It's Tuesday afternoon, which means I really ought to be working right now. Except all I want to do is run and all I can think about is race day; a week Sunday. Since I'm absolutely exhausted following an epic 12 miler this morning, I'll happily stick with the easier task of writing up a training progress report.
A fortnight ago, I completed my best run yet; a 12 mile excursion in the very decent time of 97 minutes. That was no doubt my peak form and from then on, the focus has been on maintaining my fitness levels. With growing pains in my legs, most likely shin splints, I've resorted to much cross training; mainly involving the exercise bike. I've kept runs to 6 miles and generally on the softer terrain of local parks. A gradual drop in pace to stay fresh and fit for the big event. Unwittingly, I signed up for another run with triathlete enthusiast Dave Langer (who will also be doing the Birmingham run).
Before heading out along the beautiful route around Port Meadow, we agreed that I'd lead, with the general understanding that we'd follow my pace, but that I'd push myself more than on our last run together (which was at a very gentle 8 1/2 minute per mile pace). This dream lasted around 3 minutes, as Dave surged ahead of me, eager to up the ante and force me to push my limits. What followed was just over 40 minutes of anguish, as I ran my quickest 6 miles yet (46 minutes). There was no rest bite, no time to recover the heart rate to a comfortable level and in the final 2 miles, there was even an increase in speed. I've felt like this in stages before, usually in fartlek sessions, but never for a straight 40 minutes. Still, I was grateful at the end. It was a welcome reminder that we are capable of so much more than we realise. Sometimes we just need someone else to give us that extra push. Dave takes no prisoners and will be a valuable running partner in the coming months.
I decided that was enough punishment for now and rewarded myself with a more casual 5 miler in the local park on Saturday morning. This time I was joined by a small band of ISOC guys, all of whom had varying fitness levels. I'm looking to recruit some running partners for the coming year. I'll always enjoy the isolation running brings and will never relinquish my right to run alone, but I am also keen to mix things up and enjoy the experience with others. Right now, the plan is for us to meet once a week for a communal run. I'm hoping that before long, the dedicated partners will be up to running 10k regularly; not least because I intend to enter several such races next year and would be grateful for the company. Of particular note is Jalal Thompson; who seems even more interested than myself. He has a lot of experience with running and talks about it with authority, passion and intrigue. Here's hoping some of his wisdom will rub off on me.
With the race a fortnight away, it seemed prudent to give a long run (which I currently define as more than 8 miles) one final whirl, despite the growing shin pains. After much icing (frozen peas work a treat), I hit the road this morning at around 0850; in an attempted simulation of race day. My pace remained decent throughout and thankfully the shins held up, allowing me to crank up the pace in the middle miles. I was never too uncomfortable and at times captured that great feeling when it all seems so easy. The last 2 miles were a struggle and suggest it will be a tough climax on race day; but I'm confident that adrenaline alone will be enough to get me through the last mile.
I came home in 97 minutes; even including regular stops for traffic (and, on occasion, pedestrians). This matches my time from a fortnight ago; so it seems my hopes to maintain fitness levels have been emphatically achieved. My legs feel worn out but not injured. Now the tapering begins; 11 days of light training, cross training and lots of icing to ensure maximum freshness for the race. I feel I've overcome the final major obstacle in the training schedule; I'd be very unlucky or stupid to sustain an injury now. I wouldn't rule out either one but for now I remain optimistic.
Tuesday 29 September 2009
Monday 21 September 2009
The Ramadhan Diaries (part 4: the finale)
It was an unexciting finish to the training programme in Ramadhan. The aftermath of the epic 12 mile run last Sunday lasted for some time. I did enjoy a casual six mile run with friends the night of my birthday on the 17th, Thursday, but other than that the routine consisted mainly of cycling and treadmill sessions. As Ramadhan concluded, I was in a joyous mood. Not only was I enjoying a wonderful Eid celebration at home (capped off by an incredible Manchester derby...thank you Michael Owen!), but I was revelling in the thought of a daytime run. On Monday, I took on another six mile run, except this time it was in sunlight and on the softer terrain of the local park. Very much a hilly course; each mile consisted of an uphill struggle and downhill fly by, which flaunts the unique Oxford skyline in its view. A testing but enjoyable session that I'll no doubt be repeating soon. Easier on the legs, my recovery seems to have been fairly swift. With three weeks to go, I think it makes sense to focus much of my remaining training on grass. I think I have one killer run (probably 12 miles) left in me before race day. I'm resisting the temptation of cranking it up to 14 miles, as I remain concerned about the pains in my legs.
The big is-shoe
When I first started running regularly months ago and first entertained the thought of some serious training, one piece of advice resonated throughout every book I read and in every conversation I had: buy running shoes. Apparently ordinary trainers lacked the appropriate support and pronation correction, which would inevitably lead to injury. I was utterly convinced by this, since everyone seemed to agree. The solution: invest an honest amount into specialised running shoes, having undergone a running gait analysis. A few weeks and several pounds later, I was the proud owner of my very first pair of running shoes.
In the last few months, however, two things have happened to completely change my perspective. Firstly, I've experienced significant pain in my legs, probably shin splints, and the running shoes seem to offer little relief. Secondly, I read one of the most amazing books of my life. Admittedly, I've not read a huge amount over the years, but every now and again I get the itch. Christopher McDougall's 'Born To Run' flies off the page. The author presents an unconventional thesis that the human foot was designed to run and that it is the most natural thing we can do. Further, he argues that running shoes are basically a scam; they not only fail to prevent running injuries but in fact increase the likelihood that they will occur. He offers a great degree of scientific evidence to back up his claims in a methodical and captivating manner. Some of the basic statistics are staggering: around eighty percent of runners with 'proper' shoes will suffer an injury every year. He also strikes up a stunning correlation between the price of running shoes and the severity and frequency of the injuries they give rise to. There is some simple logic to all this; every time the foot strikes the ground, the knees absorb the shock of up to ten times one's body weight. Is a bit of foam padding really going to make a difference? Instead, it forces the foot to move in a n unnatural way and prevents all its parts to carry out their function. Running injuries are very much a modern phenomenon. For hundreds of years, humans have happily ran hundreds of miles without trouble. Then came along the running shoe, and with it the running injury.
McDougall makes the case for the growing popularity of barefoot running. In the backdrop of his presentation is a truly phenomenal story centering on the Tarahumara (in fact, this is the name adopted by the west: their original name is Raramuri, translated literally as 'Running People'); an almost mythical but very real tribe of ultra runners buried deep in the mountains of Mexico. This is a people who typically run hundreds of miles at a pop without rest and injury, in some of the roughest terrain on Earth, whilst enjoying every single step. All this whilst wearing very basic sandals. The positive effects are clear: no occurrence of cancer in their community (around 40,000-70,000 Tarahumara remain) and no war. As the book unfolds, a beautiful story emerges, involving the realisation of a dream of Caballo Blanco; a migrant who lives amongst the Tarahumara and is considered one of the greatest runners in the land. His vision was to bring an ultra marathon (though only 50 miles as opposed to the usual 100) to them by inviting some of the best ultra runners in the world to Mexico. A breathtaking array of characters are introduced and along the way, it is clear that not all is what you'd expect with long distance running. It seems the best ultra runners in the world agree with much of what McDougall says.
The author acts as a prototype for his own investigation. A below average runner, he was unable to run more than a few miles without succumbing to foot pain. Determined to unlock the secrets of the Tarahumara, he sets about a radicalised training regime based on their principles. He ditches the running shoes for basic sandal-like shoes (more on those later) and manages to complete the gruelling 50 mile run himself. By the end, he is vehemently opposed to the thought of running shoes as a positive aid and implores the reader to find out for themselves.
So I did. Some personal research suggested he may not be a complete loon; indeed, it is clear that barefoot running really is emerging as a major force - an idea embraced by Nike with their Free range, but completely redundantly since they offer arch support and pronation correction anyway. More promising are the Vibram FiveFingers; exactly what they sound like. Ridiculously looking shoes with five slots for the toes and a thin layer to offer support on the road. The idea is that they simulate barefoot running as closely as possible, allowing every joint and bone in the foot to carry out its function and letting it pronate as it is naturally inclined to do.
I'm not going to jump straight into barefoot running; I'll only purchase the FiveFingers after my first race next month. Clearly, the worst thing to do at this point is to suddenly change my running style completely. Rather, a gradual change is prudent and I'm still open to the idea that running shoes can work. However, I'll have an extra option and will be able to make comparisons between the two approaches. I'll settle on whichever relieves my pain more effectively.
I think the most appropriate example is Abebe Bikila, the Ethiopian marathon runner who claimed gold at the 1960 Olympics whilst running the entire 26.2 miles barefooted. However, he went on to win many more marathons with running shoes. The moral of this echoes what I first read in my training guide: I'm an individual and should train like one. I'll see what works for me, whether it is in fact running shoes or the barefoot approach, and take it from there.
In the last few months, however, two things have happened to completely change my perspective. Firstly, I've experienced significant pain in my legs, probably shin splints, and the running shoes seem to offer little relief. Secondly, I read one of the most amazing books of my life. Admittedly, I've not read a huge amount over the years, but every now and again I get the itch. Christopher McDougall's 'Born To Run' flies off the page. The author presents an unconventional thesis that the human foot was designed to run and that it is the most natural thing we can do. Further, he argues that running shoes are basically a scam; they not only fail to prevent running injuries but in fact increase the likelihood that they will occur. He offers a great degree of scientific evidence to back up his claims in a methodical and captivating manner. Some of the basic statistics are staggering: around eighty percent of runners with 'proper' shoes will suffer an injury every year. He also strikes up a stunning correlation between the price of running shoes and the severity and frequency of the injuries they give rise to. There is some simple logic to all this; every time the foot strikes the ground, the knees absorb the shock of up to ten times one's body weight. Is a bit of foam padding really going to make a difference? Instead, it forces the foot to move in a n unnatural way and prevents all its parts to carry out their function. Running injuries are very much a modern phenomenon. For hundreds of years, humans have happily ran hundreds of miles without trouble. Then came along the running shoe, and with it the running injury.
McDougall makes the case for the growing popularity of barefoot running. In the backdrop of his presentation is a truly phenomenal story centering on the Tarahumara (in fact, this is the name adopted by the west: their original name is Raramuri, translated literally as 'Running People'); an almost mythical but very real tribe of ultra runners buried deep in the mountains of Mexico. This is a people who typically run hundreds of miles at a pop without rest and injury, in some of the roughest terrain on Earth, whilst enjoying every single step. All this whilst wearing very basic sandals. The positive effects are clear: no occurrence of cancer in their community (around 40,000-70,000 Tarahumara remain) and no war. As the book unfolds, a beautiful story emerges, involving the realisation of a dream of Caballo Blanco; a migrant who lives amongst the Tarahumara and is considered one of the greatest runners in the land. His vision was to bring an ultra marathon (though only 50 miles as opposed to the usual 100) to them by inviting some of the best ultra runners in the world to Mexico. A breathtaking array of characters are introduced and along the way, it is clear that not all is what you'd expect with long distance running. It seems the best ultra runners in the world agree with much of what McDougall says.
The author acts as a prototype for his own investigation. A below average runner, he was unable to run more than a few miles without succumbing to foot pain. Determined to unlock the secrets of the Tarahumara, he sets about a radicalised training regime based on their principles. He ditches the running shoes for basic sandal-like shoes (more on those later) and manages to complete the gruelling 50 mile run himself. By the end, he is vehemently opposed to the thought of running shoes as a positive aid and implores the reader to find out for themselves.
So I did. Some personal research suggested he may not be a complete loon; indeed, it is clear that barefoot running really is emerging as a major force - an idea embraced by Nike with their Free range, but completely redundantly since they offer arch support and pronation correction anyway. More promising are the Vibram FiveFingers; exactly what they sound like. Ridiculously looking shoes with five slots for the toes and a thin layer to offer support on the road. The idea is that they simulate barefoot running as closely as possible, allowing every joint and bone in the foot to carry out its function and letting it pronate as it is naturally inclined to do.
I'm not going to jump straight into barefoot running; I'll only purchase the FiveFingers after my first race next month. Clearly, the worst thing to do at this point is to suddenly change my running style completely. Rather, a gradual change is prudent and I'm still open to the idea that running shoes can work. However, I'll have an extra option and will be able to make comparisons between the two approaches. I'll settle on whichever relieves my pain more effectively.
I think the most appropriate example is Abebe Bikila, the Ethiopian marathon runner who claimed gold at the 1960 Olympics whilst running the entire 26.2 miles barefooted. However, he went on to win many more marathons with running shoes. The moral of this echoes what I first read in my training guide: I'm an individual and should train like one. I'll see what works for me, whether it is in fact running shoes or the barefoot approach, and take it from there.
Tuesday 15 September 2009
The Ramadhan Diaries (part 3)
Less than a week to go until Ramadhan ends. It really has flown past this year and the fasts themselves are now so familiar that it may actually be difficult to adapt to my usual routine next week. I had always planned to hit my peak in training by the end of Ramadhan and thankfully I've stayed fit enough to do so.
I was in Coventry all of last week and spent most days on our treadmill. It has a steep incline and is far more suited to a brisk walking pace rather than a run. This is helpful for two reasons; first it doesn't impact so badly on the knees. When running on the road, the knee absorbs the impact of twice one's body weight with every stride. The conveyor belt on the treadmill absorbs much of this and, particularly at walking pace, provides a welcome relief to the pounding stress of the roads. Not only this, but the incline offers a simple setting for some hill training. I've taken on gruelling fartlek and interval sessions, all with the same purpose: to work the lungs and build calf muscles. My legs certainly feel stronger than a month ago and seem able to recover from longer runs a lot more efficiently.
On Thursday I took to the roads for a 5 mile run. It was a simple enough exercise; five times around the block at race pace to see if I could maintain an 8 minute per mile pace. I was pleasantly surprised to find myself making light work of this; coming through in 39 minutes and suggesting that I could perhaps raise my ambitions slightly for the half marathon. In any case, it seems that my 10k target of 45 minutes may not be too far off, since this was far from my quickest pace. The big test would be Sunday; my second attempt at a 12 mile run, but this time with more emphasis on speed.
As always, the opening miles were the toughest. A balance is needed between a quick start and conserving one's energy for later miles. My concern in previous long runs was how my speed declined after the opening few miles; perhaps I was being too cautious and should try pushing the needle just a little more. At the end of mile four, I was maintaining the 8 minute per mile pace. Job done, so far. But now my legs were feeling it; eight miles to go and already I was ready to collapse! Still, patience is key and I had to trust that my legs would adapt before long. Thankfully they did and now I was hitting my stride; getting to 7 miles within 57 minutes. So here I was, 5 miles to go and ready to attack like hell. The 1hr 40min mark was well in sight, even if I relaxed slightly. My mind was telling me to take it down a notch but my body was not in sync, instead pushing it further. Again, I found that my last miles were some of my quickest. It was never completely comfortable, but by the time I'd hit 9 miles the rest seemed a formality. Then it happened; something which I'd been warned about in every training guide I'd read but which I had managed to avoid for over four months: I got a stitch. Fortunately, it wasn't major enough to stop me and given how late in the run it was, it was easy enough to overcome the pain. Still, a welcome reminder that there are so many minute details that can define one's race. I came through in around 97 minutes; virtually maintaining the 8 minute per mile pace from start to finish. Easily my best run yet and it showed. I was absolutely knackered after; even the warm down was an effort. This was the good type of knackered though, I'd pushed myself more than ever before. For the first time, a time of 1hr 45min is plausible and a 1hr 50min time is expected.
The main challenge in the remaining four weeks is to avoid injury whilst maintaining my peak form. A tough balance to strike, but from next week I'll have access to the softer terrain of the university parks as well as treadmills. Though not my favourite forms of training, they'll at least keep my legs in good shape whilst giving me an honest workout.
I was in Coventry all of last week and spent most days on our treadmill. It has a steep incline and is far more suited to a brisk walking pace rather than a run. This is helpful for two reasons; first it doesn't impact so badly on the knees. When running on the road, the knee absorbs the impact of twice one's body weight with every stride. The conveyor belt on the treadmill absorbs much of this and, particularly at walking pace, provides a welcome relief to the pounding stress of the roads. Not only this, but the incline offers a simple setting for some hill training. I've taken on gruelling fartlek and interval sessions, all with the same purpose: to work the lungs and build calf muscles. My legs certainly feel stronger than a month ago and seem able to recover from longer runs a lot more efficiently.
On Thursday I took to the roads for a 5 mile run. It was a simple enough exercise; five times around the block at race pace to see if I could maintain an 8 minute per mile pace. I was pleasantly surprised to find myself making light work of this; coming through in 39 minutes and suggesting that I could perhaps raise my ambitions slightly for the half marathon. In any case, it seems that my 10k target of 45 minutes may not be too far off, since this was far from my quickest pace. The big test would be Sunday; my second attempt at a 12 mile run, but this time with more emphasis on speed.
As always, the opening miles were the toughest. A balance is needed between a quick start and conserving one's energy for later miles. My concern in previous long runs was how my speed declined after the opening few miles; perhaps I was being too cautious and should try pushing the needle just a little more. At the end of mile four, I was maintaining the 8 minute per mile pace. Job done, so far. But now my legs were feeling it; eight miles to go and already I was ready to collapse! Still, patience is key and I had to trust that my legs would adapt before long. Thankfully they did and now I was hitting my stride; getting to 7 miles within 57 minutes. So here I was, 5 miles to go and ready to attack like hell. The 1hr 40min mark was well in sight, even if I relaxed slightly. My mind was telling me to take it down a notch but my body was not in sync, instead pushing it further. Again, I found that my last miles were some of my quickest. It was never completely comfortable, but by the time I'd hit 9 miles the rest seemed a formality. Then it happened; something which I'd been warned about in every training guide I'd read but which I had managed to avoid for over four months: I got a stitch. Fortunately, it wasn't major enough to stop me and given how late in the run it was, it was easy enough to overcome the pain. Still, a welcome reminder that there are so many minute details that can define one's race. I came through in around 97 minutes; virtually maintaining the 8 minute per mile pace from start to finish. Easily my best run yet and it showed. I was absolutely knackered after; even the warm down was an effort. This was the good type of knackered though, I'd pushed myself more than ever before. For the first time, a time of 1hr 45min is plausible and a 1hr 50min time is expected.
The main challenge in the remaining four weeks is to avoid injury whilst maintaining my peak form. A tough balance to strike, but from next week I'll have access to the softer terrain of the university parks as well as treadmills. Though not my favourite forms of training, they'll at least keep my legs in good shape whilst giving me an honest workout.
Monday 7 September 2009
Rumble in the Humble (dwellings of Coventry)
Last week culminated in a 10 mile run at home in Coventry; my longest run in a while. My spirits were somewhat dampened after a disappointing 10k run three days earlier, where I found myself struggling from start to finish. Perhaps fasting was taking its toll. I have certainly relaxed my diet in the last couple of weeks. After a 15-16 hour fast, it is difficult to turn down the samosas. Still, I've made enough of an effort with the carbs to suggest this shouldn't have too much of an impact. So maybe it was something else; fatigue perhaps. Or maybe just an off day. Yeah, that sounds good. Except to convince myself of this, I needed to put in a good showing on Sunday.
Off I went at around 2330, around a 7 mile route I crafted online. The final 3 miles would be three 1 mile laps around my area. I started at a decent pace, clocking just under 16 minutes for the first 2 miles. However, this came at the expense of some heavy breathing and already I was pondering an early finish. So far, I've completed every distance I've asked of myself and I exercised a degree of patience in the hope that I'd reach that golden moment where everything seems under control. My pace was measured but not as sharp as I'd like, soon plummeting to the 9 minute per mile mark. However, as time went on my breathing became less laboured and the suffering I endured in the opening miles became a distant memory. I've read that the early miles are the easiest but find my own experiences contrary to this. I think in the opening stages, one's body is adjusting to a huge increase in work rate and therefore needs time to adapt. I've come to expect pain in the first few miles. Now it's just a matter of sucking it up and waiting for the opportune moment to pounce. That moment where it suddenly seems so easy that you can inject some real pace into the mix. On Sunday, that moment came at the end of the 7th mile. There I was, back where I started, but with 7 miles and an hour of running under my belt and the belief that I could clock my quickest miles yet.
I couldn't help but compare this to the Ali-Foreman fight, which I consider to be the greatest sporting spectacle I'm aware of. One of the many things that made Ali the greatest was his ability to strike at his opponent before the fight even began. We see weak imitations throughout the sporting world today, but Ali was the original and the best in getting inside his opponent's head and defeating them psychologically before even landing a punch. Foreman was arguably the most powerful boxer of all time; a single punch would break the average man's spine if landed will full impact. He was able to land 100-150 of these per round. Ali was well aware of this and conditioned himself to cope with this sheer force; much of his sparring involved him standing on the ropes and receiving punishment from whoever would give it. When the fight came and Foreman landed his blows, Ali was ready and responded with a weapon more powerful than anything Foreman had. Not his fists, but his mouth. "Is that all you got, George? I thought you could punch. You're nothing but a sissy!". The problem for Foreman was, that the answer was yes, that was all he had. In his previous 38 fights it had been enough; 35 knockouts and in an average of under 3 rounds. He sent the heavyweight champ Joe Frasier crashing to the mat 6 times in 2 rounds. However, Foreman wasn't a distance fighter and he didn't have a plan beyond knocking Ali out within the first 5 rounds. Ali knew that if he could soak it up in those early stages, then Foreman would burn out and present Ali with the opportunity to make history. Ali rope-a-doped until there were seconds to go in round 8, when he chose his moment and landed a sequence of blows that one spends a career preparing for.
I'm known for my use of hyperbole and have no trouble comparing my long distance runs with the greatest boxing match of all time. The road is my Foreman; the seemingly invincible opponent that has destroyed even the finest athletes. I know to expect suffering in the early rounds; so I turn that into a strength by first accepting it and then preparing for it. I find myself screaming (in my mind, of course) at the road: "IS THAT ALL YOU GOT?!" My patience is rewarded in the latter miles once I've got the measure of my opponent.
In those last three miles, I let rip. Okay, so my pace still wasn't special, but to run faster in the last three miles than in any other part of the race, despite facing some of my toughest miles early on, is the stuff of legend. Ever since I was a child, I've dreamt I could fly. When I'm in the groove in those latter miles, I feel I'm in that dream world. I find myself in a state of delirium; smiling, almost laughing at the sheer audacity of sprinting on the 10th mile. As I finish, I'm left with the same aftertaste one has when coming off a roller coaster. Sheer exhilaration. Boy oh boy, do I want more of that!
The marathon throws up images of effort and pain. Of course, there would be little reward without either. But make no mistake, the beauty of running is in overcoming the pain and reaching this state of uncompromising joy. Even if it's for the briefest period, that feeling that you can go at full pelt forever is well worth the wait.
I timed in at around 85 minutes for the 10 miles; consistent with previous efforts. It's clear that my weakness is in the middle parts of the race, where my pace slows down by a minute a mile. I'll be addressing this with some gruelling fartlek and interval sessions over the coming weeks. Much suffering to come, but much joy to look forward to.
Off I went at around 2330, around a 7 mile route I crafted online. The final 3 miles would be three 1 mile laps around my area. I started at a decent pace, clocking just under 16 minutes for the first 2 miles. However, this came at the expense of some heavy breathing and already I was pondering an early finish. So far, I've completed every distance I've asked of myself and I exercised a degree of patience in the hope that I'd reach that golden moment where everything seems under control. My pace was measured but not as sharp as I'd like, soon plummeting to the 9 minute per mile mark. However, as time went on my breathing became less laboured and the suffering I endured in the opening miles became a distant memory. I've read that the early miles are the easiest but find my own experiences contrary to this. I think in the opening stages, one's body is adjusting to a huge increase in work rate and therefore needs time to adapt. I've come to expect pain in the first few miles. Now it's just a matter of sucking it up and waiting for the opportune moment to pounce. That moment where it suddenly seems so easy that you can inject some real pace into the mix. On Sunday, that moment came at the end of the 7th mile. There I was, back where I started, but with 7 miles and an hour of running under my belt and the belief that I could clock my quickest miles yet.
I couldn't help but compare this to the Ali-Foreman fight, which I consider to be the greatest sporting spectacle I'm aware of. One of the many things that made Ali the greatest was his ability to strike at his opponent before the fight even began. We see weak imitations throughout the sporting world today, but Ali was the original and the best in getting inside his opponent's head and defeating them psychologically before even landing a punch. Foreman was arguably the most powerful boxer of all time; a single punch would break the average man's spine if landed will full impact. He was able to land 100-150 of these per round. Ali was well aware of this and conditioned himself to cope with this sheer force; much of his sparring involved him standing on the ropes and receiving punishment from whoever would give it. When the fight came and Foreman landed his blows, Ali was ready and responded with a weapon more powerful than anything Foreman had. Not his fists, but his mouth. "Is that all you got, George? I thought you could punch. You're nothing but a sissy!". The problem for Foreman was, that the answer was yes, that was all he had. In his previous 38 fights it had been enough; 35 knockouts and in an average of under 3 rounds. He sent the heavyweight champ Joe Frasier crashing to the mat 6 times in 2 rounds. However, Foreman wasn't a distance fighter and he didn't have a plan beyond knocking Ali out within the first 5 rounds. Ali knew that if he could soak it up in those early stages, then Foreman would burn out and present Ali with the opportunity to make history. Ali rope-a-doped until there were seconds to go in round 8, when he chose his moment and landed a sequence of blows that one spends a career preparing for.
I'm known for my use of hyperbole and have no trouble comparing my long distance runs with the greatest boxing match of all time. The road is my Foreman; the seemingly invincible opponent that has destroyed even the finest athletes. I know to expect suffering in the early rounds; so I turn that into a strength by first accepting it and then preparing for it. I find myself screaming (in my mind, of course) at the road: "IS THAT ALL YOU GOT?!" My patience is rewarded in the latter miles once I've got the measure of my opponent.
In those last three miles, I let rip. Okay, so my pace still wasn't special, but to run faster in the last three miles than in any other part of the race, despite facing some of my toughest miles early on, is the stuff of legend. Ever since I was a child, I've dreamt I could fly. When I'm in the groove in those latter miles, I feel I'm in that dream world. I find myself in a state of delirium; smiling, almost laughing at the sheer audacity of sprinting on the 10th mile. As I finish, I'm left with the same aftertaste one has when coming off a roller coaster. Sheer exhilaration. Boy oh boy, do I want more of that!
The marathon throws up images of effort and pain. Of course, there would be little reward without either. But make no mistake, the beauty of running is in overcoming the pain and reaching this state of uncompromising joy. Even if it's for the briefest period, that feeling that you can go at full pelt forever is well worth the wait.
I timed in at around 85 minutes for the 10 miles; consistent with previous efforts. It's clear that my weakness is in the middle parts of the race, where my pace slows down by a minute a mile. I'll be addressing this with some gruelling fartlek and interval sessions over the coming weeks. Much suffering to come, but much joy to look forward to.
The Ramadhan Diaries (part 2)
It's been a while since my last training update; mainly due to the time constraints induced by the rigours of fasting. However, training has very much remained on course and with five weeks until race day, I certainly feel comfortable with my current performance.
As suggested, swimming and (indoor) cycling have assumed a more prominent role in the proceedings. Cycling represents perhaps the most gruelling aspect of training. I'm currently reading Lance Armstrong's inspiring autobiography, in which describes how he relishes the pain brought on by endless hours of cycling; how the pain is a drug that acts as a fuel for him. I simply can't relate to this; I can barely handle a 45 minute stint. There's precious little rest bite and even maintaining a gentle pace takes its toll. Of course, I am relatively new to cycling and there will inevitably be a period of adjustment, but I am resigned to the likelihood that I won't enjoy the cycling element of training. My mindset is open to change and perhaps if I took to the roads I'd think differently, but for now at least it's merely a means to an end, with obvious physical benefits (and a fantastic way to engage in some interval drills), but little pleasure to be gained. This pain certainly exists when running, but as time goes on I'm able to get it under control and usually assume a state of pleasure within a few miles. Running should be fun; I just wouldn't bother otherwise.
Having peaked at a solid twelve mile run just prior to the start of Ramadhan, I have relaxed my longer runs slightly, in an attempt to give my legs a much needed break. However, I am aiming to notch up at least two more 12 milers before race day and may even attack an unprecedented 14 mile run, so have upped the ante in the last week or so. Fartlek is back in the mix and I'm hitting the roads at least thrice weekly. Within two weeks, I have become fully accustomed to running at midnight, in dark conditions. I may continue to do so to some extent even after Ramadhan. Indeed, in Winter this may even be necessary. Having returned home to Coventry for a while, I took on another 10 mile run yesterday; see the next post for an in depth review.
In truth, I feel I'd be able to run a half marathon tomorrow; which to a large extent means I've already succeeded in achieving my initial goals. I've proven to myself that I can endure a 90-120 minute run at decent pace, which is pretty much where I wanted to be at by this stage. However, I'm looking forward to putting all the hours of training into some tangible climax, and I can't wait for the experiences my first race will bring come October 11. With over a month to go, there are still many improvements I can make. I still think a time of 1hr 50min is plausible, although by no means a gimme. In any case, I'll remain cautious and do my best to avoid a last minute injury which, at this point, would be heartbreaking.
As suggested, swimming and (indoor) cycling have assumed a more prominent role in the proceedings. Cycling represents perhaps the most gruelling aspect of training. I'm currently reading Lance Armstrong's inspiring autobiography, in which describes how he relishes the pain brought on by endless hours of cycling; how the pain is a drug that acts as a fuel for him. I simply can't relate to this; I can barely handle a 45 minute stint. There's precious little rest bite and even maintaining a gentle pace takes its toll. Of course, I am relatively new to cycling and there will inevitably be a period of adjustment, but I am resigned to the likelihood that I won't enjoy the cycling element of training. My mindset is open to change and perhaps if I took to the roads I'd think differently, but for now at least it's merely a means to an end, with obvious physical benefits (and a fantastic way to engage in some interval drills), but little pleasure to be gained. This pain certainly exists when running, but as time goes on I'm able to get it under control and usually assume a state of pleasure within a few miles. Running should be fun; I just wouldn't bother otherwise.
Having peaked at a solid twelve mile run just prior to the start of Ramadhan, I have relaxed my longer runs slightly, in an attempt to give my legs a much needed break. However, I am aiming to notch up at least two more 12 milers before race day and may even attack an unprecedented 14 mile run, so have upped the ante in the last week or so. Fartlek is back in the mix and I'm hitting the roads at least thrice weekly. Within two weeks, I have become fully accustomed to running at midnight, in dark conditions. I may continue to do so to some extent even after Ramadhan. Indeed, in Winter this may even be necessary. Having returned home to Coventry for a while, I took on another 10 mile run yesterday; see the next post for an in depth review.
In truth, I feel I'd be able to run a half marathon tomorrow; which to a large extent means I've already succeeded in achieving my initial goals. I've proven to myself that I can endure a 90-120 minute run at decent pace, which is pretty much where I wanted to be at by this stage. However, I'm looking forward to putting all the hours of training into some tangible climax, and I can't wait for the experiences my first race will bring come October 11. With over a month to go, there are still many improvements I can make. I still think a time of 1hr 50min is plausible, although by no means a gimme. In any case, I'll remain cautious and do my best to avoid a last minute injury which, at this point, would be heartbreaking.
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