2012 In Review

Review

Around this time of year, people often look back over the previous twelve months and try to come up with some concluding remarks about how it has all gone.

This time last year I was in a very different place to what I am now, with a different job, different training...hell a different sport with which to fill up my time. It was Christmastime last year when I finally decided that I’d done enough rowing. There was nothing really new that the sport could show me and the ups-and-downs over the previous couple of years had left me drained and a bit empty. As I think I’ve already mentioned on this blog, I was getting weary of saying “oh yes I’ve done this race … times”. It was nice that people seemed to seek or respect my opinion on things, but it was time to move on.

So what has 2012 brought to the table? Here are my running highlights from 2012

January

“That” Dingle Dash – Probably the first time I’d properly be pushed out of my comfort zone on a run. It was a scary place and I didn’t like it. However, it did me the world of good #BlameDave

February

Mad Dog – Finding I was nearly 5 minutes faster over 10k and suddenly having my eyes opened up to what was possible with the right training.

March

Northern Road Relay Championships – My first experience of a ‘club’ i.e. non-funrunner event. Wow, the speed those guys were travelling only made me want to work and train harder. The cheers I got from the PLS gang as well made me feel like a ‘proper’ member of the club.

April

The start of the revolution - Getting in contact with Nick Anderson at RunningWithUs. I had no idea what I was letting myself in for, but I knew that with the right training I could really push on. It’s been hard but I’ve loved every minute of it.

May

Finally made the Bushy Parkrun pilgrimage. It may have been a 120 mile round trip, but 800+ parkrunners was a sight to behold. Great course as well. First time racing went well and I started to believe in myself.

June

Welsh Castles Relay – Another great racing experience. Didn’t have a clue how to race it but just went with it and enjoyed the flow. I pounded my chest an gripped my vest over the finish line. Not through pain or an affectation, just pure pride for my club that between us we’d made it the whole way. That was a special moment. Then I coughed my lungs up.

July

Sub-20 5K and Thunder Run – TeamPLS on tour again. Up hill and down dale, though the night and the heat of the sun. Can’t wait for TR24 2013 – These guys are going to be ANIMALS

August

It has to be THAT Saturday - the most special day of my life so far. The Olympics were brilliant from beginning to end but words still fail me when I try and describe the buzz I had in the Olympic Stadium.

September

To many things to mention this month – 10^th Place at the PARAs10 race, the wonderful training camp in Portugal or the stonking race at Bristol Half. Great month.

October

Nice month spent recovering from September, no to mention the appearance of the Lark Lane Wrong’uns

November

New 5K PB at the Lamplight and a VLM place for 2013. Also a 10K PB at Wesham and the realisation I can go sub-40 in the right race.

December

Meeting up with the GRC boys and realising that even though we don’t have a boat, we're still a crew. Christmas Day running and a chance to reflect on the year, over 1800 miles ran, 30 races/parkruns entered and a big smile on my face.

It’s true that the best bits of this year have been done with other people. One of my greatest realisations has been that I’m not making this journey alone. There is, and always have been, a group of people at my side giving support and encouragement (and the occasional butt-kick when needed).

I am very, very lucky to have met some very inspiring people on the way. This blog post would ramble even more if I listed them all but special mentions for:

PLS Squad – For kicking my butt and starting it all off

Simon Freeman – Without knowing it, helping me realise I can make a go of this.

Nick and the RWU Crew – Daily inspiration and perspiration.

And of course the most important of all

Steve – Providing wind beneath my wings and a place to land when I occasionally fall. I couldn’t do any of this without his wisdom and encouragement.

Happy New Year Folks, London’s Calling…

Race Report – Ribble Valley 10K

This race report may be a bit of a strange one. It needs a bit of a long preamble, then there’s not much to say about the race itself – we’ll give it a go anyway.

The last couple of weeks of training have been eye-opening in the sense that I realised a number of things I am getting right, and what I am getting wrong.

 

1. Nick is not a mind reader (although he may be omnipresent)

I’d casually mentioned about the Ribble 10K to Nick, who was supportive as ever, but hadn’t confirmed it. So, when the plan came through and it wasn’t there, I should have contacted him to ask for advice on alterations. Did I? NO *faceplant* “oh, he’ll be busy before Xmas” “I can work it out” For HeavensSake Hawkins, that’s what you’ve got a coach for! The importance of a two-way relationship has really hit home.

2. Running 3 long runs, eating like a Horse and trying an intervals session is not a good idea in Race Week.

Nick had given me a pretty tasty week of training to be fair, lots of UT2/CV work with some sharpening work on Thursday. I’d been really happy with how the runs had gone (even got out on Xmas day for an hour), and had kept properly hydrated through the week. Although was feeling a bit of indigestion post-Christmas. I got to Thursday and was due to do some intervals “Great, sharpening up before Sunday” I thought. On the warmup run down to where I ha planned to do them, my chest felt really tight and it was like a ball of something was stuck in my chest. I carried on thinking it might be just wind. The first effort was 6 mins an I got round, but on the second effort I thought I was going to have a heart attack, it was a horrible feeling. I stopped and assessed how I was feeling. Not good was the answer.  After a decent rest, I started to jog the 1.5 miles back to the car. About halfway back I felt my right Achilles ping sharply. “Oh shit”. I tried a little stretching and walked for about 800m. I was nearly back at the car and gingerly tried to run on it. I could, but it was slightly sore. I put it down to overuse over the previous few days and not enough stretching.

Friday and Saturday were spent getting as much rest as possible, I could feel it going up and down stairs and also when driving. But it was slowly getting better. Saturday evening was crunch time, I had to decide whether to race or not. I decided to see how the warm up went and give it a go. I’d promised to run with Martin and didn’t want to let him down.

 

3. Weather can be a big factor of race day.

It was cold, it was wet and the wind was atrocious. Possibly good for experience racing in conditions like that but not pleasant at the time. No Steve meant I had no warm top on the start line and was shivering away in my vest – although could have been worse…

4. Pre Race Toilet Stops are of vital importance.

If you think you may need to go, join the queue anyway just in case. There ended up being a 25 min wait for the 7 toilets (No urinals) for the 1500-odd runners. This meant I didn’t have enough time for a proper warm-up bfore the race and had to de-kit and sprint to the start to avoid missing it.

5. If you do run with someone else, make sure you both know the plan and have compatible running styles.

I’d agreed to run with Martin as we were both aiming for sub-40. We found each other at the start and set off. After the first 1-2Km we were still pretty close, I’d gone just a little in front, but made sure I could still see Martin behind or to the side of me. After 3Km he went in front and stayed there, then started pulling away. We hadn’t actually discussed what would be the protocol in that situation. This wasn’t helped by being slightly weary of my Achilles – highlighting the importance f being ‘race fit’ or at least ‘fit to race’

It’s my own fault for not having that conversation. Well done to Martin though crossing the line in 39:57, a well judged race.

Looking back at the Garmin Stats, the first two miles were my slowest – I was too busy worrying about others and not concentrating on my own race. I naturally push on early on. I realise now that’s a style that works for me and I need to be using my strengths in every race.

6. You can often tell how good a race you are having by your positioning in the last 2K

Are you passing vests in the last 2K or are people coming past you? It will tell you a lot about how you’ve raced the whole race. I found my last kick for the uphill and crossed the line in 40:48.

Not a PB and certainly not sub-40, but on the whole a lot better raced than at Wesham (and only 7 secs slower in those shitty, hilly conditions).

Once London is out of the way I’m looking forward to 5K and 10K work. I used to be fearful of them, but actually I quite like the pace and the fact you are actually racing them. I love the little tussles with people on the way.

Now the focus shifts to London, via Bath and Wilmslow.

2013 could be an interesting year.

Who Am I?

Who Am I?

I’m the guy with the Plan.

I’m the guy who’s got a goal and will do anything to achieve it.

I’m the guy wiping the snow from his eyes,

I’m the guy wringing his kit out from two hours in the rain.

I’m the alarm buzzing before six and the dogs barking at night,

I’m the seconds and minutes ticking by.

Who am I?

I’m the guy just in front of you on race day.

Whilst you were sat on your ass moaning about the rain, I was pounding the pavements.

I'm the guy getting stronger with each passing mile.

Whilst you were putting off that run, I was achieving my aims.

Who am I?

I’m the best runner that I can be.

What’s your excuse?

Freedom

The temperature had gone down like a *insert crude simile here*. Ice patches were forming on the pavements and the prospect of pounding the streets for an hour was about a welcome as broken wind in a lift.

 

Due to some last minute faffery, I’d done my intervals scheduled for that night the previous day. This meant I was due an ‘easy’ run with not a lot of excitement in prospect. Like most runners, I’ve got certain routes that I know are going to take me certain amounts of time. There’s the 30 min Wavertree Circular, the jaunt round Sefton Park that takes 45 mins and the LSR route than I can vary between 90 mins and 2 hours. But all of these routes seemed a dull chore last night and I was having an internal argument with myself as to whether it was even worth going out.

“This is silly” I thought to myself. Why was I limiting myself to the same pavements and paths. Sometimes you just need to go out and run, anywhere. So I putting on my most comfortable trainers (Brooks Launch RIP), warmest jacket and classic Ronhill Tracksters (I know what a vision) and headed out onto the streets.

I’d had an idea to run through town, something I never normally do. The slight feeling of elation I got by carrying on across the Tunnel Road junction, instead of my usual left turn, was strange and somewhat unexpected.  I carried on into the night, making sure I was running at a level that was enough to keep me warm, but not enough to constitute any kind of hard effort.

As I descended the hill past the University, that rush of feeling of just running washed over me. I didn’t know where I was going to end up, or how I was going to get there, but the ride was lovely. Running past the people in town, still emerging from their offices at 6.30pm, it made me thankful of the job I’ve got. I love running through the city streets and as I approached the River and the Pier Head, I decided to forge another new path and turned left and headed out towards the marina before turning to climb the hill home.

After just under an hour, I was done, but more importantly I was satisfied. It wasn’t a run to win any Gold medals. it was just a run and it was great. We get so tied up in interval sessions, tempo runs, hill work that it’s easy to forget the joy of just putting one foot in front of the other.

Idiots Guide to Bad Weather Training

MAN THE FUCK UP ITS ONLY RAIN.


That is all.

Idiots Guide to XC

Just when you thought that they couldn’t possibly be any more space left for mud to attach itself to your body, another mud pie flies at your face from the spikes of the guy you are trying to overtake...

Yes, Cross-Country (XC) season is upon us. This is my maiden season of XC and I thought I’d put together a few tips that have helped me through the quagmire (literally) over the past few weeks.

1. Yes, you need spikes

The number of times I’ve spoken with runners after races who’ve confessed to being like Bambi on ice through most of the course as they weren’t wearing spikes. A decent pair of spikes are worth their weight in gold, and are often a lot cheaper than other running shoes.  Don’t put it off, get to the shop today...and buy 15mm spikes. They look lethal but you’ll thank me for it. On a related note...

2. Look after your spikes

Yes it’s a ball-ache, but clean your spikes after a race with stiff brush and water to remove all the excess crud and then pack the insides with newspaper and leave under a radiator for a few days. You get nice clean, dry, shiny shoes for every race and they will last longer than if you throw them in a kit bag only to emerge festering a week later.

3. Every race is different

Don’t worry if you have an absolute nightmare in your first race (I did!). Every course is different and will have different changes. Some are better for flat runners, some are better for mountain goats. But over the course of a season you’re bound to find at least one you really like...and added motivation to conquer the others next year!

4. Believe in your team

We don’t often get the chance to compete in team competitions. Everyone is there to look out for each other and make sure your club gets the higher placings. If you see someone trying to be ninja and overtake a club mate, warn them. Work together on the course to push each other on as all will benefit.

5.  When the going gets tough, dig in

XC can feel very different to road racing as the ground will sap the energy from your legs. Just remember, its doing the same to everyone else. Don’t give them the advantage by letting them pull away.  Use your spikes to get on your toes and dig in, you’ll be amazed at the difference it can make. There’s always a point on the last lap where everyone things “Will this never end!” so power on through it and go for glory.

6.  Starting Position is important

If you’re looking for a final placing in the top half of the field, don’t start too far back out of politeness Get Stuck in. Those in front of you will probably be going slower and will just become more obstacles to get round, making it harder to get that all important ticket with a low number on at the finish.

7.  Enjoy it!

Yes it’s tough, but every time you race you will be making yourself an better runner, and those spring/summer goals will be that bit more achievable. Thing about how much of a strength workout you are gaining and pushing your VO2Max to new highs.

Hope this helps - good luck in your racing and remember to race strong. XC is the shining example of

#GoHardOrGoHome!

Race Report - Lamplight 5k

Now this is incredibly tardy. This race occurred a week ago, but I’ve only just found the spare time to put finger to keyboard and type out my thoughts.

After the niggles and bad heads of the last few weeks, I was decidedly nervous starting this race. Every year, our club holds a 5K race along the promenade, a pancake flat 5K with only the wind providing an element of uncertainty about the conditions. It’s a fun event and a good chance to see how you’ve progressed over twelve months.

One fact was staring me plainly in the face - My best times this year had come from races where I was not racing against my squad mates. Okay, I’m a wuss, but I dislike racing against people I know. For some reason it knocks my head right off course. There was no getting away from that this time. The days leading up the race brought on that horrible feeling of slight nausea that comes with nerves.

The afternoon of the race, I decided that enough was enough. I was bored of feeling like this. Also there was a faint whiff of feeling ridiculous. I’m a grown man for god sake, indeed, MTFU was needed in spades. I tried to turn a negative into a positive. I thought about my good performances over the previous few months. Was there a common theme that I could use to my advantage that evening?

II realised there was, of the races I was most proud of, I’d internalised my race as much as possible, not letting the outside world affect what I was feeling. The best description of this would be to say that mentally I was running down a dark, narrow tunnel and the only thing I could hear was the mantra that would see me well through the race. My wobbles had come when I’d opened up to let the stimulation of the outside world affect my brain. I decided to give that another go.

I trundled down there early to get a decent warm up in. The wind was blowing such that it would be in my face during the second half, on the way back to the start. It was breezy, but not too strong. After some gentle and stead running, I did a few strides, but by that point people were gathering at the start and I felt a little self conscious.

People started jockeying for a good starting position, the promenade was narrow enough to have caused a significant problem if you found yourself behind too many slower runners. I was determined not to go off like a demon, remembering last year. I also wasn’t going to be looking at my watch, but new the mile markers would buss on my wrist.

We started the race and I quickly tried to find a good steady pace, I was completely focused internally and calming myself down with good thoughts. Getting angsty at this point would help no-one. I made a mental note of who was around me, but it was just that – a note – nothing to react over at this early stage.

As my watch buzzed the first mile, I notice that Dale, one of my squad mates was by me. He was obviously in control and was running well. The fact that he was reigning it in gave me confidence that I was on the right track. Neil came along side us and started chatting to Dale. “If you can talk you’re not working hard enough!” I thought to myself, still trying to stay in my zone. Neil did speak to me, but I only gave him a one word answer. I didn’t want to seem rude, but I was there to race and anything else was a distraction from that. Just before the turn there were group of about five of us, the front runners were starting to come back the other way. I didn’t count them so I had no idea whereabouts I was in the field.

As we turned, I knew the others were going to take turns drafting. At this point I was hanging in there just behind them, but it was becoming a struggle. I knew all the runners in that group were normally faster than me so if I could just keep close to them I was on for something around a PB. Nick’s advice of ‘chase the vest’ became ‘stay with the vest’ as I wasn’t getting any drafting benefit but was determined to keep with them.

We turned to head home and the wind hit me in the face. The group were probably about 10m in front and looking strong. It was starting to hurt now and the old internal monologue of “don’t you feel like stopping yet” started. It’s a voice that starts as a whisper and gets louder and louder as you get more tired. I was focusing in on what I’m good at and working hard. I noticed that the group, although in front were not pulling away so I needed to stick with them.

Fatigue always sends strange thoughts through your head, but I was mentally I was making a deal with myself. “You could slow now and have another of ‘those’ races or you can carry on and see what happens”. It was a deal that I was having to make every thirty seconds, but I was making the right choice every time. Another feeling that kept me on course was that I didn’t want anyone to pass me in the second half of the race, I couldn’t hear anyone behind me, but I thought to myself “There could be someone on your shoulder, keep going”. All these thoughts carried me through the second half of the race.

I’d picked out the point where I was going to drop the hammer when I’d done my warm up. The Red Cow gave me about 200m sprint for the finish. This point was now coming into view. When it gets to this stage, you think to yourself “oh stuff it, let’s empty the tank”. Up went my speed and I tried to make sure I was running with the best form I could. The group in front were now being reeled in, I didn’t realise at first but then I thought “I could take them here”. I kept my head up and dug in. Unfortunately, any chance of stealthily coming up on their shoulder was negated by the fact I was huffing and puffing like a steam train. They heard me coming up and reacted. About 5 of us sprinted for the line with the rest of the club at the finish cheering. What a great way to finish a race. We all crossed the line pretty much together and I knocked 22secs of my previous 5k PB with a 19:06.

To put that into perspective, when I did the same race last year, my time was 21:33. So that’s 2 and a half minutes quicker in 12 months!

Sub-19 is the new Sub-20!

It was a great evening’s racing and I managed to get the monkey off my back about racing people I know. Instead of being overly competitive, I think we all helped each other in that race and that was a nice feeling

Tales from The Red House

A few Months ago I posted my own little love letter to BMF. 

After Matt messaged me about a rowing term I'd forgotten about, and the impending celebration to end all celebrations, I thought it's time the rowing boys get a go. 

The following phrases may not mean a lot to anyone else, but for some they are priceless. 

This one is for you boys. All posted without further comment:


Finding Nemo

The Silent Assassin

Giving Stroke a BJ

NWS

Bow Ninja

Mini-Me

WOB

Eye of Sauron

#Hammersmith

#ToPutney

Rowing like an Amateur

Ginger Hunchback

J16 W2X Sponsored by....

IM1 M8+ Sponsored by......

Hello Boys

Little Brown Book

Chips for Balance

"revising"

Spack for 10

Awwoooooo

El-Gringo

GRO vs The Good Lord Himself

Row like you did before you met me

Awww Paresh

Hmm... I think I'll just walk away and hum "The Ride of the Valkyries" duh-du-du-duh-duh....

Shoe Review - Saucony Mirage 2

Shiny. Speedy.

My first pair of running shoes was a Gold pair of Saucony Paramounts. I loved those shoes. But when I changed from an over-pronator to a neutral strike, they were no longer an option. For the last few years I’ve been a faithful bedfellow to the Mizuno Wave Riders (even the seemingly universally despised 14s).

This summer I took the decision to get some ‘speedy’ shoes for interval training/tempo runs and went for the Brooks Launch. It’s been a great shoe, but I have to admit that the Saucony Kinvara 3s have been making me drool since their launch. Then I also found out they are about to discontinue the Brooks Launch. Now, I have become quite attached to my Brooks over the summer - even ran my PB in them at the Bristol HM, so I’m kind of loathed to move onto something else.

Whilst away in Portugal, Nick and Phoebe had extolled the virtues of a lower heel-to-toe drop, sparking my fire to get some Kinvaras after all. However, I’m conscious that it is probably not a good idea to go from a 10mm drop to a 4mm drop light shoe straight away. Phoebe had mentioned the Mirage’s and a bit more research when I got home showed they were pretty much the Kinvara with a bit more support.

Whilst browsing for some other shoes at Royles in Wilmslow (Great Shop) I noticed they had some Mirage 2s in. I tried to resist, failed, and duly walked out with a shopping back in hand. 

To say I was weary of the low drop would be an understatement, but I thought I’d try them out on a Monday run, nice and relaxed and not too far. I slipped them on and headed out into the night.

Well, it was love at first step. This is a damn fast, comfortable running shoe.

I found myself flying along without really realising it, gliding along without a care in the world. My feet felt light yet so well supported. The best analogy I can come up with is that it was like driving a Bentley – Speedy and Luxurious.

The construction of the shoe nudges you into thinking about your running. I noticed the placing of my foot a lot more than in a tradition shoe. I was also conscious of my mid-forefoot strike and worked to keep it up for the whole run.

I’ve now had a couple of runs in these bad boys, and I know I’m a fan. I can see me running some fast times with these on my feet. The Mirage 2 gest big thumbs up from me and I’ve brought a pair of Ride5s to see how they go for steady runs, but I’ve only had one run in them so far, so it is a bit early to comment.

It’s good to be back in Saucony.

Autumn Fog

It was the first XC meet of the season today, this was going to be a Race Report post, but to be honest it could be written as one word – Meh.

Race was okay, although really tough. It was almost impossible to settle into a pace and I paid for it on the last lap. Instead of all my solo running, I’ve managed to do a few of my sessions recently with the squad, so it’s hard when the guys you train with shoot off into the distance and there’s nothing you can do to claw it back.

Training and racing elsewhere has it’s benefits for those of a fragile ego. But running near your limits and reaching that bit high isn’t there to massage to one’s ego. It’s a bitter pill to swallow at times.

To be honest, I probably reaped what I had sown the night before as some of the squad had met up on Lark Lane for a few drinks. I’m not solely going to be blaming alcohol though, it’s a symptom of a mini-malaise I’ve found myself in since Bristol.

I think having the training camp followed by the race weekend made a bit of a crescendo and I’ve come down to Earth with a bit of a bump. This, mixed in with a VERY busy week in work didn’t set me up well for racing today. But what happens happens; you learn from it and move on.

If anything, today has given me a little kick up the backside that I need. I think I’ve been guilty of taking my eye off the prize – comforting myself that XC would solve everything. There’s a lot of background work as well though. I think my legs are missing the double days, and although the ‘key’ sessions of speedwork, hills and long runs have been going well, I’ve been lacking with the all important base work. The easy miles and recovery runs have either been run too fast or without the respect they deserve.

Also, my diet has gone to shit lately. My hydration levels have been dreadful and there’s a subtle difference between eating guilt-free and shoving any old crap down your gullet, thinking “it doesn’t matter I’m running 50 miles this week” – I’m putting crap in and getting crap out.

So at the risk of turning into one of the “Tomorrow People” I wrote about a few months ago, only I can change this and get back into the groove.

Next week’s XC race is going to go a lot better. Mark My Words.

Sabotage

I had a great long run yesterday, 2 hours of steady work split into 1 hour loops. I was running ‘easy’ but I was also conscious in the back of my head that 7:30 pace would make the maths very easy – 8mph. Glad to say I was pretty much spot on,  with the final total being 16.2 miles – a slight negative split. The last few miles were slightly harder work, but I didn’t look at my watch and so hadn’t realised that my speed had actually increased! 

However, the purpose of this post isn’t to talk about the run; it’s actually to talk about what I did after. By the evening I was feeling pretty grotty. My legs were aching and I’d lacked energy all day - a bit of autumn pruning in the garden had almost finished me off. Lying on the couch (admittedly glass of wine in hand) I realised that I’d actually sabotaged my own day. All the things that we are taught as runners on the necessity of good recovery had gone out of the window. The truth was that after returning from the run, we had headed over to a local cafe for a full English (“hey I’ve just done 16 miles, I deserve it” you say to yourself) followed by lots of sitting on the sofa, not hydrating properly and then tucking into the alcohol in the evening. It was a proper face-plant moment.

Artist's impression of the Crime Scene. This is what Lust looks like.

Now I’m not saying that we should all live like monks, but If I’d come back and taken the time to properly hydrate and rest, maybe loosen the legs with a massage/foam roller, wear loose & relaxed clothing instead of jeans, or put on my compression tights, I probably would have felt a lot better instead of grumping round the house like a bear with a sore head. It’s the little things we do to ourselves which often make the difference between success and failure.

We all fall off the wagon occasionally, but we have to accept that sometimes we actually throw ourselves off, under the wheels and let the horses trample over us. 

Then we get up and wonder why it hurts.

One Year On

It was almost exactly a year ago that I stood with Steve and watched the multitudes complete the Liverpool Marathon. I’d been out of the running world for a couple of years, but had been following the training of a few people I knew – most notably my cousins Karen and Jamie and a friend from school, Jay. Their commitment to training had been nothing short of inspirational, and I was keen to cheer them on.

As we were waiting by the entrance to Sefton Park, the runners started coming through. The leaders glided by with seemly little effort and the faster club runners powered by on their way to medal-dom and glory. As successive waves of runners passed by the effort levels on people’s faces increased bit-by-bit. My over riding feeling watching the runners go by was that of admiration. As you may know, it’s no small decision to run a marathon, much less to train through the hot summer for one. It least the chilly mornings of winter training can provide welcome cooling on long runs, the thought to a punishing sun on a 20-miler makes me wince. 

Amongst the endless mass of running vests passing by, the blue and white hoops of Liverpool Running Club flashed by and it was good to see so many old team mates from my former running days. As they passed by quite a few of them shouted “whay aren’t you doing this?!?”. They had a point, but I was far too into my rowing to have any time to marathon training. A sixty mile commute to Chester doesn’t mix well with pounding the pavements.

My running had been slightly resurrected with a nice Saturday morning jog with Mike after Saturday Morning training. If I was honest with myself, I was starting to enjoy those runs more than I was enjoying the boatwork. My time as a rower was starting to seem like a Moby Dick-style quest for Novice glory. It seemed crazy to be saying to others “yeah, this is my third Dee head”. Suppose it may be impatience, but I was starting to think “what’s it all for?”

So back to the Marathon

The black and white kit of Penny Lane Striders was instantly recognisable. I’d known a couple of members (ex-BMFers) and was always impressed at their showing at local races. Watching them all sail by, the thought flashed across my mind “Why not give running another go?”

In my mind, Rowing was a lot of toil and heartache for flashes of good technique, whereas running meant just getting out and freedom. I’ve since realised the erroneous nature of this view, but that’s a post for another time.

This thought wouldn’t go away and watching more and more runners go by it only pounded stronger in my head. As we left to go home I realised that a seed had been planted in my head and it wasn’t going to go away. I found myself very quiet for the rest of the day.

The following Tuesday was my first session with PLS. You know the rest…

Race Report - Bristol HM

Ship Shape and Bristol Fashion

Well it seems the summer is finally over for me. The running of the Bristol Half Marathon at the weekend marked the end of an extraordinary couple of weeks in which I challenged myself more than I ever thought possible, and I don’t just mean the time on my legs.

Bristol is the first time in a long while that I’ve been focused on a particular race. It wasn’t a stressful as it could have been, but when you’re telling people you’re looking to do about 1:32, they immediately jump on the sub-90 train, and you try in vain to convince people that’s not what you’re after. Maybe I was a little, but in order to do that I was going to have to run further and a greater speed than I ever had before. The threshold work I’ve been doing has been broken down into 20-30 minute blocks. This would be running at that pace for an hour and a half. I tried, but couldn’t reconcile that in my head. This was what made me nervous more than anything else. I had visions of getting to 6 miles and dying a horrible slow death on the course, in front of all the spectators.

We travelled down on Saturday, enjoying the hospitality of the official Race hotel. There was a meal and presentation for the elite athletes to which Steve and I went along. Usual runners grub of chicken, pasta, vegetables and APPLE CRUMBLE NOMNOMNOM, although I steered clear of the wine on offer *gasp*. It was great to see the RWU crowd again, and it calmed my nerves a lot chatting to Carl and Agata at dinner. It brought it all home to me when Carl said “Just think, the winner of the race is sitting in this room right now” *GULP*. Amongst the assembled athletes was Steve Way, my running idol. I kick myself now, but I wish I’d gone up for a hello, autograph, anything! But my mind was on other things.

After the meal, the RWU crew gathered downstairs for a last briefing with Nick and Phoebe. If you thought Fawcett’s speeches were inspirational, blimey this was something else! Just the right amount of quiet fire building in the belly, to make you think “I can do this”. 

Basically, he told us to smash the race’s back doors in. I *may* be paraphrasing slightly.

*snigger*

I didn’t get the best night’s sleep. I woke up at 4.30am and struggled to sleep after that. I realised I was starving hungry and so at 5.30am I was sat on the end of my bed eating a banana. Steve had commented that I hadn’t eaten a lot compared to some others. I think the nerves had suppressed my appetite, but it’s something I need to remember for the future. After a rather subdued breakfast – earlier risers than us had finished off the porridge, so I had my usual muesli and toast; it was time to make our way over to the course. 

We dropped the bags off and it was then time to say goodbye to Steve and head over the start pen. Via 3 loo stops – nervous, me? I had a white number which meant going off in the first wave, probably near the front. However, my first thought on arrival at the start pen was “There must be some mistake?!” as everyone in that pen looked VERY fit and fast. It was club runner-tastic all round, and I wasn’t used to standing in such a clearly defined set of (dare I say good?) runners. However fast you think you go, everyone around always seems to be much faster! There was that usual start line aroma you get in the pens – a heady mixture of sweaty bodies, nerves and sprinkling of pent-up aggression. The time ticked round slowly to 9.30am and it was time for the off.

The gun went and everyone shot off as usual at blistering pace, I got a shout out from Nick over the tannoy as I passed the start line which was nice. I knew the first mile or two would be about warming up and settling in so it didn’t bother me that people were passing me at this point. Someone behind shouted “Come on you sub 90 runners, pick it up”, but I was in it for the long game. Cracking off 6:30s at this point wasn’t going to help anyone and so I concentrated on my own race. At the end of the first mile I regret not having one last safety before the start, there was a light pressure in my bladder and I had to get rid of it. Luckily, as we passed the two mile mark there was a little side area I made a dart for. It must have been the signal for others as I got going again, as loads of others had the same idea. My original plan was to split the race up into 4 lots of 5k, with the first 5k being easy. I had two gels for 30mins and at the 1 hour mark, and I was going to use the water stations for cooling, without taking too much liquid on. I remember thinking to myself “Have faith in your plan, you know it worked in Portugal”. After the second mile marker was past I found my stride and settled into what felt like a race pace. I know what my Threshold feels like and this was close. It felt comfortable, but I had no idea how long I was going to be able to keep it up for.

Seeing the elites coming back the other way was so inspirational, they were flying and being able to cheer Simon and Carl on gave me an unexpected boost. At that moment I realised just how good I felt, my body was relaxed and didn’t feel like it was working too hard. It was only slight but heading out of the city it was a slight uphill, I was banking that in my head as it would be downhill on the way back and I could use it to my advantage. 

The first big test of my plan, ignoring the first water station, had gone without any kind of mental hitch. I knew I didn’t need it at that point and it would be in just the right place coming back. Now I was ignoring the Gel station. It was MY plan and I was in control. 

Heading back into Bristol I noticed I was running well, upright and relaxed just as we had been taught in Portugal. I noticed others were sitting back on their hips and acting as their own brake. I love learning stuff like that! I also noticed I was passing people quite comfortably. Usually I pick on a vest and then watch it slowly go further and further into the distance until I have to pick another. This time, I was having to pick out other vests as I was passing them, a great feeling. I felt my watch beep a mile marker and I had a quick peek at the pace (my first I might add Nick!) 6:50-something looked back at me. I couldn’t escape the fact that I was on 1:30 pace and feeling good, but I took the info for what it was, just a bit of info and nothing more. I continued on, cooling down at the water station just as we were taught in the Algarve.

Not long after that I saw Agata coming the other way and gave her a shout. It was great to see her running strongly as well, although I berated myself a bit of enthusiastic cheering as it was when I did that in London that I started to tire! But it was worth it :-D

We headed back into Bristol and the miles kept ticking off. I was reliant on my watch for them as there weren’t many mile markers on the roads (something for next year Bristol?). After a couple of up-and-overs on the roads we were heading back to the city centre. Around the hour mark I felt my effort level start to increase, but it was gel time soon enough and I got a boost from that.

Once back in the city centre, I wasn’t so sure of the route we were going to take, but the size of the crowds was immense in places. “Quick, Spectators, Look Good” thundered in my head, nod to the Rowers. We weaved and ducked around the streets and it was all a bit disorientating. I was keeping my pace up but it was becoming hard work. At the briefing they had mentioned a hill near the end so I knew I had to keep something in reserve.

About 10 miles in I head two blokes behind me:

“Looks like we’re on for sub 90 here”

Me - NOOOOOOOOOOO!

I really didn’t want to hear that. You know the drill; about 50 miles of effort added themselves onto my legs. And that’s when the hills started.

 

I can only describe the last two miles of the course as a complete mindfuck. I didn’t have a clue where I was or what was coming up. Maybe my definition of a hill is different to others but there were a lot more than one! My mind was starting to unravel and I was desperately trying to keep back on course.  I know the marshals are only trying to help, but shouting “only a mile and a half to go” when there’s still over two miles left on your watch, really doesn’t help matters, not when you are staring over the abyss. I know it’s a case of mind over matter as when I pulled myself together and got motoring again I was back up to full speed, so its not like there was nothing left in my legs.  

Eventually the finish line came and I crossed the line in 1:31:07 – a 5:30 PB. But to be honest the time doesn’t matter. It was the way I raced on the day that is most important to me. For the majority of the race I felt INVINCIBLE. A feeling I haven’t had since…well...Northwich. If it’s a sign of times to come, I can’t wait. Something fundamental changed that day, I was able to put the final nail in the coffin of thinking of myself as a shit or at least also-ran runner. I can start to believe in myself and what’s possible in the future. 

It blows my mind.

Portugal Training Camp - Part 3

Day 8

The alarm went of at 5.30am. Yes, on a Saturday, on holiday. Berocca and Muesli were consumed and running kit put on, groggily. We’d had another good training talk the previous evening, with a variety of topics discussed, including the ultimate question “How do I stop thinking about running!!” I received some great advice about my training and ways to make subtle changes to make things work even better.

In order to do our long run in relatively cool temperatures, we were going to start at 6.30am. The plan was to run easy about 5 miles, into Villamora, and then complete various numbers of a 5km loop around the old golf course, depending on what race you were training for. The Marathoners had 4 loops to do, whilst us HMs were to do two loops. Nick wanted us to do the first loop at just below race pace, and most of the second loop at race pace, with the last 1km pushing it about race pace. Then it would be an easy 5 miles back to the hotel pool for the customary dip.

After leaving the hotel to the tune of Purple Rain *argh earworm* I worked hard to zone in on myself. My pace was going to be a lot different to most of the people I was running with, and so I had to make sure I was okay on my own, had when you’ve hard group training all week. My mental strategies worked and I found myself in a good place in my head. What was going on around me didn’t matter.

Nick had driven our drinks and gels over to the loop so we didn’t have to worry about carrying stuff, a real bonus. When we arrived in Villamora, Nick pointed us in the right direction to begin the loops, there wasn’t any hanging around.The loop started with a climb of about 1km and then dropped back down quite quickly. The area was beautiful and the sprinklers on the lawns make everything nice and cool. A couple of people were settled in just ahead of me and mentally I was keeping myself calm and them at a constant distance. The loop seemed to fly by and soon I was back at the aid station. I doused my neck in a bit of water and took a gel. We’d been told not to take the gel all at once and so off I went agai, ingesting it over about 10 minutes. I struggled to digest the gel going uphill so I waiting until the climb was over before finishing it. Having it my hand was a useful distraction to be honest, and psychologically it was giving me energy all the way. The guys in front had taken their pace up and had disappeared by this point, but I stayed calm. My pace felt about right and I’d already marked the point at which I was going to take the pace up for the final push. It came round soon enough and push I did. Trying to take it to threshold to finish, It felt great, really great. I’d purposefully not allowed myself to look at the Garmin, so I had no idea how it was going, judging it by feel. When I got back to the aid station I was on top of the world. Everything had gone to plan and I’d been given a big confidence boost for race day. Nick told me to take a gel and I ‘ambled’ back to the Hotel with Steve (Note: He ambled, at 7:30, not much of an amble for me, more like close to bloody race pace!)

The pool welcomed me with open arms, we’d done 14 miles in total, but Steve was right when he commented that it hadn’t felt like a long run. When everyone got back, we all celebrated in the best way possible. Massive Greasy-Spoon Fry Up at the Caff down the road! I’m talking 2 fried eggs, 2 sausages, bacon, beans, chips and 2 rounds of toast.

This week is helping me get over my food guilt, but it will be a long process. Yes, believe it or not I do feel very guilty about food. But that’s a story for another time.

Steve left this afternoon, so the room feels quiet and a bit empty. You get used to having someone around pretty quickly. He was a great roommate, and I *fingers crossed* don’t think I did anything embarrassing.

Right dinner time, its been at least and hour since I’ve eaten something *sigh*

I’m gonna leave Portugal there. I was going to do a big conclusion section, but in reality I still haven’t worked it all out in my head yet. I have learnt so much about myself this week, and pushed myself in ways I never thought possible. The biggest compliment I can give is that I cannot wait for the next camp in June. Many thanks to the amazing amount of work put in by Nick and Phoebe during the week, and infinite thanks to the RWU crewmates, you’ve enriched my life immensely. It’s lovely to know that even if I’m not in North London, I’m not running alone.

The Contender

Confession - I recorded this before I went to Portugal but I forgot about it. A shame as it's my favourite blog post so far. I'm afraid it's 18 mins long, so not a quick listen. 

It started as a round up of the Paras10, but mushroomed into a bit more. 

I think it's worth it. You may learn something about me you didn't know.

Sorry for the yawning
 

Portugal Training Camp - Part 2

Day 5

Halfway through the camp and its fair to say my legs are really feeling it now. It was a couple of easy runs today. The morning one was good, I am still working harder than I would do at home. But I didn’t feel the need to keep up with the front pack, settled into a good pace and had a good stretch with my own thoughts. The beach was lovely again. Later in the morning we had another strength and conditioning session with Phoebe. They are really useful as a recap and we added some variations to the exercises. Medicine balls and kettle-bells making the exercises that bit more challenging. All those circuits I’ve done over the years, and I wasn’t getting as much out of them as I could have done.

I’m making sure I try and stretch outside of the sessions, its something I really need to keep up when I get home. Its easy out here as all you’ve got to do is eat/train/sleep, but add back in the whirlwind of work/everyday life and things will get a bit tougher. Another short gentle run in the evening preceded a training seminar with Nick and Phoebe. I was amazed at how much I got out of it. Normally at these things the same three questions are asked, which if you ‘follow’ running you are generally aware of. However, I think due to the experience of the people both asking and answering, it was a treasure trove of detailed info and advice.

I’ve really been getting my nutrition so wrong! The 4pm flapjack monster comes along because I’ve not been eating correctly through the day. There’s a lot for me to mentally process here, to do with my emotional relationship with food, and its going to take some time to get right. It’s a scary thought when someone is telling you to eat more to lose weight! This week has made me realise how important nutrition and hydration are, especially when you are putting the miles in.

Also, I twigged that my evening runs on Mondays and Wednesdays should have been morning runs. Nick and Phoebe explained exactly why. That will teach me for reading the plan as I wanted to read it, not as written. My given myself a little slapped wrist. Added with the fact it would give me back two evenings a week, this could be nothing short of a small revolution. Does mean a few more early mornings though!

I think it’s getting to the information overload stage now. You get so eager to learn everything, and you realise how much you have got to learn!

Day 6

Hard Session day rolls round again, Track Work this time. I woke up stiff as a board in my hamstrings and hip flexors. The session was starting at 9.30am, so the sun was going to be up. The hotel has a track right next to it (Iucky lucky us) and we trooped down loaded with the extra water we were advised to bring. There was far more warming up than I normally do on my interval sessions, including the drill work we did the other day. Still, it only took 15 minutes or so, so I need to remember to do that. Apparently Nick always starts his Tuesday sessions with them. I think I’ll be using the Estuary Square more often or possibly even try and use Wavertree track.

The session was going to be longer and harder than any intervals I’d done before. 6 min tempo run followed by 3 min recovery then 5 x 300m with 100m/1min jog recovery, all done twice. The tempo run began and I tried to lock in on my Threshold pace, although instead of going for 6:30-6:50 as usual, I tried to do it by feel. The pace was quicker than normal but you couldn’t analyse it too much as the heat was such a big factor. There were one or two experienced people I knew were slightly quicker than me so I hung on to within earshot of them. Nick was shouting out lap times as we went round, I’ve always wanted to experience that. I would have made a little internal squee, but I was working hard enough already. I mentally made the calculation that it would be about 4 laps, that was good as it me some boundaries to work with. I heard my Garmin beep a mile and we weren’t yet finished. so I knew I’d done a sub 6 mile. I couldn’t believe it, I’ve never done that consciously before. I remember doing a mile test with Mo at LRC a couple of years ago. and clocking 6:29. It’s nice to internally acknowledge how far you’ve come at times. Everyone was performing great and working hard. The collective atmosphere was amazing. For the 300m reps, we set off together and then Nick grouped us by roughly equivalent finishing time at the end of the first interval. This was great as you knew you were running with people roughly the same speed. Off we went again, the group dynamic pushing everyone. Round and round we went, banging out times with surprisingly good consistency and also quick and quicker with each rep. By the time the fifth interval came round I was done in. The heat felt horrific and my legs wanted to drop off. Only we had to do it all again.

It was time to start digging deep and see what the fairy-godfather can do.

The 6min Tempo sucked the energy out of your legs, especially on the bends, but I was trying to run tall, trying to stop plodding along with the daintiness of an elephant. My contemporaries were within sight but I was struggling to stay with them. I couldn’t tell if they were getting faster or I was getting slower. It didn’t matter really as I was working as hard as I could. Nick was shouting helpful comments and keeping me focused. “Focus on his back, Mitch”. Right, this was just like a Parkrun, a very hot Parkrun. I could do this. Soon it was over and there were just the other set of 300m repeats to do. I broke it down and took them one at a time. It was hard, really head. The times were coming round, not much slower than the last sets, although the effort seemed greater. I kept pouring water over my head to try and cool down – everything was screaming, but we were a team and just like in Rowing, I wasn’t going to drop off and let myself or the others down. We’re in this together. Eventually, finish line number 5 arrived and we could rest. I was bent double but it had been work it. My Intervals in Liverpool had never felt like that, I think I’m going to have to up my game. The Garmin data was great, 5:44-5:49 pace for the Tempo sections and 4:40-5:00pace across all the intervals. Bear in mind that was the final-push pace that I sprinted across the line at Capenhurst only a few weeks ago and now I was doing repeated reps with it!

I love Nick’s track sessions, the grouping idea is great as you never feel like a donkey at the back, and we all got through it together, pushing each other on. Would like some of the PLS guys to join me on my Square intervals so we could try that.

But something more profound changed for me in the course of that session. It stopped being about ‘me’ and started being about ‘us’, the encouragement everyone was giving each other managed to melt away even the most hardened bits of my Ego. I’ll admit, I’ve got the Ego the size of a planet, and it has got me into trouble on more than one occasion. However, when you’re working that hard for that long, it gets stripped away, leaving just you and the next placing of the foot in front of you. If I can be so bold to speak for others, all the sessions we’ve done this week have challenged us all in many different ways. One of the most valuable lessons I’ve learnt on this camp is that whilst it’s important not to big yourself up too much, it’s also just as important not to put yourself down all the time. There is strength in acknowledging your achievements and remembering that there are people who would kill to be able to run at your speed, whatever that is. We’re all only one step away from an injury and being on the sidelines.

The rest of the day was spent, as usual, eating and recovering by the pool. It is amazing how quickly you can form a routine. For dinner, we had a lovely meal on the Terrace of the nearby Honey Farm, gossiping and toasting everyone’s health as the sunset. Beautiful, and ended up being a bit of a late night.

I have a (well earned!) rest day tomorrow, I’ve done my usual weekly mileage in 5 days. Plan to do as little as possible, resting before the final long runs on Saturday Morning. 6.30am start *gulp*.

Day 7

zzzzzzz...…nomnomnom…….zzzzzz…