FEBRUARY 2011 TRAINING

Ankle is still sore.

31st - Monday: 30 mins to work. Full body weights at lunchtime


1st - Tuesday: one hour (around 10am) + 6 (easy) strides


2nd - Wednesday: 30 mins to work. Full body weights at lunchtime


3rd - Thursday: one hour to work (8:35mm)


4th - Friday: Rest Day; sauna at lunchtime (though ended up walking 1.5m to pub; standing for two hours watching football; walking 5.5m home - due to lack of buses. This all did my ankle no favours)


5th - Saturday: 5m (short) race - 31:10


6th - Sunday: rest (not planned, just being lazy)


I ran Saturday's race last in 2008 in 28:59. It is hard to tell in XC races however this adequately shows how unfit I currently am.


Ankle sore throughout week - will, no doubt, have to consign myself to defeat soon.

EASY WEEK:


7th - Monday: 30 mins to work + 6 (easy) strides

8th - Tuesday: 30 mins to work + 5 (easy) strides up incline.Pilates at lunchtime

9th - Wednesday: 30 mins to work. Leg exercises at lunchtime

10th - Thursday: 30 mins to work + 5 (easy) strides up incline. Upper body weights/core exercises at lunchtime

11th - Friday: Rest Day; sauna/steam room at lunchtime

12th - Saturday: 5k (19:50)

13th - Sunday: full body weights (3x 5) + run for one hour (on treadmill)


I was amazed at the time of the 5k. I expected, with an easy week before it, to get around 18:30. I was wrong. I have a long way to get my fitness back, let alone improve, and I do not think I will have the time to do so before retiring injured, again.

Ankle still sore.

Start to introduce some faster running this week

14th - Monday: 10mins w/up; 15mins light fartlek; 5mins c/down + 5 (easy) strides up incline (to work). Stretching and small core workout at lunch

15th - Tuesday: one hour to work. Full body weights (25; 15; 5 on resistance machines - single leg, where possible) at lunch

16th - Wednesday: 10mins w/up; 15mins tempo (7:05mm!); 5mins c/down (to work). Core workout and some stretching at lunch

17th - Thursday: one hour to work (7.5m; ave. 8:06mm - 2-5miles were ~7:30 slowed up badly the last few miles). TABATA weights after work

18th - Friday: Rest Day; sauna/steam room at lunch

19th - Saturday: drills then (on treadmill) 15mins w/up; 2x 1k @ 18kph (5:21mm) with 15s break; 5 mins rec.; 1m rolling hills (level 6) @ 16.1kph (6mm); 5 mins rec.; 5x 1min hills (incline 6) @ 16.1kph with 1 min rec.

20th - Sunday: full body weights (5x 5) + run for 65mins

Fartlek on Monday was pretty gentle - gradual increases in pace, not very hard and fairly short in distance (no more than 100m).

Wednesday's tempo was a disappointment - despite it being the morning (and I can never run fast on a weekday morning) and wearing a fairly heavy rucksack I still expected, on current fitness to average 06:30/45. To think that I scraped together two miles of a pace slower than I did a marathon three years ago is tear inducing (as in tears of sadness, not a muscle tear!!)

Saturday was played by ear - was intending to do one mile tempo at 18kph (5:21mm) but just after 1k I accidentally tapped the STOP button and so had to crank it up again. Decided to do another km, to make up for the break. Wanted to do 10mins rolling hills but was knackered after two minutes so stuck it out to 1 mile (just over 6 mins). Wanted to do 6x 1min hills but was dying badly so decided to cut it down to five after the second one.

Ankle is still sore - though do I dare say that it feels slightly better (or am I imagining it)?

21st - Monday: 10mins w/up; 20mins light fartlek; 5mins c/down + 5 strides up incline (to work)

22nd - Tuesday: one hour to work + 4 (easy) strides (fairly even, but easy, pace). Full body weights (25; 15; 5 on resistance machines - single leg, where possible) at lunch

23rd - Wednesday: 10mins w/up; 10x 1min with 1min rec; 5mins c/down + 5 strides up incline (to work). Core workout and some stretching at lunch

24th - Thursday: one hour to work - tired. TABATA weights after work

25th - Friday: Rest Day

26th - Saturday: 5k (19:55)

27th - Sunday: full body weights (3x 3) + run for 65mins on treadmill (level 5 random (hills) - highest incline 4.3)

Fartlek on Monday was still fairly gentle, but a bit more intensive/faster than last weeks. Still kept each spurt fairly short in distance (no more than 100m).

1min reps on Wednesday were run relatively at ease, though got hard from 7th onwards (rec. jogs became more like shuffling).

Not sure what to say about Saturday's 5k. I had hoped for (at least) a 30s progression from two weeks ago. I guess I should be grateful that I was only 5s slower.

Ankle is still funny - though definitely feels different, if not better, from previous weeks. Too early to pop open the champagne, though.

JANUARY 2011 TRAINING

Trying to get back into running after taking time off from the end of October to around mid December, following pain and instability in my ankle.

3rd - Monday: nothing

4th - Tuesday: nothing

5th - Wednesday: leg weights at lunch

6th - Thursday: ran 40 minutes to work

7th - Friday: nothing

8th - Saturday: X/C; 5 miles

9th - Sunday: nothing

XC was 3 laps totalling 7.5m, so did 2 laps. Was very muddy. I was very slow and unfit. Ankle seemed to hold out

10th - Monday: ran 45 minutes to work

11th - Tuesday: leg weights at lunch

12th - Wednesday: nothing - had cortisone injection into ankle area by hospital physio

13th - Thursday: nothing


14th - Friday: nothing (walked 3.5 miles to work)

15th - Saturday: 20 mins x/trainer; 20 mins hand cycle

16th - Sunday: nothing

Had to take the latter part of the week off running after the cortisone injection; ease back into it.



17th - Monday: 30 mins to work

18th - Tuesday: 30 mins to work

19th - Wednesday: 30 mins to work

20th - Thursday: 30 mins to work

21st - Friday: Rest Day; sauna/steam room

22nd - Saturday: XC; 5 mile

23rd - Sunday: nothing

XC again was very muddy and I was very slow and down on the field. Ankle feels okay, though getting the pain back where the leg meet the foot


24th - Monday: 45 mins to work + 3 easy strides. Total body weights at lunch

25th - Tuesday: 30 mins to work + 3 easy strides. Pilates at lunch

26th - Wednesday: 50 mins to work + 3 easy strides on slight incline + 2 easy strides (on flat)

27th - Thursday: 30 mins to work. Total body weights at lunch

28th - Friday: Rest Day; sauna/steam room

29th - Saturday: Drills; 4 strides; plyometrics

30th - Sunday: 50 mins + 6 easy strides

Ankle very sore after session on Saturday - presume the plyometrics did not agree with it. Hurt before, throughout and after Sunday's run too.

THE BEGINNING - PART FOUR

Right, where was I?  O yes, 2005.

So the BIG DAY.  You must excuse me, as I writing this six years later I can not remember too much about the day but there are certain things I certainly do remember.  One of these was that it was hot.  Very hot.  Too fucking hot.  It was an absolutely glorious day, especially for April - so hot it was that a couple of people that we due to watch the race to try and see me run actually gave up after a while as they were concerned they would get sunburnt.

The other thing I remember is that I had not cured a problem I had been suffering from during my long runs...the attack of the, er, runs.  I had not been afflicted with this before...in all my years of playing sport/going to the gym I do not remember the need to go scurrying off to the toilet, half bent over whilst gripping my stomach.  Nor did I have this problem on my shorter runs, only on the the longer ones.  Obviously during training runs it is mild inconvenience, growing in stature the further you are away from a public toilet.
[Which, incidentally, brings me on to one of my bugbears: the total apathy of the need of such a basic human function as going to the toilet.  There is a distinct absence of public toilets and the fact that those that are in situ are either shut whenever you need them or you have to pay to use them.  Why the fuck does one have to pay to use the toilet?  It is not a lifestyle choice.  It is not something anyone would choose to do indulge in if they did not have to (scat aficionados aside).  It is also, generally, not something that you can time to coincide with when you happen to be next to one.  When I am king, there will be more public conveniences.]
During the marathon, of course, it's magnitude is heightened, especially when you do not seem to be the only one with such an issue.  It think the need came on round about the seventh mile but I could not see any public toilets.  I did not see any until I got to around the fifteen mile point, where you enter the northern part of the Isle of Dogs (whilst I did not see any I am assured that there are every couple of miles, and not every ten or so).  I had to queue up to use the toilets.  I trued to keep myself fresh by lightly bouncing around (not too much, for obvious reasons) and pacing about.  By the time I had queued, got in and done my thing, and got out again, ready to continue the run, ten minutes had passed.

Up until this point I had been chugging along nicely on pace (9mm).  Haaving checked my splits (on the London Marathon website) they were:

10k - 56:08 (9.08mm)
20k - 1:49:40 (8.51mm) [53:32 (8:38mm)]
HM - 1:55:41 (8.50mm)

So far, so good.  That all changed, however, when I stepped out of the toilet.  The enforced break had meant that my legs had turned to jelly.  I could do anything with them.  I tried to run but they near on collapsed underneath me.  I walked, which I could manage and then sped up to a shuffle and then to something that resembled running gait.  I could only keep it up for a few hundred metres before I was resigned to having to stop.  I stretched my hamstring (why? Probably as I had seen other people do it).  I started walking, then sped up to a shuffle.....and so it repeated, for the next couple of miles.  By this point I had given up with the motion of running.  I was now getting cramp (something I had always been prone to) and it made it all but impossible to break out into a running stride.  Instead I walked.  In fact, that is a slight misnomer; I marched.  I was mad.  I was livid.  I could not believe this was happening.  I was fighting back the tears.  I looked like shit.

But I was not alone.  The closer I got to the end they more of us there were; zombies strewn across firstly Lower Thames Street, then Upper Thames Street.  Staggering around; brain dead; mouths ajar; spittle dripping down sweat smeared chins.  It was at this point I realised how annoying I must have been for the runners during the miles passed.  Not that I was getting in the way like these other jokers, taking up the whole road, seven abreast, like they were taking a stroll in the country on a Sunday afternoon (though, we were not far off) - I kept myself firmly to the left - but in the sense of demoralising people.  How much easier is it to give up if you see someone else seemingly having done so.  How difficult is it on your resolve to keep running, keep the pace up, when you see others that have fallen by the wayside.  Those of a stronger constitution probably fed off my failure and used it to spur themselves forward, but how many others did I help, in part, to destroy?

Of course, at the time, this was not my concern.  My concern was to finish...and hopefully with all my faculties in place.

30k - 3:00:17 (9.42mm) [53:32 (11:23mm)]
40k - 4:40:16 (11.29mm) [53:32 (16:13mm)]

I was latterly bouyed by the crowd in the latter stages and, of course, by the fact that the end was nearing, albeit slower than I would have liked.  In fact, despite not having run for miles (or maybe because of) my legs suddenly felt better.  Upon the encouragement of some Aussies (though they could have been Kiwis!) I strode out into a run.  When their voices dimmed, I started to walk.  They shouted at me again (why were they still watching me? I must have been entertaining) so I started up the run again.  When I knew they were out of sight, I stopped.  However I soon started up again when I saw the 800m to go sign.  Off I went, all out, giving it to the max...only I got about 300 metres and realised that 800 metres is a lot longer than I ever remembered it being.  I stumbled down to a walk, rounded the corner to see the finish line, and set off again, for the line.

FINISH - 4:52:17 (11.09mm)

The last part of the race, from 40k to the end, I ran at 8:34mm.

So, in short, a little longer than my intended 4 hours, but I had achieved it, I had finished my first marathon.  Was I pleased?  Was I fuck!  After taking about an hour to get through the crowds to meet up with Mrs McNude, I hobbled to, and got showered and changed at, the gym opposite Victoria station and got in, pretty much, the nearest pub to there, got four pints of beer down me and then fucked off home.

The experience did, however, ignite within me the desire...the desire to never run again.  Not just the marathon; running at all.  And this I stuck to, for at least six months.  For six months I did not lace up my cross trainers (I did not realise you were supposed to buy specific running shoes, I just ran in an old pair of cross trainers) again to run.  And I felt the happier for it.

BREAKING NEWS

We interupt this transmission of THE BEGINNING to bring you breaking news (flashes across screen Sky Sports News sytlee)....

Now I am not one to indulge in regaling people of my 'celebrity' spottings, however this one caused a wry smile.  I was running to work today and whilst I was running along the Embankment I ran past none other than Gordon Brown - and my, what a big bastard he is (his face is the size of my whole body).  He was accompanied by his minder or personal trainer (or maybe a mixture of both) and thankfully I clocked him early enough not to take a double-take, but late enough not to stare.

Now the thing that amused me, apart from the shuffling motion and pained expression on his face (I have never been there, honest!), was that he stopped just as I went past him, at which point was parked a policeman, with his bicycle, and an ambulance!!!

THE BEGINNING - PART THREE

When I write eight weeks of training, of course I did not really have eight weeks.  Smack bang in the middle of it I had already booked a week's skiing holiday.  It was suggested to me by someone that I should run whilst I was out there, on top of the skiing.
[I met this 'someone' in a ski lift going up the side of a mountain in, I think, Val Thorens - we were spending the week in Bardonecchia, in Italy, and knew it was going to be a pretty bad week's skiing when we arrived in the resort and the sun was shining resplendently in the sky and there was bugger all snow. It was hotter than an English summer's day. The travel company organised a trip to France, through some tunnel that linked Italy to France, or maybe the other way round, for a day, to a resort that was guaranteed snow. So myself and these two chaps were in this chair lift. I was minding my own business, and the other two were engaged in conversation. Suddenly on of them addresses me. I had seen them on our bus, from Italy, and as I could not readily understand what he had said I assumed they were Italian. I said "Sorry, I am English" (which I think loosely translates as "I am too stupid/ignorant/arrogant (or maybe all three) to speak any other language than English) with a slight shrug of the shoulders and a pitiful look on my face. He looked at me, as if I were slightly mad, and then returned his attention back to his companion. It was then, as they were talking, that I realised they were in fact speaking English...in an Irish accent!]
I looked at them as they were mad.  Ski and run?  I paid my money to ski, not to run.  Besides which, I doubt I had the stamina to do both in the same day.

So that only left me seven weeks to train.  Of course, had I consulted a training guide I would have found out that one generally tapers for the last two/three weeks before the big day which would have meant I had four/five weeks to prepare.  But I did not, so I just got stuck in.  I can not remember exactly what I did - I did not feel it necessary to write every last detail about each run, as I do now - but from memory I ran three times a week; including once at the weekend, which was my 'long' run.  Now, when I say 'long' I mean in comparison to the other runs, and what I had run before (10k being the longest).  They went something like: 8 miles; 10 miles; 12 miles; Half Marathon; 15 miles 18 miles.  Then the Marathon.

Now, looking at those Sunday long runs, I think it is safe to say that it is perhaps not the best preparation to do your longest run (which I did in 9mm, marathon pace) the week before your marathon.  I did not realise this at the time, however.  Encouragingly, for me, I did the HM in Hastings, and ran 1:52.  Hastings is a particularly tough course so I had no qualms in calculating: two times 1:52 equals 3:44.  Game on for four hours.  To be fair, with the correct training (again, that phrase) you can calculate your marathon times from twice your half marathon plus six to ten minutes, depending on how good your endurance is.  At the lower end of the scale, that would still give me 3:54, which would give me six minutes to spare to bag the £50...I mean, get my time that I had worked so hard for.  I went into the day confident that I would get the job done.

THE BEGINNING - PART TWO

I was, perhaps, a little naive over what preparation was required to run a marathon.  In hindsight, laughably so.

I was, at the time, playing football.  I am not sure why, as I was, and still am, absolutely shit at it.  I also regularly went to the gym (chucked a few weights around, did some x-training. Even did some running on the treadmill now and again.).  I thought this would provide a decent level of fitness and that the marathon would be a doddle.  A girl I worked with at the time told me that her cousin, who was a bit fat by all accounts (her words, not mine...I had never met him) had run it in four hours.  That was 9mm (nine minute miling).  I could run forty-five minutes for a 10k (despite never running previously, I had still ran a few 10k's in the preceding years) which was 7:15mm.  9mm for roughly four times the distance? Piece of piss.  I took a bet with her of £50 that I would beat the four hour mark.

Now, there was some method in my thinking (not that I knew it at the time)...if you can run a forty-five minute 10k then you should be able to run, with the correct training, around 3:30hrs for the marathon.  But note the words: with the correct training.

It is different now, but back then you found out if you had a place in the race by getting a letter and magazine in the post, in the first or second week in December.  An absolutely appalling time to be told.  If conventional wisdom dictates that you should be running at least six months (if not a year) before attempting your first marathon, then why inform people just over four months from the big day?  And not only that, inform them in the one month when one is least inclined to get out and run, what with the festive period well and truly taking over.  So I did what, I imagine, countless others have done, got my confirmation of entry, put it to one side and went down the pub, promising to start training in the New Year, once Christmas and New Year's Eve, and the associated drinking, had passed.

Sadly come January 1st - well, January 2nd, as January 1st is hangover recovery day - I was not enthused enough about my mission to actually do anything about it.  I did however, for the first two weeks of January, continue to visit the gym and played football.  It was whilst playing football, on a cold day in the middle of January that my 'training' took a set back.  I came on as a sub for the last twenty or so minutes of the game.  All had gone fine except that in the last few seconds of the game, whilst shepherding the ball out of play (I played left back - no jokes about the changing room, please) I put in an increased effort - a devastating burst of speed - and POP!, my hamstring went.  I self-diagnosed that I had strained my hamstring, and so self-diagnosed that I needed to take a month off all exercise to ensure that I did not damage it further whilst marathon training.  This left me with eight weeks before the big day...eight weeks of training.  Somewhat short of the recommended six months.

THE BEGINNING - PART ONE

So, after wasting a small portion of my life slumped on the sofa, watching a succession of men trying to beat the shit out of each other (professional boxing, not an ITV expose into the binge drinking culture in Britain's provinces) I slumped myself into a hot bath and, as I lay there, drifting off, imagining moments of great accomplishment, that I was, no doubt, soon to enjoy, I had an 'Eureka' moment (quite different from an Ulrika moment - I have never had one of those in the bath).  "Eureka" I cried, as I leapt out the bath...as this is a running blog, I shall write about running.  I am amazed that I had not thought of this earlier.

So filled with enthusiasm and excitement, I eased myself back in the bath and laid there for a further hour, then transferred myself back to the sofa to watch the Superbowl (and watch my little flutter flitter away).  But at least today I know what to write about.

So, where to begin?  The title of this entry kind of gives it way, but the obvious place to begin, is the beginning.

It is a question that always makes me smile (I am a simple sort): "When did you start running?".  Most people will answer "a year ago" or "five years ago" &c. &c. whilst of course missing the true answer, that they started running when they were a toddler.  And continued throughout infancy; and during any sport they played at school and beyond; and even for the bus/ice cream van/last orders (delete where applicable). There will, of course, be exceptions, but on the whole we have been running for longer than we give ourselves credit for.

This may in part explain why some people's progress seems to be accelerated compered to others.  How annoying is it to speak to the person who has just pipped you across the finish line of a race only for them to say "O, I have only been running for a couple of weeks" and you are there thinking "Fuck off! It has taken me two years to get to this level of ability".  Of course, what they may be neglecting to tell you is that  they have been playing football - or some other such sport - three times a week, for the past ten years, which, of course, involves a fair bit of running (unless you are a stroppy centre forward).

So, I started structured running in the beginning of 2005.  Mrs (NotsoRude) McNude coerced me into applying for the London Marathon with her.  I did not want to - I found running extremely dull; my whole sporting life has involved some sort of side activity to distract my mind away from the fact that I was actually running - but yet, having some idea of the difficulty of getting into the Marathon, I agreed.  I crossed my fingers.  Of course, I got in and she did not.  I was not sure who was the most disappointed.

EVERYONE ELSE IS DOING IT, SO WHY CAN'T WE?

So said the Cranberries, and so say I.

After wasting many an hour reading other people's running blogs, when I should instead be working, I thought "Why not write one yourself?".  The reasons why were many but I ignored them and so got to work creating this, my blog.  Having spent far too long trying to get the background and layout design exactly how I want - and failing on both accounts - I now come to write my first post...but what to write about?

What indeed!  Whilst, before, I had an abundance of ideas and points that I strongly felt should be shared with the world, when presented with the opportunity to do so, I have dried up.  I blame the hour wasted on the formatting of the format for drying up the creative juices.  Nevertheless, I shall retreat to my den of inspiration (the sitting room - sitting on the sofa, watching Sky Sports) and shall return refreshed and ready to divulge the finer contents of my running mind.

And besides, who am I kidding?  It is not as if anyone is actually going to read this, anyway.....