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…