Post 72 - Sore legs

On Monday this week, two days after the 10k race, my legs were still in pieces. Very sore and stiff. I could barely walk properly, and was really struggling with stairs, especially going down. Painful. I really did feel as if my legs might just give way from under me. Needless to say, there was no training done on Monday. There wasn’t much improvement by Tuesday, and Tuesday involved travelling to Italy with work… again. I took my fifth and sixth flights in the space of eight days. The trip out to Italy wasn’t fun – negotiating trains, crowds, airports, planes, taxis and plenty of stairs, all with a couple of bags in tow. It was a bit of a struggle.

Training in Italy wasn’t exactly tough because it involved running hot baths in my hotel room, and sitting in these hot baths for as long as possible. Followed by as much sleep as possible. I think the hot baths did help my legs. On Wednesday evening I managed an easy 30 minutes on the crappy hotel gym exercise bike, followed by a hot bath. By Thursday I was walking a bit more normally, so the journey back on Thursday evening wasn’t quite as challenging. If I trained specifically for fast 10k races, I wouldn’t have been so sore, but Ironman training is a bit different.

On Friday I after work I went swimming with my toys – my leg float, hand paddles and rubber band for tying my feet together. There wasn’t too much wrong with my arms, so I had quite a good swim session. Then I went shopping, got back to the house, ate, and got on the turbo. Single-leg drills. The tedium. But they have to be done, so I fired up the laptop. I’d recently been sent a link to a video/webinar on the psychology of pain and how best to deal with it when training and competing in endurance sports. I thought it sounded good, and maybe I’d learn something from it. With 60-70 minutes of single-leg drills ahead, I thought it would be a good video to watch.

The pictures below give some idea as to how useful it was…

I got through the whole 65 minutes of single-leg drills. I also somehow got through the whole 60 minutes of the pain webinar. Watching and listening to it was a bit painful in itself, and even if I didn’t learn much, I perhaps developed a slightly greater mental resilience…

After that, it was shower, cook, eat, talk and sleep. The talking was done with my housemate Steve, and the result of the talk was that we would be going out on the roads the following morning. Yes, on the roads, in the Kent countryside. What a novelty… But I’d be getting out of bed at 7:30am. On Saturday morning! Ugh. A slightly different kind of novelty, as I rarely surface before 10:30am on Saturdays.

If I’d had my really sensible and disciplined hat on, I wouldn’t have gone out on the bike with Steve. I’d have slept late, spun the pedals on the turbo trainer for an hour or two, kept it all nice and easy, and rested up, allowing any residual 10k fatigue left in my legs to dissipate. But I thought, “Feck it, my legs feel OK, I never get the chance to go out on the roads, I’m just going to go out and have fun and enjoy it…”

And so the alarm went off at 7:30am on Saturday morning. Urgh. I got my road bike ready. The poor thing hasn’t seen any action since the Alps trip in August last year, and has spent the intervening 7 months (time flies) chained to the wall of the garage. Poor thing! We would head out towards the Toys Hill/Ide Hill area, with a rough idea that we wouldn’t ride too hard until we got to the “north face” of Toys Hill, where we’d blitz the 2-3 mile climb as hard as possible. Later, we’d plug our Garmins into our computers and upload our rides to Strava. I was keen to see how my time going up Toys Hill would compare to the best times on Strava. After blitzing Toys Hill, we’d do a few more circuits out in the countryside, and head back. Total ride time would be just under 3 hours. It all sounded fair enough, and certainly not unmanageable.

So we headed off, Steve setting most of the pace. We were generally heading south, into quite a strong headwind. I took a turn at the front on the flatter parts before we got to the hills, and my heart rate was hitting 160-170. Far too high. I just wanted an easy ride! As we reached the hillier parts, the weather changed. It had been warm(ish) and dry on the roads heading out to the country. Towards the hills it was misty, damp, colder, and the roads were wet. Quite a big change in just a few miles. It’s cycling central out in the Kent hills. Armies of cyclists were out. Entire pelotons, soloists, small groups. So many people on bikes. Good to see. There was a time trial going on as well, so some nice bikes and aero helmets were on display. Back in Northern Ireland, if I’m out on the bike, I’d be lucky to see one or two other cyclists. Out in the Kent hills, there were hundreds.

Natural habitat

Natural habitats have this effect on facial expressions

We got to Toys Hill. I rode it pretty hard, peaking at 179bpm. It probably takes less than 10 minutes to climb and is only about two and a half miles long, but I must have overtaken 20 or so other cyclists on my ascent. Because we were climbing the north side of the hill, there was a southerly headwind. The second half of the climb was shrouded in mist, but I blasted the whole way up. Steve wasn’t too far behind. I felt that I’d done my bit for the day and informed Steve I wouldn’t be riding too hard for the rest of the ride. After a good few more miles out in the hills, and a second (much slower) ascent of Toys Hill, we headed for home. At least there would be a tailwind blowing us back.

A section of Toys Hill

Filling in the potholes and smoothing out the road would help...

By this stage my legs were absolutely knackered. Riding hard wouldn’t have been an option. Tailwind or not, I couldn’t keep up with Steve and he kept pulling out gaps on me, I couldn’t even hold his wheel. My heart rate was low, but my legs just didn’t have any energy. I had three energy gels in the final 45 minutes just to keep me going and get me home. I clearly wasn’t fully recovered from the 10k. I was very thankful when we got back. There was no chance I was following the ride with a run, as I usually would on Saturdays. The rest of the weekend was spent sitting on the sofa, resting, relaxing and eating. Apart from the cold shower treatment I gave my legs to try to speed their recovery. Not fun!

We uploaded our rides to Strava. We were both surprised to see that my time up Toys Hill was actually quite slow. Although I had blasted up almost as hard as possible, the conditions had conspired against a fast time. It had been damp, misty and chilly, and there had been a headwind. I didn’t feel that my tired legs had slowed me down too much, but with hindsight, I was nowhere near being in good condition. It just goes to show how much the weather conditions can affect a fast time, and how important it is to be well rested.

We also watched the Gent-Wevelgem one-day cycling classic taking place in Belgium. They were experiencing the same weather system we had endured on our Kent ride, except it seemed far worse in Belgium than in Kent. It was obscene. Really strong winds and wet, narrow, exposed, debris-strewn roads were causing chaos. Riders could barely stay on their bikes. In all my years watching cycling, I have never seen the like. It was a day that winner Luca Paolini will remember for all the right reasons, but a day that everyone else will remember for all the wrong reasons. The images below hardly do it justice... cyclists are tough cookies...

 

Carnage in Belgium, all in a day's work

Training done this week was as follows:

Mon 23 March: Rest
Tue 24 March: Rest
Wed 25 March: 30 minute exercise bike
Thu 26 March: Rest
Fri 27 March: Swim 3.3km, 65 minute turbo (single leg drills, 10 x 2mins R/L/B)
Sat 28 March: 2:30 bike
Sun 29 March: 30 minute run

Totals: Swim 3.3km, Bike 70 miles, Run 5 miles.

Post 71 - The Garioch 10k

This week started with yet another work trip to Italy. I really could do without these trips, but there was nothing to be done but to grin and bear it, and get through it as best I could. I knew I was tapering down this week for the Garioch 10km road race in Inverurie near Aberdeen at the weekend, so I only did light training while in Italy, and tried to eat well and keep hydrated. I took with me literally boxloads of food: apples, oranges, flapjacks, bananas, and vitamin C.

I had a great chat one evening with the waiter in the hotel restaurant who had spotted me earlier arriving back to the hotel after my run. He asked me about running, and the conversation moved on to triathlons, and I showed him some pictures of my bike. He was a smart guy, it turned out he was from Morocco, speaks six languages, and he immediately understood that after my running and exercise bike riding I needed some quick and nourishing food, in big portions. I can’t be doing with frilly, delicate and decorated food that you can eat in one bite…

I survived Italy and flew to Aberdeen on the morning of the final day of the 6 nations rugby championships. There were a lot of flights heading to Edinburgh from London City airport that morning, and on these flights were a lot of Irish rugby fans. But I was heading to where the real action was: Aberdeen/Inverurie for the 10^th anniversary of the Garioch 10k… I won the first Garioch 10k in 2006, and again in 2007. My attempt at 3-in-a-row in 2008 was scuppered by a really bad ankle injury just a week before the race. With hindsight, this injury was quite a big turning point in my life. I wasn’t able to run for months, and took the decision to go travelling after university. I went off the running scene for years, and then ended up working in London. Had I not wrecked my ankle in 2008, I might have gone back to Aberdeen full-time after university, and life would have taken a different path. Who knows…?

In Aberdeen, I was staying with an old running buddy, the one and only Gavin Reid. On arrival in Aberdeen, I took the airport bus into town, having been instructed by Gavin to meet him in a bar. On the bus, I picked up a copy of the Evening Express newspaper, where there was a full-page article previewing the race. I had a bit of a mention…

I met Gavin and we settled down to watch the rugby. He was on the Guinness, I was on the juice (the orange stuff, not the illegal sort…) The rugby turned out to be hugely entertaining – almost as entertaining as Gavin! He’s good company. Ireland won the tournament by a very slim margin, but it really did go down to the wire and made for a good afternoon.

A lasagne dinner was followed by a reasonably early night. Before I drifted off to sleep, I did some strategising. I thought I was in shape for a sub-33 10k. Relatively speaking, my 10k PB (33:16) isn’t as good as my other PBs, so I hoped that I would run a PB. My last PB was in 2007, so it has been a long time! I knew the course was hilly. Should I go all out for the win and risk fading in the second half, or would I bide my time and pace the run? I decided I’d try to hang back a bit in the first few kilometres and then hopefully move through in the second half. I’d run my own race and not be tempted into following any early pace-setters.

Room with a view... beats London

After a good sleep, Gavin and I headed for Inverurie. Gavin hadn’t got a race entry but was planning to jog around the course. The organisers have turned what used to be a small and friendly 10k run into a much bigger (but still very friendly) event. They now have a 5k, a 10k and a half marathon all on the same day, as well as junior races. There must have been pushing 3000 runners across all the different races. There was light drizzle, but it was quite a calm day. For a running event, it’s not the drizzle that makes things tough, it’s the wind. So conditions weren’t too bad. It was a case of trying to keep as dry as possible while warming up. My ancient Metro Aberdeen running club jacket didn’t do a great job of keeping me dry, it’s long past its sell-by date. Bits flake off it every time I wear it, like it has got the world’s worst case of dandruff. I’m sure I’ll wash it one day and when I open the washing machine, there will be nothing left of it but rags. Must get another one…

Metro had a good presence on the start line of the 10k. It was great to be in a Metro vest again, and good to see some old faces, as well as a few new faces too. The course winds through town for a couple of kilometres, then follows a country road for about 5km before a final few kilometres lapping around the town, with the finish at the sports centre. It’s still the same route as ten years ago. There was great support in the town and around the sports centre. It really is a great event, most of Inverurie must have been there in some capacity, whether running, volunteering, or spectating.

A klaxon set us on our way. Quickly, a lead group of 4 established itself as we climbed hill after hill. I didn’t force the pace and sat back at the tail end of the lead group, trying to keep my running and breathing nice and controlled. I didn’t remember so many hills, twists and turns 10 years ago! After about 2km we took a right hander and headed up another steep hill. I remembered this part, after the hill would come the country road and I though I remembered that the country road section was a bit flatter.

The group splintered on this hill. Ben pulled out a gap on Kenny and Phil, and I was sitting just behind in fourth. I then decided that I would lift my pace slightly, and I moved through into second. I didn’t lift it into the red zone, but I did enough to start to reel Ben in. The country road section wasn’t as I remembered, it was actually very undulating. Tough running. The half marathon had started ten minutes before the 10k, and as I caught Ben, we started to pass the tail-enders in the half marathon. I thought this had the potential to get pretty busy making our way past the slower half-marathoners, but we soon turned right and the half marathoners turned left, and then it was just myself and Ben, shoulder to shoulder.

We ran for a few kilometres almost side by side, working hard. I had a sense that the two behind weren’t far away either. Then, on a gradual downhill, around the 6km mark, I started to pull out a gap. I run well on gradual downhills, and I eked out a few seconds. The route went down an underpass and up the other side, and I could hear the echoing footsteps behind. Still two miles to go. Now it’ll get really tough.

Usually in a race, the philosophy is to go straight ahead unless advised otherwise by a marshal. I was coming up to two barriers across the road, with a marshal between them. There was a side road off up to the left. The marshal saw me coming, and moved one of the barriers put of the way. Straight ahead, I assumed. I ran through at full tilt. As I passed the marshal, 5 or 10 metres after the left hander, he shouted “10k or half?” “Ten,” I shouted. “Turn, turn…!” Feck it, I was already 10 metres past the turn. I slammed my brakes on, came to a full stop, did a U-turn, and strained to get back to speed as I took the turn. I don’t know how much time I lost. Maybe only a few seconds, maybe a little more, but I didn’t know how much of a gap I had.

I was really gritting my teeth up this hill, trying to keep the pace up. After 8km, I saw Gavin and he gave me a shout. I could barely acknowledge him as I was running up another hill and working hard. He later told me I looked very comfortable at this point. I was anything but! A steep downhill followed, then a right hander onto what I thought was a flat finishing mile. I crossed a marking on the tarmac saying “Go go go, 9km.” One more kilometre. I glanced at my watch. 29-something, I didn’t quite see how many seconds, but it was definitely 29 minutes. A sub-33 PB was possible. I was leading. The win was possible. I didn’t look back. I just tried to run as hard as I could. But then came a right-hander leading onto one more damn hill. It was like running through quicksand. Come on. Now I was maxing out. I dragged myself up that last hill. Surely only 500m to go. Doing everything to keep the pace up.

I was directed through a gate into the sports centre grounds, and I knew there were only about 200m to go. The finishing gantry was up ahead. I made it. 33:30-something. A third win at the Garioch 10k. Ben had dropped to third by the finish but I later found out that he had just had his appendix out, so his sub-34 performance was very impressive.

Finish line

I got my breath back and chatted to a few people in the finishing area, then got taken for “media duties” – slightly cheesy photos of the male and female winners propped up against a tree and sitting on a park bench. I also got a VIP hospitality pass for after the race. It wasn’t long before I was getting cold as it was still raining, so I found my bag, put on some dry clothes, and had my pre-prepared protein/banana milkshake – essential to give the legs the best possible chance of recovery. Then I went for a warm-down. I jogged back along the final couple of kilometres of the 10k course, giving a few words of encouragement and claps to incoming runners and saying thanks to the marshals. I got chatting to one of them and it turned out he has a daughter-in-law who comes from very close to where I grew up in Northern Ireland. Small world, especially in Scotland and Northern Ireland.

I jogged back to the sports centre and went upstairs to the VIP area with Gavin. There was a great spread, and I was hungry. I polished off a few sandwiches, crisps, quiche, cakes, and peppers, of all things. It was great. During the prizegiving, I met a friend who I worked with in the USA nearly 7 years ago. She’s now living in Aberdeen and training for an Ironman as well, so if things go well, we could both end up at the Ironman World Championships later this year. Fingers crossed. I know she’s a good swimmer and a very good runner, I don’t know much about her cycling, but hopefully she can do it. Her boyfriend Kyle (who used to beat me years ago on the local running scene in Scotland, but who I never really got to know), had just come back from injury to win the half marathon in 70 minutes, hugely eclipsing my 33 minute 10k. A 70 minute half marathon on a course like that is worth at least 67 on a flatter course. We had a bit of a chat, and if I do get back to Aberdeen I’m sure I’ll see a lot more of them, Debbie kicking my ass in a pool and Kyle giving me some dust to eat on the roads…

After the prizegiving, I had a quick chat with the race organiser-in-chief, then Gavin and I headed… for the pub. We caught the second half of the Man Utd v Liverpool game, then went back to his place. I got a shower and then we headed… for the pub! We went into town and this time, I could relax and have a pint of Guinness. I’m somewhat ashamed to admit that I also had a sloppy, dirty burger.

Treat time

Gavin is the type of guy you could chat with for hours. We went through my run mile splits for the race: 5:14, 5:22, 5:39, 5:18, 5:32, 5:17 and then 1:11. My final full mile, with the tough last uphill, was in 5:17 so my pacing wasn’t too bad. There was an article in the Sunday Times about a legal “super supplement”, L-carnitine, that Alberto Salazar (coach to Mo Farah, among others) has got involved with trialling on his athletes, with performance gains of up to 10% being seen. To a certain extent, athletes were being guinea-pigged with trialling drinks, injections, and intravenous drips of this L-carnitine. It reduces lactic acid and fatigue. In my opinion, it all sounded a bit iffy, although the governing bodies and drug testing agencies had all ruled it legal. I wonder what the long-term effects are. Anyway, a discussion about drugs in sport is worth a blog post by itself.

I looked at my watch. Ten past seven! Yikes, my flight was leaving at half 8. I abandoned Gavin and my half-finished second pint of Guinness, and made a beeline for the taxi rank. Thankfully, I got into a taxi straight away and the drive to the airport was clear. Only 25 minutes later I was passing through security, with legs that were by now starting to feel very sore. I don’t really train for such fast-paced racing and my legs aren’t used to such punishment. But I think the sore legs are a small price to pay for the weekend, and it really reinforced to me that Aberdeen(shire) is absolutely where I want to be, as soon as possible, for the long term. I'd love to be getting back to my old stomping grounds on a more regular basis - places and races like Lossiemouth, Inverness, Inverurie, Livingston, the Aberdeen beachfront, places where I developed my sporting career as a runner, and where I developed as a person too, and enjoyed some really great days with great people,

Thanks to Gavin, all at Metro Aberdeen Running Club, the race organisers, and Fraser Clyne for making such a great weekend and great event possible. Hopefully I'll be back next year... I haven’t managed to find too many photos from the race itself, but if I come across any, I’ll post them later.

Training done this week was as follows:

Mon 16 March: Rest
Tue 17 March: 30 minute bike
Wed 18 March: 25 minute run
Thu 19 March: 30 minute bike
Fri 20 March: Swim 1.5km
Sat 21 March: Rest
Sun 22 March: Garioch 10k: 33:32

Totals: Swim 1.5km, Bike 20 miles, Run 12 miles

Post 70 - Buying and testing

With a 10k running race coming up in Aberdeen, and having finished a two-week training block at the end of last week, my cycle of two tough weeks and one easy week is a bit disrupted at the minute. I decided that for this week, instead of having a full easy week, I’d have half a week easy, with the weekend to train hard. Then next week, I’ll have a full easy week, tapering down into the race in Aberdeen. I’m in Italy during the week with work anyway, so the timings work well.

I took Monday and Tuesday as complete rest days. On Wednesday I did an easy 30-minute spin on the turbo trainer, followed by an even easier 20-minute run. On Thursday I had another day of complete rest. The lack of training meant that I had a bit more free time, so I made sure to use it by going to bed early during the week– sleep really is a good medicine.

This week I finally managed to get my Chartered Engineer application finished, signed off, and posted to the Institution of Mechanical Engineers. I’ve put a lot of work into my Chartership over the years, on an ongoing basis, and I’m glad to have completed everything. The next stage is to wait for the institution to review the application, and call me for a professional chartership interview, before they decide if I am worthy of the title “Chartered Engineer”.

I also took delivery of quite a few food bits and pieces this week, having done a quite a bit of expensive online shopping. Piles and piles of energy gels, bars, chia seeds, protein powder, echinacea, sardines, electrolytes, glucosamine, chocolate rice cakes… my room is just overflowing. This year I am trying to keep my gels and bars as natural as possible, which will hopefully be easier on the stomach. After some research, I found that Mule bars, Trek bars and Mule gels are all totally natural and taste good, so hopefully they will agree with my system. I’m still also using the MaxiFuel Viper berry flavoured gels which seem to be quite easy on the stomach. I’ve booked a couple of car rentals for upcoming events, my bike insurance is due (an obscene amount), and I still have to pay my Ironman UK entry fee before the end of the month. An expensive business, but hopefully worth it…

Less than half of the box-loads that were delivered

During the week I had been reading up about power meters, and Functional Threshold Power (FTP) testing. An FTP test provides a measure of the maximum power you can sustain on the bike for one hour, and this number can then be used as a basis to set training levels. The idea is that you can then really effectively plan your training, and make sure it’s tough enough to be beneficial but also not so tough that it’s detrimental. Also, periodic re-testing should show an improvement in FTP over time, which is a good gauge of progress, particularly given that I don’t do much racing on the bike, or cycling on the road – all my work is done on the turbo trainer.

It’s important to do the FTP test when you are fresh and recovered, to get an accurate result. It seemed that Friday this week, would be a good time to do the test, after having had 4 days of little or no training. A 60-minute test can be done, but as I can attest to, a 60-minute flat-out blast on the turbo takes some time to recover from. So a 20-minute test can also be done, whereby you try to maintain a consistent and as high an average power as possible for a 20-minute period, and then multiply this 20-minute average by 0.95 to give an approximation of a 60-minute FTP. A 20-minute blast on the turbo is much easier to recover from, and I wanted to get in some quality training on Saturday and Sunday as well. I was even eyeing up a ride on the roads on Sunday morning with my housemate Steve.

I got home from work on Friday, did my stretching, and spent 20 minutes on the turbo warming up. I did some nice easy spinning, some pedalling at high cadence, and also did a few repeats at high power output, to make sure I was well warmed up. Based on previous training sessions with my power meter, I guessed that my FTP would be around 280-290 watts for the hour, and I thought I’d be able to hold around 300 watts for 20 minutes.

It’s a tricky call to decide how hard to start. Too hard and you’ll fade. Too easy and the result won’t be as high as it potentially could have been. Judgement becomes easier after having done a few of these tests. Anyway, I cranked up the power to a level I thought I could maintain, and started the clock.

Within 30 seconds, my power output had stabilised at 326 watts. 326! Far higher than I had anticipated I could hold, but it didn’t feel impossibly hard just yet, so I decided to stick with it. My heart rate shot up to over 170bpm within a minute or two. It was going to be a long 20 minutes… I took some confidence from having ridden up Alpe d’Huez last summer, where I maintained a heart rate of 170+ for almost 50 minutes.

The first ten minutes passed. My wattage stayed constant. But as time ticked by, time began to distort horribly. 10 seconds felt like 10 minutes. The heart rate crept further upwards, towards 180. My average power dropped by a watt, to 325. Then by another, to 324. What seemed like ages passed. But the clock only read 15 minutes. Five to go. I was pushing hard to keep the cadence over 90rpm. So tough. I dropped to 323W. With 2 minutes to go, I tried to lift it. One final push. I brought the average power back to 324W, with the heart rate spiking at over 180bpm. Maximal effort. And finally I hit 20 minutes, stopped the clock, and rattled down into a much easier gear. I was hanging off the bike.

FTP test results...

After I’d got my breath back, I did some mental arithmetic. My FTP was 307 watts. Higher than I thought it would be. A good result, I was happy with that. Following a 20-minute cool-down on the turbo, I went for a jog in the park. The daffodils were out in force. Nice to see. Hopefully warmer temperatures are on the way. My empty weight is down at 66kg, and combined with the still-cold temperatures, I sometimes feel chilly at night.

Power zones based on my FTP test

Heart rate zones based on my FTP test

On Saturday I did 4km in the pool, mostly with hand paddles. I felt good throughout. I followed this with a 40-minute hard run, with 30 minutes at 5:30-5:45 per mile pace. Again this felt reasonably good. On Saturday night we checked the forecast and it wasn’t good, so we decided against going out in the lashing rain on Sunday morning. Instead I slept late and got on the turbo. I did 3 hours, with 2:40 at 220 watts. Going by my FTP of 308 watts, my Ironman wattage should be around 220. I was pleased to see that my average heart rate for the two hours and forty minutes was only 137bpm. I followed this with a short run at Ironman pace. It all felt good.

Ironman pace... Need to see what happens to the heart rate if I do this for 5 hours...

Then I did some weights and core work, and after a shower, I was feeling tired. What happened next was like an advertisement for Carlsberg beer: “Carlsberg don’t do housemates, but if they did, they’d probably be the best housemates in the world…” I went to the kitchen to sort myself out with a bite to eat. I was tired. I was very hungry. I didn’t have a lot of energy. I ate a bowl of porridge with peanut butter and protein powder mixed in. My housemates had been cooking. I got handed a tray full of potato wedges and vegetables, a pot full of pulled pork, bread rolls, coleslaw, and a bowl of sticky toffee pudding with custard. It just could not have been any better.

While I was making myself a pulled pork burger, things then managed to get even better: the cycling came on the TV. I had read that the day’s stage of the Tirreno-Adriatico race in Italy had finished atop a mountain, in a crazy blizzard, and I had thought, “Wow, I’d love to see that…” and now it was on the TV, and I had all this awesome food in front of me… I think I did it justice… I really am very lucky…

A few hours later I had another meal: quinoa, turkey breast, peppers, onions and ginger. With that, another week ended. I’m off to Italy (again) with work next week. Hopefully I’ll get through it, hopefully I’ll not get sick, hopefully I’ll be able to eat well, and then it’s off to Aberdeen next weekend for the 10K road race. It’s the tenth anniversary of the Garioch 10K in Inverurie, just outside Aberdeen. I won the race in 2006 and 2007 and was invited back this year for the tenth anniversary. It will be great to get back to Aberdeen, if only for a weekend. I intend to run hard, and if conditions are good, I’d like to think I’m in shape to run under 33 minutes. Hopefully it won’t take too big a toll on my body and hopefully my legs will recover quickly, but I expect that my legs will be sore and that I’ll need a week afterwards to fully recover.

Old and new...

Training done this week was as follows:

Mon 9 March: Rest
Tue 10 March: Rest
Wed 11 March: 30 min turbo, 20 min run
Thu 12 March: Rest
Fri 13 March: 1 hour turbo (20 min FTP test: 20 mins at 324W, 173bpm), 25 min run
Sat 11 March: Swim 4km (500m paddle drills), 40 min run (30 mins hard)
Sun 12 March: 3 hour turbo (2:40 at 220W, 137bpm), 25 min run

Totals: Swim 4km, Bike 105 miles, Run 16 miles

Post 69 - An easy hard week

I’ve spent some time in the last week or two reading up on power meters, and how to effectively use them. A few weeks ago I started training with a power meter for the first time, and I’ve been slowly getting used to the numbers I am generating, how much power output I can hold for a given amount of time, how hard I can do my intervals, and what my corresponding heart rates are. I’m definitely going to write a more detailed post on training with power, but that’ll be a good few weeks away.

For now, I’ve learned that unless I want my power meter to be a glorified and very expensive speedometer, I need to do a benchmark power test and then base most of my training around “zones” based on this benchmark. This benchmark is also knows as FTP, or Functional Threshold Power: the maximum consistent power output sustainable for one hour. As fitness improves, FTP should also improve, and so the FTP test should be repeated periodically, as a gauge of fitness and progress, as well as to be used as a guide for training and recovering.

There are several tests for FTP which you can do yourself, on your own bike, one of which I intend doing soon. I want to be fresh and recovered for doing my FTP test so that my results aren’t skewed. I can then use the FTP numbers to really accurately focus my training, quantify how tough it has been, and crucially, ensure that I am getting enough recovery.

At the start of last week I did a tough, flat-out hour on the turbo. This wasn’t unlike an FTP test, and for the final 10 minutes of this, I was pushing well over 300 watts. Quite a high number. Having the power meter numbers probably goaded me into pushing harder that I normally would for my “flat-out hour” sessions. I guess in saying this, I’m acknowledging that there are degrees of “flat out”, which shouldn’t strictly be true, but anyway. It left me really tired, and I should probably have taken a good few easy days to recover from the effort. It’s not unlike the hour record I wrote about last week. Anyone who tries to break the hour record is unlikely to be able to do much in the days that follow.

Instead, after my flat-out hour, I ploughed on with a full week of tough training, and was noticeably more tired than usual. I know about recovery and the importance of it, but I continue to learn, and having a better knowledge of my power numbers and efforts means that there’s no way in future that I’d do a flat-out hour on the turbo and not take a few days to properly recover. With my FTP number, I could still do a tough hour on the turbo, but at a certain percentage of threshold (or at a certain manageable “degree” of flat out), which wouldn’t take as much out of me and would enable me still be relatively fresh for the days to come.

This week was the second of a two-week training block. Based on the above, and how tired I felt, I decided that there was no way I could do a “normal” week of hard training, because I didn’t want to push myself over the edge, and end up getting sick or injured. The training process needs to be consistent and uninterrupted over time. I decided that this week would still be a hard week of training, but as easy a hard week as possible. So, based on previous training sessions with my power meter, and based on some things I have read, I estimated my FTP to be something around 280-290 watts.

I’d read about a 2 x 20 minutes session at 85% of FTP that delivers big gains without too high a cost. So after a proper warm-up I did 2 x 20 minutes at just over 240 watts, with a 4-minute recovery in between. It did feel comparatively easy, with my heart rate at 140bpm. The full warm-up also helped. Usually I stretch and spend 5 minutes spinning the pedals at low resistance to warm up. This time, I stretched and put 15 minutes into my warm-up on the bike, spinning easily but also opening the legs up and elevating the heart rate with some higher-resistance spinning. And so the session felt easier, and afterwards, I didn’t feel like a zombie.

The next evening I cut my fartlek run from 40 or 50 minutes down to 30 minutes. When I was warming up, I heard an awful crack in my knee. The fartlek run was really tentative after this, and I stopped doing my squats for the rest of the week, in an attempt not to aggravate anything. Fingers crossed, so far it seems to be OK, but the crack was really alarming. Hopefully nothing serious.

I happened to see a documentary about Paula Radcliffe on the TV during the week. When I ran my first marathon in 2003 at 18 years old, she was smashing marathon world records. I’d go so far as to say she’s one of the greatest sportspersons of all time. To run 2:15:25 for a marathon, almost literally miles faster than anyone else has ever run, is amazing. I remember watching it and yes, it was inspiring. Certain sporting achievements are just so amazing that they are genuinely historic, and her run at the London marathon in 2003 was one of those things. No-one has come close to a time like that in 12 years since. Paula has had her ups and downs over the years, but remains a phenomenal sporting figure. I look forward to going to see her in the flesh at her swansong in the London marathon in a few weeks. Iconic photos follow:

2002 London marathon winner

Starting the 2003 London marathon

Running the 2003 London marathon

Smashing the world record at the 2003 London marathon

On Thursday evening I didn’t do maximal intervals on the turbo, but I did some fast-cadence intervals instead, with the efforts at 110rpm. Again, I didn’t feel destroyed afterwards. On Friday I put more time into my chartered engineering qualification in the afternoon, then hit the pool. Some little kid had just puked in it, and so the whole pool had been evacuated. Well done kid. After a frustrating wait, we were finally allowed back in. I’d have happily taken my chances in the puke, having already swum with jellyfish, silt, salt water, fish, and blue-green algae… The swim was followed by single-leg turbo drills, and again I focused on a higher cadence at slightly lower power, again because I didn’t want to take too much out of myself, knowing that the weekend was ahead and that weekend training is tough.

By the final weekend of a two-week training block, I’m usually well in need of a break, physically and mentally. So I really dragged myself through the weekend sessions. On Saturday I did 2:20 on the turbo, with 2 hours at just over 210 watts and 140bpm. This was roughly what I thought would be Ironman wattage, but once I do my FTP test I’ll have a better idea. Every 10 minutes, I ramped up to something between 300 and 400 watts for around 30 seconds, to simulate accelerating out of corners – Ironman UK is very twisty.

This was followed by an easy run. If I can run 7:40 per mile for the Ironman marathon, I’ll run a 3:20 marathon, and I think this will be good enough to qualify for Kona, assuming the bike and swim go as they should. But it’s so difficult to run this slowly in training. I think I’m in shape to run sub-33 for a 10k. That’s faster than 5:30 per mile. I was running 7:10 per mile for my short run after 2:20 on the turbo on Saturday and even 7:10 felt easy. From now on my Saturday runs will be all about forcing myself to run at 7:40 pace and no faster. 7:40 per mile may start off feeling easy, but in the Ironman marathon there are 26 of these miles to do, and I know from experience how damn hard it gets.

On Sunday in the pool I had another lesson in poor pacing. I did two sets of 10 x 100m intervals off 1:45, thinking my 100s would be in about 1:30 and my recoveries would be 15 seconds. For the first set of 10 x 100m I averaged 1:27 for each 100. Following an easy 500m recovery swim, my second set of 10 x 100m averaged 1:33 per 100m. I really, really need to work on pacing… Much better to start off slightly slower and then gain time in the second half of a swim, a bike or a run, than to start too quick and then have the time fall away. And the time falls away quickly, I know that for sure!

After a bite to eat and a bit of a rest, I did some stretching and I forced myself out to do 14 hill sprints. The last session of the fortnight, and a tough one, especially on such tired legs. Everything was hurting – legs, arms, lungs, back. 14 hill sprints, each in around 70 seconds, with a 2-minute jog back down to recover. With an eye on the 10k race in Aberdeen in a couple of weeks, I knew this session had to be done. And it was done. After a big effort, I was happy to be finished and to be jogging back to the house. Following a shower, I parked myself on the sofa and didn’t/couldn’t move for the rest of the day. I watched a bit of the Paris-Nice cycling prologue. I did my ironing. I replenished my body’s iron reserves by taking on a pint of medicinal Guinness. Then I nearly fell asleep. After a decent dinner, I went to bed. Another week down…

Ironstuff...

Training done this week was as follows:

Mon 2 March: Rest
Tues 3 March: 1 hour turbo (2x20mins hard)
Wed 4 March: 30 minute fartlek run
Thu 5 March: 1:10 turbo (15x2mins fast cadence, 2 mins slow)
Fri 6 March: Swim 2.6km (paddle drills), 1:10 turbo (20 x 1min R/L/B fast)
Sat 7 March: 2:20 turbo (2 hours at 212 watts, 140bpm), 25 minute run
Sun 8 March: Swim 3km (2 x 10 x 100m off 1:45, average 1:27/1:33),
                       14 hill reps: 70, 69, 70, 71, 71, 70, 69, 72 71, 72, 72, 72, 70, 70

Totals: Swim 5.6km, Bike 125 miles, Run 16 miles

Post 68 - Hard training

At the start of this week I was champing at the bit to get back into training. I’d taken two easy weeks after the cross-country to fully recover, and I was feeling fresh and ready to get back at it. This freshness allowed me to push hard on Tuesday evening. Tuesdays are usually 70-75 minutes on the turbo, with an hour going hard. By the end of the hour I had averaged 274 watts with an average heart rate of 158bpm. This was 8 watts better than a few weeks previously, and also at a slightly lower heart rate. I was happy enough with the effort. It started at around 250 watts and kept ramping up ever so slightly and ever so slowly, until I was pushing over 300 watts in the final 10 minutes.

At the end of the effort. Bottom left: 274 watts for the hour

My Wednesday fartlek run passed, and during my Thursday evening turbo intervals I was already feeling a bit tired. I got through it, and then Friday was a big day. I swam at lunchtime in the freezing cold pool near work. I say “near” work, but it’s not really “near” any more, now that we have moved to a new office. I used to be able to do a quick swim at lunchtime from the old office in not much more than an hour, but from the new office it takes closer to two hours. I had to do it though, as I needed Friday afternoon in the office to work on my chartered engineer qualification. I got away from work at about 7:30pm, and it was about 8:50pm before I was starting my single leg drills on the turbo. By 10:10pm I was eating dinner and by 11pm I was fit for nothing except flopping into bed, looking forward to an 11 or 12 hour sleep.

But the damn itchy legs put paid to that. I haven’t had any problems for a couple of weeks, but my left calf got really itchy in the middle of the night and I had a bad sleep. There has to be a solution. Maybe I’ll need to look at getting some anti-chlorine shower gel. On Saturday I did 2 hours 45 minutes on the turbo and my back gradually got tighter and tighter throughout. I followed this with a 25 minute run. Thankfully on Saturday night I had a good, long, uninterrupted sleep. On Sunday I did a tough 3.3km in the pool, mostly with hand paddles on. They provide more resistance to your stroke when swimming, theoretically building strength. This was quite a good session, then it was almost straight out the door for my run, as I wanted to be free by 2:30pm to watch the Ireland v England rugby match.

It was really windy for the run, but also quite warm. We’re moving towards a time when I’m not going to need a hat, gloves, leggings and a jacket to go for a run. We’re not quite there yet, so I had all the gear on, but I was soon sweating lots in the warmer temperatures. I did a 65-minute reasonably hard effort, with 10 hills. Conditions were tough, and my Sunday runs are always tough anyway, as it’s the end of the week, and I’ve usually put in a lot of miles throughout the week. As well as all my stretching, weights, squatting and core work.

My run pace wasn’t brilliant, but talking to my housemate who had done a 20-mile race earlier in the day, we agreed that the windy and warm conditions were far from ideal for fast-paced running. Then I watched the rugby with the housemates and a couple of friends. I’d got through my training reasonably early on Sunday so it was nice to have a few free hours to chill out. I did feel a bit sneezy and sniffly on Sunday afternoon, so I made sure I took on some Vitamin C and kept warm.

I’m going to have to be careful, as I’ve been thinking for the past few weeks. I’m really lean and light: my empty weight is about 66kg, which is pretty low for someone who is 6’1”. I am constantly famished and eating all the time. I think I’m in good shape for so early in the season. If you’d told me at Christmas that I’d be this fit by May, I’d have taken that. But it’s very difficult to maintain a high level for long without breaking down, getting sick or injured or whatever. I don’t want to peak too soon, I want to arrive at race day on 19 July at my peak. That’s still well over 4 months away.

I think that in particular I’ll have to be careful during my Tuesday evening sessions on the turbo, going hard for 60 minutes. I don’t need to chase maximal wattages for an hour, and then be worn out for the week ahead, as seems to have happened this week. The power meter is definitely a really useful tool but I don’t need to be a slave to it. My Tuesday sessions don’t need to be absolutely maximal at the expense of the rest of my training throughout the week.

Plenty of pedalling fuel... boys' breakfast in the house...

So, I plan to tone down slightly next week to avoid getting a full-blown cold. I’ll do some work at higher cadences next week, but at slightly lower overall output. Then after next week I’ll be looking towards the 10k race in Aberdeen and taking some time to taper down, so there will be a couple of easy weeks either side of the race. This Ironman training business is just constant monitoring, reacting and problem-solving. No doubt, it’s very challenging and tough, but it’s an exciting process.

I watched Sarah Storey have a crack at the hour record on Saturday when I was doing my weights and core work, after my bike and run. The hour record in cycling has become really popular in the last few months with the regulations relaxed to allow normal aero bikes. Attempts are made indoors, in a velodrome. Lap after lap after lap. You would think it would be boring to watch, but it was thrilling. The record slipped away from her in the second half – maybe partly because she didn’t quite have the fitness, and maybe partly because the air pressure at the London Olympic Park velodrome was higher than expected. Most records come at altitude, where the thinner air allows a rider slice more easily through the atmosphere. Come down to sea level, as in London, and the air is just a little thicker, and provides just a little more resistance when pushing through it. But then at higher altitudes, there is just a little bit less oxygen for your body to use, and optimising everything becomes something of a black art.

Such small margins determine records. Anyway, it was inspirational stuff, she covered 45.502km, and I have never seen anyone in so much pain at the end of a sporting event. I wonder will she regroup and have another crack…

Ouch...

Training done this week was as follows:

Mon 23 Feb: Rest
Tues 24 Feb: 1:10 turbo (1 hour hard: 274 watts, 158bpm)
Wed 25 Feb: 40 minute fartlek run
Thu 26 Feb: 1:10 turbo (15 x 2mins hard, 2 mins easy)
Fri 27 Feb: Swim 3.1km, 1:05 turbo (7 x 3 mins right/left/both)
Sat 28 Feb: 2:45 turbo, 25 minute run
Sun 1 Mar: Swim 3.3km (paddle drills), 65 minute run (10 hills)

Totals: Swim 6.4km, Bike 130 miles, Run 20 miles

https://twitter.com/tri4kona2014

Post 67 - Easing back to recover

I thought that after last week’s cross-country on Saturday 14 February that I would take the Sunday and the Monday off training, and be fresh enough by Tuesday to start a new 2-week training block. The 2-week blocks seem to work well for me, as by the end of the second week I’m usually knackered and in need of a break, physically and mentally. After 2 weeks of hard training, I always take a much easier third week, with no intense or long training sessions. These easy weeks are essential to let the body rest/recover/recuperate/repair. The easier weeks are where the strength is built: the tough weeks cause the muscles to fatigue and break down, and the easier weeks are when the body repairs itself to be stronger than before.

Also, the easier weeks help to avoid injury and illness. Training in a bad state of fatigue is counter-productive and a sure-fire way to pick up an injury or an illness. So, the two weeks on and one week off seems to be a good cycle. It means that I stay relatively fresh, and am not going into the tough training sessions in a bad state of fatigue. The fresher I am for the tough stuff, the more benefit I get from it. “Keep the easy days easy so that the tough days can be tough” was good advice I received many years ago, but it’s only recently that I’ve come to see the value of it.

The cross-country was a big effort and took more out of me than I thought. The day afterwards, I was knackered. 2 days afterwards, I will still knackered. 3 days afterwards, I was planning to start a tough 2-week training cycle, but I decided to put that on hold. I’m getting much better at knowing how I feel and knowing when to throttle back. That’s not to say that I wimp out, but rather it’s being smart enough and disciplined enough to know not to train hard and to trust that the extra recovery will be beneficial. Athletes always like to train hard, but generally don’t like easing off. However, knowing when to ease off is essential.

So on Tuesday evening when I’d normally do a 70-75 minute turbo session with an hour at high intensity, I decided to just get on the bike and spin the pedals at low resistance for an hour. During this turbo session, I ate a spicy flavoured energy bar. Yep, a spicy flavoured one. “Eastern Express” flavour, with pistachio nuts. Nope, it wasn’t very nice! After the ride, I went to bed early. By Wednesday I was still tired, and had to go out for a dinner with our suppliers at work. So I didn’t train on Wednesday and it was no bad thing.

Not sure the spicy eastern express flavour would help in an Ironman...

The highlight of our Wednesday night dinner was finding some table-tennis tables in the downstairs part of the bar/restaurant we were in, and getting a quick 10-minute game with one of our Italian suppliers. It was great fun, I haven’t played since I was in Sydney 5 years ago. I could have played all night but I had to drag myself away so that I could get home and get to bed at a reasonable hour. On Thursday my mentality was to just take the rest of the week nice and easy, ensuring that I gave my body a good opportunity and a good timeframe in which to recover. I was already looking towards next week and starting a tough 2-week block again, knowing that I’d be fresh and really ready for it.

On Friday, after packing up all my stuff at work for an office move over the weekend, I did a short swim and some single leg drills on the turbo. I went to bed really early on Friday night, and spent about 12 hours there. Awesome. On Saturday I did 90 minutes of easy spinning on the turbo trainer, and a short, easy run. On Sunday I’d usually go swimming and running, but I decided to take Sunday off. That would give 2 days of complete rest on Sunday and Monday, and then into tough training again. An added bonus is that any extra time is spent working on my Chartered Engineer qualification. I was feeling a bit twitchy on Sunday, wanting to get back at the training, but I held myself back. The next two weeks should be good, and from a work point of view it looks quite clear as well, hopefully no trips, so I can totally focus on training and eating well in the evenings.

I also put some effort into planning a few more races between now and Ironman day on 19th July. I’ll definitely head up to Aberdeen at the end of March for a 10k. I might head back to Northern Ireland for the Titanic 10k in Belfast in mid-April. I’ll definitely do the North Norfolk 100 mile time trial in mid-May if the weather is reasonable. I’d like to do another 100 mile time trial in early June, but the Bedfordshire time trial is not being held this year which is such a shame. This means I might have to simulate a 100 miler on the turbo trainer if I can’t find another 100 on the road on a date that suits. I’ve entered the Bristol Olympic distance triathlon in mid-June, which will be a good speed work-out. There’s also a cycle sportive at the end of May in south-west Ireland that I’d love to do, but that doesn’t really fit in with my training/racing plans, nor does it really benefit the overall Ironman goal, so I’m unlikely to do it. Saying that, if the weather was guaranteed to be good, this is the sort of scenery in Ireland/Northern Ireland that awaits…

The Bishop's Road, Northern Ireland. 

Looking towards Portstewart, Portrush and Scotland in the distance.

Yes I like this road...

Training done this week (not much) was as follows:

Mon 16 Feb: Rest
Tue 17 Feb: 1 hour turbo
Wed 18 Feb: Rest
Thu 19 Feb: 30 minute run
Fri 20 Feb: Swim 2.2km, 1 hour turbo (single leg drills, 10 x 2mins R, L, both)
Sat 21 Feb: 1:30 turbo, 20 minute run
Sun 22 Feb: Rest

Totals: Swim 2.2km, Bike 70 miles, Run 7 miles

Post 66 - The Northern Ireland/Ulster cross-country championships

I run for City of Derry Spartans Athletics Club, and this was the week of the Ulster/Northern Ireland cross-country championships – one of the biggest fixtures in our club’s calendar, and an important target for me since Christmas. I did a couple of running races over Christmas and didn’t perform too well, but since the turn of the year, I’d been back at full-time triathlon training, with a bit of a focus on some tough running sessions. I’d had a reasonably good 6 weeks of training since the start of 2015, with two solid 2-week blocks. So I was hopeful of a half-decent showing in the Ulsters. I like the cross-country racing, it’s really good for leg strength, and I think the triathlon training transfers better to cross-country racing than to road racing. The only worry for me is twisting an ankle on the uneven ground.

Clubs can enter 10-20 people into the Ulsters, with the top 6 counting towards the final results. The finishing positions of every club’s top 6 runners are added up, and the team with the lowest overall total are crowned champions. The winning squad are presented with an impressive, historic trophy. The top 6 team finishers get gold medals. For some reason, I’ve got a decent record in the Ulsters. I first ran for the club about 10 years ago (how time flies), and contributed to a winning team effort, picking up a gold medal as 5th scorer. I maybe didn’t appreciate the significance of this at the time, being quite new to the local running scene. The following two years, we took team silver and team bronze, then I went off the radar for a few years as I was travelling. Until last year, the club didn’t win the team event again – not for want of trying – bronzes and silvers aplenty, but no victory.

Last year I had a good run at the Ulsters (despite having just had my wisdom tooth taken out) to be 3rd scorer as the team claimed the trophy for a second time. This year, we were aiming to retain the title. I wanted to have a trouble-free, stress-free week leading into the race (not much to ask, surely?) and obviously wanted to have a good run.

A last-minute work trip to Italy meant that for most of the week before the race I was walking around a freezing cold fabricator’s yard. Temperatures in Italy were sub-zero. Snow and ice everywhere. We were staying in an awful, ancient, freezing cold hotel. The first night, I had the heating on full blast. The heating system was really decrepit, blasting horrible dry recycled air through the night. I woke up with no moisture left in my body. My mucous membranes were totally dried out. A horrible feeling. An easy way to get sick. The next night, I chose to leave the heat off. I couldn’t put myself through that again. The room was draughty, the window didn’t seal properly, and it was damn cold. Another easy way to get sick. I put on every stitch of clothing I had before going to bed; work shirts, gloves, hat and all, and hoped for the best.

I got through the night and was woken really early by a phone call. The previous evening, I had booked a taxi to the airport. It’s about an hour away. My flight was quite early. I was due to fly back to London, head into work for a couple of hours, and then fly back to Northern Ireland.

The phone call came from the hotel reception. The taxi driver had arrived really early, as he’d heard that there had been a crash on the motorway, and that it could take ages to get to the airport. Reception told me to get up and get away as quickly as possible if I wanted to catch the flight. Within 15 minutes I was in the taxi, trying to establish how bad the delays were going to be. The taxi driver had no English, I had no Italian, but we both had some French. He said the motorway was totally blocked but that he’d go by the back roads and try his best. Conditions were bad – misty, snowy and cold. Not the greatest taxi ride in the world. Plus, I was dying for something to eat.

The view from the taxi, very early in the morning...

Thankfully I made the flight. Just about. I was the last person to board. Even 5 minutes later and I’m not sure I would have made it. Soon I was winging my way over the Alps and back to London. Soon after that, I was winging my way back to Northern Ireland. Friday – my “holiday” – was spent sleeping, eating brown pasta, and making the most of the peace and quiet to spend some decent, uninterrupted time on my Chartered Engineer qualification work. Some holiday. The next day, I headed down to Lurgan, the race venue, with my mum. All my dad’s folks are from there. I found out that Lurgan Park is the second biggest public park in Ireland. It looked nice, with its lake, castle, and wooded area, and was made much better by the good weather – dry, calm conditions, a bit overcast, no threat of rain, firm ground – almost perfect for running.

Lurgan Park

I met up with the rest of the squad. We had new red vests this weekend and they looked great. The course was to be 6 laps of 2km. We jogged a lap, to get a feel for it. There were a few mucky and damp areas, but mostly it was good, firm grass. There were no tight turns to break your rhythm when running. It was going to be a case of getting up to speed, and then just maintaining pace. Most of the lap seemed to be running gradually uphill, with two short and very steep downhill sections, and a couple of steeper uphills as well. Tough enough, especially with 6 laps to do.

As we were warming up, the girls were running their own 3-lap race. We gave them a few shouts, but as our starting time drew nearer, everyone seemed to get a bit quieter, focusing on the upcoming task. People were going into their own pre-race routines. I stretched a bit. Did a few strides. During the team-talk, I pulled on my running spikes and looped my timing chip through my laces. These are quite tense moments. In the Ulsters, it’s all about the team. You want to run well for yourself, of course, but you want to make damn sure you run well for everyone else on the team. We knew we were after back-to-back titles. With “let’s make history” ringing in our ears, we jogged down to the start line.

I felt something in my right shoe. Like a small twig or something, nestled in the hollow where toes meet foot. Feck it! I fumbled with my laces for a moment, but they were tied tightly. I didn’t have time to do anything about it. All I could do was try to forget about it. We toed the line. A few handshakes and back-slaps. “Good luck”, “Have a good one”, “Let’s go boys, come on”…

Then we were away. 12km is a long run on the country. My plan was to try to have the discipline not to go out too hard, and let the race come to me. I’d hopefully pick off a few people in the second half. This strategy served me well at the Ulsters last year, and I wanted to be in the mix at the finish line today, not falling away after half distance. Usually in the Ulsters I finish somewhere between 15th and 20th. I started at what I thought was an acceptable pace, not too easy but resisting the temptation to run with the leaders. Pacing is difficult to judge. I think everyone ran quite a conservative first lap, as I was still within just a few seconds of the leaders after lap one. Five to go… so far so good. The race settled down. The lead group began to pull away. I seemed to be maintaining position.

And they're off... 12km to go...

There were two short and sharp climbs per lap, as well as the steep descents. I didn’t seem to go too well up the first climb, but seemed to go better up the second climb. Even by the end of lap two, the field had already thinned out a bit and there was plenty of space. It suited me well. By the end of the second lap, it was starting to feel tougher. Then our amazing support really came to the fore. Without doubt, we were the best supported club out there. Right around the whole course, we had people. The Spartans know how to do support.

And such positive support. Some other guy just in front of me was getting dog’s abuse from the sidelines: “C’mon ye f*cker, work harder!” I think even he was getting fed up with it, and he countered, “I AM working hard…” to which he got another earful: “No you’re not, shut up and stop talking, run harder!”

Our supporters were awesome. Everything was positive. We were all “looking great” and “running brilliantly”, right throughout the whole race. Probably more effort was put into the shouting and yelling and encouraging than was actually put into the running. It was inspiring. The shouts from the sidelines kept us looking forwards to catching the man ahead, not looking back and running scared of being caught. It was impossible not to be lifted, a tidal wave of support, driving us round the laps.

Not that it got any easier. There was no letting up. There was a sniff of a team gold, as people on the sidelines tried to work out positions and crunch numbers. We were just running as hard as we could. Trying to catch and pass even one more runner, giving us one fewer point for the final total. The hills were a grind, but they were short enough to blast up. I seemed to be closing gaps on the hills, and I wasn’t going backwards, I was leaving people behind. I was maintaining pace. Tough, but good. I saw my mum and aunt at the bottom of a hill and tried to give them a nod. Soon there were two laps to go.

By this stage it was maximal. Pure guts. Gritting it out and hanging on. This is what you train for. You don’t train hard to take the easy option and ease off, you just keep going and trust that the work you’ve done will carry you through. Shouts started coming, “The gold medals are there boys”, so we knew we were up there, but still relying on holding position, still straining to pick people off. Tunnel vision. All you can see is the course ahead, the man ahead. Focus. Lift it. Catch him. The sidelines were turning into a blur. Still you could hear the Spartan support.

One lap to go. 2km. 6 or 7 minutes. What was all that training for? Push push push, just keep going. It got a bit tricky going off-line to pass the runners being lapped. Try and stretch out on that downhill. Over the bridge and into the woods for the last time. One more bloody hill. Rip it up. Don’t even look back. Down the other side and the finish is ahead. 200 more meters. Into the final straight. Leave it all out there. Don’t let anyone past. Grit the teeth. And over the line.

Race done. Doubled over, gasping. Wrecked. A tough run. There are already a few red-vested Spartans in the finishing area. It turns out one of our guys won the overall individual race. A super effort. More red vests cross the line. Have we done it? With everyone finished came the confirmation. Champions again. Awesome. A huge team effort, by the guys who took to the start line, by the coaches, by the supporters, by the ladies’ team who had raced with distinction just before us and still lined the course to cheer us on. Handshakes, back-slaps, hugs, knackered smiles all round.

The far side of a finishing line is a great place to be at any time. The running/triathlon camaraderie is brilliant. The shared sense of achievement, the competition, the journey or a race completed together, the companions who are adversaries who are friends all at the same time, the feeling of elation, or perhaps frustration. The satisfaction. Maybe the disappointment. The giving of your best. The striving to better yourself. These are the reasons we compete. And to be on the other side of that finishing line as a champion, with great people all around – the team, the other runners, coaches, supporters – just makes it so much better.

With oxygen debts repaid and heart rates lowering, the trophy appeared on the scene. And the medals. Loads of photos. I had a good look at the trophy, and showed it to my mum and aunt. It dates back to the 1920s. It’s a magnificent old thing, and seems to be right at home in Derry/Londonderry/Doire. Days like this make all the hill sprints in the dark, rainy winter evenings worthwhile. By now we were getting cold, despite the late afternoon sun peeping through. I started to shiver. It was time to throw on a tracksuit top and bottoms and go for a jog, to shake the legs out. We did another slow lap, and then headed for the team bus.

I finally got my spikes off. And I was a bit shocked by what was inside. I thought a twig or something had got stuck. Thankfully during the race it didn’t give me any bother and stayed underneath my toes. It was a set of four safety pins, clipped together. The safety pins are to pin your race number to your vest. But I had used my pins, they were holding my number to my vest! I have no idea how another set of pins got into my shoe. It could have been a disaster if one had opened during the race. But mercifully, they had done no harm. I’ve never ever had such a problem before, but a mental note for the future is to check, check and re-check my shoes.

We got changed, had a bit of chat on the bus, saw some of the photographs and got some much-needed food and drink down our necks. We weren’t even that mucky, as the conditions had been so good. I hadn’t even realised, but it was Gerry’s birthday today – Gerry is the heart and soul of the club, and without him (and a few others), I wouldn’t be involved. After a chorus of “happy birthday”, the bus was ready to leave. I jumped off as I was going to see a few aunts/uncles/cousins in Lurgan. I walked back through the park. Strangely quiet now. All of the course markings were gone. Not many around. There wasn’t too much indication of what had just taken place.

An extra passenger on the bus home

I saw a few relatives, and was really happy to have the following photo taken with two of my uncles, in the same spot outside my granny’s house as a previous photo had been taken, almost 30 years ago. Time flies indeed.

On reflection, on the way home, I felt I had ran well. I kept decent strength throughout. Much better than my Christmas races. There’s always a bit of “what if” about my running races nowadays – what if I wasn’t doing triathlon and focusing only on running? But anyway, I couldn’t have asked for more out of the day – team gold medals and a decent showing from myself. I’m definitely at a good level of fitness and it’s still very early in the season. I’ll just have to be careful not to peak too soon, and to make sure I get enough rest and recovery. 

I’ll hopefully recover quickly after the cross-country, and get a few more good training weeks in, then I plan to race a 10k in Aberdeen towards the end of March. I’d certainly be hoping to get under 34 minutes, possibly even dipping under 33. But I need to remember not to get too carried away with the running – too much fast and tough running is risky as it carries the highest risk of injury out of all the different types of swim, bike and run training I do. And I really, really don’t want to get injured.

Anyway, a great weekend with a great squad of people. Hopefully we’ll all be around next year to fight for 3 in a row…

It was an easy training week this week, tapering down for the race:

Mon 9 Feb: Rest
Tues 10 Feb: Rest
Wed 11 Feb: 25 min run
Thu 12 Feb: 30 min turbo
Fri 13 Feb: Rest
Sat 14 Feb: 12km cross-country, 39:27
Sun 15 Feb: Swim 1.6km

Totals: Swim 1.6km, Bike 10 miles, Run 10 miles