of running their race.

The turning point came and into the wind we went. It was a bit of a shock, but I knew the effort level was going to increase. I was determined not to look at the mile 3 split, as that would b e a rough 5k time. I remembered last year, when I 5K PBd in the race and panic knocked me for 6. (post race update -.hmm, was around current 5k PB pace)

What happened next can only be described as a minor in-race fuckup. We approached the water station where they were holding out bottles of water. I grabbed one to douse myself, only the particular one the marshal had given me still had its top on. I’m not going to rant because these things happen, but it then took a few seconds of fucking about to get the top off and get back on the race. The advertised bottle collectors didn’t seem to be there either. I didn’t want to just chuck a bottle all over the nice promenade and eventually found a bin to sling it in (and missed, but I wasn’t going to go back for it)

For the next mile or so I was conscious that a runner next to me was trying to race me, although you could tell from her breathing that she was working very hard, also a pack of Runners from Royston came steaming through. In hindsight, I should have got on their tail and went with them, but my whole philosophy of the day was “Don’t do anything silly” so I stuck to what I was doing.

I kept this control right to the end, although turning into the final straight, the wind was brutal! A club mate Steve Mc had been sitting behind me and used that moment to pounce and drive past me. I tried to respond, but the wind was knocking stuffing out of me. I hung on for grim death to the finish. 

Initially gutted at the time, I was sure it was going to be my sub-40 race, although that feeling past very quickly.

Actually, I did everything I could that day and raced as well as I could. Without trying to make up a list of excuses, its been a tough few weeks and I couldn’t have done anything else. I actually really enjoyed it and learnt a hell of a lot. As I’ve said my aim was to keep everything under control, not go mad like at Wesham and not run someone else’s race as at Ribble Valley. In that respect, as I kept everything under firm control, to get within 3 seconds of my PB is a bit of a coup. Was also able to do a good hour’s steady run afterwards with a negative split on the out-and-back.

Maybe in future, I need to let loose a little madness in the shorter races and go for the kill in the second half. I now know I can run a steady, controlled 40min 10K and I’ve sniffed blood. 

You’re now looking at one Mad Dog.

Woof *snarl*

True Colours

I’m a rather avid listener to the parkrun show, the weekly podcast rounding up of all things to do with parkrun. The whole ethos of parkrun is brilliant, a weekly free timed 5k run (not race, I’ll get told off) that allows you test any gains you make in top end speed.

Over the last few weeks, one of the hosts ‘King’ Danny Norman has mentioned the fact that he has changed Running Clubs and it got me thinking about my own changing allegiances over the last few years. I consider myself very lucky to have been a member of a number of different clubs. Both in Rowing and Running, the colour of your vest or All-in-One means a lot to the athlete and the decision to change those colours is NEVER easily made.

Leaving a club is effectively saying to your close friends and training buddies “It’s not you, it’s me...I’m in love with someone else. There can be a variety of reasons for that change – location, quality of training, size of club, boredom, frustration, better opportunities the list is endless, and unique to each person involved. Of course people ask you to stay, but an unmotivated and possibly frustrated team-mate is rarely the most effective team-member. It can be hard for all concerned at the time, but all usually come out of the situation stronger in the long term.

The process of changing Rowing Clubs is far, far easier than in Running. A quick click on the British Rowing Website, and your First Claim Club name changes in a second, albeit with a wait until your Racing Licence Renewal for the name to be expunged off the back.

With Running, you have to get signed confirmation from both your old and new clubs that they have no objections to your move, along with a cheque for £10 to England Athletics, who then have a committee who sites periodically to decide on approved moves. In practice, I doubt they hardly ever refuse, but it does some rather archaic!

Ironically, the emotional stress of changing Rowing Clubs far outstrips that of Running.

The first time I raced in a Penny Lane Vest, I’d been a member for a couple of months. I was nervous taking my top off in front of old club mates, knowing that some ribbing was likely. There was a little frostiness at first (maybe I was oversensitive to it), but that lasted precisely one race and now we all cheer each other on at races with equal gusto. A great reflection on the Liverpool Running scene.

Maybe because I didn’t have a corresponding break between clubs, replacing the Black and White of Mersey RC for the Blue and Gold of GRC was much harder. I remember vividly sitting in a Grosvenor boat for the first time and hearing “Come on Grosvenor” and it just felt weird. I suppose at that point, mentally I was still with Mersey and it took a couple of months to get used to the new way of things. Probably as soon as Colin turned up...

The times we raced against Mersey were horrid, one of my few rowing regrets in that year was that it seemed to become about GRC vs MRC. I admit I probably should have been more forceful in not letting that happen., but still, we got some good races out of it...  and a medal or two *invokes Hammersmith clause*

Both clubs have flourished, as have I. All the people I’ve met along the way, all the knocks and disappointments, have helped me grow in confidence and get better at getting better. I never would have had the confidence to get a running coach and be where I am now without them.

So if you cut me open, what colours would you see?

The answer is all of them, as LRC, Mersey, Grosvenor and Penny Lane have all made me the athlete I am today.