I met up with my friend Auke for an easy run around Woluwe this evening. We did exactly 10k in 52 minutes (my Garmin tracked the first 4.5 miles and then died; full map here courtesy of Auke).
I'm not pushing myself at all from here on in. Shin splints are looming again and the marathon is only 10 days away. I've been so desperate to keep up my mileage since picking up that cold in Berlin that my legs are pretty fatigued. I'd be lying if I said my training has gone to plan, but I'm hoping it'll be enough. I'll do a few easy miles with Annie on Saturday morning and then no more than 16-17 miles on Sunday, perhaps a little less.
If I've not done enough by now, then it's really too late to fix it, so fingers crossed!
Thursday 31 March 2011
Tuesday 29 March 2011
Fartlek
No, this post isn't an ode to toilet humour: fartlek is Swedish for 'speedplay'. The basic premise is to run easy to steady and use visual markers to sprint for short distances. Doesn't have to be regimented - just run however you feel. In fact, as a long-distance runner you very rarely go all out (unless you have dedicated speed sessions), so this is a good way to mix things up a little bit. I ran 3 miles in 20m 37s and felt like I'd had a decent workout without necessarily tiring myself out. I should do this kind of running more often.
During the rest of the week I'll fit in a medium-sized session, a recovery run and then a long slow run on Sunday. I'm stepping things down, of course, as the Paris Marathon is in a mere 10 days. GULP!
During the rest of the week I'll fit in a medium-sized session, a recovery run and then a long slow run on Sunday. I'm stepping things down, of course, as the Paris Marathon is in a mere 10 days. GULP!
Sunday 27 March 2011
Long slog
I'm still not feeling 100% so today's run was pretty hard work. Again, the objective was to stay on my feet rather than put in a decent time, and I think I managed that pretty well. In the end I ran 20.27 miles in 2h 48m. On the big day, I should only be out for half an hour longer than that. Then again, I've had two colds over the last few weeks, which has hardly helped my preparations. I anticipate my legs will really start to stiffen up for the final 5 or 6 miles of the marathon. I'll do my best - can't say fairer than that!
I tested out a camel pack today (a small back pack with a bladder for water). I have to say it worked pretty well. While 2 litres of water is pretty heavy, it doesn't feel too bad spread across both shoulders. Certainly better than those awful bottles on belts that ride up to your midriff and strangle the life out of your diaphragm. The main downside was the chafing around the neck, but I only shelled out €20 for it and I'm sure I'll use it again. I took a couple of gels with me today, too. I probably should have taken a chocolate bar or something too just in case I ended up having a funny turn miles from home. Anyway, enough waffle about equipment.
Today was a nice day for running, if a little warm. I enjoyed myself, but didn't have much left in me by the end. Success on the whole, though. I doubt I'll put in a longer run before the big day, so hopefully I already have enough miles in my legs. Time will tell!
I tested out a camel pack today (a small back pack with a bladder for water). I have to say it worked pretty well. While 2 litres of water is pretty heavy, it doesn't feel too bad spread across both shoulders. Certainly better than those awful bottles on belts that ride up to your midriff and strangle the life out of your diaphragm. The main downside was the chafing around the neck, but I only shelled out €20 for it and I'm sure I'll use it again. I took a couple of gels with me today, too. I probably should have taken a chocolate bar or something too just in case I ended up having a funny turn miles from home. Anyway, enough waffle about equipment.
Today was a nice day for running, if a little warm. I enjoyed myself, but didn't have much left in me by the end. Success on the whole, though. I doubt I'll put in a longer run before the big day, so hopefully I already have enough miles in my legs. Time will tell!
Saturday 26 March 2011
Recovery run
A few easy miles in the park with Annie, mostly to loosen up my muscles after yesterday's 10k.
Friday 25 March 2011
Attention deficit
I headed out for a 10-mile run this evening, got bored, sped up and called it a day at 10k (6.14 miles). I was pretty pleased, though, because I managed it in 41m 30s, and the first three miles were steady but not fast. I'm looking forward to entering a 10k event in the summer to see if I can officially come in under 40 minutes.
Wednesday 23 March 2011
False alarm
This evening after work I went for a brief run (3.74 miles in about 25 minutes) on the park, then I thought I had the runs, so I sprinted home as fast as I could. False alarm. Kept me on my toes, though! Perhaps too much info for a blog. But then you don't have to read it ;-)
Sunday 20 March 2011
Blergh
I've decided I'm running through this cold. It's not on my chest at the moment, and anyway, I really can't afford to keep putting off my long slow runs because of my rubbish body. So today I set off dead slow with the intention of speeding up gradually throughout and listening to my body. I covered 18 miles in just over 2-and-a-half hours and felt OK, if a little heavy legged. Of course, I'll be zipping around Paris much more quickly than that, but pace wasn't the objective today. In fact, I'm glad I'm being forced to take it easier: this way I'm on my feet for longer, which is better practice for the big day.
After the run I was exhausted, but stayed on my feet for most of the day in a bid not to seize up like a rusty old bike. While I'm a little frustrated at how much the run took out of me, I can see it stands to reason, not only because of this cold, but also because I put so much into my half marathon last week (probably too much). So the plan for this next week is to carry on ignoring my body (well, listening to it, but mostly ignoring it): a 10-mile marathon pace run on Tuesday, a tempo run on Thursday, perhaps a recovery run in there somewhere, and 21 miles next Sunday. Then I'll start tapering - time is scarily short.
If anyone sneezes or coughs anywhere near me over the next few weeks, I'm going to punch them in the face. You've been warned :-)
After the run I was exhausted, but stayed on my feet for most of the day in a bid not to seize up like a rusty old bike. While I'm a little frustrated at how much the run took out of me, I can see it stands to reason, not only because of this cold, but also because I put so much into my half marathon last week (probably too much). So the plan for this next week is to carry on ignoring my body (well, listening to it, but mostly ignoring it): a 10-mile marathon pace run on Tuesday, a tempo run on Thursday, perhaps a recovery run in there somewhere, and 21 miles next Sunday. Then I'll start tapering - time is scarily short.
If anyone sneezes or coughs anywhere near me over the next few weeks, I'm going to punch them in the face. You've been warned :-)
Friday 18 March 2011
Fever
It wasn't the alcohol. I've now got a ridiculous temperature, my joints are achey and my skin is prickly. Poo.
Shandy pants
St Patrick's Day yesterday. I had one pint and then switched to ice tea (a real man's drink), yet still woke up feeling like absolute shit this morning. Alcohol is the devil. My friends Webb and Sion are here for a long weekend so I've taken a couple of days off work. It was nice to run around the park this morning rather than stare at a screen :-) I think I probably would have felt infinitely better had I not drunk at all, but a successful run on the whole. I intended to run 8-10 miles at marathon pace but set off too quickly (something of a trend, it seems). In the end I ran 8 miles in just over 57 minutes, averaging 7m 10s / mile. Long run this weekend - very little time to squeeze in much more mileage! :-S
Tuesday 15 March 2011
Recovery run
Just under 3 miles slow. Legs were achey from the half marathon. Felt a little bit fresher afterwards.
Sunday 13 March 2011
Den Haag Halve Marathon - Race Report
The weatherman said it was going to rain, but he was wrong. Sunday, 13 March was a warm, overcast day in The Hague - not bad running weather at all. Annie would be running the 10k and I would be running the half marathon, but since neither was due to start until the afternoon, the day began with a hearty breakfast: bread, porridge, and even the odd slice of cake (if you can't up your calorie count on race day, when can you?!). By 11:30 a.m. we were getting restless, so off to the start line we went.
After dropping off bags there wasn't much time to kill until the start of the 10k. I watched Annie line up in her starting wave and wished her luck. The gun went at bang on 1 p.m. and slowly but surely, the congested starting area emptied. From that point my friend Auke and I had a lot of time to kill until the half marathon, which wasn't scheduled to start for another hour and a half. We mooched about for half an hour and then watched some of the more accomplished 10k runners start to trickle over the finish line. After a bit of a warm-up, we waited to see Annie come home (in 2 minutes under her target time!) and then made our way to the starting area for our own event.
Panic was the first emotion I experienced. I couldn't find my way to my starting wave and by now there was only 5 minutes until the gun. In the end I had to run all the way to the back of the starting area and around to the other side, eventually taking my position alongside some rather serious looking athletes in wave B (of A-E). Was I in the right place? My bib seemed to say so. A few minutes warming up to some decidedly dreadful music, and we were away.
Although I was towards the front of the field, I was still pretty boxed in to start with. I started to weave my way in and out of the other runners and before long, things started to open up. Despite the congestion, I clocked 6m 54s for my first mile (I would need to average 6m 52s per mile to come home in my target of 1h 30m). With that in mind, I tried to sustain the pace I had already reached. That was my first mistake. See, I had sped up to compensate for the start, so what I really should have done was ease off a little. Instead, I found it all too easy to stay with the pack.
Mile 2 passed by in 6m 39s - more akin to 10k than half marathon pace, I thought to myself. And I should have listened to that little voice, but I was too comfortable. Maybe I could keep this up, I thought. Perhaps 1h 30m was a conservative target. So I carried on negotiating my way through the crowd and moving up the field.
I ran miles 3 and 4 in 6m 43s and 6m 44s respectively. Quick, consistent, but - as I was about to discover - deluded. I hadn't brought any fluids with me, deciding to rely instead on drinks stations. That was my second mistake. The first station appeared on the horizon during mile 5, and I was getting thirsty. As I drew nearer, I noticed the marshalls were doling out paper cups full of water. What? No isotonics? I took a desperate gulp at my water as it sloshed and spilled around in my right hand, taking in more air than fluids. Mistake number three. My watch beeped. Mile 5 had taken 6m 50s. Just hold it together, I thought.
But the die had already been cast. I was about to start feeling the effects of shallow breathing, trapped air and dehydration: a deadly trio. Mile 6 went by in 6m 57s and the first 10k in 42m 12s. That was too quick. On a good day I might run 10k in 40 minutes, but that would be me spent. A few hundred yards later and my diaphragm started to tighten up. My running and breathing were out of sync. Don't panic, I told myself: full breath out, deep breath in. Some of the other runners were visibly starting to tire, so although I had slowed down I still appeared to be holding my own. Mile 7 took me 7m 02s. OK, I thought. I can run 7 minute miles all day long in training, so maybe I could stick at this pace and still come home in a respectable time.
My stitch got worse. I had never stopped in a race. Surely I wasn't about to now. Every fibre of my being resisted the temptation, but my diaphragm seemed to be getting tighter and tighter. Was it psychological? Whatever it was, it bloody well hurt. I moved over to the side of the road and slowed right down. I must have walked for 5 seconds - just enough time to take a few deep breaths and pull it together. Then back to it. After a few hundred yards I passed the 14k mark - almost exactly two thirds of the full distance. The clock showed a gross time of 59m 30s. Miraculously, I was still 30 seconds under my target.
Another drinks station. It would be the last. What the hell? Still only water? I should just have steered clear, but like a complete twonk I tried to take on more fluids. Then almost immediately, my good friend Mr Stitch was back. The whole second half of the race was turning into a total nightmare. I started to physically grit my teeth. I knew it must have been bad when the bystanders started showing me sympathy. "Less than half to go", one man offered. "Wanna swap?", I thought. I clocked up 7m 02s for mile 9, but I was really grimacing by now.
The next couple of miles were a bit of a haze, but I managed them in 6m 56s and 7m 07s respectively. Mile 12 I remember distinctly. It must have lasted at least 5 miles. Every time I looked at my Garmin expecting to see another half mile behind me, in actual fact I had only run a tenth of a mile, sometimes less. The 20k mark was coming up: 1h 26m exactly since the gun. Any remaining illusions of a 1h 30m finish were shattered right there and then. Even if my net time was a few seconds quicker than that, there was still a kilometer and a bit to go until the end, and I was in no shape to put in a 4-minute 1k!
Mile 12 had taken me 7m 12s - my slowest lap time yet. I wanted so much to find a spurt from somewhere, to spring into action and leave all the other runners for dust. But it wasn't about to happen. It took everything I had left just to keep going. By now I was closing my eyes and pretending to be elsewhere. On a beach somewhere, or fly fishing in the lake district. "Laatste stukje!", the spectators were urging. Mile 13: 7 minutes dead.
In my own inimitable fashion, I started to make involuntary groans. The pain was unbearable. A fellow Brit sidled over. "Come on mate, you're nearly there!", he said. "You better not be lying", I somehow found the breath to reply. "No, look, the end is there! 300 yards! Come on!". I watched him ease off into the distance. Did he have rockets up his arse or something?! Bastard.
The final strait was like one of those optical illusions: the never-ending corridor. Could I sprint? No chance. I felt sick. I wanted to stop. I needed to stop. Eyes closed. Final push. Done. Thank Christ for that.
Official finish time: 1h 30m 43s
Official position: 563 / 7,213 (putting me in the top 8%)
After dropping off bags there wasn't much time to kill until the start of the 10k. I watched Annie line up in her starting wave and wished her luck. The gun went at bang on 1 p.m. and slowly but surely, the congested starting area emptied. From that point my friend Auke and I had a lot of time to kill until the half marathon, which wasn't scheduled to start for another hour and a half. We mooched about for half an hour and then watched some of the more accomplished 10k runners start to trickle over the finish line. After a bit of a warm-up, we waited to see Annie come home (in 2 minutes under her target time!) and then made our way to the starting area for our own event.
Panic was the first emotion I experienced. I couldn't find my way to my starting wave and by now there was only 5 minutes until the gun. In the end I had to run all the way to the back of the starting area and around to the other side, eventually taking my position alongside some rather serious looking athletes in wave B (of A-E). Was I in the right place? My bib seemed to say so. A few minutes warming up to some decidedly dreadful music, and we were away.
Although I was towards the front of the field, I was still pretty boxed in to start with. I started to weave my way in and out of the other runners and before long, things started to open up. Despite the congestion, I clocked 6m 54s for my first mile (I would need to average 6m 52s per mile to come home in my target of 1h 30m). With that in mind, I tried to sustain the pace I had already reached. That was my first mistake. See, I had sped up to compensate for the start, so what I really should have done was ease off a little. Instead, I found it all too easy to stay with the pack.
Mile 2 passed by in 6m 39s - more akin to 10k than half marathon pace, I thought to myself. And I should have listened to that little voice, but I was too comfortable. Maybe I could keep this up, I thought. Perhaps 1h 30m was a conservative target. So I carried on negotiating my way through the crowd and moving up the field.
I ran miles 3 and 4 in 6m 43s and 6m 44s respectively. Quick, consistent, but - as I was about to discover - deluded. I hadn't brought any fluids with me, deciding to rely instead on drinks stations. That was my second mistake. The first station appeared on the horizon during mile 5, and I was getting thirsty. As I drew nearer, I noticed the marshalls were doling out paper cups full of water. What? No isotonics? I took a desperate gulp at my water as it sloshed and spilled around in my right hand, taking in more air than fluids. Mistake number three. My watch beeped. Mile 5 had taken 6m 50s. Just hold it together, I thought.
But the die had already been cast. I was about to start feeling the effects of shallow breathing, trapped air and dehydration: a deadly trio. Mile 6 went by in 6m 57s and the first 10k in 42m 12s. That was too quick. On a good day I might run 10k in 40 minutes, but that would be me spent. A few hundred yards later and my diaphragm started to tighten up. My running and breathing were out of sync. Don't panic, I told myself: full breath out, deep breath in. Some of the other runners were visibly starting to tire, so although I had slowed down I still appeared to be holding my own. Mile 7 took me 7m 02s. OK, I thought. I can run 7 minute miles all day long in training, so maybe I could stick at this pace and still come home in a respectable time.
My stitch got worse. I had never stopped in a race. Surely I wasn't about to now. Every fibre of my being resisted the temptation, but my diaphragm seemed to be getting tighter and tighter. Was it psychological? Whatever it was, it bloody well hurt. I moved over to the side of the road and slowed right down. I must have walked for 5 seconds - just enough time to take a few deep breaths and pull it together. Then back to it. After a few hundred yards I passed the 14k mark - almost exactly two thirds of the full distance. The clock showed a gross time of 59m 30s. Miraculously, I was still 30 seconds under my target.
Another drinks station. It would be the last. What the hell? Still only water? I should just have steered clear, but like a complete twonk I tried to take on more fluids. Then almost immediately, my good friend Mr Stitch was back. The whole second half of the race was turning into a total nightmare. I started to physically grit my teeth. I knew it must have been bad when the bystanders started showing me sympathy. "Less than half to go", one man offered. "Wanna swap?", I thought. I clocked up 7m 02s for mile 9, but I was really grimacing by now.
The next couple of miles were a bit of a haze, but I managed them in 6m 56s and 7m 07s respectively. Mile 12 I remember distinctly. It must have lasted at least 5 miles. Every time I looked at my Garmin expecting to see another half mile behind me, in actual fact I had only run a tenth of a mile, sometimes less. The 20k mark was coming up: 1h 26m exactly since the gun. Any remaining illusions of a 1h 30m finish were shattered right there and then. Even if my net time was a few seconds quicker than that, there was still a kilometer and a bit to go until the end, and I was in no shape to put in a 4-minute 1k!
Mile 12 had taken me 7m 12s - my slowest lap time yet. I wanted so much to find a spurt from somewhere, to spring into action and leave all the other runners for dust. But it wasn't about to happen. It took everything I had left just to keep going. By now I was closing my eyes and pretending to be elsewhere. On a beach somewhere, or fly fishing in the lake district. "Laatste stukje!", the spectators were urging. Mile 13: 7 minutes dead.
In my own inimitable fashion, I started to make involuntary groans. The pain was unbearable. A fellow Brit sidled over. "Come on mate, you're nearly there!", he said. "You better not be lying", I somehow found the breath to reply. "No, look, the end is there! 300 yards! Come on!". I watched him ease off into the distance. Did he have rockets up his arse or something?! Bastard.
The final strait was like one of those optical illusions: the never-ending corridor. Could I sprint? No chance. I felt sick. I wanted to stop. I needed to stop. Eyes closed. Final push. Done. Thank Christ for that.
Official finish time: 1h 30m 43s
Official position: 563 / 7,213 (putting me in the top 8%)
Thursday 10 March 2011
Mr competitive
Tonight I intended to run a slow 6 (anywhere between 7m 30s and 8m 00s / mile). To be honest, I was pretty bored. I find it frustrating running at that kind of pace. So when a serious looking runner joined the circuit around the park and just sat a couple of yards ahead of me at almost exactly the same pace, I decided I'd had enough and stepped it up a gear. Miles 3 and 4 were perhaps just below target marathon pace, then I slowed down again for the last two miles. The whole 6 miles took me 45m 49s. I felt fresh - barely even broke a sweat ;-) I also wore my heart rate monitor: my average HR was 155 bpm, so I have at least another 30 bpm to play with at the half marathon on Sunday. I'll rest between now and then. Race report to follow - woo hoo!
Tuesday 8 March 2011
A steady 6
Tonight I ran 6 miles at target marathon pace (7m 15s / mile or thereabouts). No speed work or intervals this week - taking it relatively easy before this weekend's half marathon. My legs were a little achey from Sunday but the rest of me felt fine. I think tonight's pace is still just about an aerobic workout for me, so I didn't really tire. Feeling confident about Sunday :-)
Sunday 6 March 2011
What cold?
On today's run I really vented my frustration, having not been able to run properly for a good couple of weeks. I set out at a steady pace, averaging around 7m 15s / mile but got progressively quicker, averaging about 6m 40s / mile over the last 4 miles or so. The whole 9 miles took me 63 minutes and I felt like I could keep going. It felt good managing that kind of pace - I was worried my fitness might have been knocked back a peg. The half marathon is a week today, so I'm hoping I'll get down towards 90 minutes. That would feel like an achievement all things considered.
Saturday 5 March 2011
Annie's longest run
A good friend of mine has come to visit this weekend so she, Annie and I all went for a slow run (5.76 miles) around Woluwe Park. That will be Annie's longest run before the Hague 10k (half marathon for me) in a week's time. Afterwards we had pancakes (I guess we were pre-empting Shrove Tuesday), chilled out for a bit and then headed into town for dinner and pub. Good day all round :-)
Wednesday 2 March 2011
Light jog
This evening I did a few easy miles around the park with Annie. I've still got the remnants of a cold so don't want to exert myself too much. On Friday I'll do a few miles at a steadier pace and then on Sunday a moderately long slow run. Easy does it. The Hague half marathon is a week on Sunday, so as long as I'm 100% I don't see why I should have lost any real fitness. Here's hoping!
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