It's now three months since London, so my JustGiving page has expired. Thanks to the generosity of all my donors, I raised £1190.62 which, with Gift Aid, became £1502.46. I, and Marie Curie, would like to thank everyone who donated. It makes a huge difference, and I'm very grateful.
In other news this week, having barely been able to walk on Monday owing to the sore left calf after Sunday's run I did nothing until a gentle jog on Thursday. Unfortunately a mile in the calf did the "two spasm and tighten" routine so I had to mooch home in a state of some annoyance.
By now, completely fed up by the whole thing, I decided to pick up the card for a local sports physio that a GP had give me and give her a call. Toddled off on Friday morning for the first consultation and it was quite a revelation. As the last few problems haven't been tears, she felt that it was almost certainly issues in the whole bio-mechanical system, and the complex interrelationships between the various parts of the body, that were simply manifesting themselves in the calves.
After a brief examination, it was decreed that I had a huge degree of stiffness and inflexibility (stop sniggering at the back...) in my - neck, shoulders, back, hamstrings, calves. Which amounts to pretty well everywhere, actually. Thus, a pleasant hour was spent with various limbs being contorted at angles they were really rather unhappy about and a set of long, slow stretches for me to try at home was handed out.
The theory is that the more flexibility and less tension there is in the body when running, the more the muscles can cope with the strain of having to handle X-times bodyweight being transmitted through them on every stride. So, we'll do the exercises, have a couple more consultations and see what transpires.
No more running this week as I try and allow a bit more recovery time, but it's now 10 weeks to Le Mans. If it starts to get much closer without being able to pick up the mileage, a serious decision about whether I can do it is going to be needed.
Monday, 26 July 2010
Sunday, 18 July 2010
Abnormal service has been resumed
Or, 11 weeks and counting...
Just as it's proven that 76.3% of all statistics are invented on the spot, so 84% of all blog entries have been shown to begin "Sorry, but I haven't been updating this as often as I should...". Guilty as charged. The main reason being that I haven't done much running for a couple of weeks.
Had a really bad session at Scotstoun in the heat and humidity two and a half weeks ago, which led to much "why can't I run any more" and "don't know if I can do this again" soul-searching. Being far behind where I was at the same stage training for London, I was acutely aware that my concerns about knowing and fearing what was in store were coming to fruition. A wise man advised me to take a complete break for a while, recharge and come back to it. This wasn't too difficult, as last week was my annual spell marshalling at the Barclays Scottish Open at Loch Lomond Golf Club - spending 5 days standing on the grandstand at the 18th green pretty much precludes any running anyway. As does spending hours in front of the telly watching the Tour de France - I love the ebb and flow of the long stage races, and although Le Tour isn't quite as brutal as this year's Giro, it's been a thriller.
So, after the rest & recharge, time to get going again. Acutely aware that I'm well behind the curve from London, I'm determined not to make the classic mistake of overtraining or jumping back in to a too-ambitious point in the 16-week schedule and getting injured again. Thus I'm going to build up slowly and see where I get to. The week started with a very slow 5 miler just to get used to running again, followed by a trip to my nemesis at Scotstoun for was supposed to be a 5 mile Tempo at 7:06. Something I would have hoovered up without thinking about 4 or 5 months ago and slower than the spring 10k's. But, again it was humid and with the back-straight headwind, so I struggled round 4 miles in 7:30. Painfully slow - that used to be my "just go out for a run" pace - but a good indicator of just how far I have to go.
Hence all thoughts of times and PB's have been put to one side and my objective now is to get into shape to do a reasonable run and try to enjoy the experience. At this stage, I'm holding the thoughts that my injuries came later in the London preparation and that the last few weeks were rather disrupted. If I can stay injury free and just keep building, I won't be too far away from where I was, say, 2 or 3 weeks before London, when I was probably at my best.
In the spirit of getting back into it, the "long run" restarted today, with a 12-miler - again, less than the programme for this week, but necessary as a reintroduction to being out that long. A reasonably pleasant day for a trip over the hills to Loch Lomond and down the Leven to Dumbarton, but for the heat-averse it was both sunny and humid - in fact the only sunny weather of the day was the 2 hours or so I was out!. With the new hydration "strategy" in place (500ml bottle with me and extra energy gels), it wasn't too bad, considering it's my first time above 8 miles since London. However, my left calf was really tight all the way, so it was little more than a shuffle - I was pleased to subscribe to the "slow" bit of the long/slow. Just under 9 minute miles is about 20-30 seconds off the pace I was doing the long runs before, but as a reintroduction in conditions that don't really suit me, it just about got the job done.
Mucking about with the long run playlist too - decided to increase the variety of artists beyond the original 4. Catching up with a lot of this mob's back catalogue at the moment, and loving this song - Muse: Starlight
One of those lyrics that, if I could write lyrics, I could have easily written. If you follow...
Week's summary: 3 runs, 23 miles: Long run 12.25 miles
Miles since entering Le Mans: 93
Just as it's proven that 76.3% of all statistics are invented on the spot, so 84% of all blog entries have been shown to begin "Sorry, but I haven't been updating this as often as I should...". Guilty as charged. The main reason being that I haven't done much running for a couple of weeks.
Had a really bad session at Scotstoun in the heat and humidity two and a half weeks ago, which led to much "why can't I run any more" and "don't know if I can do this again" soul-searching. Being far behind where I was at the same stage training for London, I was acutely aware that my concerns about knowing and fearing what was in store were coming to fruition. A wise man advised me to take a complete break for a while, recharge and come back to it. This wasn't too difficult, as last week was my annual spell marshalling at the Barclays Scottish Open at Loch Lomond Golf Club - spending 5 days standing on the grandstand at the 18th green pretty much precludes any running anyway. As does spending hours in front of the telly watching the Tour de France - I love the ebb and flow of the long stage races, and although Le Tour isn't quite as brutal as this year's Giro, it's been a thriller.
So, after the rest & recharge, time to get going again. Acutely aware that I'm well behind the curve from London, I'm determined not to make the classic mistake of overtraining or jumping back in to a too-ambitious point in the 16-week schedule and getting injured again. Thus I'm going to build up slowly and see where I get to. The week started with a very slow 5 miler just to get used to running again, followed by a trip to my nemesis at Scotstoun for was supposed to be a 5 mile Tempo at 7:06. Something I would have hoovered up without thinking about 4 or 5 months ago and slower than the spring 10k's. But, again it was humid and with the back-straight headwind, so I struggled round 4 miles in 7:30. Painfully slow - that used to be my "just go out for a run" pace - but a good indicator of just how far I have to go.
Hence all thoughts of times and PB's have been put to one side and my objective now is to get into shape to do a reasonable run and try to enjoy the experience. At this stage, I'm holding the thoughts that my injuries came later in the London preparation and that the last few weeks were rather disrupted. If I can stay injury free and just keep building, I won't be too far away from where I was, say, 2 or 3 weeks before London, when I was probably at my best.
In the spirit of getting back into it, the "long run" restarted today, with a 12-miler - again, less than the programme for this week, but necessary as a reintroduction to being out that long. A reasonably pleasant day for a trip over the hills to Loch Lomond and down the Leven to Dumbarton, but for the heat-averse it was both sunny and humid - in fact the only sunny weather of the day was the 2 hours or so I was out!. With the new hydration "strategy" in place (500ml bottle with me and extra energy gels), it wasn't too bad, considering it's my first time above 8 miles since London. However, my left calf was really tight all the way, so it was little more than a shuffle - I was pleased to subscribe to the "slow" bit of the long/slow. Just under 9 minute miles is about 20-30 seconds off the pace I was doing the long runs before, but as a reintroduction in conditions that don't really suit me, it just about got the job done.
Mucking about with the long run playlist too - decided to increase the variety of artists beyond the original 4. Catching up with a lot of this mob's back catalogue at the moment, and loving this song - Muse: Starlight
One of those lyrics that, if I could write lyrics, I could have easily written. If you follow...
Week's summary: 3 runs, 23 miles: Long run 12.25 miles
Miles since entering Le Mans: 93
Sunday, 20 June 2010
Anyway, back to business
Or, 15 weeks and counting.
So, after last week's protracted diversion into the minutiae of endurance motorsport, we return this week to a a more usual subject: random running around in the west of Scotland. Or, this week, "the boiling hot west of Scotland".
Phew, it's been warm and, as I alluded to a few weeks ago, the heat and me have an uneasy relationship when it comes to running. I tend to overheat quite badly, and as a result performance drops off a cliff. As a result I've rethought my hydration strategy, so whereas in the winter I would take a 250ml drink bottle out on runs of over 13 miles, this week it's accompanied me on every run. I will be going up to a 500ml bottle for longer runs and using energy gels more often.
The downside of the gels is that they can sit rather uncomfortably on the stomach and cause cramps, nausea or, in the case of Wednesday's run, the growing realisation at 4 miles that a toilet break of a significant nature is required. Fortunately I was in the middle of nowhere - a deserted single-track country lane with a tall screening wall available. It's all very ecologically sound. Dig out a hole with a handy rock; hunker down and attend to the business; remember that dock leaves have uses beyond soothing nettle stings; re-fill hole with the excavated soil. You'd never know I was there. The view down to Arran was stunning too...
Anyway, sorry if I've put you off your tea. The rest of the week saw me try a new run - downhill from the house to the Academy, along the front and back up the hills at the far end of town. A reasonable 5 and a bit miles, which will be a good route for recovery runs, but done at a slightly higher pace this week and suffering in the heat coming back up the hills.
Another change to the schedule is that Sunday will be the long run day for the foreseeable future, as the golf season is upon us and there's usually some competition or other on a Saturday, plus a couple of pints and a bacon roll afterwards. Today however, rather than a training run, was the Men's Health Forum Scotland 10k for Men in Glasgow. A right mouthful, and the last of my scheduled early-summer 10k's. Having dipped my PB again to 43:24 in Dumbarton a couple of weeks ago, the plan was to see what could be done today to lower it further. Yet again, it was hot - 17 degrees at 9am, but just a hint of a breeze to take the edge off it.
With the spooky correlations of the number 45 at the Alloa Half Marathon in March (see here), I was pleased to see my number, 270, was a multiple of 45. It was slightly spooky, though, to meet up with a former colleague, Paul McGreevy, with whom I intended to run, and find that he was wearing 269 despite us entering completely independently. Actually, when I say "run with", what I mean is "shamelessly use his superior fitness to try and haul myself round to a PB".
All started well and by 7k I was just about holding on to a PB pace - albeit perspiring and gasping furiously - when, on the gentle rise out of Pollok Country Park, my right calf spasmed a couple of times and tightened immediately. Waving Paul on, I jogged gently home to finish in 46:24.
Slightly vexed, after the occasional injury problems during preparation for London, to hit one in week one when I'd hoped for a clearer run. However, that's life. I have a couple of enforced days rest anyway, with a job interview on Tuesday, so I'll just wait and see how things are in the middle of next week.
Going to keep the music choices going for the time being too. I've used this one before, but it's perked my mood up a couple of times this week when I've been feeling a grouchy.
Week's summary: 3 runs, 20 miles: Long run 7.8 miles (plus slight toilet detour)
Miles since entering Le Mans: 62
So, after last week's protracted diversion into the minutiae of endurance motorsport, we return this week to a a more usual subject: random running around in the west of Scotland. Or, this week, "the boiling hot west of Scotland".
Phew, it's been warm and, as I alluded to a few weeks ago, the heat and me have an uneasy relationship when it comes to running. I tend to overheat quite badly, and as a result performance drops off a cliff. As a result I've rethought my hydration strategy, so whereas in the winter I would take a 250ml drink bottle out on runs of over 13 miles, this week it's accompanied me on every run. I will be going up to a 500ml bottle for longer runs and using energy gels more often.
The downside of the gels is that they can sit rather uncomfortably on the stomach and cause cramps, nausea or, in the case of Wednesday's run, the growing realisation at 4 miles that a toilet break of a significant nature is required. Fortunately I was in the middle of nowhere - a deserted single-track country lane with a tall screening wall available. It's all very ecologically sound. Dig out a hole with a handy rock; hunker down and attend to the business; remember that dock leaves have uses beyond soothing nettle stings; re-fill hole with the excavated soil. You'd never know I was there. The view down to Arran was stunning too...
Anyway, sorry if I've put you off your tea. The rest of the week saw me try a new run - downhill from the house to the Academy, along the front and back up the hills at the far end of town. A reasonable 5 and a bit miles, which will be a good route for recovery runs, but done at a slightly higher pace this week and suffering in the heat coming back up the hills.
Another change to the schedule is that Sunday will be the long run day for the foreseeable future, as the golf season is upon us and there's usually some competition or other on a Saturday, plus a couple of pints and a bacon roll afterwards. Today however, rather than a training run, was the Men's Health Forum Scotland 10k for Men in Glasgow. A right mouthful, and the last of my scheduled early-summer 10k's. Having dipped my PB again to 43:24 in Dumbarton a couple of weeks ago, the plan was to see what could be done today to lower it further. Yet again, it was hot - 17 degrees at 9am, but just a hint of a breeze to take the edge off it.
With the spooky correlations of the number 45 at the Alloa Half Marathon in March (see here), I was pleased to see my number, 270, was a multiple of 45. It was slightly spooky, though, to meet up with a former colleague, Paul McGreevy, with whom I intended to run, and find that he was wearing 269 despite us entering completely independently. Actually, when I say "run with", what I mean is "shamelessly use his superior fitness to try and haul myself round to a PB".
All started well and by 7k I was just about holding on to a PB pace - albeit perspiring and gasping furiously - when, on the gentle rise out of Pollok Country Park, my right calf spasmed a couple of times and tightened immediately. Waving Paul on, I jogged gently home to finish in 46:24.
Slightly vexed, after the occasional injury problems during preparation for London, to hit one in week one when I'd hoped for a clearer run. However, that's life. I have a couple of enforced days rest anyway, with a job interview on Tuesday, so I'll just wait and see how things are in the middle of next week.
Going to keep the music choices going for the time being too. I've used this one before, but it's perked my mood up a couple of times this week when I've been feeling a grouchy.
Week's summary: 3 runs, 20 miles: Long run 7.8 miles (plus slight toilet detour)
Miles since entering Le Mans: 62
Tuesday, 15 June 2010
If I may digress for a moment
Or, 16 weeks and counting...
So, this is it. The start of the 16 week training programme for the Le Mans marathon. So this week's blog is about Le Mans - or, specifically, the long weekend my son (aka The Boy) and I have just enjoyed at the 24 Heures du Mans.
The 24 Heures has to be one of the greatest annual sporting events. It's history and traditions place it with the Monaco Grand Prix and Indianapolis 500 at the pinnacle of motorsport, but the sheer length and distance covered (over 5000km) place it a step ahead in my book.
On top of that, there are the legends. The Bentley Boys. The 1953 Jaguars being reinstated after a technical infringement, by which time the drivers were allegedly drunk in a bar and proceeded to race to victory fuelled by occasional brandy top-ups. The flying Mercedes' of 1999 with Mark Webber and legendarily Peter Dumbreck in the race bringing a whole new meaning to car aerodynamics. The tragic disaster of 1955 where hundreds in the stands lost their lives.
Part of the fun of course is the annual exodus from the UK, with over 100,000 people travelling to the event every year. Often in exotic vehicles at speeds that make the Gendarmerie very unhappy. Didn't see much this year, except the McLaren F1 which we spotted several times over the weekend, firstly at the Channel Tunnel terminal. This is, let us not forget, a car that is capable of 240 mph and which will sell for something between £1.5 and £2.5 million.
We travelled south on Friday and enjoyed the fact that the peage toll booth controllers were on strike on Friday, affording us a free journey down to Amiens (nice, you should go). In true French style, despite being on strike, they had still turned up at the exit booths and were gleefully waving people through.
On Saturday morning we trundled down more empty (but non-gratuit) peage and arrived in the vicinity of the circuit by 1130. As you can imagine, the complications of getting 250,000 people into not many car parks does lead to a little traffic congestion. Having sat in one queue for half an hour, we decided to try a little diversion and got to the car park (after an extra lap caused by overshooting the entrance) by about 1pm. 90 minutes to do 5k! Into the circuit and a last minute decision to grab a grandstand ticket owing to a poor weather forecast saw us in a great spot directly above the pit lane for the last hour of build up.
Whilst the traditional Le Mans start, with the drivers running across the circuit and leaping into their cars before driving off, was abandoned many years ago for safety reasons, a variant had been devised this year. Cars lined up on the pit wall, drivers opposite, and at the appointed moment the drivers ran across the circuit and entered the car, with a few minutes to make sure all was well before the green flag sent them out on an exploratory lap.
The cars then formed behind the safety car for the now usual rolling start. The sense of anticipation on this last lap is immense, and the packed tribunes are all on their feet as the Tricoleur drops and cars take the start at 3pm sharp. Straight away the much fancied Peugeot diesel's blast away from the Audis and satart to build a lead. Then, just over half an hour in, we get the first safety car as Nigel Mansell suffers a tyre blow-out and spears into the wall on the hugely fast run down to Indianapolis corner.
The length of the lap at Le Mans (13.2km) means that three safety cars are deployed and, just like the post office, getting caught in the queue behind the wrong car can put you a minute or more behind the cars you're racing against. Thus the Audis got separated from the Peugeots and an already difficult race seemed to have got worse for them. This went on for a while as Mansell was extracted from the car by the medical staff and it was nearly 4.30 before racing recommenced.
The Boy and I decide to take a wander down to Tetre Rouge, the last corner before the cars hit the Hunaudieres (or Mulsanne) straight - once nearly 4 miles long before the introduction of two chicanes designed to slow the frightening top speeds of 250mph. This part of the circuit has been completely reprofiled since our last visit, and the row of allotments where locals offered you a barbecue and beer has sadly been replaced by a grass viewing bank.
In the absence of a view, we made our way back to the bottom of the Esses, where we watched the plunge down from the Dunlop bridge. For the potential marathon runner, the rises up to the bridge provide the only significant hill on the course. In the late evening sunshine, it was a great spot to watch some racing before heading back to the car park to cook some steaks before returning to our grandstand to enjoy some night racing.
One of the great things about the 24 heures is the night racing and as the temperatures are cooler, the lap times are often faster. By now, the fact that there are two distinct words in "endurance racing" was becoming obvious. One of the super-fast Peugeots had dropped out with suspension failure and as we watched above the pit, a second, the #1, was wheeled back into the garage for a major fix - reappearing 12 minutes later and 3 laps down. Being directly above the pits we can get a feel for the ebb and flow of competition as cars come in. Eventually we decide that we've had enough for one day and we retreat to the car for some sleep.
Up early on Sunday, bacon cooked, and onto the free shuttle bus out to Arnage and Indianapolis corners at the far end of the circuit. My first time out here, and it has a much different feel from the area around the pits. Much quieter and with people somehow trying to kip in sleeping bags on the grass no more than 10 yards from the passing cars. Just as we headed out, the leading Peugeot expired with an engine failure whilst a lap ahead, leaving the Audis to inherit positions one and two
Peugeot could have consolidated a podium position for #1, but decided to go for it. This brought some great excitement for a few hours, as it hunted down the leading Audis at 5-10 seconds a lap, unlapping itself from the leader and then closing up to the tail of the second place car. Sadly, just after a pit stop, the #1 also blew its engine, leaving an Audi clean sweep. Or so it seemed. The Oreca #4 car, also running a Peugeot was closing fast on the third place Audi of Alan McNish and Le Mans legend Tom Kristensen. There was still some racing to be had. But then, unbelievably, the Oreca also suffered an engine failure when only 20 seconds behind.
And so, 90 minutes from the end, the racing was over and it was down to the Audis to coast to the end for a formation finish. It seemed harsh on Peugeot to not get a car home, but that's endurance racing - you need to get your cars to the finish and Peugeot didn't. As always, every car that makes it to the finish has achieved something big, and the emotions of those who failed were clear. After looking like we were in for a good morning's racing, the end was almost an anti-climax for the crowd and as the Audi's rolled over the line at 3pm, there seemed to be plenty of spaces in the tribunes - ours was certainly no more than 80% full.
Of the rest, the Gulf-liveried Aston Martin's were definitely the best looking and best sounding cars out there, with a proper high-rev petrol engine's scream. Unfortunately #009 blew it's engine while running 4th in the last hour whilst #007 lost 20+ laps with a major problem overnight. In the other categories (there are 4 at Le Mans, 2 for Prototypes, 2 for more standard GT cars) there was much tighter competition, although oddly the new regulations for the GT1 category meant that these supposedly more powerful cars managed to finish behind their less powerful GT2 cousins.
We decided that as we were heading back to Amiens, an almost 3 hour journey, we wouldn't join the traditional invasion of the pit straight, but would leg it directly out of the circuit and head off. This was a good move as, 45 minutes after the chequered flag dropped, we'd cleared Le Mans and were on the peage north.
Oddly, every motorway bridge seemed to have a small group of people on it looking south. I know this part of northern France is pretty dull and featureless, but surely there's something better to do on a Sunday afternoon than stand and watch the cars go by. Then we saw a couple of Union Jacks and twigged. The locals come out to watch all the crazy Brits in their fancy cars blast back up to Calais.
So that was the first trip to Le Mans of the year. The preparation for the October visit starts here.
So, this is it. The start of the 16 week training programme for the Le Mans marathon. So this week's blog is about Le Mans - or, specifically, the long weekend my son (aka The Boy) and I have just enjoyed at the 24 Heures du Mans.
The 24 Heures has to be one of the greatest annual sporting events. It's history and traditions place it with the Monaco Grand Prix and Indianapolis 500 at the pinnacle of motorsport, but the sheer length and distance covered (over 5000km) place it a step ahead in my book.
On top of that, there are the legends. The Bentley Boys. The 1953 Jaguars being reinstated after a technical infringement, by which time the drivers were allegedly drunk in a bar and proceeded to race to victory fuelled by occasional brandy top-ups. The flying Mercedes' of 1999 with Mark Webber and legendarily Peter Dumbreck in the race bringing a whole new meaning to car aerodynamics. The tragic disaster of 1955 where hundreds in the stands lost their lives.
On Saturday morning we trundled down more empty (but non-gratuit) peage and arrived in the vicinity of the circuit by 1130. As you can imagine, the complications of getting 250,000 people into not many car parks does lead to a little traffic congestion. Having sat in one queue for half an hour, we decided to try a little diversion and got to the car park (after an extra lap caused by overshooting the entrance) by about 1pm. 90 minutes to do 5k! Into the circuit and a last minute decision to grab a grandstand ticket owing to a poor weather forecast saw us in a great spot directly above the pit lane for the last hour of build up.
The cars then formed behind the safety car for the now usual rolling start. The sense of anticipation on this last lap is immense, and the packed tribunes are all on their feet as the Tricoleur drops and cars take the start at 3pm sharp. Straight away the much fancied Peugeot diesel's blast away from the Audis and satart to build a lead. Then, just over half an hour in, we get the first safety car as Nigel Mansell suffers a tyre blow-out and spears into the wall on the hugely fast run down to Indianapolis corner.
The Boy and I decide to take a wander down to Tetre Rouge, the last corner before the cars hit the Hunaudieres (or Mulsanne) straight - once nearly 4 miles long before the introduction of two chicanes designed to slow the frightening top speeds of 250mph. This part of the circuit has been completely reprofiled since our last visit, and the row of allotments where locals offered you a barbecue and beer has sadly been replaced by a grass viewing bank.
Peugeot could have consolidated a podium position for #1, but decided to go for it. This brought some great excitement for a few hours, as it hunted down the leading Audis at 5-10 seconds a lap, unlapping itself from the leader and then closing up to the tail of the second place car. Sadly, just after a pit stop, the #1 also blew its engine, leaving an Audi clean sweep. Or so it seemed. The Oreca #4 car, also running a Peugeot was closing fast on the third place Audi of Alan McNish and Le Mans legend Tom Kristensen. There was still some racing to be had. But then, unbelievably, the Oreca also suffered an engine failure when only 20 seconds behind.
And so, 90 minutes from the end, the racing was over and it was down to the Audis to coast to the end for a formation finish. It seemed harsh on Peugeot to not get a car home, but that's endurance racing - you need to get your cars to the finish and Peugeot didn't. As always, every car that makes it to the finish has achieved something big, and the emotions of those who failed were clear. After looking like we were in for a good morning's racing, the end was almost an anti-climax for the crowd and as the Audi's rolled over the line at 3pm, there seemed to be plenty of spaces in the tribunes - ours was certainly no more than 80% full.
We decided that as we were heading back to Amiens, an almost 3 hour journey, we wouldn't join the traditional invasion of the pit straight, but would leg it directly out of the circuit and head off. This was a good move as, 45 minutes after the chequered flag dropped, we'd cleared Le Mans and were on the peage north.
Oddly, every motorway bridge seemed to have a small group of people on it looking south. I know this part of northern France is pretty dull and featureless, but surely there's something better to do on a Sunday afternoon than stand and watch the cars go by. Then we saw a couple of Union Jacks and twigged. The locals come out to watch all the crazy Brits in their fancy cars blast back up to Calais.
So that was the first trip to Le Mans of the year. The preparation for the October visit starts here.
Monday, 31 May 2010
The calm...
Or, 18 weeks and counting...
The main difference between this marathon and the last one is clearly going to be when the training happens. Most people talk about the problem with London being that you have to train through the winter. I didn't find this too much of a problem to be honest, as I love the cold, crisp days and even tolerated some biblically bad ones. As I cope with the cold pretty well, it was never a problem.
I'm not a huge fan of running when it's hot, as the downside of tolerating the cold well is tending to overheat when it's warm. On top of that, there seem to be more distractions in the summer. I play golf, so I have a competition most Saturdays, and love Formula 1 - which takes up a reasonable chunk of Sunday when there's a Grand Prix on. This is going to make scheduling the long run more complicated. I've also spent a lot of hours watching the Giro d'Italia, which has been epic this year, and will almost certainly be parked in front of the Tour de France when it starts in July.
Anyway, I've recalculated the training programme, gulped, and realised that actually knowing what to expect is perhaps worse than the blissful ignorance of 6 months ago.
Quiet week on the roads this week. Still protecting the foot, so nothing before the Clydebank 10k on Thursday and no weekend run for the reasons described above.
At least Clydebank went well. Despite it being a dull trudge of a couple of laps round a business park, it is a good PB course as it's flat. My plan this week was to start at a pace that would get me sub-44 minutes, see if the foot held up and then, if it did, see if I would hold up in my newly fitness-lite state.
Well, it seemed to work. Using my friendly Garmin, I was able to pace myself perfectly, and even though it was a bit of a struggle got round in 43:46, which is a new PB by about 30 seconds. The Garmin trace is here. I was, in the Scottish vernacular "blowin' oot ma erse" at the end, as I had to give it "full bananas" on the finishing straight to be sure of sub-44. Obviously I was pleased with the time, but moreso that there was no reaction from the foot at all.
Dumbarton 10k this Thursday, plus I really should do a couple of other runs. Now the Giro's over, there's nothing to distract me of an afternoon, so no excuses...
The main difference between this marathon and the last one is clearly going to be when the training happens. Most people talk about the problem with London being that you have to train through the winter. I didn't find this too much of a problem to be honest, as I love the cold, crisp days and even tolerated some biblically bad ones. As I cope with the cold pretty well, it was never a problem.
I'm not a huge fan of running when it's hot, as the downside of tolerating the cold well is tending to overheat when it's warm. On top of that, there seem to be more distractions in the summer. I play golf, so I have a competition most Saturdays, and love Formula 1 - which takes up a reasonable chunk of Sunday when there's a Grand Prix on. This is going to make scheduling the long run more complicated. I've also spent a lot of hours watching the Giro d'Italia, which has been epic this year, and will almost certainly be parked in front of the Tour de France when it starts in July.
Anyway, I've recalculated the training programme, gulped, and realised that actually knowing what to expect is perhaps worse than the blissful ignorance of 6 months ago.
Quiet week on the roads this week. Still protecting the foot, so nothing before the Clydebank 10k on Thursday and no weekend run for the reasons described above.
At least Clydebank went well. Despite it being a dull trudge of a couple of laps round a business park, it is a good PB course as it's flat. My plan this week was to start at a pace that would get me sub-44 minutes, see if the foot held up and then, if it did, see if I would hold up in my newly fitness-lite state.
Well, it seemed to work. Using my friendly Garmin, I was able to pace myself perfectly, and even though it was a bit of a struggle got round in 43:46, which is a new PB by about 30 seconds. The Garmin trace is here. I was, in the Scottish vernacular "blowin' oot ma erse" at the end, as I had to give it "full bananas" on the finishing straight to be sure of sub-44. Obviously I was pleased with the time, but moreso that there was no reaction from the foot at all.
Dumbarton 10k this Thursday, plus I really should do a couple of other runs. Now the Giro's over, there's nothing to distract me of an afternoon, so no excuses...
Sunday, 23 May 2010
Reflections
Or, 19 weeks and counting...
So, 4 weeks on from the big day, I though it was time to both reflect and look forward. When we last met, I was still on the euphoria high of having completed the event, done a respectable time and enjoyed a great life experience. I still feel the same. I may have just about stopped lacing every conversation with marathon references and the finisher's T-Shirt only comes out once or twice a week, but there's still that warm glow thinking about it. And the almost £1200 raised for Marie Curie. Thank's again folks.
And, of course, the preparations. As I alluded to in here somewhere, I came to realise that forcing myself to stick to the discipline of the programme and actually see it through was unusual for me. More of a starter than a finisher, so I finally proved to myself that I can see things through.
I also proved a useful athletic fact, as witnessed by this photograph. In a tight sprint finish, a fists clenched salute is more aerodynamic than a hands spread one. If only runner 52080 had known this, he may have prevailed :-)
It is, of course, one of the rarest of photographs. A race photo where I don't look like I've just been kicked hard in the nuts. I must really have been enjoying myself.
Thing's I'd do differently? I'd try not to hit a run of leaving do's (including my own) at a crucial part of the late training and perhaps be more cautious about taking a holiday 2 weeks before the event. I should probably have done a few more miles in the taper weeks too, but these are all valuable lessons for next time.
Next time? But of course. The ballot for next year has been entered, but we have to wait until the end of September to find out whether we're in or not. In the meantime, what to do to fill that marathon-sized hole in my life?
I returned from London with many leaflets for the Autumn marathon season, but one in particular caught my attention. As an occasional visitor the the magnificent event that is the 24 Heures du Mans, plus driver of parts of the circuit on our Sucata adventures, the thought of running a marathon round there really caught my attention. Then I found out that this year's event would be the first to be held there.
So, for a motorsport fan and (now) marathoner, what could be better than running the inaugural marathon at one of the world's greatest sporting venues. Well, not much, as far as I'm concerned. So I am. Sunday October 3rd will see me on the start line for the Marathon du Mans. This, of course, means that a training programme will be required, so I need to get my ass into gear and start running again.
The one downside of London has been a very sore right foot, which felt initially like a stress fracture, but I've been assured isn't. I tried to run 2 weeks ago and made it about half a mile before having to turn around in pain. Tried again last Sunday, and while it was still sore, I managed 5.75 hilly offroad miles without too much discomfort. This was welcome, as I'd entered the Polaroid 10k series, which covers Helensburgh, Clydebank, Dumbarton and Vale of Leven. And Helensburgh was on Thursday.
Having decided the foot would survive, I wandered down with the idea of running sensibly, not least because no runs in 4 weeks makes Mark a horribly unfit boy. Of course, nothing like that happened, and race fever took over, which led to me pushing about as hard as I could for a 44:51 - about 2 minutes faster than I'd been targeting (and that was before I knew about the extra hills on the route).
But I needed a good hard run, so nothing lost. Went out today for the first real "just go and enjoy" run since London. Although with the heat and humidity, enjoy wasn't really the word. The route was particularly hilly, and after 2 miles of uphill at 4.5 miles, I decided to take the opportunity to stop and enjoy the view. Over the Clyde, up Glen Fruin. Remember, this is running, not training, so look up and remember why you run in the first place - love of being in the outdoors and the enjoyment of it. As I dwelled, a pair of Buzzards soared and swooped overhead, chirping and calling in an obvious courtship ritual, before heading for the woods and whatever it is a pair of lovelorn buzzards get up to in to woods on a warm spring day.
As I jogged on, I worked out that, to my surprise, it's only 19 weeks to the Marathon du Mans. Then, to my horror, that as I operate a 16 week training schedule, I need to start again in 3 weeks. Bollocks. Finally, I realised that the programme will start on June 14th. Which is the day I get home from, yes, you guessed it, this year's 24 Heures du Mans - where my son (aka The Boy) and I are going for a spot of male bonding and dicking around.
On that spooky symmetry, it's "a bientot" from me...
So, 4 weeks on from the big day, I though it was time to both reflect and look forward. When we last met, I was still on the euphoria high of having completed the event, done a respectable time and enjoyed a great life experience. I still feel the same. I may have just about stopped lacing every conversation with marathon references and the finisher's T-Shirt only comes out once or twice a week, but there's still that warm glow thinking about it. And the almost £1200 raised for Marie Curie. Thank's again folks.
And, of course, the preparations. As I alluded to in here somewhere, I came to realise that forcing myself to stick to the discipline of the programme and actually see it through was unusual for me. More of a starter than a finisher, so I finally proved to myself that I can see things through.
It is, of course, one of the rarest of photographs. A race photo where I don't look like I've just been kicked hard in the nuts. I must really have been enjoying myself.
Thing's I'd do differently? I'd try not to hit a run of leaving do's (including my own) at a crucial part of the late training and perhaps be more cautious about taking a holiday 2 weeks before the event. I should probably have done a few more miles in the taper weeks too, but these are all valuable lessons for next time.
Next time? But of course. The ballot for next year has been entered, but we have to wait until the end of September to find out whether we're in or not. In the meantime, what to do to fill that marathon-sized hole in my life?
I returned from London with many leaflets for the Autumn marathon season, but one in particular caught my attention. As an occasional visitor the the magnificent event that is the 24 Heures du Mans, plus driver of parts of the circuit on our Sucata adventures, the thought of running a marathon round there really caught my attention. Then I found out that this year's event would be the first to be held there.
So, for a motorsport fan and (now) marathoner, what could be better than running the inaugural marathon at one of the world's greatest sporting venues. Well, not much, as far as I'm concerned. So I am. Sunday October 3rd will see me on the start line for the Marathon du Mans. This, of course, means that a training programme will be required, so I need to get my ass into gear and start running again.
The one downside of London has been a very sore right foot, which felt initially like a stress fracture, but I've been assured isn't. I tried to run 2 weeks ago and made it about half a mile before having to turn around in pain. Tried again last Sunday, and while it was still sore, I managed 5.75 hilly offroad miles without too much discomfort. This was welcome, as I'd entered the Polaroid 10k series, which covers Helensburgh, Clydebank, Dumbarton and Vale of Leven. And Helensburgh was on Thursday.
Having decided the foot would survive, I wandered down with the idea of running sensibly, not least because no runs in 4 weeks makes Mark a horribly unfit boy. Of course, nothing like that happened, and race fever took over, which led to me pushing about as hard as I could for a 44:51 - about 2 minutes faster than I'd been targeting (and that was before I knew about the extra hills on the route).
But I needed a good hard run, so nothing lost. Went out today for the first real "just go and enjoy" run since London. Although with the heat and humidity, enjoy wasn't really the word. The route was particularly hilly, and after 2 miles of uphill at 4.5 miles, I decided to take the opportunity to stop and enjoy the view. Over the Clyde, up Glen Fruin. Remember, this is running, not training, so look up and remember why you run in the first place - love of being in the outdoors and the enjoyment of it. As I dwelled, a pair of Buzzards soared and swooped overhead, chirping and calling in an obvious courtship ritual, before heading for the woods and whatever it is a pair of lovelorn buzzards get up to in to woods on a warm spring day.
As I jogged on, I worked out that, to my surprise, it's only 19 weeks to the Marathon du Mans. Then, to my horror, that as I operate a 16 week training schedule, I need to start again in 3 weeks. Bollocks. Finally, I realised that the programme will start on June 14th. Which is the day I get home from, yes, you guessed it, this year's 24 Heures du Mans - where my son (aka The Boy) and I are going for a spot of male bonding and dicking around.
On that spooky symmetry, it's "a bientot" from me...
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