A Tale of Two Half Marathons

It is often said in jest that triathletes are a “different breed”. Come rain or shine, or in the case of the recent born2tri duathlon race training session: Snow,  the individual is willing to put in the hard graft and show the mental fortitude to battle the elements whilst pushing their bodies in the aim to strive to become faster, stronger and inherently even further ahead of me. The other reason to train is to practice how to race, how to prepare and how to recover. I am yet to understand any of this, but I am learning……slowly

Context

At the tail end of last year and having completed my first ever event, Martlesham Heath 10K and getting under my hour mark target (57.38), I set to look for my next challenge. I sights swiftly locked onto, what I considered the holy grail of the non-runner*, the sub 2 hour half marathon. Silverstone Half Marathon here I come.

In my best John McEnroe impression: “You cannot be serious” – I had blow out my left knee. All be careful planning and adhering to a training plan (running about haphazardly then pouring over the heart rate data from my watch and then paying no attention to it) had gone up in smoke. After rehabbing and dealing with the cliche of always being injured, I decided that I needed two bites at the cherry to achieve my goal so entered Colchester Half Marathon for two weeks later and the tale of two half marathons begins.

Silverstone Half Marathon

One week ahead of the big day I decided to test if all of the rehabbing and training had paid off and run 8 miles at race pace. It was a glorious success – 8 miles at 8.40 minute mile and I had some still left in the tank. I was on top of the world, I did get a deserved humbling the next day though at the Born2Tri training session at the Redbridge Cycling Centre – I got lapped on a 10km Time Trail. Straight from the video “sh!t triathletes say” – I had a major session yesterday and I am tapering for a event and my coach told me not be mess with my heart rate zone……..

At the race, warming up and John McEnroe turns up again: I roll my ankle on a giant chicken – You Cannot Be Serious”. After calming down a little and making sure I was ok with adrenaline coursing through my veins the gun sounded and off went myself and 6000 others.

Buzz went my watch at the 1 mile marker. The reassuring buzz that tells me that I am making progress turned to shock to see that I had headed off, acted the fool, and run a 7.07 mile. I was feeling strong and comfortable and pressed on regardless. Slowly though, I was noticing people passing me. 1 by 1 then 2 by 2 and then whole groups. Everything that I had practiced, rehearsed and planned was falling apart and I was only 4 miles in.

Stopping is always a option but it was a option I did not want to exercise. My heart was pounding like a jack hammer; everything was a blur, the oasis of the end seemed a thought too far. I stuck to the edge of the track and thought purely about how it would feel to succeed, not fail. Mile by mile passed, the small advantage I had built, to achieve my 2 hour goal, by going too fast at the starts was dwindling away.

My jaw drooped open looking like a fish to let the oxygen in and with my hands tingling, I see the 12 mile marker and the time reading 01:51:10. I had come too far, worked way too hard to get there, I was not going to let this opportunity slip from my grasp.

Foot after foot smashed down, not in anger but in will to succeed, to propelled me to the line. Crossing under the finishing arch, I let off a scream louder than a million Justin Beiber fans. I then scurried off away to collect my medal and goody bag to avoid the socially odd situation I had just created due to screeching at the top of my voice. Official Time: 1:58:46 and boy did it hurt to get there.

In all the pandemonium I forgot to warm down and as a result missed Monday night swim training and had to walk around for the next week like a thing that does not walk around very well.

Colchester Half Marathon

Fancy smart people in white lab coats will tell you that to preform at your best you must have your glycogen levels fully restored. In simple terms, do NOT go on the 43 mile club ride in gale force winds and rain the day before the event.

Whilst on the club ride I was having a conversation saying that I did not really mind what time I ran, I was just going to enjoy it. They said they could never just turn up and not want to race as hard as possible – mind you, they can run a 33 min 10k. It takes me longer to get out of bed in the morning.

As soon as I found a nice spot to wait at the start line my mind went to why I was there? why do I do this? Why did I cycle the day before? Because I love it – Sound of the crowd, the adulation of finishing, the concept of sharing a combined goal with many people. Damn the airy fairy just enjoy it 60s vibe, this is a race! And I am going sub 2 hours again.

The Colchester course unlike Silverstone, which is pancake flat, is like a roller-coaster – up and down and up and down again. Unlike Silverstone where I set off like a gazelle and ended like a wounded wildebeest, pacing would be the name of the game. After mile three I was positioned next to a lovely couple. We started chatting away but working hard running 9.00 to 9.10 minute miles. Mile 10 was a really steep dig and we helped motivate each other to get beyond it.

And here I was again at mile 12 and only a few minutes to get home, this time with power in the legs and two new friends by my side. As a trio we looked at each other and put in that last big effort. We cruised to the finishing straight and gave a little sprint at the end and we were home in 1.59.42.

The Truth of the Matter

I got it pretty wrong both time for different reasons but managed both times to reach a genuinely hard personal goal. This makes me very happy but at the same time sad. I reached a goal that I thought I would truly struggle to reach but I know I can go harder and faster.  I guess it is not time to retire the running shoes and go back to McDonald’s – 1.50.00 I have my eyes on you!

Side Notes

* True holy grail of running for no runners is sub 4 hour marathon – maybe next year(ish)
Massive thank you to Chris and Anna for the support at Mile 11 – was a huge boost
Silverstone & Colchetser – heart rate considerably lower at Colchester
Title is from Dickens: A Tale of Two Cities. readers have been saved from me describing Silvertone and Colchester as Charles Darney and Sydney Carton respectively from the book.

One Tired Little Mouse

“Two little mice fell in a bucket of cream. The first mouse quickly gave up and drowned. The second mouse, wouldn’t quit. He struggled so hard that eventually he churned that cream into butter and crawled out. Gentlemen, as of this moment, I am that second mouse.” – Catch Me If You Can – Frank Abagnale Sr. (Christopher Walken)

Fighting hard not to get dropped on the hills is what I signed up for, I knew that from the start. Completely bonking after feeling so strong and pulling everyone along was not what I had in mind. Swimming hard so not be be lapped in the pool is what is signed up for, I knew that from the start. Having to be breath every other stroke and not being able to pull myself out the pool without the stairs was not what I had in mind. And I knew running was going to hurt, even I am not that optimistic/naive/stupid.

Pedaling Squares

After my first cycling session with Born2Tri beginners and intimidate group, which was fun just chatting and riding, and I gained some experience riding in a group, I felt like I needed more of a challenge. 60 miles with the fast group – Challenge accepted! You what? the fast group, well since this early season, and very cold, the average speed was projected to be just above the 15mph realms. With no ego, I knew I could do that on my own and be completely fine.

Group riding is nothing like riding on your own, where you may feel great and want to push the pace the group is happy to coast, when you feel a little too hard pushed (every hill – I do love climbing, but complain like a little girl as I really am not very good at it) the group want to press on.

My “great” plan of just sticking in the wheels was not followed after the second mile. I just wanted to race around and lead all of the time. not sure why, to prove I was a strong rider or the fact I am petrified of knocking someone else off their bike do to my habit of just darting around on a bike. To cut a long story short for the first 50 miles I was no the front, dancing on the peddles up the hills and everything was great. Some of the initial 13 who started fell to the way side, got cold/tired and headed home early and one guy had the biggest blowout ever – the whole side of his trye wall was blew out and as a result needed is other half to pick him up as a new inner rub or a bit of rubber was not going to fix the issue.

It was rather stop start but we made it to lunch in Clare. After getting back on the bike I felt cold and knew something was amiss but I had eaten so thought i would be fine. I was not. 15 miles from the eventual  70 miles I got dropped hard on a climb and completely bonked – I was pedaling squares. This was embarrassing and sadly the worse was still to come when I rode myself into a pot hole/crater by the side of the road and went flying – no injuries or damage bar my ego. I have not fallen off my bike in years and I choose today to bonk and crash in front of the head coach and other important figures in the club. Good work son, good work indeed.

Pushed into the Water

Sometimes manners get in the way and thus I have not moved up a lane, lane explanation, in the swimming. Luckily I was pushed right in and moved up a lane. It was amazing but real hard work. After a pleasant warm up which included some backstroke, big fan of the backstroke, the same set was long, fast and intense. Length after Length at a higher pace then I have swam at and going further than ever before. I dug deep and my cadence raised and my breathing pattern shortened but I got through and felt like it was a mini victory.

The most important factor is that i turned up to the swimming session after completely humiliating myself, however a further humbling was only days way.

Time-Trial by Sundial

The tri-club put on a special training session at Redbridge Cycling Centre, which is a beautifully laid traffic free criterium circuit with a nasty hill (still complaining about hills). The first part of the session was split into three activities including hill sprints and down hill fast cornering.

The after cake and coffee break was a 10km time trial – simply 5 complete loops. I knew in advance I was not going to set the work alight as the day before I rang 8 miles are half marathon race pace and my legs were a tad weary, however I wanted some redemption after the kerfuffle that was last weeks bonk.

My body was in no mood for vengeance and I was so slow there was no need for a stopwatch but a sundial. I will churn on and this mouse will turn the metaphorical cream to butter and climb out of the metaphorical bucket.

Enough words: have a song – everything everything kemosabe.

Just Another Cliche

Disclaimer: Reading this will send you into a spiral of cliche hating rage – which ironically is the second most cliche thing in the world after blogging about the  phenomena that is the cliche.

And so without further gilding the lily and with no more ado, I give to you, this week’s cliche list:

• Signed up to my first triathlon on my birthday
• I am injured again/Body just hurts
• Work is getting in the way of training
• I blog about cliches attaching a terrible yet mildly amusing picture to depict said subject
• Just Blaze and Trap remixes
• I use a quote from “A Knights Tale” – the most cliche riddled film ever

First Triathlon

A common resason why people sign up to their first triathlon because they are getting a little older and want to get into shape. I really enjoy endurance sport before the idea of entering a trialthlon or other event popped into my conscience. Additionally, weight loss is never been about health  or performance but I have said in jest that it would allow me to wear certain clothing garments – Leather catsuit ala Justin Hawkins – with slightly less embarrassment.

Granted I did sign up to the Newmarket Triathlon on my birthday but I had always planned on sign up and they number on places with diminishing fast so I took the plunge. Ok, I signed up specially on my birthday as I thought it would be poignant moment on my long term journey. CLICHE

Just Hurts

I always feel broken and hurting but that is fine. What is not fine is pain. The knees are finally in better shape but the hip injury of mid last year is rearing it’s ugly head once more. The normal instance of re-injuring is not rehabbing in a timely fashion and pushing to hard and the notion of “a person must be broken down before they can be built stronger or some other rubbish you hear in military based movies.

I “genuinely” believe I re-injured myself through sitting awkwardly in the car for long periods. The most likely fault is generally just throwing my body around and not stretching enough. CLICHE

Work Train Battle

Tuesday – Evening Run, Wednesday – Morning Swim, Thursday – Evening Run. A meeting on Wednesday up north causes three days lost of training as have to travel Tuesday evening and then stay in a budget hotel with no pool/gym. Then home late and have to catch up on work so late home on Thursday. In reality these are just weak excuses. CLICHE

I will still make the club swim next Monday even though it does not finish till after 2200 and I have a 2 hour drive to my hotel that night. Over compensating in planning but most likley going to bale out in practice and just miss the session. CLICHE

On a different work train battle, the type that commuters take to work, why would a person, good looking girl mind, decide to sit directly opposite me, no table between, when the train carriage is practically empty? Rhetorical questions about things i have not power over. CLICHE

Obligatory Blog Cartoon

CLICHE

Music

I just can’t stop listening to Just Blaze X Baauer – Higher. Great track but just another Trap remix. CLICHE

Cliche

My head just hurt now. CLICHE

Social Cluelessness: Paris of the Pool

Without putting too much emphasis on it, I always know what I want to say or do and how to go about it. This does not mean that I always say what I mean (or ask the girl out of my dreams*), however this blog, as infrequent as it is, does have some sort of convoluted principles behind it based on truth, not lying to oneself and not missing the chapters where I screw up

Today’s issues are not truth or lying to myself but clarity of thought and what I want to say. I Googled “Writing therapy Quote” and was going to shove a pompous quote in at this point and pretend I was some sort of intellectual but really that would not be in the spirit of this blog. However the notion of throwing my ideas, and in this case my actions, down will help decipher the conundrum.

Undirected Ramblings

During the Born2Tri swimming session the whole club did a 400m time trail. As previously mentioned, Lane 8 is for Micheal Phelps and Lane 1 is for people with armbands. I am a strong lane 2 swimmer, so I was never going to challenge the top times. I did however want to destroy swimmers in my own lane. Not telling your closest competition you want to “smash” them is normal behavior, being outwardly competitive is against British social convention and is frowned upon, and rightfully so.

When mentioning times I would like to achieve before the start I said under 10 minutes is the aim and I would love it if  I could swim under 9. The rest of the swimmer in my lane gave a slightly dismissing look to my proclamation.  I guess this because they knew roughly what time we would all swim, around 9 minutes, and should target sub 8/830, that would be a good performance.  In my mind I wanted to swim sub 8 and genuinely thought I could do it. I could not, 8:27 (38th out of 50 overall & 2nd in my lane) and in hindsight I am rather happy with that since I completely forgot how to swim (just panicked as this was my first “official” club timed swim, where others would know my time).

I can play poker but what I could not hind was my disappointment when I got out the pool to see my time. I should have been elated to have gone sub 830 after I claimed sub 9 would be great. There are many ways to look at this situation:

• The others in the lane think I have no clue about swim timings – I can live with that too a degree, as I am new to all this lark. Other than Paris Hilton, nobody likes to be viewed as stupid though.
• I did not want to fail to live to my personal lofty and ambitious targets and look the fool – Better to miss the target then not release the arrow.
• I lied about what I wanted to achieve to hide my ambition -  This does not still well with me, as truthfulness is a really important to me (Sigmund, I had a happy childhood so drop it). The issue with this is that it could be perceived by the others in my lane that I was “pandering” and not wanting to embarrass them by saying how well I would do and then actually beating them when they are much more experienced swimmers and having the cheek to look disappointed.

In reality, I may talk a good game, I just did not want to set a target I did sound to beat. I wimped out on committing a target to the world and being held accountable.  I may have avoided embarrassing myself by being overconfident and brash but instead insulted the others in my lane. Not a ideal thing to do when you are trying to integrate yourself in a new community. And longer term, want to win club newcomer of the year (committed that to the world).

The flip-side to all this is that I am massively over thinking this (and being rather self-involved) and my fellow swimmers just think I am little clueless.

*In this case, I know I should just ask her out instead of trying to fashion chance encounters, sending sporadic text messages and gushing over, even though they are awesome, their achievements and general being.

Injury Mind Games #TheReturn

That does not hurt. That does not hurt? That does not hurt! oh the simple joys of putting one foot in front of another over and over again are back. I can run again, painfully slowly mind.

Psychologically/Physiologically

For what the physio described as a “minor” cartilage tear in the knee felt/sounded more like a jackhammer going to work on a piano.  From not be able to walk to taking that first stride in anger has been a 2 month period of torture – both physiologically and physiologically.

Recently Adidas have been running an adverting campaign for #TheReturn. This is in reference to the still currently pending return of Derrick Rose back to the game after he blow out with ACL. I mention this because, a guy universally lauded for his mental toughness, broke down into tears during the launch of his signature basketball shoes when shown clips for his ongoing journey battle for fitness . I am not a world class sportsman, I am never going to earn millions (not from playing sport anyway), I am not going to have fans screaming my name (I play rhythm guitar badly) but I share not being able to do what I love. You can’t help the way you feel and act at times, in my case I was a nightmare to live with and described as the world’s worst patient, but on a personal level I have to grow as a person so not to be such a pain in the backside.

There was a lot of pain in my knee, which was only enhanced by what can only be described as medieval punishment exercises from the physio. Getting through the exercises was the easy bit for me personally as I knew it would make my knee stronger. The hard part  I thought during recovery was not going out and testing the knee. In reality, it was once I truly believed I was ready was actually taking that first stride.

Standing at the front door I was ready – trainers on, compression tights on (feeling rather tight after 2 months sat on the couch) and Ipod with the latest pop songs. No. What? I just could not face taking that first step. This was so odd and I still not sure what was going through my mind. I wanted to run so bad for weeks.

24 hours later and I was up and running pain free with the biggest smile one my face until about 15 minutes in having covered no more than a mile and needing to walk before I collapse.

In conclusion  and following a myriad of convoluted waffle – Knee is better, I am very slow, need to be a batter patient, life is great again.

A Game Changer

Absolutely buzzing right now. I can’t stop thinking about how amazing my first club swimming session was last night. Thank you must go  to Born2Tri triathlon club for welcoming me. In a hyped up state returning home from the session, even though it was 2300 by this point, I set my alarm ready for an early wake up to go to the local pool. Waking up was not the issue this morning, just the small matter of my legs made of lead.

Game Changer

As with board games, such as Mouse Trap,  setting up is not the particularly fun park but the playing and the end result is why you do it. In the swim, bike, run game, at this perceived junction in my athletic career I would describe the swim as purely the set up, the thing you just have to get through before the fun starts.

The actual swimming training was hard. After speaking to the coach, I was asked to join lane two or three. One being the slowest and eight being where Michael Phelps hangs out. I joined lane two, no need to be over confident in ones own ability and then drown. The first half hour was a dream, feeling strong and that I was able to comfortably hold my own. However the moment we entered the second half of the session I was clinging on the feet of the person in front. I will getting dropped quicker than Mark Cavendish when the gradient starts rising.

Having explained that swimming is not a strongly favored actively, my frenzied state of wanting to swim again the next day was a shock to the system. In reality, it is easy to know why I was psyched up. I was for that single hour surrounded by people who were inspiring, committed, focused or any other sporting cliché adjectives.  I was where I wanted to be.

Where I really want to be is in lane eight. Do I have the physical gifts and the technique? no, not today. Do I believe I could get through? yes, through hard work and determination. Am I obnoxious enough to believe I will do it thing year? Most certainly not or even the year after or even the year after that, but you have to have goals and targets. The first target is to feel strong for the whole hour and work from there.

So, joining a club is a game changer. Now is the time to roll the dice ( still running with the board game metaphor).

On a completely off topic point, Foals new track, Inhaler, is amazing.

Red Wine, Injury, and Blogging Nightmare Averted

Technically it was only the blogging nightmare that was averted, I am still injured from my challenge and this is a reconstruction of the remains from that night.

Blogging after Wine ≠ Billions, Blogging after Wine = Social Change? 

To get a little philosophical, the internet has opened up the world and thus allows anyone to write “anything” and for anyone to read it. Given this freedom to expel  “wisdom” to the world, I should really not abuse this by blogging after a bottle and a half of wine. Mind you, it could lead to billions as with a certain Mr Zuckerberg. My inane rambling however will not lead to massive social change.

I curse you the running god, what have I done to be struck down in my prime? Do you not understand fairness? Punish the evil one who I run past in the opposite direction every morning and does not even nod his head to acknowledge existence.

Even though my mind may have been saturated with wine and in the same breath of blaming a “running god” for my misfortune, I did make some social commentary on running etiquette.

Cycling is my first love and never have someone riding in the opposite direct ever not raise a hand or not said hello. It is one of my favorite things about cycling, the joint camaraderie whether you are riding a top of the range aero-bike road bike or a sensible hybrid, all are included.

Where this story takes interesting twist is that the same guy who shares completely through me with a certain level of disdain was out on his bike. I was on my overpriced Italian carbon road bike and he was riding some bicycle shape object ( A rather snobbish comment, I know but is was a terrible supermarket mountain bike), and I raised my hand and said good morning, as is customary, and this guy responded with a hello back.

Now that is just odd. It is not like it he could not recognize me due to having my helmet on. Why on earth would he respond whilst on a bike and not on feet? Am I in the wrong, should you not acknowledge a fellow runner?

Whatever the answer is, right or wrong to acknowledge a fellow runner, hopefully my drink blogging will trigger social change and etiquette will dictate a friendly nod of camaraderie.

Light through Blurry Eyes

After seeing the knee specialist for the first time yesterday there seems to be some positive news. There is damage to the articular cartilage but it should mend with rest. I have been given some exercises to help strengthen my quads as the muscles are withering already.

So I should be ready to fully rehab in January, train in February and do the Adidas Half Marathon on 3rd March – Not sure I mentioned that before……