I'm sitting here, on my own sofa on a Sunday morning with a brew that's in a mug, not a polystyrene cup. I'm not shivering in running kit in a primary school/village hall/sports centre in the middle of nowhere, and it's warm and dry in here whereas it's about 10 degrees and pouring with rain outside. God, I am SO happy I'm not running the Doyen of the Downs 30 over the South Downs today.
I started running the Gower marathon yesterday, which runs along the coastal path and back across country to make it a loop. The thought of more coastal path wasn't very alluring after the Pembrokeshire horror, but there was the consolation of cross country which surely ought to be less of a mountainous purgatory. However, with all the rain we've had lately, it was a mudbath. After about 3 miles, we were sliding around and expending more energy trying to stay upright than to make forward progress.
This isn't my version of running. Yes, after several hours, you're building strength and pure mental obstinacy, but you don't get that feeling that I love about running - the impression that the world is turning underneath you as you lope along, this is more like grinding a workhouse mill to turn, inch by inch. I like the pure mechanics of running, the feeling of your legs being able to stretch out in the same motion over and over and over again, and that's why I like the road and the track and the treadmill.
I was hating every single minute of this run, and was feeling significant time pressure too. My lift needed to get down to the South Downs that afternoon which meant I really needed a sub 6 to avoid making them really late. My pace, on the other hand, was suggesting 6 hours was unlikely and I was already the last runner by a long way. I was shocked by the pace set - noone was walking the hills and everyone was running at a very decent clip. By the checkpoint, it didn't take much suggestion that I'd get timed out to chuck it in.
So this isn't a list of excuses. I felt awful about chucking something in for no real reason, I wasn't tired or particularly injured (my feet are in a bad way but they have been for weeks) and I was, and still am, afraid that I'll lose a lot of people's respect. However, I've finally accepted that I Don't Like Trail. The views, the solitude and the peace are fantastic, but it's not for me. I'm sticking to road now, and maybe I'll even try a track marathon some time.
The self-reproach was pretty bad yesterday, but now I don't have any regrets. Of 37 marathons and ultras this year, I've had 3 DNFs: Kent 50 (ITB issues), Pembrokeshire day 3 (mild hypothermia and general knackeredness) and Gower (CBAs), but I've also run 34 marathons in 9 months, will have increased my 2008 mileage by 50% to 2,400 miles and was very proud to have organised an almost seamless team at the 192 mile, non stop, 26 hour Round Norfolk Relay that came in within 5 minutes of predicted time. No self pity allowed!
Sunday 6 December 2009
Wednesday 2 December 2009
Florence marathon
Florence was just lovely, the start is up the hill in the Piazza Michelangelo overlooking the city and it was such a lovely morning P and I decided to walk up rather than endure the bun fight that was getting on the bus. It was one of the most pleasant starts to a big city marathon I've experienced: no bag drop, no metro journey to the start, far less chaotic than expected and a perfect bit of sunshine to enjoy the serene views over the city and hills beyond.
We ran the first k together as it was pretty congested and very slow but P pushed off after that. I was expecting a clear sub 3'30 from him (he delivered) and I was intending to take the first half very easy. My form hasn't been good lately so a sub 4 seemed quite ambitious, the best hope was a strong and enjoyable race regardless of the time. The next few ks were downhill to pick up a bit of speed, though I had to duck behind a bush for a loo break - it's a special quality of most of the continental marathons I've done that men are perfectly welcome to wee against any vertical surface, and girls just have to cross their legs.
I'd settled into a comfortable pace and after half an hour or so was consciously holding back, I wanted to take it easy until 30k then start picking it up. This made the time pass quite slowly, completely the opposite to Newcastle last weekend where each 5 mile lap seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. It reminded me of that Einstein quote that goes something along the lines of "Spending hours talking to a pretty girl feels like seconds, but seconds spent standing on hot coals feel like hours. That's relativity." Perhaps the difference was that there was so much to look at in this race so you spend ages looking around and soaking up the atmosphere rather than tuning out and getting into an almost meditative state. Sorry, I'm not getting new age here, I emphatically do not meditate in races, but there's something very calming about encouraging your brain to stop thinking in words and to drift where it likes. You might not feel you've thought about much, but you do feel remarkably relaxed.
At about 14k, the 4 hours pacers and the hordes around them went past. It didn't bother me, I wasn't chasing a time and I definitely didn't want to get caught up in any pocket of gridlock that accompanies pacers. I also met two Fetchies and had a bit of a chat, but otherwise it was uneventful, just cruising along, enjoying the feel of smooth tarmac under my feet and conditions that were warm enough for shorts and a vest. By 26k or so, the route swings back through the historic centre of town where the crowds and noise increased. Running through tight alleys with the Duomo peeking out the top was pretty special, I was loving it by this stage and finding it hard to keep my foot off the accelerator. Ah, to hell with it, I can run 10 miles hard.
The last 10 miles were fantastic, I was full of energy and was really enjoying it, it was hard to keep the big grin off my face. I'd gone through the half way point in 2 hours on the nose so if I maintained the same pace I'd get the 4 hours. To be honest, by this point I wanted a big fat negative split, to prove to myself that I can pace myself conservatively then push it when you're starting to tire and lots of people around you are flagging. At no point in this marathon, however, was I tired. It was brilliant, no physical or mental doubts all day. The finishing time was 3 hours 55 minutes, so that's about 9'10 / mile in the first half and about 8'40 / mile in the second, and I passed 1,769 people between the half way point and the finish line. A good day at the office!
I'm very very happy with the splits, so please excuse the geeky numbers:
Distance Time Position Pace (kph)
5k 28'02 5,644 9.9
10k 28'15 5,933 10.8
15k 28'58 6,088 10.9
20k 28'32 6,298 10.9
25k 28'32 6,161 11.0
30k 27'24 5,791 11.0
35k 27'14 5,205 11.1
40k 26'52 4,389 11.1
42.2k 11'22 4,529 11.2
I promise I won't do this too often...
We ran the first k together as it was pretty congested and very slow but P pushed off after that. I was expecting a clear sub 3'30 from him (he delivered) and I was intending to take the first half very easy. My form hasn't been good lately so a sub 4 seemed quite ambitious, the best hope was a strong and enjoyable race regardless of the time. The next few ks were downhill to pick up a bit of speed, though I had to duck behind a bush for a loo break - it's a special quality of most of the continental marathons I've done that men are perfectly welcome to wee against any vertical surface, and girls just have to cross their legs.
I'd settled into a comfortable pace and after half an hour or so was consciously holding back, I wanted to take it easy until 30k then start picking it up. This made the time pass quite slowly, completely the opposite to Newcastle last weekend where each 5 mile lap seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. It reminded me of that Einstein quote that goes something along the lines of "Spending hours talking to a pretty girl feels like seconds, but seconds spent standing on hot coals feel like hours. That's relativity." Perhaps the difference was that there was so much to look at in this race so you spend ages looking around and soaking up the atmosphere rather than tuning out and getting into an almost meditative state. Sorry, I'm not getting new age here, I emphatically do not meditate in races, but there's something very calming about encouraging your brain to stop thinking in words and to drift where it likes. You might not feel you've thought about much, but you do feel remarkably relaxed.
At about 14k, the 4 hours pacers and the hordes around them went past. It didn't bother me, I wasn't chasing a time and I definitely didn't want to get caught up in any pocket of gridlock that accompanies pacers. I also met two Fetchies and had a bit of a chat, but otherwise it was uneventful, just cruising along, enjoying the feel of smooth tarmac under my feet and conditions that were warm enough for shorts and a vest. By 26k or so, the route swings back through the historic centre of town where the crowds and noise increased. Running through tight alleys with the Duomo peeking out the top was pretty special, I was loving it by this stage and finding it hard to keep my foot off the accelerator. Ah, to hell with it, I can run 10 miles hard.
The last 10 miles were fantastic, I was full of energy and was really enjoying it, it was hard to keep the big grin off my face. I'd gone through the half way point in 2 hours on the nose so if I maintained the same pace I'd get the 4 hours. To be honest, by this point I wanted a big fat negative split, to prove to myself that I can pace myself conservatively then push it when you're starting to tire and lots of people around you are flagging. At no point in this marathon, however, was I tired. It was brilliant, no physical or mental doubts all day. The finishing time was 3 hours 55 minutes, so that's about 9'10 / mile in the first half and about 8'40 / mile in the second, and I passed 1,769 people between the half way point and the finish line. A good day at the office!
I'm very very happy with the splits, so please excuse the geeky numbers:
Distance Time Position Pace (kph)
5k 28'02 5,644 9.9
10k 28'15 5,933 10.8
15k 28'58 6,088 10.9
20k 28'32 6,298 10.9
25k 28'32 6,161 11.0
30k 27'24 5,791 11.0
35k 27'14 5,205 11.1
40k 26'52 4,389 11.1
42.2k 11'22 4,529 11.2
I promise I won't do this too often...
Tuesday 24 November 2009
Newcastle Town Moor marathon
Weather forecasts for the Newcastle marathon indicated we'd stay dry and not too windswept if we all ran world record times, so it was looking like another battle against the elements on the Town Moor, an exposed bit of rough parkland outside the city. The route was 5 wiggly laps of the moor with a fair bit of doubling back so there was plenty of opportunity to spot familiar faces and exchange a wave. There were so many familiar faces too, both Fetchies and 100 marathon club types, so it was a very social day out. I think a few found the multi-lap and open nature of the route challenging, you knew exactly what was coming and how far was left. I like multiple laps (to an extent, not sure I'm ready for a track marathon just yet), and for me the time passed very quickly.
It was pretty uneventful really, and I don't want to write a weather report. Yes, it was windy, but only in the last 3 laps and only really for a one mile stretch each time across the open moor. Compared to Pembrokeshire, it was just a bit of a breeze and having to cope with it for only 10 minutes at a time made me wonder what the fuss was about. Relativism, love it. And other than one grassy muddy hill that was about 0.2 miles long, it was completely flat. You can't complain about 1 mile of ascent in a marathon especially when you get the reward of the downhill afterwards. I personally think that this is a very quick race, in good conditions, fast times are definitely achievable.
This made my time a real indication that I'm not running well at the moment. I felt fine throughout, with no dramas, just slow slow legs. I made up some time in the later laps and passed several people for 4'23 (again) but this really should have been a sub 4 course for me. I saw a nutritionist on Friday and believe she will have a more constructive suggestion than "eat more" to address the lack of energy. Along with a few weeks' rest in December to eliminate the niggles, catch up on sleep and top up the motivation, it ought to set me up for 4 months of solid and productive training in the new year.
Not my most scenic marathon!
It was pretty uneventful really, and I don't want to write a weather report. Yes, it was windy, but only in the last 3 laps and only really for a one mile stretch each time across the open moor. Compared to Pembrokeshire, it was just a bit of a breeze and having to cope with it for only 10 minutes at a time made me wonder what the fuss was about. Relativism, love it. And other than one grassy muddy hill that was about 0.2 miles long, it was completely flat. You can't complain about 1 mile of ascent in a marathon especially when you get the reward of the downhill afterwards. I personally think that this is a very quick race, in good conditions, fast times are definitely achievable.
This made my time a real indication that I'm not running well at the moment. I felt fine throughout, with no dramas, just slow slow legs. I made up some time in the later laps and passed several people for 4'23 (again) but this really should have been a sub 4 course for me. I saw a nutritionist on Friday and believe she will have a more constructive suggestion than "eat more" to address the lack of energy. Along with a few weeks' rest in December to eliminate the niggles, catch up on sleep and top up the motivation, it ought to set me up for 4 months of solid and productive training in the new year.
Not my most scenic marathon!
Monday 16 November 2009
The Cornish marathon
Saturday's storms had all cleared by late afternoon, and the clear blue skies looked hopeful for the marathon. In any case, after Pembrokeshire, any weather would seem positively tropical in comparison. The evening was a bit surreal: I got to my B&B to find a glass of whisky and a wallet on the bar but noone to be found. After shouting Hello a few times, I went upstairs in search of the landlady, only to find Jim "Manic" Mundy of about 200 marathons up there. I didn't know he ran B&Bs in Liskeard on the side.
I'd agreed to meet a few Fetchies in the Premier Inn pub, about 15 minutes out of town, worth the walk to find a good bunch of Fetchies and several 100 club guys too and we got settled in for a few drinks. By the time I left at about 10, a bit sleepy and a tiny bit drunk, a shortcut seemed like a good idea, so I followed a slip road round the back of Argos and Homebase rather than going all the way round the front like I had on the way there. Not a good idea, I found myself on the A38, a dual carriageway with cars belting towards me at 70mph and me wondering why I was in a black jacket rather than reflective running kit. I climbed over the barrier, up the embankment, through the brambles, over a fence and through some trees, picked the bits of twig out of my hair and was on exactly the right road, and had probably saved myself 5 minutes' walk at the cost of several scratches and a few near misses. While it's nice to have a sense of direction, sometimes it's best to recce the route beforehand.
As for the race, I was more nervous before this than I have been for a long time. I wasn't sure if I could run still after the last few weekends, and I had zero confidence. The first few miles were terrible - my right foot is very sore, I had a bit of shin splint pain and felt very uncomfortable. Things were better after several miles' warm up as they usually are, so I followed some excellent advice I'd been given - take it one mile at a time and enjoy the scenery.
I had no time or pace ambition for this one, other than to get sub 5 hours (if only to catch my train) so I had plenty of leeway if I needed to walk the hills or slowed considerably. It was a very very hilly event for a road marathon, with a respite from mile 15 to 21 which downhill and flat along a valley, a stretch considered boring by quite a few runners. I liked it, but then I like long flat stretches of tarmac, you get to a purer form of running, right down to the mechanics of it, without being distracted by corners or changes in surface or gradient. It's why I like treadmill running too.
The route was superb, through country lanes and over Bodmin moor, exactly the sort of scenery I love, and the weather was perfect with blue clear skies, sunshine and no wind. It was just the sort of race I love too, a small field of about 200 runners, really well organised and very friendly. The pockets of support were extremely encouraging and vocal, something you don't expect in a rural event, and the runners were clubby but collegiate, you could exchange a few words without feeling obliged to talk for ages.
There were long patches where I was running by myself, enjoying the silence and views and remembering that this is exactly why I like marathons. And for some reason yesterday, I found myself able to run most of the hills, including all of them from mile 21 onwards. I'd found my endurance legs by then and was in a good rhythm; the feeling of being able to run some of the stiffest hills at that point in the race was a big boost to my confidence, plus I passed quite a few people, always nice!
There wasn't much of a sprint finish, my legs were tired and sore and I'd had bad backache for a few hours. I came in in 4 hours 23, with 2'09 and 2'14 splits for the halves and, more importantly, had had no dramas. Energy levels were good, I hadn't had any moments where I thought I'd DNF, and I'd enjoyed it. This was a very important and significant marathon after a run of terrible events, and to have had a calm and peaceful marathon and a solid finish has lifted my spirits enormously.
Dressed for a cold day....
I'd agreed to meet a few Fetchies in the Premier Inn pub, about 15 minutes out of town, worth the walk to find a good bunch of Fetchies and several 100 club guys too and we got settled in for a few drinks. By the time I left at about 10, a bit sleepy and a tiny bit drunk, a shortcut seemed like a good idea, so I followed a slip road round the back of Argos and Homebase rather than going all the way round the front like I had on the way there. Not a good idea, I found myself on the A38, a dual carriageway with cars belting towards me at 70mph and me wondering why I was in a black jacket rather than reflective running kit. I climbed over the barrier, up the embankment, through the brambles, over a fence and through some trees, picked the bits of twig out of my hair and was on exactly the right road, and had probably saved myself 5 minutes' walk at the cost of several scratches and a few near misses. While it's nice to have a sense of direction, sometimes it's best to recce the route beforehand.
As for the race, I was more nervous before this than I have been for a long time. I wasn't sure if I could run still after the last few weekends, and I had zero confidence. The first few miles were terrible - my right foot is very sore, I had a bit of shin splint pain and felt very uncomfortable. Things were better after several miles' warm up as they usually are, so I followed some excellent advice I'd been given - take it one mile at a time and enjoy the scenery.
I had no time or pace ambition for this one, other than to get sub 5 hours (if only to catch my train) so I had plenty of leeway if I needed to walk the hills or slowed considerably. It was a very very hilly event for a road marathon, with a respite from mile 15 to 21 which downhill and flat along a valley, a stretch considered boring by quite a few runners. I liked it, but then I like long flat stretches of tarmac, you get to a purer form of running, right down to the mechanics of it, without being distracted by corners or changes in surface or gradient. It's why I like treadmill running too.
The route was superb, through country lanes and over Bodmin moor, exactly the sort of scenery I love, and the weather was perfect with blue clear skies, sunshine and no wind. It was just the sort of race I love too, a small field of about 200 runners, really well organised and very friendly. The pockets of support were extremely encouraging and vocal, something you don't expect in a rural event, and the runners were clubby but collegiate, you could exchange a few words without feeling obliged to talk for ages.
There were long patches where I was running by myself, enjoying the silence and views and remembering that this is exactly why I like marathons. And for some reason yesterday, I found myself able to run most of the hills, including all of them from mile 21 onwards. I'd found my endurance legs by then and was in a good rhythm; the feeling of being able to run some of the stiffest hills at that point in the race was a big boost to my confidence, plus I passed quite a few people, always nice!
There wasn't much of a sprint finish, my legs were tired and sore and I'd had bad backache for a few hours. I came in in 4 hours 23, with 2'09 and 2'14 splits for the halves and, more importantly, had had no dramas. Energy levels were good, I hadn't had any moments where I thought I'd DNF, and I'd enjoyed it. This was a very important and significant marathon after a run of terrible events, and to have had a calm and peaceful marathon and a solid finish has lifted my spirits enormously.
Dressed for a cold day....
Monday 9 November 2009
Pembrokeshire Coastal Challenge - 3 marathons in 3 days (Had I not learned from the last time?)
Day 1 - Dale to Newgale
Today was a tough day, it was raining steadily when we set off and got very heavy over the next 3 or 4 hours. What was worse was the wind, it was extremely gusty, coming from every direction but behind, and it was a real fight to make any head way into it. It actually blew me over a few times when my concentration dropped, happily it tends to come from the sea so I only found myself on a grassy bank rather than head first down a cliff face.
I realised I had made a serious error this week very early on, my diet just hadn’t been sufficient, and I’d been eating like I was on a 2 week bikini body plan out of Femail all week. My legs were empty and I was finding it very hard to drum up any strength. The food supplied by Votwo the night before had been fine, but in Lilluputian portions; Heather and I had gone out for a second dinner in desperation, but I hadn’t really had a square meal for about a week (too much travelling and not enough planning).
Still, the cut offs were fairly generous, given the shocking 11.30am start. There’s no way I’m starting that late again, it's not so bad for a 4 or so hour road marathon, but off road when it gets dark at 5 it’s way too late. We could afford to let the times slip, and Heather was very good at keeping me company when she was clearly much stronger than me.
It was a hard race to keep your sense of humour in, the wind and rain, constant up and down, sliding around in the mud and going over on your ankles was testing, but the Votwo guys are brilliant at the checkpoints. You’d arrive pretty drained and grumpy but a bit of banter and a cup of tea later and things seemed much brighter. Some of the banter was at my expense, I had perfected my Ey Up Grandad shuffle, legs going as fast as I can move them, which isn’t very fast at all, and arms pumping like the clappers to retain momentum. It’s best accompanied with a big grin and a wink, and a request to get t’kettle on for a brew. Arriving into a checkpoint like this is a far cry from sashaying down a staircase in a ball gown to a posh party, especially when you look like a drowned rat. Note to self, ditch the mascara.
We’d slogged through hours and hours together, and the company was invaluable. You get each other through the bad times and you can share the hysterical moments together too. Upon reaching an appropriately heavenly bit of tarmac just before Little Haven at about 20 miles, I knelt down on hands and knees to kiss it, then lay prostrate on the road embracing its smooth and mud free surface. It was partially a genuine expression of gratitude, and partially a means of lightening the atmosphere but this marathon business isn’t good for your dignity.
The scenery was superb for a short while when the sun came out a little bit. This is why we came all this way, the Pembrokeshire coast is stunning, all rolling cliffs and ranks of inlets and headlands stretching into the distance. Some of the deserted beaches below us were glorious - smooth firm sand with blue surf breaking onto it. Sadly, we had to run the last few miles in darkness as it got so late, stars may be pretty but they ain’t so good at letting you know where to put your feet to avoid a broken ankle. The last few miles were pretty boring and seemed endless, so we’ll definitely be starting earlier tomorrow with the walkers to avoid another finish in the dark. While I’m pretty tired and hoping there’s not so much wind, I’m looking forward to another day by the sea. It’s not a bad way to spend your annual leave.
Sunset over Druidston beach
Day 2 - Newgale to Porthgain
Day 2 started at Newgale beach
The weather this morning was much better – cold, but lots of sunshine and the wind was considerably lighter than yesterday. We’d started early to give us a bit more headroom on the cutoffs, and to hopefully finish in daylight. This meant I did a lot more walking and less Ey Up Grandad shuffling, but that was fine, the aim was to finish in decent shape and keep some in the already heavily-depleted tank for tomorrow.
The coastline around St David’s peninsula is even more stunning than yesterday further south, more rugged and wild with some incredible coves and beaches. It was nice to be able to appreciate them too with the clearer weather and less time pressure. It was fairly uneventful for most of the run; the rain and wind didn’t really set in until about 23k after which I had a down spell that lasted all the way to 41k. It felt like I was making very little progress, and it had turned into yet another fight against the gales and rain. The 16k distance between checkpoints 2 and 3 was particularly difficult, it just seemed to go on for ever.
Coming into that checkpoint, I was kind of hoping they’d pull me out, there was little daylight left and I was freezing. The Votwo guys were predictably brilliant, and gave me no choice. It was only 3000m to the end and I was carrying on. Jason had a surprise for me in the van, it wasn’t a hot bath, but it was close - half a mars bar and a cup of tea. Nectar! If I was going to get the last bit done, it required warmer dry gloves but my hands were so cold I couldn’t get them into my thicker gloves. Jason went beyond the call of duty by shoving them into his own armpits. Guess I was lucky it wasn’t the other warm part of his anatomy.
The guys’ support really helped, they made it seem achievable and like there was no choice but to get it done. With a last bit of energy, I clambered up the last hill onto the headland where it was blissfully smooth underfoot and flat. A call from my boyfriend saying he’d arrived at St David’s (he was here to run Day 3) and was heading for the finish was the icing on the cake, and I even managed to break into a run for the last few k, even though it was now dark. My time was woeful again, but I’d got day 2 done and I’m not broken. It’s a vast improvement to the end of Greensands two weeks ago.
Just another bit of Pembrokeshire coast
Day 3 - Porthgain to Pwllgwaelod
We started early again today to get as much light as possible, but the weather wasn't kind, it was gusty and rainy, with the promise of clearer skies later on. I wanted to push this one a bit to try to make up a bit of time as we had to get all the way back to London in the evening, but it wasn't happening, the energy levels were at rock bottom and I was finding it impossible to even stand up straight in the wind. I was shuffling along half bent over and lurching into the banks either side of the tightrope-width gullies that made up most of the path. The prospect of 27-odd miles of sliding down muddy cliffs, clambering up rock faces, being freezing cold and soaked through wasn't a good one, the only way to contemplate it was checkpoint by checkpoint.
The first was 6.8k away. Normally, I can run that in less than 35 minutes, today it took me about 1 hour 15 and I already knew it would be a DNF. Not yet though, I couldn't quit now, I had to get to the next checkpoint at Strumble Head, half way into the race. The next leg was the toughest and most exposed and if I did that, then at least I'd had a decent day out with 13 or so miles done and had battled through the hardest bit. A nibble on a chocolate bar wasn't much help, but that was all I could get down with the rising nausea.
It was 14k to the next CP and that felt unmanageable. I'd take it 5k at a time. That soon felt unmanageable too so it became 1k at a time, that's not even a mile. My progress was getting slower and slower, a heavy rain and hail shower had set in and when the wind gusted it took all my strength just to stay on my feet, there was no hope of moving forwards. I just don't have enough weight to cope with these conditions and things weren't looking good. When I came round a headland and saw the wet glisten of a road the other side of the rocky beach, the decision seemed obvious. I had to stop.
Stopping was pretty horrible, you feel like such a failure. I got picked up by the Votwo guys and taken to the CP at Strumble Head, someone shoved a down jacket on me, someone else jammed on a woolly hat and the medic poured lots of electrolytes down me. I had mild hypothermia, a bit of shock, a few other things with medical names and was just generally done in. I don't regret the weekend at all, it was a fabulous few days by the coast with extraordinarily beautiful views. By the time we drove to the finish a few hours later, the DNF was in perspective; I knew I couldn't have done any more today and there's no point beating yourself up about it. There are other pleasures in life beyond marathon after marathon after all - the finish was in a tiny picture postcard-worthy cove with a few boats pulled up on the beach. The sun was shining and one of the 3 buildings was a pub! We sat on a picnic bench with a beer, looking out to sea with a stadium view of the finishing stretch and everything seemed much brighter.
The finish at Pwllgwaelod
Today was a tough day, it was raining steadily when we set off and got very heavy over the next 3 or 4 hours. What was worse was the wind, it was extremely gusty, coming from every direction but behind, and it was a real fight to make any head way into it. It actually blew me over a few times when my concentration dropped, happily it tends to come from the sea so I only found myself on a grassy bank rather than head first down a cliff face.
I realised I had made a serious error this week very early on, my diet just hadn’t been sufficient, and I’d been eating like I was on a 2 week bikini body plan out of Femail all week. My legs were empty and I was finding it very hard to drum up any strength. The food supplied by Votwo the night before had been fine, but in Lilluputian portions; Heather and I had gone out for a second dinner in desperation, but I hadn’t really had a square meal for about a week (too much travelling and not enough planning).
Still, the cut offs were fairly generous, given the shocking 11.30am start. There’s no way I’m starting that late again, it's not so bad for a 4 or so hour road marathon, but off road when it gets dark at 5 it’s way too late. We could afford to let the times slip, and Heather was very good at keeping me company when she was clearly much stronger than me.
It was a hard race to keep your sense of humour in, the wind and rain, constant up and down, sliding around in the mud and going over on your ankles was testing, but the Votwo guys are brilliant at the checkpoints. You’d arrive pretty drained and grumpy but a bit of banter and a cup of tea later and things seemed much brighter. Some of the banter was at my expense, I had perfected my Ey Up Grandad shuffle, legs going as fast as I can move them, which isn’t very fast at all, and arms pumping like the clappers to retain momentum. It’s best accompanied with a big grin and a wink, and a request to get t’kettle on for a brew. Arriving into a checkpoint like this is a far cry from sashaying down a staircase in a ball gown to a posh party, especially when you look like a drowned rat. Note to self, ditch the mascara.
We’d slogged through hours and hours together, and the company was invaluable. You get each other through the bad times and you can share the hysterical moments together too. Upon reaching an appropriately heavenly bit of tarmac just before Little Haven at about 20 miles, I knelt down on hands and knees to kiss it, then lay prostrate on the road embracing its smooth and mud free surface. It was partially a genuine expression of gratitude, and partially a means of lightening the atmosphere but this marathon business isn’t good for your dignity.
The scenery was superb for a short while when the sun came out a little bit. This is why we came all this way, the Pembrokeshire coast is stunning, all rolling cliffs and ranks of inlets and headlands stretching into the distance. Some of the deserted beaches below us were glorious - smooth firm sand with blue surf breaking onto it. Sadly, we had to run the last few miles in darkness as it got so late, stars may be pretty but they ain’t so good at letting you know where to put your feet to avoid a broken ankle. The last few miles were pretty boring and seemed endless, so we’ll definitely be starting earlier tomorrow with the walkers to avoid another finish in the dark. While I’m pretty tired and hoping there’s not so much wind, I’m looking forward to another day by the sea. It’s not a bad way to spend your annual leave.
Sunset over Druidston beach
Day 2 - Newgale to Porthgain
Day 2 started at Newgale beach
The weather this morning was much better – cold, but lots of sunshine and the wind was considerably lighter than yesterday. We’d started early to give us a bit more headroom on the cutoffs, and to hopefully finish in daylight. This meant I did a lot more walking and less Ey Up Grandad shuffling, but that was fine, the aim was to finish in decent shape and keep some in the already heavily-depleted tank for tomorrow.
The coastline around St David’s peninsula is even more stunning than yesterday further south, more rugged and wild with some incredible coves and beaches. It was nice to be able to appreciate them too with the clearer weather and less time pressure. It was fairly uneventful for most of the run; the rain and wind didn’t really set in until about 23k after which I had a down spell that lasted all the way to 41k. It felt like I was making very little progress, and it had turned into yet another fight against the gales and rain. The 16k distance between checkpoints 2 and 3 was particularly difficult, it just seemed to go on for ever.
Coming into that checkpoint, I was kind of hoping they’d pull me out, there was little daylight left and I was freezing. The Votwo guys were predictably brilliant, and gave me no choice. It was only 3000m to the end and I was carrying on. Jason had a surprise for me in the van, it wasn’t a hot bath, but it was close - half a mars bar and a cup of tea. Nectar! If I was going to get the last bit done, it required warmer dry gloves but my hands were so cold I couldn’t get them into my thicker gloves. Jason went beyond the call of duty by shoving them into his own armpits. Guess I was lucky it wasn’t the other warm part of his anatomy.
The guys’ support really helped, they made it seem achievable and like there was no choice but to get it done. With a last bit of energy, I clambered up the last hill onto the headland where it was blissfully smooth underfoot and flat. A call from my boyfriend saying he’d arrived at St David’s (he was here to run Day 3) and was heading for the finish was the icing on the cake, and I even managed to break into a run for the last few k, even though it was now dark. My time was woeful again, but I’d got day 2 done and I’m not broken. It’s a vast improvement to the end of Greensands two weeks ago.
Just another bit of Pembrokeshire coast
Day 3 - Porthgain to Pwllgwaelod
We started early again today to get as much light as possible, but the weather wasn't kind, it was gusty and rainy, with the promise of clearer skies later on. I wanted to push this one a bit to try to make up a bit of time as we had to get all the way back to London in the evening, but it wasn't happening, the energy levels were at rock bottom and I was finding it impossible to even stand up straight in the wind. I was shuffling along half bent over and lurching into the banks either side of the tightrope-width gullies that made up most of the path. The prospect of 27-odd miles of sliding down muddy cliffs, clambering up rock faces, being freezing cold and soaked through wasn't a good one, the only way to contemplate it was checkpoint by checkpoint.
The first was 6.8k away. Normally, I can run that in less than 35 minutes, today it took me about 1 hour 15 and I already knew it would be a DNF. Not yet though, I couldn't quit now, I had to get to the next checkpoint at Strumble Head, half way into the race. The next leg was the toughest and most exposed and if I did that, then at least I'd had a decent day out with 13 or so miles done and had battled through the hardest bit. A nibble on a chocolate bar wasn't much help, but that was all I could get down with the rising nausea.
It was 14k to the next CP and that felt unmanageable. I'd take it 5k at a time. That soon felt unmanageable too so it became 1k at a time, that's not even a mile. My progress was getting slower and slower, a heavy rain and hail shower had set in and when the wind gusted it took all my strength just to stay on my feet, there was no hope of moving forwards. I just don't have enough weight to cope with these conditions and things weren't looking good. When I came round a headland and saw the wet glisten of a road the other side of the rocky beach, the decision seemed obvious. I had to stop.
Stopping was pretty horrible, you feel like such a failure. I got picked up by the Votwo guys and taken to the CP at Strumble Head, someone shoved a down jacket on me, someone else jammed on a woolly hat and the medic poured lots of electrolytes down me. I had mild hypothermia, a bit of shock, a few other things with medical names and was just generally done in. I don't regret the weekend at all, it was a fabulous few days by the coast with extraordinarily beautiful views. By the time we drove to the finish a few hours later, the DNF was in perspective; I knew I couldn't have done any more today and there's no point beating yourself up about it. There are other pleasures in life beyond marathon after marathon after all - the finish was in a tiny picture postcard-worthy cove with a few boats pulled up on the beach. The sun was shining and one of the 3 buildings was a pub! We sat on a picnic bench with a beer, looking out to sea with a stadium view of the finishing stretch and everything seemed much brighter.
The finish at Pwllgwaelod
Tuesday 27 October 2009
3 marathons in 3 days: part 3 – Dublin marathon
I was a bit of a wreck in the morning, and had only managed 5 ½ hours sleep so was pretty tired and sore. We had plenty of time at the start as we’d had to pick up numbers at 7am and I was lucky enough to bump into Michael and Selina, both really experienced 100 club members. There’s something about people being nice to you that just makes you crumble, I was just about keeping it together until I saw them. They were great though, I needed people who’d been through it before to tell me it was ok to be in a bad way at this point and to give me a hug and provide a bit of reassurance. Didn’t stop the tears though, I’m quite embarrassed by how much I fell apart yesterday.
At the start, I wasn’t too bad, it was 26 miles to get through and it was on tarmac and mostly flat. I could get onto autopilot and keep the legs turning over. The first few miles felt good surprisingly, probably because of the tarmac, it’s so much easier to run on than trail. 9 minute miles seemed pretty comfortable too and I wondered whether a sub 4 was possible. It wasn’t about times today though, it was about finishing.
I went through 10 miles on 9 minute pace with the light headedness getting stronger and stronger. Michael had told me to expect it so it wasn’t worrying me, but my field of vision was shrinking further and further, from 10 yards ahead of me at the start to only a few feet in front of me. My eyes were starting to close too and the tiredness overwhelming. All of a sudden, I had two spectators catching hold of me and asking me if I was ok. I’d fallen asleep on my feet and run straight into them. Jeez, there’s autopilot and there’s sleep-running. I tried slapping myself in the face and yelling at myself but I couldn’t keep my eyes open at all. There was a St John’s ambulance on the road that looked like an oasis in the desert. The medic was a bit surprised when I asked her to promise to wake me up in 5 minutes but she probably had more serious issues to worry about than a sleepy runner. It felt like as soon as I had shut my eyes that she opened the door with a bottle of water, but it was a full 5 minutes later, I’d been out for the count.
It helped, I shuffled off and was a bit more alert. It wasn’t even half way though so there was still a long way to go. From there at about 11 miles to 16 miles was hell. I had to reach into the depths of my soul to keep going, it was truly awful. It’s not digging in any more, I’d been doing that since about mile 18 on Saturday, this was a serious test of resolve. But I wasn’t going to have come all this way to DNF at this point.
The mile 16 marker was an epiphany, I knew it was possible and that I’d finish. The fog lifted and the endorphins finally started to kick in. Everything was hurting, but no more than it had done since Sunday, and keeping a sort of run/shuffle/stagger going was easier, and quicker, than walking. The miles passed one by one, and not too painfully slowly and the finish was getting closer. If I could keep moving, a sub 4’30 was possible, which would be a respectable time. The last mile was good, I managed to pick up the pace and pass a load of people, and came over the line in something like 4’20 or 4’22, I’m not sure as my garmin had died a few miles back and it had taken either 6 or 8 minutes to get over the start line. It’s not a bad time considering the nightmare I’d had.
I usually try to come to some sort of conclusion, but I’m still thinking about it. I’ve always tried to keep my emotions under wraps, but the exhaustion totally got the better of me this weekend. It’s made me feel so vulnerable and having so many people see me so broken has been pretty embarrassing. I’ve also seen different sides to people, and some have been incredibly supportive and offered great advice. It’s been a hellish weekend, but I’ll be stronger when I recover. It’s super-compensation or something, break something down and it recovers a bit stronger. It’s not a nice process, but I’m going to need the experience of all these tough races in the TiT.
At the start, I wasn’t too bad, it was 26 miles to get through and it was on tarmac and mostly flat. I could get onto autopilot and keep the legs turning over. The first few miles felt good surprisingly, probably because of the tarmac, it’s so much easier to run on than trail. 9 minute miles seemed pretty comfortable too and I wondered whether a sub 4 was possible. It wasn’t about times today though, it was about finishing.
I went through 10 miles on 9 minute pace with the light headedness getting stronger and stronger. Michael had told me to expect it so it wasn’t worrying me, but my field of vision was shrinking further and further, from 10 yards ahead of me at the start to only a few feet in front of me. My eyes were starting to close too and the tiredness overwhelming. All of a sudden, I had two spectators catching hold of me and asking me if I was ok. I’d fallen asleep on my feet and run straight into them. Jeez, there’s autopilot and there’s sleep-running. I tried slapping myself in the face and yelling at myself but I couldn’t keep my eyes open at all. There was a St John’s ambulance on the road that looked like an oasis in the desert. The medic was a bit surprised when I asked her to promise to wake me up in 5 minutes but she probably had more serious issues to worry about than a sleepy runner. It felt like as soon as I had shut my eyes that she opened the door with a bottle of water, but it was a full 5 minutes later, I’d been out for the count.
It helped, I shuffled off and was a bit more alert. It wasn’t even half way though so there was still a long way to go. From there at about 11 miles to 16 miles was hell. I had to reach into the depths of my soul to keep going, it was truly awful. It’s not digging in any more, I’d been doing that since about mile 18 on Saturday, this was a serious test of resolve. But I wasn’t going to have come all this way to DNF at this point.
The mile 16 marker was an epiphany, I knew it was possible and that I’d finish. The fog lifted and the endorphins finally started to kick in. Everything was hurting, but no more than it had done since Sunday, and keeping a sort of run/shuffle/stagger going was easier, and quicker, than walking. The miles passed one by one, and not too painfully slowly and the finish was getting closer. If I could keep moving, a sub 4’30 was possible, which would be a respectable time. The last mile was good, I managed to pick up the pace and pass a load of people, and came over the line in something like 4’20 or 4’22, I’m not sure as my garmin had died a few miles back and it had taken either 6 or 8 minutes to get over the start line. It’s not a bad time considering the nightmare I’d had.
I usually try to come to some sort of conclusion, but I’m still thinking about it. I’ve always tried to keep my emotions under wraps, but the exhaustion totally got the better of me this weekend. It’s made me feel so vulnerable and having so many people see me so broken has been pretty embarrassing. I’ve also seen different sides to people, and some have been incredibly supportive and offered great advice. It’s been a hellish weekend, but I’ll be stronger when I recover. It’s super-compensation or something, break something down and it recovers a bit stronger. It’s not a nice process, but I’m going to need the experience of all these tough races in the TiT.
3 marathons in 3 days: Part 2 - Greensands marathon
I was incredibly worried about this race, because it was organised by Dr Rob of Trionium who did the Picnic marathon back in June. That took in Box Hill and Mickleham Downs no less than 20 times and I was on the verge of throwing up and/or passing out for the entire 6 hours and 35 minutes it took me. This one wasn't going to be much easier, and had the added bonus of having a cut off of 1 hour 20 minutes for the first 7 miles, quite stiff when you consider it's largely uphill all the way.
There were loads of people around that I knew but I was in no fit state for company, and spent the entire race very reluctant to tall to anyone, it was going to be hell and I was better off suffering it alone. We set off, up a hill of course, and it was immediately head down to get the 7 miles done. It was a steady grind up and I would usually have walked the steeper uphills but the cut off was tight so I kept slogging on. I made the cut off point with several minutes to spare but it had cost a bit, I'd had to beast it to get there and now I was knackered. At least the legs weren't hurting too much from yesterday.
It was an odd way to start a marathon, it was just a 7 mile race to that point and now I had to completely change my mindset to think about the marathon distance. There was a water station after a few more miles where the girl cheerfully informed us we were at 9 miles. My garmin said 10.5. This completely broke me, utterly wiped out what scraps of confidence I had and wrote off my race. I did for a few seconds consider pulling out, if this was going to be a 29 mile marathon and I was already knackered, there was no way I'd get round.
I could at least get to the turn around point at half way, so I stumbled off up the hill feeling absolutely rotten. I confess I lost the plot here, I was knackered and hurting and had so far to go still, and I didn't even know how much further that far was. For the first time ever, I cried in a race and felt like even more of a dropout for losing it. After a few minutes, I decided I was being a snivelling wreck, and that I needed to toughen the fuck up. My usual technique here is to belt myself in the face a few times and yell some obscenities at myself, "Move your fucking arse, you lazy bitch, what the fuck are you whinging about", that sort of thing. It kind of works, if moving forward is any result.
By this point, people were starting to pass me on the way back and they did lift my spirits. The atmosphere at Trionium races is infinitely more collaborative than yesterday, most were saying encouraging things and you've got to put on a brave(r) face if people are going to see you. Thank god the half way point was bang on 13 miles, it was a huge comfort that the race wasn't stupidly long. Half a mile or so is ok, more than a mile is too depressing.
The way back was horrible, I was really hurting with a sore left knee and finding it difficult to get any speed up. At least I could keep shuffling, even up some of the shallower ascents. At the water station at mile 20, I think I worried the marshal when I took a bottle of lucozade and tears promptly started falling from my eyes, not because I wanted to cry, it was just someone being nice enough to give me something to drink. I'm such a wuss.
Fortunately the last few miles are mostly downhill and I managed to keep shuffling. For the first time in the race, I started thinking about the time and sub 5'30 was looking possible, and beating my time from yesterday was just about on the cards if I could hold it together. There was a small hill in the final mile but I managed to really pick it up in the last 15 minutes to pass a few people and half run, half fall down the hill to finish in 5 hours 18 minutes, 8 minutes quicker than yesterday. I've never been broken so much mentally and physically, that's two really rough days in a row. I am worried about tomorrow, but I'm hoping that because it's road and flat, my legs will go onto auto-pilot and just keep running of their own accord. And I can't wait for that pint at the finish.
There were loads of people around that I knew but I was in no fit state for company, and spent the entire race very reluctant to tall to anyone, it was going to be hell and I was better off suffering it alone. We set off, up a hill of course, and it was immediately head down to get the 7 miles done. It was a steady grind up and I would usually have walked the steeper uphills but the cut off was tight so I kept slogging on. I made the cut off point with several minutes to spare but it had cost a bit, I'd had to beast it to get there and now I was knackered. At least the legs weren't hurting too much from yesterday.
It was an odd way to start a marathon, it was just a 7 mile race to that point and now I had to completely change my mindset to think about the marathon distance. There was a water station after a few more miles where the girl cheerfully informed us we were at 9 miles. My garmin said 10.5. This completely broke me, utterly wiped out what scraps of confidence I had and wrote off my race. I did for a few seconds consider pulling out, if this was going to be a 29 mile marathon and I was already knackered, there was no way I'd get round.
I could at least get to the turn around point at half way, so I stumbled off up the hill feeling absolutely rotten. I confess I lost the plot here, I was knackered and hurting and had so far to go still, and I didn't even know how much further that far was. For the first time ever, I cried in a race and felt like even more of a dropout for losing it. After a few minutes, I decided I was being a snivelling wreck, and that I needed to toughen the fuck up. My usual technique here is to belt myself in the face a few times and yell some obscenities at myself, "Move your fucking arse, you lazy bitch, what the fuck are you whinging about", that sort of thing. It kind of works, if moving forward is any result.
By this point, people were starting to pass me on the way back and they did lift my spirits. The atmosphere at Trionium races is infinitely more collaborative than yesterday, most were saying encouraging things and you've got to put on a brave(r) face if people are going to see you. Thank god the half way point was bang on 13 miles, it was a huge comfort that the race wasn't stupidly long. Half a mile or so is ok, more than a mile is too depressing.
The way back was horrible, I was really hurting with a sore left knee and finding it difficult to get any speed up. At least I could keep shuffling, even up some of the shallower ascents. At the water station at mile 20, I think I worried the marshal when I took a bottle of lucozade and tears promptly started falling from my eyes, not because I wanted to cry, it was just someone being nice enough to give me something to drink. I'm such a wuss.
Fortunately the last few miles are mostly downhill and I managed to keep shuffling. For the first time in the race, I started thinking about the time and sub 5'30 was looking possible, and beating my time from yesterday was just about on the cards if I could hold it together. There was a small hill in the final mile but I managed to really pick it up in the last 15 minutes to pass a few people and half run, half fall down the hill to finish in 5 hours 18 minutes, 8 minutes quicker than yesterday. I've never been broken so much mentally and physically, that's two really rough days in a row. I am worried about tomorrow, but I'm hoping that because it's road and flat, my legs will go onto auto-pilot and just keep running of their own accord. And I can't wait for that pint at the finish.
Saturday 24 October 2009
3 marathons in 3 days: Part 1 - Beachy Head
I was well up for a long run in the great outdoors today; I'd only managed to run twice this week (although both were brilliant explorations of Copenhagen's cycle paths) and was in need of some good exercise. The prospect of my first triple was a bit daunting, but I knew that taking it easy and trying not to think of the total mileage was the best way to handle it.
After an easy journey down from London to Eastbourse, the start turned out to be total mayhem - changing, loos and the bag drop were scattered all over the place, queues were epic and noone seemed to be in a very good mood. With the teeming rain and the stiff hill to get us going, it wasn't the best start but at least I met a few marathon buddies including a couple of the other "triplets".
The first few miles of the race were pretty congested and I was finding it hard to get into a rhythm even though it wasn't that tricky underfoot. After mooching along for a few miles, Heather caught up with me. It was great to see her and have the company as I suffering serious CBAs today. Last week, each mile flew by and this was really dragging. The visibility was terrible too as we were running through thick mist so we couldn't even see any of the famous views. At times you couldn't even see people 20 yardas ahead of you, even those in high-vis shirts, which got a bit eery, and made you a bit wary of running off the cliff edge... I confess the course was really boring me and I was struggling to find motivation to do anything other than plod round. At least on a boring road marathon, you can switch off the conscious brain and let your mind wander, off road you have to concentrate on every step.
The weather was seriously deteriorating and by mile 10, about 2 hours in (yes, it was slow), the wind was howling and was driving the rain into our faces, stinging our eyelids and reducing the vis through screwed up eyes even more to just in front of your feet. It was horrible. Thank god it was a warm day for October, or I could have been in trouble in shorts and a long sleeve top. We slogged on and Heather really kept me going, as did the wonderful British humour with people coming up with all sorts of variations on "It's a lovely day for a stroll by the seaside".
Just before a truly magical checkpoint with cups of tea and sausage rolls, there was a particularly slippery bit of mud. Heather and I managed to take the boys' minds off the pain for a few minutes by wondering how well-suited it was for mud wrestling, being very smooth and clayey and free from grit. You don't want grit if you're mud wrestling. Oh no. The sausage roll and cup of tea were indeed magical, I've no idea why this isn't the sports nutrition of elite athletes, and the never ending roller coaster of the Seven Sisters sent us slightly hysterical. We completely lost count of how many sisters we'd done, and I missed Beachy Head, unless it was that hill with the horse box water station perched on top, we were too busy lurching up the hills, falling down them and wondering where on earth the giant poos came from. We decided it had to be brontosauruses. Yep, we'd lost it.
The last mile or so was a lovely downhill over grass, with that steep hill to finish it off. I do hope there was a video camera there because it was so steep, grassy and slippy I bet loads of people ended up on their arses. We came over the line in 5 hours 26 minutes, pretty damn slow but I couldn't care less, I've got two more days to go and I reckon tomorrow's going to be even tougher.
After an easy journey down from London to Eastbourse, the start turned out to be total mayhem - changing, loos and the bag drop were scattered all over the place, queues were epic and noone seemed to be in a very good mood. With the teeming rain and the stiff hill to get us going, it wasn't the best start but at least I met a few marathon buddies including a couple of the other "triplets".
The first few miles of the race were pretty congested and I was finding it hard to get into a rhythm even though it wasn't that tricky underfoot. After mooching along for a few miles, Heather caught up with me. It was great to see her and have the company as I suffering serious CBAs today. Last week, each mile flew by and this was really dragging. The visibility was terrible too as we were running through thick mist so we couldn't even see any of the famous views. At times you couldn't even see people 20 yardas ahead of you, even those in high-vis shirts, which got a bit eery, and made you a bit wary of running off the cliff edge... I confess the course was really boring me and I was struggling to find motivation to do anything other than plod round. At least on a boring road marathon, you can switch off the conscious brain and let your mind wander, off road you have to concentrate on every step.
The weather was seriously deteriorating and by mile 10, about 2 hours in (yes, it was slow), the wind was howling and was driving the rain into our faces, stinging our eyelids and reducing the vis through screwed up eyes even more to just in front of your feet. It was horrible. Thank god it was a warm day for October, or I could have been in trouble in shorts and a long sleeve top. We slogged on and Heather really kept me going, as did the wonderful British humour with people coming up with all sorts of variations on "It's a lovely day for a stroll by the seaside".
Just before a truly magical checkpoint with cups of tea and sausage rolls, there was a particularly slippery bit of mud. Heather and I managed to take the boys' minds off the pain for a few minutes by wondering how well-suited it was for mud wrestling, being very smooth and clayey and free from grit. You don't want grit if you're mud wrestling. Oh no. The sausage roll and cup of tea were indeed magical, I've no idea why this isn't the sports nutrition of elite athletes, and the never ending roller coaster of the Seven Sisters sent us slightly hysterical. We completely lost count of how many sisters we'd done, and I missed Beachy Head, unless it was that hill with the horse box water station perched on top, we were too busy lurching up the hills, falling down them and wondering where on earth the giant poos came from. We decided it had to be brontosauruses. Yep, we'd lost it.
The last mile or so was a lovely downhill over grass, with that steep hill to finish it off. I do hope there was a video camera there because it was so steep, grassy and slippy I bet loads of people ended up on their arses. We came over the line in 5 hours 26 minutes, pretty damn slow but I couldn't care less, I've got two more days to go and I reckon tomorrow's going to be even tougher.
Tuesday 20 October 2009
Abingdon marathon - my autumn PB attempt
Everything was perfect for Abingdon: I'd tapered properly with 2 weeks since my last marathon, I was fit as a flea, well rested, and had avoided hangovers for over a week. The weather was perfect too, quite chilly first thing, but dry, bright, and warm enough for my go faster shorts and vest, I hate being weighed down with loads of kit. On the morning, I was full of energy and couldn't wait to get running. The aim was 3 hours 30 minutes. Not just a PB, which would have been anything quicker than 3'42'30, but 3 hours 30. 8 minute miling gets you in with a few seconds to spare, and is a nice easy calculation. It's a quick pace for me still so I knew my best tactic was even splits, I didn't have capacity to run a negative split, or even to run a positive split and build up a cushion. Basically, I can't accelerate much beyond 8 minute miling over anything more than about 5 miles, so I just hoped that my endurance would get me through the distance.
There were a bunch of us going for 3'30 - Peacey had kindly offered to pace me with Mark, and Jo and Sarah were going for the same time too. The first mile was slow with a bit of congestion, but Jo, Sarah and I blasted the second mile, enthusiasm getting the better of us a bit. We settled into about 7'50 - 7'55 pace which kept my mind happy, we were right on 3'30 pace. It did feel a bit quick though, and I couldn't talk much beyond the odd sentence, Sarah seemed to be finding it much easier. We'd already lost the boys by mile 3, and I felt bad about that but I had to stick to the slightly quicker pace if I had any chance of my target. Being in a little group of 3 was great, even if you're not talking, you can hang on their heels or lead from the front depending on who's feeling stronger.
L-R, Jo, me and Sarah having fun at this point
The next miles were completely uneventful, I didn't notice the surroundings much as I was concentrating on the pace and how the body felt (I'd need the head later). Time was passing really quickly, I do like this running as hard as you can business. By mile 12, we passed Fetchpoint and it was just superb - Lee and Jock dressed up as the 118 guys, though Lee looked more like a 70s porn star, unbelievable amounts of noise and cheering and just so much positive energy you couldn't help but be lifted by it. Apparently we were in a boring industrial park, but believe me, there was no point where I was bored in this race, I was working far too hard.
Even by the half way point, I was concerned about the pace, my breathing rate had increased and I could feel my heart hammering, plus my calves were starting to tighten up and my lower back to twinge. I never get aches and pains in a flat road marathon now, so the greater effort was definitely having a toll. Sarah was really encouraging though, so I decided to hang onto her until 16 miles and assess then. Just before mile 15, there's a tight left hand bend and as I came round it, my legs suddenly felt like lead. Maybe it was just a bad patch, so I pushed on for another mile. It wasn't a bad patch however, I was absolutely done in and there was nothing for it but to slow down. Gutted.
It was damage limitation now, I had completely overcooked it and am clearly not fit enough to run 26 miles at 8 minute mile pace just yet. I was still bang on pace at that point, going through 16 miles at 2 hours and 8 minutes. But by this point, I wasn't sure what pace I could sustain to the finish so had no idea whether I'd even PB. I still had 12 minutes' grace, so could slip to 9 minute miles and get a 3 minute PB, but even that seemed a bit stiff with 10 miles to go. The only thing I could do was to keep moving. At least I don't need to walk in marathons now, it's a mind game.
I slogged through the next few miles, with the intention of getting to Fetchpoint again at 20 miles, it's all downhill from there. Fetchpoint more than lived up to expectations, not only did it cheer me up, Harry and Dave gave me an extraordinarily special Vic Reeves-style thigh-rubbing welcome which made me laugh for about 2 miles. Thank you guys, I think you saved my race! I normally pick the pace up from 20 miles, and really enjoy picking people off one by one in the closing stages, but this time I was being passed by loads of people which was fairly demoralising. But I was still on for a PB and couldn't let that slip too. By this point, even if I kept 10 minute miling going I'd be ok.
Harry's special welcome
There was a lucozade point at about 22 miles and I was so low on energy I decided I needed to get a lot down me for the final few miles. I hated walking, but it took less than a minute to neck most of the bottle and it meant I didn't need to slow down for any more water stations. The last few miles were a bit of a blur really, just keeping the legs moving, ignoring the pain in my calves and quads, trying but failing to acknowledge the marshals. The last 400 yards are on the track in Tilsley Park and the atmosphere was brilliant. I knew I had a PB, and I knew I'd tried my damndest for the 3'30 so, while I'm not over the moon with it, the 3 hours 38 wasn't a disappointing result. I could have gone quicker if I'd started out slower, but that wasn't the plan. You have a plan and you stick to it for as long as you can. I haven't run a marathon with such a risky strategy before and it didn't work today, and it bloody hurt. But I know what I need to work on.
I'll get the 3'30 soon, but in the meantime my focus is on numbers - lots of marathons and lots of miles. I've been planning my spring training schedule for the TiT and it's daunting in the extreme - lots of doubles, some monster mileage weeks and some tough double marathon weekends. I'm looking forward to the challenge though, the next 2 months are for consolidation then it's time for proper hard work from January. Brilliant!
There were a bunch of us going for 3'30 - Peacey had kindly offered to pace me with Mark, and Jo and Sarah were going for the same time too. The first mile was slow with a bit of congestion, but Jo, Sarah and I blasted the second mile, enthusiasm getting the better of us a bit. We settled into about 7'50 - 7'55 pace which kept my mind happy, we were right on 3'30 pace. It did feel a bit quick though, and I couldn't talk much beyond the odd sentence, Sarah seemed to be finding it much easier. We'd already lost the boys by mile 3, and I felt bad about that but I had to stick to the slightly quicker pace if I had any chance of my target. Being in a little group of 3 was great, even if you're not talking, you can hang on their heels or lead from the front depending on who's feeling stronger.
L-R, Jo, me and Sarah having fun at this point
The next miles were completely uneventful, I didn't notice the surroundings much as I was concentrating on the pace and how the body felt (I'd need the head later). Time was passing really quickly, I do like this running as hard as you can business. By mile 12, we passed Fetchpoint and it was just superb - Lee and Jock dressed up as the 118 guys, though Lee looked more like a 70s porn star, unbelievable amounts of noise and cheering and just so much positive energy you couldn't help but be lifted by it. Apparently we were in a boring industrial park, but believe me, there was no point where I was bored in this race, I was working far too hard.
Even by the half way point, I was concerned about the pace, my breathing rate had increased and I could feel my heart hammering, plus my calves were starting to tighten up and my lower back to twinge. I never get aches and pains in a flat road marathon now, so the greater effort was definitely having a toll. Sarah was really encouraging though, so I decided to hang onto her until 16 miles and assess then. Just before mile 15, there's a tight left hand bend and as I came round it, my legs suddenly felt like lead. Maybe it was just a bad patch, so I pushed on for another mile. It wasn't a bad patch however, I was absolutely done in and there was nothing for it but to slow down. Gutted.
It was damage limitation now, I had completely overcooked it and am clearly not fit enough to run 26 miles at 8 minute mile pace just yet. I was still bang on pace at that point, going through 16 miles at 2 hours and 8 minutes. But by this point, I wasn't sure what pace I could sustain to the finish so had no idea whether I'd even PB. I still had 12 minutes' grace, so could slip to 9 minute miles and get a 3 minute PB, but even that seemed a bit stiff with 10 miles to go. The only thing I could do was to keep moving. At least I don't need to walk in marathons now, it's a mind game.
I slogged through the next few miles, with the intention of getting to Fetchpoint again at 20 miles, it's all downhill from there. Fetchpoint more than lived up to expectations, not only did it cheer me up, Harry and Dave gave me an extraordinarily special Vic Reeves-style thigh-rubbing welcome which made me laugh for about 2 miles. Thank you guys, I think you saved my race! I normally pick the pace up from 20 miles, and really enjoy picking people off one by one in the closing stages, but this time I was being passed by loads of people which was fairly demoralising. But I was still on for a PB and couldn't let that slip too. By this point, even if I kept 10 minute miling going I'd be ok.
Harry's special welcome
There was a lucozade point at about 22 miles and I was so low on energy I decided I needed to get a lot down me for the final few miles. I hated walking, but it took less than a minute to neck most of the bottle and it meant I didn't need to slow down for any more water stations. The last few miles were a bit of a blur really, just keeping the legs moving, ignoring the pain in my calves and quads, trying but failing to acknowledge the marshals. The last 400 yards are on the track in Tilsley Park and the atmosphere was brilliant. I knew I had a PB, and I knew I'd tried my damndest for the 3'30 so, while I'm not over the moon with it, the 3 hours 38 wasn't a disappointing result. I could have gone quicker if I'd started out slower, but that wasn't the plan. You have a plan and you stick to it for as long as you can. I haven't run a marathon with such a risky strategy before and it didn't work today, and it bloody hurt. But I know what I need to work on.
I'll get the 3'30 soon, but in the meantime my focus is on numbers - lots of marathons and lots of miles. I've been planning my spring training schedule for the TiT and it's daunting in the extreme - lots of doubles, some monster mileage weeks and some tough double marathon weekends. I'm looking forward to the challenge though, the next 2 months are for consolidation then it's time for proper hard work from January. Brilliant!
Monday 5 October 2009
The Great Clarendon marathon
This has to be one of the posher marathons on the calendar, starting at the very smart Godolphin School in Salisbury with registration in the purpose built theatre complete with proper Greek-style orchestra space, and finishing in the King's School in Winchester where the burger van looked rather out of place among the music facilities, sports field and beautifully tended trees. It's not often that you see marshals in blazers and immaculately pressed duck egg blue trousers either. It being a point to point race, we took the bus from the finish at Winchester to the start which provided some amusement when the driver realised there was no way we were going to get under the railway bridge, no matter how much his passengers ducked.
The route is on trail, but largely pretty straightforward trails, so even my tarmac-spoiled ankles could cope with it. It's also pretty hilly, with a mix of long drags and shorter sharper climbs. These were rewarded with some of the best downhills ever, the mile or so at mile 11 was particularly exhilerating, or at least it was to me as I flew down whooping with delight. There's not much to report on this race. It was intended as a final long run before the PB attempt at Abingdon in 2 weeks' time, and a nice relaxed day out in the country, admiring the views and the fields of "high health pigs", walking the ups, running the flats and downs. It worked out perfectly. I wasn't in the least bit bothered about the time after chasing the clock in my 4 September marathons, and the weather was good enough that you didn't get too cold when walking up a hill. And it really was a lovely bit of countryside.
In the final few miles, I was doing my usual thing of feeling stronger and stronger by the minute and the competitive spirit got a bit fired up. Everyone ahead of me turning into a target, and I was picking them off one by one, making sure that as I passed them I did my utmost to appear fresh and bouncy and well in control, just to psyche them out a bit and make sure they didn't chase after me of course! It seemed to work, and my last mile was a belter in spite of the two little hills. Bounded in in 4 hours 34, which isn't too bad for me on a hilly trail marathon, and I even had the energy to chase my boss's 3 year old around the sports pitch afterwards too. Brilliant Sunday roast in a lovely country pub, couple of glasses of wine and a long hot bath, and I was ready for the next one. Hmm, best hang onto that energy somehow, I'm meant to be tapering for Abingdon in 13 days' time..
The route is on trail, but largely pretty straightforward trails, so even my tarmac-spoiled ankles could cope with it. It's also pretty hilly, with a mix of long drags and shorter sharper climbs. These were rewarded with some of the best downhills ever, the mile or so at mile 11 was particularly exhilerating, or at least it was to me as I flew down whooping with delight. There's not much to report on this race. It was intended as a final long run before the PB attempt at Abingdon in 2 weeks' time, and a nice relaxed day out in the country, admiring the views and the fields of "high health pigs", walking the ups, running the flats and downs. It worked out perfectly. I wasn't in the least bit bothered about the time after chasing the clock in my 4 September marathons, and the weather was good enough that you didn't get too cold when walking up a hill. And it really was a lovely bit of countryside.
In the final few miles, I was doing my usual thing of feeling stronger and stronger by the minute and the competitive spirit got a bit fired up. Everyone ahead of me turning into a target, and I was picking them off one by one, making sure that as I passed them I did my utmost to appear fresh and bouncy and well in control, just to psyche them out a bit and make sure they didn't chase after me of course! It seemed to work, and my last mile was a belter in spite of the two little hills. Bounded in in 4 hours 34, which isn't too bad for me on a hilly trail marathon, and I even had the energy to chase my boss's 3 year old around the sports pitch afterwards too. Brilliant Sunday roast in a lovely country pub, couple of glasses of wine and a long hot bath, and I was ready for the next one. Hmm, best hang onto that energy somehow, I'm meant to be tapering for Abingdon in 13 days' time..
Monday 28 September 2009
New Forest marathon
I wasn't feeling terribly well at the start of the New Forest marathon: over the past week, I'd had late boozy nights almost every night with not enough sleep or taking care of myself. The energy levels have been feeling very low for a while now, and it's getting increasingly hard to keep the calorie intake up. The more tired and run down I get, the less inspiring the trip to the supermarket, cooking and eating becomes. It's something I do need to sort out before the TiT, and perhaps quite urgently.
I'd topped up the training with a 14 miler on Saturday morning (meant to be 8 but it was a lovely day, I was in a great mood and got a bit carried away), then gone to the Fetch mile. One of the reasons why I do marathons is because I'm not a fast runner, and have little acceleration. Breaking 7 minutes over the mile seemed to be fairly ambitious but Riel had other ideas and told me he was going to pace me to 6'30 and wasn't taking any argument. The first few steps were terrifying, there was no way I could keep this up over 100m, but Riel wasn't going to let me slack off so I hung on for dear life, breathing like a carthorse by the penultimate lap and finally collapsing over the finish line in 6 minutes 33 seconds as close to death as it is possible to get. I may be avoiding these in future... It was quite nice to have my tortoise nature confirmed in the 100m we did later on - of the 12 of us there, I may have been the 4th quickest over the mile, but I was definitively the slowest of the lot over the 100m.
Why don't proper affleets need to recover like this??
I'm not sure how much the mile took out of me for the marathon, that intensity is something I'm not used to, but I just told myself I need to get used to running on tired and sore legs, and even while feeling a bit under the weather. The first 9 or so miles were great, I felt very strong and relaxed and the pace was comfortably sub 8'30 per mile. With a bit of time in the bank, I could even go for another 3'50 I thought. By mile 10, my guts started to protest so I ducked into the forest by the side of the road. That was the beginning of the end, all my energy seemed to have leached out of me and I was having to dig in to maintain the pace. Digging in so early isn't part of the game plan, ever.
The course is absolutely stunning, but unfortunately I couldn't appreciate it fully as all my mental and physical energy was concentrated on keeping my legs turning over. The views were fabulous, I think, and there were lots of ponies around but I had the tunnel vision back and couldn't see much beyond a few feet of tarmac ahead of me. By mile 15 or 16, we were up on the top of the moor in the blazing sunshine, but I was freezing now and covered in goosebumps. Another bad sign.. There were still a few minutes in the bank if I could keep up with 9 minute miles, but the route now became hillier and I was really struggling, taking my first walk break up the hill at 17, and having to stop for a minute or two at the 18 mile water station to try to get some blood back in my head to stop feeling like I was about to faint. It was at that point I lost the 4 hours and it was desperately disappointing, I felt so angry with myself for not pushing harder.
The tactic for the rest of the race was to walk the uphills and run the flats and downs and this seemed to work, although the cravings for any liquid that wasn't water were getting really strong. Lucozade, orange juice and soda water, a pint of bitter, any would have done as the water now wasn't any benefit other than to rinse my mouth out. Luckily, the repeated marathons are really paying off now, those 7 miles were horrible but at least they seemed to pass quickly. It's not often that you see so many people struggling in a marathon this size, I was really surprised to see so many people walking flat stretches. It's not so unusual in a big city race where people aren't so experienced, but this is a fairly small club marathon and not an excessively tough course and, while it was sunny, it wasn't that hot.
By the last mile however, my watch told me that sub 4'15 was well within reach and a sub 4'10 was possible if I really floored it. I remembered the mile time trial and knew I could push harder than I used to think possible only 24 hours before. An almost 8 minute mile and it was done, 4'09'26.
I'm disappointed with that time but putting it into perspective, I averaged sub 4 hours for each of my 4 marathons in September, with a total of 15 hours 43 minutes for the 4. So it's game on for the TiT, and the learning points are slowly identifying themselves. Message from this week? Rest more, and get the nutrition sorted.
I'd topped up the training with a 14 miler on Saturday morning (meant to be 8 but it was a lovely day, I was in a great mood and got a bit carried away), then gone to the Fetch mile. One of the reasons why I do marathons is because I'm not a fast runner, and have little acceleration. Breaking 7 minutes over the mile seemed to be fairly ambitious but Riel had other ideas and told me he was going to pace me to 6'30 and wasn't taking any argument. The first few steps were terrifying, there was no way I could keep this up over 100m, but Riel wasn't going to let me slack off so I hung on for dear life, breathing like a carthorse by the penultimate lap and finally collapsing over the finish line in 6 minutes 33 seconds as close to death as it is possible to get. I may be avoiding these in future... It was quite nice to have my tortoise nature confirmed in the 100m we did later on - of the 12 of us there, I may have been the 4th quickest over the mile, but I was definitively the slowest of the lot over the 100m.
Why don't proper affleets need to recover like this??
I'm not sure how much the mile took out of me for the marathon, that intensity is something I'm not used to, but I just told myself I need to get used to running on tired and sore legs, and even while feeling a bit under the weather. The first 9 or so miles were great, I felt very strong and relaxed and the pace was comfortably sub 8'30 per mile. With a bit of time in the bank, I could even go for another 3'50 I thought. By mile 10, my guts started to protest so I ducked into the forest by the side of the road. That was the beginning of the end, all my energy seemed to have leached out of me and I was having to dig in to maintain the pace. Digging in so early isn't part of the game plan, ever.
The course is absolutely stunning, but unfortunately I couldn't appreciate it fully as all my mental and physical energy was concentrated on keeping my legs turning over. The views were fabulous, I think, and there were lots of ponies around but I had the tunnel vision back and couldn't see much beyond a few feet of tarmac ahead of me. By mile 15 or 16, we were up on the top of the moor in the blazing sunshine, but I was freezing now and covered in goosebumps. Another bad sign.. There were still a few minutes in the bank if I could keep up with 9 minute miles, but the route now became hillier and I was really struggling, taking my first walk break up the hill at 17, and having to stop for a minute or two at the 18 mile water station to try to get some blood back in my head to stop feeling like I was about to faint. It was at that point I lost the 4 hours and it was desperately disappointing, I felt so angry with myself for not pushing harder.
The tactic for the rest of the race was to walk the uphills and run the flats and downs and this seemed to work, although the cravings for any liquid that wasn't water were getting really strong. Lucozade, orange juice and soda water, a pint of bitter, any would have done as the water now wasn't any benefit other than to rinse my mouth out. Luckily, the repeated marathons are really paying off now, those 7 miles were horrible but at least they seemed to pass quickly. It's not often that you see so many people struggling in a marathon this size, I was really surprised to see so many people walking flat stretches. It's not so unusual in a big city race where people aren't so experienced, but this is a fairly small club marathon and not an excessively tough course and, while it was sunny, it wasn't that hot.
By the last mile however, my watch told me that sub 4'15 was well within reach and a sub 4'10 was possible if I really floored it. I remembered the mile time trial and knew I could push harder than I used to think possible only 24 hours before. An almost 8 minute mile and it was done, 4'09'26.
I'm disappointed with that time but putting it into perspective, I averaged sub 4 hours for each of my 4 marathons in September, with a total of 15 hours 43 minutes for the 4. So it's game on for the TiT, and the learning points are slowly identifying themselves. Message from this week? Rest more, and get the nutrition sorted.
Monday 14 September 2009
Nottingham marathon, Day 2 in a sub 8 attempt
The Nottingham marathon was Day 2 in my double weekend and after 3'52 at 3 to go mara the day before, the primary aim was a 4'07 to get the sub 8 for the two combined, but ideally a sub 4 to get that pace hardwired into my legs. If my legs are obedient enough to knock out 9 minute miles for 4 hours without too much mental pushing, I'll be in much better shape for the attempt on the TiT.
I woke up feeling surprisingly fresh and the 30 minute walk down to the start eased my legs up to the point where they felt absolutely fine. My right ankle was a bit tight, and has been for a while now, it's linked to the old tendonitis injury from April where my foot collapses inwards and strains the inside of the ankle. Taping it up helps a bit, so it was all go for today. It was strange being back in a big race, shoving through the crowds to get to a reasonable start position and all the ceremony of marquees and music and a compere talking absolute rubbish. Quite uplifting though. By the time we got going, I knew it was going to be a good race, and my mood was stay on top of the world for the next 4 hours.
The first mile or so was with Dave who is well and truly over on the dark side and hooked on marathons now (he had a blinding run), and Olly and Sharon who were doing the half and who got a fair bit of good natured abuse for slacking off. At the top of the hill by the castle after about 1.5 miles, there was a wonderful descent, it was fabulous to open out and fly down it. This wasn't going to be a cautious run, I was just going to run how I felt (as long as that was at least 9 minute miling). I caught up with Richard with whom I ran a fair bit of Windy this year, and we spent the next 10 miles together, having a good old chat. We were particularly taken by the show pony runner, in the tightest compression top imaginable and high stepping along with his arms aloft like he was in a dressage compeition. It was a shame I got busted while doing an impression..... Richard told me off a bit for speeding up at about mile 11, hard to avoid when the half marathoners start picking it up in their final miles, but we stuck together to give them a panto style boo when the route split.
Almost immediately, I both lost Richard and my garmin gave up. It was telling me to delete old laps and inviting me to press enter, which I thought would delete the old laps. No luck, it had stopped counting both the distance and the time so I had to turn it off. It was a bit of a worry, I didn't know how reliant I had become on the Garmin and suspected it was "very", and now I didn't even have a watch. 13 miles to go and the only thing I could do was run at a comfortable pace and hope it was fast enough. Scientific eh? I asked whoever was around me at every few mile markers for a rough idea of the time but that wasn't quite accurate as it had taken a few minutes to get over the start so we were all on slightly different numbers.
Luckily, I was having a great day, feeling fresh with no pain and really really enjoying it. On days like this, it all comes together, you just feel invincible, like you could run for days (guess that what I'm training to do!) and like you're running on air. I had a bit of a chat to a few people, a guy running with his future son-in-law, a guy running for Multiple Sclerosis, a few of 100 club guys, I like hearing everyone's stories about their running, all these very different people with a shared interest. At about mile 19, you get to Holme Pierpoint, a long stretch of water used for regattas, which could I suppose be a bit boring. I loved it however, you can see for miles and it was brilliant spotting all my mates in front and behind me. By the time we got off the water, I had a cracking runners' high and probably looked a bit mental - bit of a hill, woohoo! bottle of water, woohoo! speakers playing new order, woohoo! friendly marshal shouting you're looking good, woohoo! Only 4 miles to go, woohoo!
Given I don't have another marathon for two weeks, I thought it was about time to put my foot down and really nail a sub 4, and going off the various times from other runners' watches, I was looking at about the same time as yesterday. Sub 4, woohoo! Shut up Naomi, you're just getting annoying now.. I was a bit tired in the last few miles and had a rather sore big toe (which turned into a giant blister, nice) but kept it together to cruise along the last bit of embankment and pick it up a bit over the last few hundred yards to cross the line in a gun time of 3 hours 52, exactly the same as yesterday.
The last three races have been 3 hours 51, 3 hours 52 and 3 hours 49 (chip time), that's 8'49, 8'48 and 8'46 pace per mile respectively, just extraordinary. It would appear the legs are quite happy at about 8'45-8'50 pace, with or without the garmin. So that was a sub 8 weekend, 7 hours 41 in total and two sub 4s so I'm absolutely delighted, especially given how enjoyable they've been. The question is now, could I do that for another 8 days? Definitely today, I'm feeling full of energy and bouncing off the walls, and probably tomorrow. Beyond that is less certain, but with massage and proper rest and nutrition I'm feeling much much more confident about the TiT.
Long straight stretch of tarmac = one happy runner
I woke up feeling surprisingly fresh and the 30 minute walk down to the start eased my legs up to the point where they felt absolutely fine. My right ankle was a bit tight, and has been for a while now, it's linked to the old tendonitis injury from April where my foot collapses inwards and strains the inside of the ankle. Taping it up helps a bit, so it was all go for today. It was strange being back in a big race, shoving through the crowds to get to a reasonable start position and all the ceremony of marquees and music and a compere talking absolute rubbish. Quite uplifting though. By the time we got going, I knew it was going to be a good race, and my mood was stay on top of the world for the next 4 hours.
The first mile or so was with Dave who is well and truly over on the dark side and hooked on marathons now (he had a blinding run), and Olly and Sharon who were doing the half and who got a fair bit of good natured abuse for slacking off. At the top of the hill by the castle after about 1.5 miles, there was a wonderful descent, it was fabulous to open out and fly down it. This wasn't going to be a cautious run, I was just going to run how I felt (as long as that was at least 9 minute miling). I caught up with Richard with whom I ran a fair bit of Windy this year, and we spent the next 10 miles together, having a good old chat. We were particularly taken by the show pony runner, in the tightest compression top imaginable and high stepping along with his arms aloft like he was in a dressage compeition. It was a shame I got busted while doing an impression..... Richard told me off a bit for speeding up at about mile 11, hard to avoid when the half marathoners start picking it up in their final miles, but we stuck together to give them a panto style boo when the route split.
Almost immediately, I both lost Richard and my garmin gave up. It was telling me to delete old laps and inviting me to press enter, which I thought would delete the old laps. No luck, it had stopped counting both the distance and the time so I had to turn it off. It was a bit of a worry, I didn't know how reliant I had become on the Garmin and suspected it was "very", and now I didn't even have a watch. 13 miles to go and the only thing I could do was run at a comfortable pace and hope it was fast enough. Scientific eh? I asked whoever was around me at every few mile markers for a rough idea of the time but that wasn't quite accurate as it had taken a few minutes to get over the start so we were all on slightly different numbers.
Luckily, I was having a great day, feeling fresh with no pain and really really enjoying it. On days like this, it all comes together, you just feel invincible, like you could run for days (guess that what I'm training to do!) and like you're running on air. I had a bit of a chat to a few people, a guy running with his future son-in-law, a guy running for Multiple Sclerosis, a few of 100 club guys, I like hearing everyone's stories about their running, all these very different people with a shared interest. At about mile 19, you get to Holme Pierpoint, a long stretch of water used for regattas, which could I suppose be a bit boring. I loved it however, you can see for miles and it was brilliant spotting all my mates in front and behind me. By the time we got off the water, I had a cracking runners' high and probably looked a bit mental - bit of a hill, woohoo! bottle of water, woohoo! speakers playing new order, woohoo! friendly marshal shouting you're looking good, woohoo! Only 4 miles to go, woohoo!
Given I don't have another marathon for two weeks, I thought it was about time to put my foot down and really nail a sub 4, and going off the various times from other runners' watches, I was looking at about the same time as yesterday. Sub 4, woohoo! Shut up Naomi, you're just getting annoying now.. I was a bit tired in the last few miles and had a rather sore big toe (which turned into a giant blister, nice) but kept it together to cruise along the last bit of embankment and pick it up a bit over the last few hundred yards to cross the line in a gun time of 3 hours 52, exactly the same as yesterday.
The last three races have been 3 hours 51, 3 hours 52 and 3 hours 49 (chip time), that's 8'49, 8'48 and 8'46 pace per mile respectively, just extraordinary. It would appear the legs are quite happy at about 8'45-8'50 pace, with or without the garmin. So that was a sub 8 weekend, 7 hours 41 in total and two sub 4s so I'm absolutely delighted, especially given how enjoyable they've been. The question is now, could I do that for another 8 days? Definitely today, I'm feeling full of energy and bouncing off the walls, and probably tomorrow. Beyond that is less certain, but with massage and proper rest and nutrition I'm feeling much much more confident about the TiT.
Long straight stretch of tarmac = one happy runner
The Three to Go Marathon, Day 1 of a Sub 8 double attempt
The 3 to go was Day 1 of my first double (back to back marathons on consecutive days) since June, with Nottingham on Sunday. As a tester for the TiT, I wanted to run the two in a total of sub 8 hours, especially considering the 3 to go is fast and flat for a trail mara. It's off road but along good gravel towpaths and tarmac paths along the Lea Valley from St Margaret's to Hackney.
The first mile included a rather unwelcome footbridge over the level crossing, with dire warnings not to go over the crossing on pain of disqualification. The second mile included the diversion of removing my running vest and repinning my number to my sports bra top as it was already pretty warm. Unfortunately, I managed to spear one of my two gels with a safety pin (I stash them under the straps) so had to down it there and then. I must have looked a complete amateur taking a gel in the first 15 minutes of a marathon.
The field thinned out fairly quickly and I found myself about 20 yards behind a man in an orange vest, for about 8 miles. I wasn't bothered about passing him and didn't want to spare the energy talking (talking also makes me need more water, and the stations were 4-5 miles apart) so he inadvertently acted as my pacemaker, cruising along at about 8'30-8'40 pace. It really did feel like cruising, neither plodding like in a trail marathon, nor pushing hard like in a PB attempt, just a nice comfortable pace, legs turning over easily, breathing easy, enjoying no noise but the sound of your feet on the gravel, the breeze on your skin and the sun on your back. Just lovely.
The route wasn't my favourite, with about 6 miles of disorienting twists and turns through the Lea Valley Park and quite a lot in the second half past increasingly grim warehouses and concrete flyovers but it was prettier than I expected and overall not a bad little race. By about mile 16, I drew up alongside orange vest man and we were to play cat and mouse to the finish (I beat him in the end, purely because he'd threatened to take out a restraining order..). By 20 miles, I caught up with Joe to my great surprise, he wasn't having a good race so I pushed on. In the last few miles, all the recent marathons really paid off, I passed a few people while feeling good with no aches and pains. I was a bit tired but it's so much easier to push on mentally now, plus whatever I did sub 4 today was time in the bank for Nottingham.
I crossed the line in 3 hours 52 minutes, at an average of 8'47 per mile (last week was an average of 8'49 per mile) and in exactly the same position - third senior lady. This isn't good, I'm getting predictable......
The first mile included a rather unwelcome footbridge over the level crossing, with dire warnings not to go over the crossing on pain of disqualification. The second mile included the diversion of removing my running vest and repinning my number to my sports bra top as it was already pretty warm. Unfortunately, I managed to spear one of my two gels with a safety pin (I stash them under the straps) so had to down it there and then. I must have looked a complete amateur taking a gel in the first 15 minutes of a marathon.
The field thinned out fairly quickly and I found myself about 20 yards behind a man in an orange vest, for about 8 miles. I wasn't bothered about passing him and didn't want to spare the energy talking (talking also makes me need more water, and the stations were 4-5 miles apart) so he inadvertently acted as my pacemaker, cruising along at about 8'30-8'40 pace. It really did feel like cruising, neither plodding like in a trail marathon, nor pushing hard like in a PB attempt, just a nice comfortable pace, legs turning over easily, breathing easy, enjoying no noise but the sound of your feet on the gravel, the breeze on your skin and the sun on your back. Just lovely.
The route wasn't my favourite, with about 6 miles of disorienting twists and turns through the Lea Valley Park and quite a lot in the second half past increasingly grim warehouses and concrete flyovers but it was prettier than I expected and overall not a bad little race. By about mile 16, I drew up alongside orange vest man and we were to play cat and mouse to the finish (I beat him in the end, purely because he'd threatened to take out a restraining order..). By 20 miles, I caught up with Joe to my great surprise, he wasn't having a good race so I pushed on. In the last few miles, all the recent marathons really paid off, I passed a few people while feeling good with no aches and pains. I was a bit tired but it's so much easier to push on mentally now, plus whatever I did sub 4 today was time in the bank for Nottingham.
I crossed the line in 3 hours 52 minutes, at an average of 8'47 per mile (last week was an average of 8'49 per mile) and in exactly the same position - third senior lady. This isn't good, I'm getting predictable......
Sunday 6 September 2009
The Kent Coastal marathon
The Kent Coastal was the first road marathon in a long time, since Edinburgh in May and, while I was really looking forward to getting back on the road, I was a bit concerned that all these trail marathons had made me a bit lazy. They've definitely made me stronger, the hills today weren't too much of a problem, but I did have to remind myself to run them (they're a great excuse to walk in trail marathons) and to keep going at the water stations and not stop for a chat with the marshals. This was my first sub 4 marathon when I ran it last year so I wanted to beat that time of 3'58, but really it could have gone badly wrong since I could have lost quite a lot of aerobic fitness over the summer.
My tactic for this race was to run the first half a bit quicker to bank some time for the inevitable windy stretch in the 3rd quarter. Dave and I hadn't agreed to run together but, like Edinburgh, we found we were at a similar pace so we kept each other company in companionable silence, until Allan popped up to provide the commentary. It's a good race to run with other people, especially in that tough 3rd quarter. The first half is fairly hilly but along some nice sea front down to Ramsgate and back, then after you lose all the half marathon runners back at the start/finish, you head out through Margate and further up the coast to the turn around point at 19.3 miles.
This is the hard part, the wind picks up here and it's pretty exposed along a pretty unexciting bit of concrete sea wall. What kept me going here was the company, the thought that I just needed to get to about 19 miles and it would all get easier and the extra strength and endurance from all those marathons I've done this year. The aerobic side wasn't too bad, it did feel like I was pushing it a little bit, but I suspect that's because I've forgotten what it's like to run at that effort for that long without nice walking breaks. My pace had slipped a little as predicted into the wind, and I was finding it pretty tough, but things got much easier at the turnaround point.
Our little band of 3 broke up a bit, Allan was looking like he was in a greyhound trap and Dave was starting to tire a little bit (unsurprisingly, on his second mara), so Allan went on ahead and I left Dave behind. He claims he didn't want the company anyway. There was a reasonable cushion of time to get the course PB if I kept moving and happily the legs were obedient, nothing was hurting too much other than the standard bruised feet. I managed to overtake a few people in the last few miles too and got through Margate to run the last 0.2 mile at 7'44 pace which was rather satisfying. My finish time of 3'51 was especially pleasing as it was a 7 minute course PB, and also enough to get a prize for 3rd senior lady. I've never won a prize before, and was so far from expecting it that I was queuing up at the burger van when they announced my name! A cracking day out by the seaside then, and with a few weeks' more training and road marathons, the PB at Abingdon should be achievable.
Allan, Dave and me, and a bloke having trouble sitting down
My tactic for this race was to run the first half a bit quicker to bank some time for the inevitable windy stretch in the 3rd quarter. Dave and I hadn't agreed to run together but, like Edinburgh, we found we were at a similar pace so we kept each other company in companionable silence, until Allan popped up to provide the commentary. It's a good race to run with other people, especially in that tough 3rd quarter. The first half is fairly hilly but along some nice sea front down to Ramsgate and back, then after you lose all the half marathon runners back at the start/finish, you head out through Margate and further up the coast to the turn around point at 19.3 miles.
This is the hard part, the wind picks up here and it's pretty exposed along a pretty unexciting bit of concrete sea wall. What kept me going here was the company, the thought that I just needed to get to about 19 miles and it would all get easier and the extra strength and endurance from all those marathons I've done this year. The aerobic side wasn't too bad, it did feel like I was pushing it a little bit, but I suspect that's because I've forgotten what it's like to run at that effort for that long without nice walking breaks. My pace had slipped a little as predicted into the wind, and I was finding it pretty tough, but things got much easier at the turnaround point.
Our little band of 3 broke up a bit, Allan was looking like he was in a greyhound trap and Dave was starting to tire a little bit (unsurprisingly, on his second mara), so Allan went on ahead and I left Dave behind. He claims he didn't want the company anyway. There was a reasonable cushion of time to get the course PB if I kept moving and happily the legs were obedient, nothing was hurting too much other than the standard bruised feet. I managed to overtake a few people in the last few miles too and got through Margate to run the last 0.2 mile at 7'44 pace which was rather satisfying. My finish time of 3'51 was especially pleasing as it was a 7 minute course PB, and also enough to get a prize for 3rd senior lady. I've never won a prize before, and was so far from expecting it that I was queuing up at the burger van when they announced my name! A cracking day out by the seaside then, and with a few weeks' more training and road marathons, the PB at Abingdon should be achievable.
Allan, Dave and me, and a bloke having trouble sitting down
Tuesday 1 September 2009
The Pathfinder marathon - number 30
The Pathfinder marathon in Cambridgeshire was a lot flatter than Dorset last weekend but required a lot more navigation. Unlike some LDWA instructions, these lacked distances so when we were told to "turn right and after the pumping station and stream, turn right through the gap in the hedge to follow the edge of the field with the hedge on your left", we went sailing up the grassy rutted track for, ooh, more than half a mile rather than about 50 yards. Doh. So this turned into a 28 mile event, at least it was a nice day.
It wasn't the most attractive marathon, lots and lots of flat fields are never going to be very exciting, and the Dorset coastline spoiled me a bit last week with its soaring views, but it was a grand day out with some of my marathon running buddies. And the road season starts on Sunday with the Kent Coastal.
It wasn't the most attractive marathon, lots and lots of flat fields are never going to be very exciting, and the Dorset coastline spoiled me a bit last week with its soaring views, but it was a grand day out with some of my marathon running buddies. And the road season starts on Sunday with the Kent Coastal.
Monday 24 August 2009
The Dorset Doddle 32 mile ultra
At the start with super speedy Paul and hard as nails Anna
The names of LDWA events often give you a clue about their severity: the Herts Hobble, the Stansted Stagger etc. The Dorset Doddle, on the other hand, is so euphemistically named that it raises suspicion from the start. This is 32 miles over the Jurassic coastline, from the Jubilee Clock in Weymouth to Swanage covering 10,000 feet of ascent. And it took me 8 hours and 44 minutes.
The route breaks you in gently, with a mile or so along the Weymouth promenade followed by several undulating miles. By mile 8, the hills started in earnest, proper coastal hills that drop down steeply almost to sea level only to rise straight back up again. On more than one occasion, I came round a corner to see the hill in front of me and thought "You have got to be having a laugh". I soon resorted to my How to Climb Hills Without Losing the Will to Live technique - count 10 steps 5 times before promising myself a break to catch my breath, then tell yourself not to be such a wuss and carry on. And repeat.
The scenery was simply stunning, going past King George III on his horse carved into the chalk hills and heading out of Weymouth, the wrong way, Lulworth Castle with its serried ranks of, um, tanks, beaches and coves, chalk cliffs and the coastline stretching into the distance. Lovely. You wouldn't think it were possible to get lost on this race, just keep the sea on your right, but there were a couple of tricky patches, at Lulworth (where admittedly I got distracted trying to buy food, any food, anything at all, god, I was hungry) and into Swanage. There seems to be a theme in races at the moment to do the last mile or so right through a busy town. Running along the beach in a bucket and spade town on a sunny Sunday afternoon with 31 miles and a lot of hills in your legs wasn't the best time to dodge grockles brandishing windbreaks.
I was absolutely done in on this race, haven't had jelly legs like that for a long time. I did realise the absurdity of telling myself "It's an ultra, not a marathon" after a while, but luckily LDWA events are great for taking it easy. You may be the slowest runner, but you'll never be last with all the walkers around so there's no time pressure (apart from the time of last train home). It turned into a very long day out in a beautiful bit of the country on a lovely warm day and some nice new people to chat to.
I really enjoyed this event. Sure, it was extremely hard work but I didn't mind the hills so much, I just think of them as strength training (and of the buns of steel!). There weren't even any patches of wondering what on earth I was doing in yet another ultra, perhaps the lack of time pressure helped there. I'm very happy to be fit and strong enough at last to be able to do a tough ultra at the last minute without breaking. That's got to be progress!
Looking back over Weymouth, this was an easy hill!
Sunday 9 August 2009
Salisbury 54321 marathon
I was looking forward to the 54321, last weekend was so dull with no marathon to run and I was missing some lovely views in a nice bit of countryside. I went up to Salisbury on Saturday afternoon, and spent all evening drinking far too much beer in the Haunch of Venison (complete with severed hand in the fireplace) with Dave and Mark who both did the 10 in 10 this year. Perfect preparation!
The weather today was fine and clear, and hot, and it was fairly dry underfoot with a lot of road stuff so trail shoes would have been a nightmare. The route itself is superb, taking in 5 rivers, 4 hills, 3 estates, 2 castles and 1 cathedral. The countryside ain't too bad either, with a particularly blissful descent at around the 6 mile mark through an avenue of beech trees. If I could run that kilometre 42 times in a row and call it a marathon, I would, it was idyllic. A bit later on is the stunning Longford Castle, right by the River Avon. It was like running through a Jane Austen film set. And at 15 miles is the Narnia set, a grove of ancient yew trees that date back to 11th century, apparently planted by the Normans for wood for their longbows. The route was laid out with string, adding a Theseus and the Minotaur element to it too. I wish I'd had a tour guide!
Before we started today, I knew I wanted to run my own race, taking it easy when I wanted to, pushing on when I felt good. I find running with one other person quite draining, you're thinking about them and their pace constantly and, while it's great to run alongside someone for 5 or 10 minutes having a chat, today I needed to run how I felt. Unfortunately, I didn't manage to express this very well to Dave who got very upset with me and shot off into the distance when I tried to say, sure, let's run together for a bit, but if you want to go on, feel free. I felt very bad about it, but it seemed to do some good, because he ended up with an off road PB. And he's still talking to me. I think.. It was great to bump into loads of familiar faces today, people from the Picnic, from Tanners, the District Double, those you see at every LDWA event, and several Fetchies.
Coming back to running how I felt, it worked perfectly today. The first 10 or so miles were largely on gentle inclines and easy footing, so it was easy to coast through these, conserving your energy for later on. From about 13 miles, the terrain got a bit more tricky, with a really unpleasant rutted grass track. I found that couple of miles quite tough, I felt full of energy but just couldn't make much progress. Quite a few people passed me between 13 and 18, but I wasn't too fussed, this wasn't about times or anything, it was a race to get back in the saddle, to make sure I enjoyed it and finished in good shape. By 19 miles, I was feeling great and when we hit tarmac, the legs suddenly woke up and asked why they weren't being used. Ok then, there's 8 miles to go (assuming a long course), it's not so risky stretching out at this stage, so it seemed like a nice idea to turn it into a progression run and see what they could handle. It was just a wonderful few miles, perfect, a gorgeous day in beautiful countryside, feeling great (feet are pretty bruised but that's no big deal) and picking off runners one at a time. I'm not sure of the splits but they were quick, about 8'30 - 9'00 per mile with a few seconds lost at the drinks stations and the few tricky bits of navigation in the final mile or two. The final time of 4 hours 41 minutes for 27 miles dead isn't so great, but I'm really happy with an extremely strong finish, and to have absolutely loved today.
Thursday 6 August 2009
I'm in!
Last week, I was selected to take part in the Brathay 10 in 10 challenge (from here on, fondly referred to as the TiT): 10 full 26.2 mile marathons in 10 days in aid of the Brathay Trust. We'll be running the same route each day around Lake Windermere and on the final day, we'll be joined by several hundred other runners in the big Brathay Windermere marathon. I ran it earlier this year and found that, predictably enough, it's beautiful, hilly and one that I doubt I'll tire of.
I followed the progress of the 2009 TiTs with a mix of admiration and jealousy - spending 10 days running in this superb scenery in the company of others who loved running just as much. Some of them battled through real injuries, with one ending up on crutches (though he didn't take them out for the marathons), and the physios did an incredible job at holding them all together. There was also a real mix of speeds, with Tango cruising through day after day to a world record time, and the back markers doing an equally impressive job, spending hours out there every day. I was seriously impressed and deeply envious.
Still, it took me a couple of months to decide to enter, since it's not an event to undertake lightly. The physical demands of 262 miles in 10 days will be considerable, and the mental strength will be just as important. This is my first year of multi-marathoning, last year I ran 7 and I'm hoping for 35 in 2009. Windermere was the second day of my first double - two marathons on consecutive days - and I found it as much a mental struggle as a physical one. While the first few miles were awkward with tired and stiff legs, you already felt like you were more than half way there, and by 20 miles I found a second wind and really enjoyed seeing how much I could push myself over the finish line. I've got a few more doubles lined up this year, and a couple of triples, all in the name of the TiT, but more because I can't see a great marathon pass me by without trying to get into it!
So training had already sort of started for the TiT, and if I ever wanted to do an event for charity, it would require a step up in the level of difficulty to justify people putting their hand in their pocket. The Brathay Trust might not be a big name charity, but it does particularly admirable work in developing young people. Plus, selfishly, this looks like a corker. It all added up so I sent off my application and my running CV, spent several nailbiting weeks waiting to hear from Scott at Brathay and finally was over the moon to be accepted. Just a small matter now of getting both my speed and endurance up......
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