Monday, December 17, 2018

Post 163 - Fighting to the Districts

11th December 2018

After the Scottish National short-course cross-country championships, both of my Achilles tendons were really sore. It was a flat, fast run, on good ground. The first mile of the race was my mile PB, in 4:48. I hung on well and felt I had a decent race. But it was hard, fast running, much more so than I’ve been used to recently, and my Achilles were not happy afterwards. So I had to take a good few days off running, and had to make use of the turbo trainer. Nothing else for it. It’s not a bad thing to be keeping in touch with the turbo trainer and keeping the bike legs, in addition to cycling to work whenever possible. But it’s not a good thing when you want to be getting on with some consistent running training.

I had a wee trip over to Dublin the following week, with a flat(ish) ParkRun planned. But the day before, I wasn’t even sure I should run it, so I went out for a trial run, thinking to do a 5-minute warm up and then 20 minutes of fartlek running. Neither of my Achilles felt great but I started the minute fast/minute slow fartlek, thinking I’d see how it went. It wasn’t comfortable but neither was it so bad that I had to bail out. So I’d start the 5k the next morning, I’d try to run fast and see how it felt, I could always slow down or bail out if it was too sore.

Dublin tourism took its toll with a trip to the Guinness storehouse, a few drinks, and a sloppy Mexican dinner not leaving me feeling the best for the run the next morning. The course record was on, even with the surprise hill and dead turn halfway through the race, but I suffered in the final mile; having to slow a bit to avoid a very visible and disgraceful accident from appearing down the backs of my legs… it would have been nice to have taken the record with a sub-16 run but I was happy that my Achilles had survived.






The following week was another Scottish East District league race, in Broxburn, not far from Edinburgh. Then it was a week off, followed by the Scottish East District championships, in Aberdeen. This had been a target race for a while, to try to get fit enough and run well enough to be selected to run for the district/county (Scotland East) in the Scottish, and then UK inter-district/county championships in the new year.

Anyway, I had to get through the training and the Broxburn race first. I knew my fitness wasn’t bad, especially for shorter stuff, but there was a question mark over my ability to run well in the final quarter of a 5-6 mile race. There were also two further question marks, one over each of my Achilles. Another question mark arose very suddenly and in a very unwelcome manner when I was out for an easy training run one evening, nothing tough, just a nice easy few miles, when without warning my guts and stomach (which had both been emptied earlier in the day) decided to empty themselves before I even had time to think about where the nearest toilet was. Let’s just say I’m glad I was wearing leggings, but it was a very uncomfortable 30 minutes that followed.

Anyway. On to Broxburn. A 3-lap race. I jogged a lap of the course to warm up. I was terrified. Very narrow, very twisty, some horrible cambers, especially at the bottom of the hills, very slippery, and worst of all, very uneven and bumpy underfoot. The sensible thing would have been to bail out there and then, and not risk turning/spraining/breaking an ankle. But I wanted to run. I needed to run, to get another tough race in the legs. Also, I’ve an eye on placing well in the club’s cross-country grand prix, and I need to do as many of the races as possible.

So I started. I ran well, with good form, and good mental alertness, for the first two laps, trying to avoid the lumps and bumps on the course. I was actually really well up without knowing it. I think I ran a lot of it in 4th or 5th place. Then, on the third lap, in the final mile and a bit, my legs tired, my form went, my mental sharpness went, and I lost my bottle. I half-turned my right ankle twice on bumps, bad enough to yell out, but not so bad as to have to stop. Bottle disappeared. Even if I hadn’t lost my bottle, I didn’t have the legs. And even if I’d had the legs, I didn’t have the bottle. I lost nearly a minute in the final mile, and a few positions, but I was just so glad to be finished.


Struggling up a steep hill

Scared witless going down a steep, off-camber, slippy hill

I assessed the damage. Dare I have said it, but the ankle seemed OK. I managed a warm-down of sorts. Then had another “bloody hell get me to a toilet as quickly as possible” incident, this time just about with a good outcome. Driving home I was happy enough, I knew I’d had a stinker of a last lap but having placed so well in the race was a good sign, I still had time to work on the weaknesses and try to build strength for the final quarter of full cross-country race distance. But then climbing the stairs to my flat I was spontaneously cursing the whole way up. Ankle very painful. Top of foot very painful. Achilles very painful. Oh no. Out with the emergency frozen peas to ice everything. It’s the not knowing. It was painful. Would it be a day or two, or a month or two? I wasn’t in a happy place.

5 days later and I felt it was good enough to attempt some hill reps. This was an important session to help me build strength and I wanted to get through it. 14 hill repeats. Get through it. Come on legs, and ankle, and Achilles. I am getting more and more fragile as I get older. I got to ten repeats. It was going well. The eleventh repeat was into a horrible headwind and the time for this repeat was rubbish. I could feel the different bits and pieces weren’t happy. I didn’t want to finish on 11 with such a poor time. I was pleased to pull the time back on 12. I should have stopped there. Often as a runner it’s harder not to train, it’s harder to decline a run, or the final two intervals. I did them anyway. I would have bailed if I’d thought it was going to be very bad. The times were good. It was a good session. But again at what cost…? Both Achilles were sore again. But again I got away with it.

Looking at my Garmin watch, since the world half ironman, my weekly mileages have been as follows: 2, 8, 13, 17, 24, 19, 18, 15, 17, 21, 18, 26, 25. Not many miles to be honest. The body just can’t cope. Maybe I should put money into getting regular massages.

Anyway. If I could keep it all together for 9 more days, get to Aberdeen in one piece, I felt that I might have a chance of qualifying to run for Scotland east. Easier said than done. I was down in Leicester that weekend. A long drive. I ran laps of motorway service station car parks to try and stay loose. I found corners in the service stations to lie down and stretch my back and stick my arse in the air doing “happy cat” and “angry cat” yoga poses to keep the back loose. I did a slow ParkRun, and an even slower Sunday run. If you’d told me beforehand the paces I’d do for both, I’d have cringed and said “not enough by far…” With hindsight, both were perfect. A short moderate-tempo run on Saturday and a slow, long Sunday run, getting good time on my feet. Not taking too much out of myself. A nice bit of relaxation in between as well.

Back to Edinburgh, and 4 x half a mile repeats on Tuesday night, a light sharpening session, not a big intense wrecking ball of a session as the 14 hill repeats had been. I was very pleased to do all 4 repeats in well under 2:30. Decent. A swim session on Wednesday night to save the legs. A super-fast swimmer-turned coach told me that I push off the wall and glide for too long, thereby slowing down, which then means I have to accelerate back to up speed. And also that I don’t glide enough on each stroke. Good pointers. Over 3K in the water was more than I’d have liked, but at least the legs were saved. A short fartlek run on Thursday, a short turbo session on Friday, and there I was – in one piece, as well trained as circumstances had allowed, fighting and managing and working around circumstances all the way.

I was looking forward to Aberdeen. I lived there for nearly two years, a long time ago. I did a lot of my growing-up in Aberdeen, was well looked after by Metro Aberdeen Running Club, developed my running, shaped my life. I enjoyed the drive up the A90, a very familiar road. I enjoyed the warm-up and seeing the old familiar faces out on course, helping out. I enjoyed briefly catching up with people. Conditions were good. It was a good course. It should suit me. Part of me wished I was still in Aberdeen.

There would be 15 qualification slots to run for Scotland East. These might trickle down to the 16th or 17th finisher. Last year I was the final qualifier in 17th place. I knew there was a strong field assembled. I reckoned I’d finish somewhere between 14thand 20th. Before the start I chatted to Conan from Northern Ireland who was racing for Central AC. It turned out last week he had run 31:25 for a 10K in Belfast. Great running. I doubted I’d be anywhere near him. We lined up. A good mate Darrell was also hoping to put himself in the mix for qualification. We wished each other luck.  

And off we went. One short lap and two long laps. 5 hills, two of which would be in the final mile-and-a-bit. This was a bit of a concern, given my poor form in the final mile-and-a-half of previous recent races. So, leave something in the tank for those final two hills…


The way it shook out was that I ended up tucked in behind Conan, Mr 31:25 for 10K. I wondered was this a bit ambitious, should I throttle back? But I felt OK. I needed to be ambitious. I knew who was behind me. I needed to try and keep them behind. And so it went for 4 miles. Running well. Into the last lap, I tried to look ahead and work out what position I was in. I reckoned 11th or 12th. Maintain that and you’ll have done it. Easier said than done.

Right at the lowest point on the course, with maybe 6 or 7 minutes left to run, Conan gradually opened up a small gap. A few seconds. He was stronger. I wasn’t as strong. I knew full well who was behind me. Quality runners. Maintain it, don’t let them through. But you can only run as hard as you can run, if they can run harder, if they are stronger, then they will come through. Once one comes through, another can come through, and another, then the previous four miles and all the training is for nothing. You need to be mentally and physically strong. I dug in. Up the second-last hill. Halfway up, my form going, my former coach from Metro roaring in my ear. Fighting my way up that hill. I knew if I could get over it, and onto the downhill, I’d be much less likely to be passed: relative to others, I run well on downhill sections that aren’t too steep. In theory I could recover on the downhill, maintain position, and get ready for the last hill.




And so it panned out. I maintained. No-one came through. Down the hill, onto a short flat section, around a sharp corner, then up the last hill. Maintain. Get up it. Keep them behind. As hard as you can. I doubt it was pretty but I got to the top, no-one passed me. Onto the last downhill. It was a downhill in two parts, punctuated by a devilish tight left-hander, needing good eyes to pick a line, and good acceleration out the other side to get back to speed. I had neither but I got onto the final flat section – out to the perimeter, around a hairpin, and then back to the finish. I underestimated this because I hadn’t thought about much beyond getting over the last hill.

At the last hairpin, for the first time, I looked back to see who was there. I had a gap. I doubted I’d be passed. Halfway down the home straight I had another look. Maybe he was a track runner and would unleash hell and get me. I looked again. Nope. I maintained. Crossed the line. Reckoned it was good enough. Conan one place and a handful of seconds ahead. Darrell two places behind. We had a wee hug at the end. Hopefully good enough for both of us to qualify.



Old hero from the old days in Aberdeen


A little warm-down, a wait for the results to be stuck on the wall of the clubhouse. I was 12th. That should do it. A good run, in a strong field – so much so that the guy who was fifth is a commonwealth games marathon bronze medallist… On the road back, we stopped. At a burger king. I had a double whopper burger. It was amazing. I had a Guinness later that evening. Scandalous. I was looking forward to a day or two of switching off. I had a think about the results. Conan told me at the finish that he ran as well in the cross country as he did in his 31:25 10k. So in theory that means that I am in shape to run a sub-32 10K. I’ve wanted to do that since I was 18, when I started with Metro and club coach Jackie Stewart told me “you’ve got sub-32 in you…”

For someone who had no idea about running and who could barely break 40, this was exciting, but unbelievable. It became more believable as my running career progressed, but it never happened. I really want to do it. It also means I’m probably in shape to be able to run a sub-70 minute half marathon.

It’s a shame that it’s the winter season when road races are few and far between. I had a look online. I knew about the Ribble Valley 10k on 30th December, down near Blackburn. Possible for a day trip. A quality race. The English 10K championships. 6 of the top 20 fastest entrants are from Scotland. However, entries are now closed for it, and anyway I get back to Edinburgh the night before. My brother’s wedding is just before Christmas. Then Christmas itself. Plus I’m down to do the new year’s day triathlon in Edinburgh. There are a few 10k races in London in the run-up to Christmas, but they don’t look particularly fast. With racing commitments in the new year, it might be April before I can get to do a 10k… anything could have happened by then…

For now anyway, I need to rest and recover. I went out the day after Aberdeen and did 10 miles, far faster than I needed to. This completely knackered me. I had postponed putting up my Christmas tree until after Aberdeen, not wanting to get injured in the process. That’s how ridiculous things are – when it gets to the stage where you are worried about getting injured by a Christmas tree… I bought it off the buy and sell noticeboard at work for very cheap. It is a big steel thing, weighs a ton, and sure enough, when I got it put up, my back was in pieces, so I have been sitting boiling myself in hot baths and giving it cold showers ever since…

What’s next? Well, I’ve just had my selection for Scotland east confirmed. Maybe a ParkRun before Christmas, trying to survive the wedding and Christmas without eating and drinking too much, keeping an eye out for a 10k although this is unlikely, doing the Greencastle 5 mile road race on Boxing day, doing the new year’s day triathlon in Edinburgh, and then into January with the Scottish inter-district cross country in Stirling, another East district league cross-country, and then the East Lothian cross country, all coming thick and fast in January. Assuming I stay injury-free… and then a longer-term question of what to focus on next year – short-course triathlon, ironman triathlon, or running. Given how well I ran in Aberdeen, off not that much training, the decision has become a lot more difficult…



Selection confirmation. Compare this with the East District Championships I ran 
in the mid 2000s, where I had no hope whatsoever of qualifying, and with 
last year's effort where I went in without a hope but had a good run to finish 17th, and
wondered if it might be good enough, waited for the email, didn't receive it, 
and then heard via messages from friends that I'd made it, as the email
went into my spam/junk folder. This year, I went into the race hopeful that a 
good run would see me in the mix, and so it proved with a 12th place finish
that I was fairly sure would be good enough at the finish line.



Birthday card pose looked a bit like my pose

Allez allez birthday present, fantastique

No comments:

Post a Comment