5k it ain't

"I guess you shouldn't be sweating by the time you turn off the quays entering mile 4 but hey, this is the Dublin marathon. I'm feeling a bit rough at the mo' but that's ok. I'v never felt good at the start of any of my long training run's and I'v a habit of coming round later in the day. I'll be grand".........says I. 

If a fraction of the advice I'd come across over the last 6 week's had sank in I'd probably ease off a bit at this stage but listening to advice is not my forte and learning from experience seems to be the only thing that works.

With no specific plan on the start line only to run out a bit ahead of the 3hr men and meet them a mile or two down the road once the field had spread out a bit but three consecutive 6.38 miles threw that idea down the drain when I couldn't see them behind me on Chesterfield avenue. I had no particular reason to run out ahead of the three hour man only that I thought I could manage it, instead of trying to convince myself to run under three hours I had decided that this was going to be my hardest training run to date. Turns out I wasn't wrong but I couldn't remember what race I was training for. A bitch of a crosswind made it hard to get shelter after finding myself between groups (this was the one thing I promised myself I wouldn't let happen) so I took my foot off the gas a bit (at 6.40min mile my foots not normally 'on the gas' but as I was to discover in the context of my relationship with 26.2 mile's it was on the gas alright) and waited for three or four lad's coming from behind.

Out the gap at the top of the park and my familiarity with the course came to an end, the short climb on Castleknock road was more of a shock to me than the park and I didn't handle it too well, I was using caution as an excuse to ease off but in hindsight I was already struggling and was glad to hit the long descent back into the park. A nice reprieve before a block headwind came to greet us on Chapelizod road, the first real kick in the arse and a realization that my second marathon could be going sour. Meeting the 3hr group on the hill after Chapelizod was confirmation. I got through the toughest section from 12 to 14 with these guy's and as it said on the tin it was all downhill from here, it certainly was and in more ways than one in my case.

This was where I was supposed to pick it up in the race that I had imagined I was going to run, pick it up and power on home, leave the group I was in and start picking up a few of the lad's up the road, power on to the four mile to go mark and let gravity do the rest but (Knock knock, hello anyone home), this is a marathon. I hadn't given that as much attention as I probably should have in my pre race prophecy. I visualised it as a race. At my level it can't really be a race until you get to the last five or six miles feeling strong. (I'm sure I learnt that before somewhere but the dog ate my homework). It's all coming back to me now "If the first mile feels ok your going too fast", "The second half of the marathon starts at the 20 mile mark", now I'm learning. "Don't get carried away in the first few miles, it's easy to with the crowd" (I was actually told that ON the start line with a minute to go).  Ah yes a 5k it ain't and by mile 16 I was a temporary member of Thomas the tank engine's 3.10 group.

I won't get into the gorey details of the last 10 miles but If I told you to make up a paragraph using the word's walk, jog, water stops, people watching, plodding, water, disorientation, hallucination, elation, water, high, low, anger, indifference, gel, Ray D'Arcy, nasty marketing at the top of Roebuck hill and the waste of a good downhill into the finish you'd probably come up with something close to what I'm trying to get at. Despite sharing the road with fourteen and a half thousand other's it's a lonely old place when the shit hit's the fan. Disappointment doesn't come into it. You just know it's going to be a ball breaker to get to the line and on the practicality side of thing's how else are you going to get back into town to pick up your gear? So not to put too fine a point on it, with four downhill miles to go I, like a lot of my comrades was deep in the proverbial.

There were some big effort's from Grange AC, with Johnny (10th), Joan (2nd) & Clo (3rd) leading the way running out of their skins to get top 10 in their categories in the national Champs. Enthusiatic crowd's, recognisable face's and pig headedness carry you to the line nearer to the finish but that's fair payment as I'm holding them partly responsible for an over eager first few miles too. The masse's that stood on Parliament street turning onto the quays just after the two mile mark didn't have to work as hard as those on Merrion road to keep me going with a mile and a half to go. Like I said pre marathon, it's a long way. I had to do it (again) to convince me though.

Conclusion:

- More miles.

- Diminishing pain threshold (getting soft).

- Questionable concentration levels.

- Under raced. Though the need for recovery is important I think I could have done with another race between Charleville half and Dublin. 

- Giving the whole thing too much thought.
- More sleep.

On Monday afternoon I was convinced I'd run my last marathon, by Tuesday evening I'd isolated the finer points of my downfall and by Wednesday I was kicking myself and wondering how to turn back the clock to the start line on Monday morning for a second chance. 

That's why we can't turn our back on it but for now some rest and back to the short stuff.

The Commitments for the Dublin Marathon

No it's not a comeback gig for Neil Jordan's eighties blues band, it's just over two weeks out from my second marathon attempt and the commitment's for the Dublin marathon are all but behind me bar trying to get a few good night's sleep, I'v been laying low trying to train clever and keeping my eye pretty much on the ball. The 26.2 miles is still a trip to the almost unknown but I'v learnt enough from my previous attempt in Cork three years ago to play the cagey game on marathon Monday. That alone wouldn't be enough to drive home the message but I'm lucky enough to share the road's around Fermoy with some very experienced marathoner's and ultra runner's who don't mind passing on the lesson's learned from their own experience's. Any run with these guy's is big benefit country and make's the bigger mileage seem like an everyday thing because as far as they're concerned it is.

More comfortable in the surround's of the shorter stuff I'm still unconvinced about the return you get from the long term commitment to marathon training, maybe Dublin will change that. There are a lot of sacrifices in the form of missed pb opportunities in the shorter race's thro'out the summer, Saturday & Sunday afternoons struggling to keep my normal face on while my leg's beg me to collapse in a heap at the nearest coffee shop. Fatigue seem's to be a constant as you get deeper into the mileage pit.

On the other hand it's normal, a lifestyle thing and maybe it's the fact of focusing on one particular event increase's the intensity a bit. If  it wasn't marathon training I'd still be doing something. Tipping away. The regular training routine is a valuable release valve that's missed when it's not there so it's a big part of the weekly routine. Apart from the long run's which I'v struggled with mentally more than physically the rest of it's been easy. At this stage it's what I do.

Local past-marathon runner described it (marathon training) to a tee, "It's like 12 week's of overtime", while it's not easy to train for a quality five miler it take's far less time and mile's for a much quicker return. Therin may lie the draw of the big one. There's more at stake, getting to the start line in good shape is an achievement in itself with many falling victim to one of a multitude of running injury's. As I write this there's probably 90% of us on the start list for Dublin worried about some niggle in their knee, hip, tendon, IT band or whatever buzz injury of the time. In general though 90% of that 90% have nothing to worry about apart from the suffering over the last six or seven mile's and that's what we pay our money for.

I'v had the Dublin itch for the last few year's so it was just a matter of time before it had to be scratched. Memories of my only other marathon attempt and a clash with the Jazz weekend kept me away from it 'till now. It still clash's with the Jazz weekend but the increase in mileage has decreased my ability to party and Chic aren't on the gig list this year.

Typically for me an unorthodox, unstructured, unplanned training program has been the norm. Most importantly regular routine outing's varying between 40 minute's and three hours have been the order of the day with a religious midweek visit to the track for some intensity work. As part of Grange AC master's I'v been one of the lucky benefactor's of  Clo and Darren's good work in getting Sergiu to the track on a Wednesday night to put us auld lad's thro' our pace's. No rocket science, just hard work at an intensity that I havn't reached for year's (if ever). I'v been treating these Wednesday night session's like a race and if nothing else they've been a great focal point and opportunity to work under one of Ireland's/Moldova's great distance runner's.

So for now it's maintenance & recovery time and time too to remind myself that 'not every pain is important', (That's a Scott Jurek'ism that Maciej threw at me today).  If it hasn't been done by now it's too late. kick back too much and we'll all be stuck to the road on Marathon monday. I went out on the bike last Sunday to nurse my niggle (hmm?, give my back a rest sound's better.) and rode 28 miles on a regular bike route. Now I have the distance in persepective. It's far.

@keelo51

Well, what would John Treacy do?

Coming through the other side of Christmas and into the new year with pretty good leg's (b.m.s) I went to Little Island last Sunday just east of Cork city to test myself at the Cork bhaa four miler, doesn't sound much but four mile's is plenty long enough to find out what kind of form your in after a three month break from racing. After forgetting the garmin I had to enquire as to what sort of pace we were doing at the half way point, this was enough to crack my shoulder companion (which wasn't my intention ..... honest) and after informing me we were running at 5.50 mile pace I was pleasantly surprised at how comfortable I was going, this time last year I struggled to maintain 6.10 pace for the same distance. A quick cup of tea, a few bun's and off home, happy to be taking my new found knowledge into the first big road race of the year, The John Treacy Dungarvan 10 mile on the following Sunday.

A far from ideal run up to the weekend had me happy enough not to expect too much on Sunday for a number of reason's, the main one being I have never ran well here and have alway's used it as a race to clear out the cobweb's and try to move up a gear from here on in toward's the rest of the season. At 10 mile's it's a bit of a stretch, although I'v eight 12/13 mile training runs in the leg's since the middle of November I still feel like I should have more at that distance to finish strongly.

Warming up with John (not Treacy) I was happy to find I still had last week's leg's on, cruising in the bright winter sunshine I had reason to believe that I might be on another good day, a vote of confidence from my shoulder buddy confirmed it, and like my last 10 miler in Mallow last March I decided to go out the road 6min. miling.

An unfortunately timed funeral procession delayed us just enough to be positioned perfectly under an impressive black thundercloud that dumped it's content's on the 1600 singlet clad runner's, nullifying any benefit that was gained from a warm up 15 min. earlier. Still, much happier here than as part of the funeral procession.

By the time we were going through the first mile marker it was a deluge, the heavy rain had formed deep pool's on both side's of the road connected by fast flowing stream's of ice cold water. Memories of what it's like to race a bike in these condition's was some consolation and going into mile two I was really enjoying it,  heavy hail being driven by 45 mph gust's from the left must have had some wondering what they were doing out here at all, but today my good leg's were having a major positive effect on my mindset.  For those with thought's of jacking it in, and we've all been there, today must have been difficult. I mean, what would John Treacy do? what would John Treacy think if a bit of sub zero hailstone was the deciding factor in any one runner calling it a day? I shudder to think. I know what he'd do. He'd nail it, he'd dish it out like there's no tomorrow, and he'd love every minute of it. He'd revel in it , his heart would sink with a break in the cloud's, the tougher the better, that's what he'd like. So, if you were to jack it in today, just don't let him see ya.

The elite's going through the first mile squinting through the downpour  (pic. courtesy Cork running blogspot)

So I'm there, cruising through mile three, mile four, through mile five at 29.45 in familiar company with sometime training partner's Mike and John from St. Catherine's and I'm totally in control with the most exposed part of the course almost behind us, around the hairpin and it's bye bye to the headwind. What would John Treacy do? he'd nail it right now, he'd do it to test his rival's, soften them up. I'm not J.T though, I'll sit tight, 10 mile's is 10 mile's and I'v still to pull off an hour at 10mph. I have to contain myself, I'm not home yet.

Mile 6 and I get a sting thro' the outside of both thigh's and it's not going away, as the meter's pass it's starting to take over all of my thought's and I'm having to reset the default setting's as the alarm bell's start to ring, this is not good. How can you go from being so comfortable to almost deranged in the space of four/five minutes. On another day I could possibly deal with it better but now I think I'm paying the price for the laid back attitude I brought to the race this morning. If I was more 'up for it' I'd have been ready for the influx of lactate and would have been ready to deal with it accordingly, I was so comfortable early on I had forgotten about the inevitable. What would JT do, he'd run through it of course, he'd look around him, feel the pain and soak it up, soak it up just that 1% more than his rival's until he'd cracked them.




I cracked with two and a half to go, mentally first as alway's. It's the head that decide's what too much pain is on any given day. the leg's concur. Massive dissapointment for a few second's, pull yourself together, go again, to my surprise I manage to get going again which lead's me to thinking I shouldn't have cracked in the first place. "FFS what was that about, there they go up onto the main road". Torrent's of personal verbal abuse ensue and the last two mile's are ran in desperation and hope, maybe the pacer is running with a lot to spare. Downhill with a tailwind for the last mile, maybe I'll make it up? I didn't look at the watch, just ran. 60.10 when the clock came into view, 60.43 crossing the line. A lot faster than what I'd thought coming down in the van, but the manner at how it came about?  Somewhere between bemused and amused it's a good start to the year and the sense of relief on crossing the line after an effort like that is worth a million dollar's.

50mtrs to go, the sufferfest is almost at an end and the winter cobwebs are a thing of the past
(pic. courtesy Dave Colman - DC Images) 

What would JT do? he'd give himself a good talking to, that's what he'd do.

Kealan        
       

Mallow 10

Vibes from John and Brian over the weekend gave me the notion to chance going out with the 60 minute pacers. The first mile is spent trying to find my feet, mile two, I'm into my stride and cautiously allow the thought that I'm on a good day sit near the front of my head.

They're off - the 2013 Mallow 10 gets under way.

Not long after and I'm cruising through halfway in 29.45. I had'nt gone through the five mile mark this fast before in a 10 miler, not even near, and never so comfortable. These are the day's that make it worth it, running effortlessly at sub 6 min. pace is a new experience, mind removed from the body as I leave it to its own devices, this is where running comes into its own, becomes spiritual, all the shit falls into place and everything comes into focus. In control but fully aware that the hard part was to come and slightly lacking the confidence to carry it through for the full 10, I was making sure to enjoy the middle section of the race.

In great company, the 60 min. group was whittled down to 6 or 7 around the six mile mark, where we hit the first incline of the race. Not steep but this was the first point where I realised the party was over. The smell of rubber from the pacer's balloon was starting to get to me, that smell is always going to take me straight back to those last few miles on Monday. An old bike habit of trying to get the most shelter from wherever possible had me running 3 feet behind one of the 60 min. pacers as I started to suffer. Out through the 2nd water station, no way was I going to get one here, anything that might increase my chances of loosing contact with the bus driver had to be ignored and I was pretty well hydrated as it was.

Another incline at mile 8 has me digging pretty deep. Big questions rolling around in my head, 'how can I go through another 12 minutes of this?, Is there stuff in the fridge for the kids lunch in the morning?'. These are distractions and the main thing at this intensity is concentration and, believe it or not the ability to 'relax'. I had to 'relax' a number of times since the going got tough at 6.5. Under this pressure things start to go haywire, you start to lose form or 'gait', by settling down and 'relaxing' you can find it again, Later things get loud internally and trying to find the voice to tell you to relax gets more difficult the nearer you get to the line.

On the final incline at mile nine I'm pretty much on the edge. While there's a very physical battle going on at this stage to stay with whats left of the group, now down to four - two pacers, two time winner of the Ladies cork city marathon, Angela McCann and myself, the real battle is going on in the head. Still in it as we go over the top, I'm going to hang on, maybe? screaming at myself (in my head) I cracked, on a downhill section with 0.9 miles to go and I lose contact, This can't be happening? 0.8 miles to go after coming off the bridge and there's nothing in the legs. The head always go's before the legs.

Struggling to the line in a time of 60.11 for 10 miles, mildly ecstatic at the new found knowledge that I can run at that pace for 9.1 miles (until now I would'nt have considered myself to be related to a runner, in my head I'm still a cyclist) and disgusted that I did'nt get in under the hour (A club runners milestone) for the distance. Dare I say it, it was all a bit emotional.

Midweek I was thinking 61.30 at best, which would have been a big chunk off my previous best 10 mile time of 63.19 in the same race last year. Driving to Mallow on my own I got a bit angry and got myself a bit psyched. On the line I was up for it and taking nothing more than 60 minutes but I was'nt totally convinced. This shadow of doubt and the knowledge that I was lacking some base mileage were the two main reasons I did'nt go under the hour.

I'v time lapsed that hour in my head a few hundred times over and can't find that 11 seconds anywhere. That's the satisfaction right there.

I found this short film during the week that hits the nail on the head. We all have the heavy day's where we're stuck to the floor, it's the search for the good day keeps us at it.

    

            Pics courtesy of Paudie Bermingham - Mallow AC