I don't do things by halves. Except marathons, it seems. Although Birmingham, whilst the biggest physical challenge I've ever taken, was only ever meant to be a key stepping stone to the real prize: completing my first full marathon.
When I started running seriously in April a full marathon seemed a million miles off. Then, after some thought, I realised it was actually 26.2 miles away. As I covered more distance in my runs, this figure tumbled and now I feel I'm closer than ever. In some ways, the hard work is done; I've broken the important early thresholds and am now able to sustain a decent pace for around 90-120 minutes. I think if I relaxed my pace slightly, say to 8 minutes per mile, I could survive a slightly longer distance than a half-marathon; probably around 15-16 miles. However, making the jumps up to the 20-22 mile mark, which is where one should peak in their training, will take months of hard work. This is very much unchartered territory and despite my progress, I'm far from ready. I feel my legs need to be much stronger to survive such distances. I've made great leaps in the last few months and perhaps the greatest reward is that I now have the belief that I am bigger than the marathon. I'm well aware that there is much suffering to come. But much joy too, of course.
So I'll take some time off to give the knees a rest and will start seeing a physio regularly. I'll do some gentle 10k runs but most of my training over the next few weeks will be in the swimming pool and on the exercise bike. I will also step up gym sessions and focus much more on building the calf muscles.
So all that's left is to choose a suitable marathon to enter. London seems too epic as a starter, and is very hard to get into. So I've chosen the next best thing; Paris.
April 11th; almost 6 months from now. The clock is ticking. More on this soon.
Friday 23 October 2009
Running fever
Unfortunately I've been confined to my flat for most of the week with a cold. I'm hopeful it will subside before long, but in any case I won't be running the Coventry half-marathon on Sunday. Even if I somehow recovered before then, I've not done any running this week and do not want to risk worsening the condition.
It's certainly disappointing, and a tame waste of the £20 entry fee, but I can't be too disgruntled. A fortnight ago, I was concerned I'd not make it through Birmingham, which was very much the focus and real climax of the last few months of training. To have come through that unscathed and given how I performed, it is more than enough to keep me content for now. I would prefer to be ruled out for health reasons rather than fitness, since catching a cold was virtually unavoidable, even if it was bad timing. My knees seem in good condition and that bodes well for the long term, although I'll be seeing a physio soon for a rigorous work up.
This means my running season is over. I'll certainly engage in some short runs when I'm back on my feet; to maintain basic fitness levels but mainly for pleasure. I'll step up swimming and cycling too. It'll be nice not having the pressure and expectation of a big race; although this is very much a temporary luxury - see the next post.
It's certainly disappointing, and a tame waste of the £20 entry fee, but I can't be too disgruntled. A fortnight ago, I was concerned I'd not make it through Birmingham, which was very much the focus and real climax of the last few months of training. To have come through that unscathed and given how I performed, it is more than enough to keep me content for now. I would prefer to be ruled out for health reasons rather than fitness, since catching a cold was virtually unavoidable, even if it was bad timing. My knees seem in good condition and that bodes well for the long term, although I'll be seeing a physio soon for a rigorous work up.
This means my running season is over. I'll certainly engage in some short runs when I'm back on my feet; to maintain basic fitness levels but mainly for pleasure. I'll step up swimming and cycling too. It'll be nice not having the pressure and expectation of a big race; although this is very much a temporary luxury - see the next post.
Saturday 17 October 2009
Homecoming
Following Birmingham, I was limping around for two days, rewarding myself with the kind of diet I've turned away from in recent months. However, as my body healed up by Thursday and my knee seemed fine, in fact better than even before the race, I considered this: why not enter the Coventry half-marathon on October 25th? Two half-marathons a fortnight apart is far from unreasonable after all, especially if I still feel fresh. My decision would come after testing my legs with a 6 mile run this morning. Having made mincemeat of a route that only months ago would destroy me, it confirmed that now was the opportune time to make the most of my running progress, whilst I'm still fit. Of course, entering another race may aggravate an underlying problem, but I feel almost 100% and feel the risk is worth it just to recapture the experience of last Sunday.
So I've signed myself up for the Coventry half-marathon on October 25th; which means I must resume a carb-enriched diet and take care of my legs a short while longer. The break has been postponed and the focus is back. Runner 'Been is returning home for one final swansong (for now, at least).
So I've signed myself up for the Coventry half-marathon on October 25th; which means I must resume a carb-enriched diet and take care of my legs a short while longer. The break has been postponed and the focus is back. Runner 'Been is returning home for one final swansong (for now, at least).
R-Day
October 11th, Race Day. The climax to a story that began six months ago when, after stopping for breath after just five minutes of running, I'd decided enough was enough. Months of training and endless hours of joy, agony and everything in between, it was time to put into practice all that I'd learnt. Except it was never going to be as simple as that. My knee remained a major concern, to the extent that I'd reduced myself to the mentality that I would probably not finish this race, at least not without regular stops and certainly not within my 1hr 45 target. Still, as the crowd gathered on the start line and I took my place alongside 12,000 fellow masochists, the excitement kicked in and suddenly I was desperate to finish. Weather conditions were ideal; cool, with rare bouts of drizzle. The perfect setting for what could be a special day.
I was amongst the blue crowd; runners are separated by coloured tops, according to their predicted finish time. Blue represented the 1hr 45 - 2h finishers so I found myself surrounded by fairly fit and athletic types, with the odd costume and the occasional overweight wreck. Clearly their training hadn't gone according to plan. As Kelly Holmes ushered us towards the starting line with her uninspiring words of wisdom, I hit my iRiver, unleashing the soundtrack to Terminator 4. Not my favourite piece of music, but for this scenario I could not have chosen better. By the time I was actually running, the adrenaline had already surged and I found myself in a surreal environment. My mind was inevitably on my knee but I continued regardless, taking in the atmosphere and using the cheering supporters to my advantage. My fellow runners seemed slow, I was overtaking them a dozen at a time and soon found myself towards the front of the blue pack. Two miles in and my watch had me timed at 15 minutes. Wonderful; I'd barely felt a thing, besides the burning sensation in my right knee, which could ultimately take me out. Meanwhile, runners around me were stopping to catch breath and already seemed resign to defeat; which only fuelled me further. For now, I was content to revel in the glory of the moment, running in a packed crowd, using my Schumacher-esque moves to push further ahead. I was experiencing the runners' high every couple of miles, especially when kids lined the street to offer high fives as I swept past them. Undoubtedly the highlight of the day!
After my first water break at 3 miles (and it was barely a break; three sips and on I went), I felt as fresh as ever, maintaining my pace and hitting the four mile mark in 29 minutes.
Clearly something was up; I'd just ran the quickest 4 miles of my life and not felt a thing. Still, no time to ponder and on I went, concerned but undeterred by the burning knee. I now had the 10k mark in mind and decided to push the needle until then at least, so that even if I slowed down in the second half I'd have minutes to play with. I couldn't help but grin at the sight of my stopwatch at the 10k mark; just over 46 minutes. I'd ran 10k flat out not long ago, in 48 minutes. Here I smashed that emphatically yet still felt I had plenty left in the tank. For the first time, I dared to consider a sub 1h 40 finish. The knee seemed to be holding up, so why not continue to push? At least for another 2 miles. As I passed a runner in an Adidas shirt, plastered with the "impossible is nothing" slogan, I couldn't help but tell myself "oh, indeed". Eight miles in and it had taken me an hour; not a second more. Now the task was to maintain an eight minute per mile pace for the remaining 5.1 miles. Or quicker.
Now the calves were feeling it. The route was mainly flat, except for the odd drop. And what steep drops they were too. A welcome relief? Not a bit of it. Whilst others darted downwards, I heeded the wise advice to tread these parts with caution, since they presented the biggest risk of injury. They are also an opportunity to recapture a steady heart rate. Further, since the race came full circle (pretty much), any drop implied an incline later on. And I was fully aware of the climb to the finish in the last two miles.
Running for over ninety minutes is as much a journey of the mind as anything else. A look into my mind during this race would serve up a masterclass on the spectrum of human emotion. The defining miles were towards the end, where the physical demands were taking their toll. At this point, I needed the strongest weapons in my arsenal: my mental strength. Some call it willpower, but I think the energy I get to push myself in these later miles is derived from a feeling of compassion. It is here that my deepest, most clear thoughts come to the forefront. I think of my friends and, above all, my family. My parents, sister and nephews waiting for me at the finish line. Do this for them, I tell myself, if not for yourself. I think of my friends, who have kept me going in the tough times, giving me the uncompromising belief that I am bigger than this race. I think of everyone who has donated to my cause; an emphatic reminder of the human capacity to love and support each other. I think of the innocent men, women and children of the Swat Region, who I hope will benefit above all from my performance. The sum total of all those thoughts and emotions leaves me with an energy and drive that no half-marathon can match. Suddenly, knee concerns are barely relevant and the fact that I'm now breathing heavy isn't a problem, because whatever happens, I will not stop. And just in case I'm tempted, the cheering spectators keep pushing me on, an endless supply of energy to see me through.
With two miles remaining, I gazed ahead with the realisation that the hardest part was yet to come. I faced an uphill climb to the finish and was now operating on adrenaline alone. As I entered the final mile, my thoughts were in a haze and only one word stood out: finish. Just get to the end. I came through a tunnel, with the overhead support echoing all around me. As I emerged on the other side, I sensed the end was near. Then I knew it. The final stretch and I could finally see the finish line. Despite being so close to collapse, the mere sight of the end instilled in me a desire to finish with style. A short sprint later, my arms were raised and I leapt over the finish line with the classic fisted pump and 'come on!' As I looked around, all I could see were the purple runners; through the course of the race I'd moved up a division, overtaking hundreds in the process. A real thrill; and no doubt what contributed to my increase in performance.
The moments that followed were euphoric in every sense. As I checked my watch I couldn't help but laugh; 1h 38. Unbelievable; a 7 minute step up from my lofty target of 1h 45. I had finally arrived as a runner. The atmosphere and support allowed me to make a quantum leap in my performance, to the sorts of levels that I never dared believed I'd be capable of in my first race. A flawless debut and what's more, despite feeling absolutely shattered, my knee seemed fine now.
I collected my goodies and medal and eventually found my family through the sea of supporters. An overwhelming feeling of emotion washed over me before I got there, so that my actual reaction was quite subdued when I eventually saw them. Still, my relief and joy was clear to all. An event that was hyped up by myself for so long blew all expectations out of the sky.
I was amongst the blue crowd; runners are separated by coloured tops, according to their predicted finish time. Blue represented the 1hr 45 - 2h finishers so I found myself surrounded by fairly fit and athletic types, with the odd costume and the occasional overweight wreck. Clearly their training hadn't gone according to plan. As Kelly Holmes ushered us towards the starting line with her uninspiring words of wisdom, I hit my iRiver, unleashing the soundtrack to Terminator 4. Not my favourite piece of music, but for this scenario I could not have chosen better. By the time I was actually running, the adrenaline had already surged and I found myself in a surreal environment. My mind was inevitably on my knee but I continued regardless, taking in the atmosphere and using the cheering supporters to my advantage. My fellow runners seemed slow, I was overtaking them a dozen at a time and soon found myself towards the front of the blue pack. Two miles in and my watch had me timed at 15 minutes. Wonderful; I'd barely felt a thing, besides the burning sensation in my right knee, which could ultimately take me out. Meanwhile, runners around me were stopping to catch breath and already seemed resign to defeat; which only fuelled me further. For now, I was content to revel in the glory of the moment, running in a packed crowd, using my Schumacher-esque moves to push further ahead. I was experiencing the runners' high every couple of miles, especially when kids lined the street to offer high fives as I swept past them. Undoubtedly the highlight of the day!
After my first water break at 3 miles (and it was barely a break; three sips and on I went), I felt as fresh as ever, maintaining my pace and hitting the four mile mark in 29 minutes.
Clearly something was up; I'd just ran the quickest 4 miles of my life and not felt a thing. Still, no time to ponder and on I went, concerned but undeterred by the burning knee. I now had the 10k mark in mind and decided to push the needle until then at least, so that even if I slowed down in the second half I'd have minutes to play with. I couldn't help but grin at the sight of my stopwatch at the 10k mark; just over 46 minutes. I'd ran 10k flat out not long ago, in 48 minutes. Here I smashed that emphatically yet still felt I had plenty left in the tank. For the first time, I dared to consider a sub 1h 40 finish. The knee seemed to be holding up, so why not continue to push? At least for another 2 miles. As I passed a runner in an Adidas shirt, plastered with the "impossible is nothing" slogan, I couldn't help but tell myself "oh, indeed". Eight miles in and it had taken me an hour; not a second more. Now the task was to maintain an eight minute per mile pace for the remaining 5.1 miles. Or quicker.
Now the calves were feeling it. The route was mainly flat, except for the odd drop. And what steep drops they were too. A welcome relief? Not a bit of it. Whilst others darted downwards, I heeded the wise advice to tread these parts with caution, since they presented the biggest risk of injury. They are also an opportunity to recapture a steady heart rate. Further, since the race came full circle (pretty much), any drop implied an incline later on. And I was fully aware of the climb to the finish in the last two miles.
Running for over ninety minutes is as much a journey of the mind as anything else. A look into my mind during this race would serve up a masterclass on the spectrum of human emotion. The defining miles were towards the end, where the physical demands were taking their toll. At this point, I needed the strongest weapons in my arsenal: my mental strength. Some call it willpower, but I think the energy I get to push myself in these later miles is derived from a feeling of compassion. It is here that my deepest, most clear thoughts come to the forefront. I think of my friends and, above all, my family. My parents, sister and nephews waiting for me at the finish line. Do this for them, I tell myself, if not for yourself. I think of my friends, who have kept me going in the tough times, giving me the uncompromising belief that I am bigger than this race. I think of everyone who has donated to my cause; an emphatic reminder of the human capacity to love and support each other. I think of the innocent men, women and children of the Swat Region, who I hope will benefit above all from my performance. The sum total of all those thoughts and emotions leaves me with an energy and drive that no half-marathon can match. Suddenly, knee concerns are barely relevant and the fact that I'm now breathing heavy isn't a problem, because whatever happens, I will not stop. And just in case I'm tempted, the cheering spectators keep pushing me on, an endless supply of energy to see me through.
With two miles remaining, I gazed ahead with the realisation that the hardest part was yet to come. I faced an uphill climb to the finish and was now operating on adrenaline alone. As I entered the final mile, my thoughts were in a haze and only one word stood out: finish. Just get to the end. I came through a tunnel, with the overhead support echoing all around me. As I emerged on the other side, I sensed the end was near. Then I knew it. The final stretch and I could finally see the finish line. Despite being so close to collapse, the mere sight of the end instilled in me a desire to finish with style. A short sprint later, my arms were raised and I leapt over the finish line with the classic fisted pump and 'come on!' As I looked around, all I could see were the purple runners; through the course of the race I'd moved up a division, overtaking hundreds in the process. A real thrill; and no doubt what contributed to my increase in performance.
The moments that followed were euphoric in every sense. As I checked my watch I couldn't help but laugh; 1h 38. Unbelievable; a 7 minute step up from my lofty target of 1h 45. I had finally arrived as a runner. The atmosphere and support allowed me to make a quantum leap in my performance, to the sorts of levels that I never dared believed I'd be capable of in my first race. A flawless debut and what's more, despite feeling absolutely shattered, my knee seemed fine now.
I collected my goodies and medal and eventually found my family through the sea of supporters. An overwhelming feeling of emotion washed over me before I got there, so that my actual reaction was quite subdued when I eventually saw them. Still, my relief and joy was clear to all. An event that was hyped up by myself for so long blew all expectations out of the sky.
Sunday 11 October 2009
Race day debrief
Quick update; will post a more in-depth review soon.
My knee held up and I put in the performance of my short running life; an incredibly pleasing time of 1hr 38min; 22 minutes less than my original target and 7 minutes within my revised target of 1hr 45min. Needless to say, I'm delighted with the result. The whole experience was simply amazing.
My knee held up and I put in the performance of my short running life; an incredibly pleasing time of 1hr 38min; 22 minutes less than my original target and 7 minutes within my revised target of 1hr 45min. Needless to say, I'm delighted with the result. The whole experience was simply amazing.
Thursday 8 October 2009
Knee concerns
I'm quite depressed right now. This is my last post before the race, a culmination of 6 months of the hardest training I've ever endured, and should be full of anticipation and optimism. All was well training wise, I'd completed my last big run and was tapering my way to Sunday. A casual 4 miler on Saturday through up no real concerns and some good swimming sessions kept me in good nick.
On Tuesday evening, however, I embarked on a very casual 2-3 mile jog. Slow paced and easy breathing, but very uncomfortable. It began early in the run; a burning sensation in my right knee which gave rise to some serious pain in my leg. I was able to complete the run and the pain was certainly manageable, but I'm not sure what would have happened if I continued. Either I'd get lucky and it'd subside, or I'd come to a halt due to the gradual increase in pain.
Since then, my right knee has been in some pain. Nothing too bad, but I certainly get the sense that a long run could be asking too much. Of course, I've followed protocol with a knee brace as well as hot and cold remedies (deep heat and ice) and limited my walking, as well as putting an end to any short term running. I've even cancelled my proposed trip to Leicester on Saturday for a Countdown tournament so I can rest at home. My hope is that I'll retrieve just enough juice to last the distance on Sunday. My pace may be compromised, my time will probably be well out of the 1hr 45min range and I'll no doubt be in some agony by the end, but I have to give it a shot. It's definitely worth the risk and at least now I have the awareness to expect pain and won't be caught off guard. I pray that the pain will be controllable but whilst I'm hoping for the best, I'm also preparing for the worst. So maybe I'll have to pull out midway. That would be heartbreaking, but not the end of the world. There'll be more opportunities and it'll make me even more determined. But for now, I believe I can make it and I still have a couple of days to heal up.
I feel obliged to run the race; not to prove anything to myself, since I've routinely completed 12 mile runs in good time, thus accomplishing my personal goals. But many people have generously donated to my cause and there is understandably an expectation that I'll finish what I started. This may involve walking some of the course or even crawling; whatever it takes. The final climb may well be the killer. Still, I'll give it everything I've got, with little regard of the consequences. Maybe not the most sensible approach, but after investing so much time and effort I can't back down now. I didn't come this far to lose.
Optimism is scarce, but hope remains.
On Tuesday evening, however, I embarked on a very casual 2-3 mile jog. Slow paced and easy breathing, but very uncomfortable. It began early in the run; a burning sensation in my right knee which gave rise to some serious pain in my leg. I was able to complete the run and the pain was certainly manageable, but I'm not sure what would have happened if I continued. Either I'd get lucky and it'd subside, or I'd come to a halt due to the gradual increase in pain.
Since then, my right knee has been in some pain. Nothing too bad, but I certainly get the sense that a long run could be asking too much. Of course, I've followed protocol with a knee brace as well as hot and cold remedies (deep heat and ice) and limited my walking, as well as putting an end to any short term running. I've even cancelled my proposed trip to Leicester on Saturday for a Countdown tournament so I can rest at home. My hope is that I'll retrieve just enough juice to last the distance on Sunday. My pace may be compromised, my time will probably be well out of the 1hr 45min range and I'll no doubt be in some agony by the end, but I have to give it a shot. It's definitely worth the risk and at least now I have the awareness to expect pain and won't be caught off guard. I pray that the pain will be controllable but whilst I'm hoping for the best, I'm also preparing for the worst. So maybe I'll have to pull out midway. That would be heartbreaking, but not the end of the world. There'll be more opportunities and it'll make me even more determined. But for now, I believe I can make it and I still have a couple of days to heal up.
I feel obliged to run the race; not to prove anything to myself, since I've routinely completed 12 mile runs in good time, thus accomplishing my personal goals. But many people have generously donated to my cause and there is understandably an expectation that I'll finish what I started. This may involve walking some of the course or even crawling; whatever it takes. The final climb may well be the killer. Still, I'll give it everything I've got, with little regard of the consequences. Maybe not the most sensible approach, but after investing so much time and effort I can't back down now. I didn't come this far to lose.
Optimism is scarce, but hope remains.
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