Send in the Clowns - BAC 10K Challenge

jcsmum wrote: »

Amazing running! By the way I was the steward eyeballing you on Nassau Street - I kept saying to myself 'I know that guy, where do I know him from'. It was only after you zoomed (literally) past, that I figured it out. The brain wasn't operating well, you'd think I was running a marathon or something! :rolleyes::)

Thanks for all the support! It was great having so many Boardsies down that final stretch, as there was nowhere to hide and slow down!

Dublin? Fnck Dublin! Those were the words I imparted, as we sat supping pints in the Coal Hole, just three hours after finishing London marathon, when Pronator suggested that we should have a pop at the Dublin marathon. After three months of hard graft, I just couldn't see my way through another couple of thousand miles of training. But pint by pint, my resolve weakened, and by around pint number 10, I had signed up, fully convinced that the only thing that lay between me and a 2:35 marathon, was a mere six months of training (and a couple more pints). A couple of months of having the craic (aka enjoying my running) and I was back into it, with just a brief foray in Switzerland for an Alpine mountain marathon.

I knew right from the start, that it was a bad idea. Repeating the exact same training plan and hoping for a different outcome, is like baking a cake with the same ingredients and recipe and expecting it to taste better the second time around. I managed PBs at several distances, including 10k, half-marathon and 'kilomarathon', but all were distances I had not competed in before London. I had no marker, but for the JD training sessions. I was running them slightly faster than I had in the build-up for London, but not fast enough that it would account for any kind of considerable improvement on paper. Still, I held fast to my target. I had no particular time in mind, but rather a target pace - I wanted to run at six minute mile pace. No other reason than it sounded cool. I had one other objective, borne of uncertainty from my last marathon in London. I had run with KielyUnusual from start to finish and took a huge amount of strength from running with him, particularly over the final 8 miles of the course, where dogged determination kept me alongside him to the finish line. Could I have run the same time that day on my own? Only one way to find out.

I realized on Sunday evening, that I didn’t really have a target strategy.. I hadn’t given it much thought. I had met, run and raced with several runners who I knew would be targeting a similar pace. I figured TRR would be close, but may have been targeting a faster pace, based on some recent strong performances over 10k and the Kilomarathon. Ronnie085 and I had followed the same training plan and ran very similar paces, though his tune-up races had been better than mine. Then there was Paddy O’T from Mayo. We’d run much of the Athlone Half marathon together. Last year he’d passed me strongly in Dublin and taken a few minutes off of me, but if I met him during the race, he’d be another runner to work the windy stretches of the course with.

While I hadn’t slept properly for days, the cold I had picked up over the weekend still had not made it’s way to my chest/lungs (the normal route) so I was happy to give the race my best shot. No strategy, no pace bands, just my watch, five gels tucked into my shorts some runners and a singlet. The usual runner’s awe, as I warmed up around the men and women who would ultimately go on to win the race, and some chats with friends old and new, which kept the mood light. Joining the top of the field, I took a glance at my heart rate, which was a chilled 65 bpm.

Miles 0-5: With a little more confidence this year, I lined up around three rows back from the start, and had a cracking view of the proceedings, until the race kicked off. We wound our way around the city streets, finding our feet and our paces, and by the time we had hit Trinity, I’d spotted Ronnie085. We ran alongside the MacCambridge/Crossan duo with TRR slightly ahead, before pushing on slightly, as the women’s race seemed to be starting rather conservatively. The first few miles passed without incident as we maneuvered between groups, with TRR taking the lead and myself and Ronnie a little further back. Things sadly went pear-shaped as we hit Phoenix Park, as Ronnie mentioned that he was having stomach issues. By the time we’d hit the zoo, I couldn’t see him anywhere. I was gutted for him. If there had been a Boards year-book, under his picture, the caption would have read ‘most likely to break 2:40’. As we hit the five mile mark on Chesterfield Avenue, I was feeling pretty comfortable. The pace was a little faster than I would have liked, but it felt pretty manageable. Garmin Pace: 5:56, 6:02, 5:59, 5:51, 5:44.

Miles 6-10:
I had tucked in behind a group to avoid the head-wind along Chesterfield Avenue and was happy to remain there. TRR by contrast seemed to be leading the group, without taking his turn in the shelter from the wind. We turned down Furze Road, and I figured my twist was overdue, so I pushed beyond the group and held the front spot for a stretch. I love this part of the course. It’s an opportunity to catch your breath after the first six miles, enjoy the best scenery that the park has to offer, and prepare yourself mentally for what lies ahead. TRR had joined me and we chatted easily, occasionally glancing at the other runners around us, as we took advantage of the donwnhill, to shave off some seconds. On paper, they looked like very fast miles (5:42 and 5:39), but on the gentle downhill, my heart rate was lower than it was at any other point in the race (~151bpm). There were a number of runners around us from St Finbars AC, and they all looked really strong and comfortable. I’d hazard a guess that these lads all train as a group, as they all ran the same splits and finished pretty close together. In any case, as we exited the park, the Finbar’s lads pushed on ahead of us and continued at the same pace. I had to back off as I knew maintaining that pace would mean a premature end to my race ambitions. TRR too had decided to back off the pace of the St Finbar’s lads, but I reckon as a natural racer with more speed he’s not as good at slowing down as me! I couldn’t afford to be left in no-man’s land, so had little choice but to stick with the slightly faster pace, as we wound our way around South Circular Road. Garmin splits: 5:52, 5:51, 5:42, 5:39, 5:50).

Miles 11-15:
I was checking splits periodically against the course’s mile markers (which were way off the Garmin splits), and by the 10 mile mark, we were around a minute up on my target (so around 59 minutes for the first 10 miles), but in hindsight, with the tough exposed Crumlin stretch ahead of us, this wasn’t necessarily a bad strategy. A gap had opened both ahead and behind us, so it was largely just TRR and myself. More exactly, as we hit the windy section and slight drag of Crumlin Road, it was TRR a metre in front while I slip-streamed in his wake. On occasion, I tried to take my turn by pushing past him and take the lead position, but every time I did, he’d catch me and run alongside. There seemed to be little point in both of us taking the brunt of that wind, so more often than not, I let him do the hard work. He explained his reasoning in the pub to me afterwards (something to do with walls, and getting beaten up a lot as a child; but I’ll be honest, I was drinking at the time, and was more concerned about whether he was going to buy his round or not). We hit the half-way point without too much fanfare (other than a near tragic incident involving some red and white tape getting tangled around TRRs feet), around 45 seconds ahead of plan. Eventually we turned off at Walkinstown, and finally got some respite from the wind. We passed a single Kilkenny runner over this section, but otherwise it was just a case of plugging away. I had determined that the worst of the wind was over, but no sooner than I had shared my opinion, we were back into a windy stretch, which thankfully only lasted for a brief spell. Garmin splits: 5:50, 6:04, 6:14, 6:08, 5:55.

Miles 16-20:
I don’t remember much about the next few miles, other than the constant enthusiastic shouts of ‘Dave’, or ‘Tallaght’ - perhaps an advance warning for the local residents that trouble lay amongst them. Needless to say, where TRR ran I followed, and the shouts got more frequent as we ran around Terenure and Rathfarnham. When finally we hit Milltown, I was much relieved, as I knew the down-hill would provide a much needed break. Surprisingly, we caught a couple of runners at this point and pushed on. As we hit a water-station, I grabbed a bottle, looked around and TRR was gone. The dynamic of the race changed completely. Where had he gone? Why had he stopped? Cramp? Bathroom break? Dropped a gel? I didn’t know, but there was little I could do about it, so I pressed on, with a niggling doubt that if TRR was having problems on the course, my own destruction would surely follow.

I was glad that Keith and I had visited this section the week before the race. It made a massive difference to have familiar landmarks. As I hit the short hill in Milltown, I knew it was only momentary. I knew where the proper hill kicked in, and I knew exactly how short it was. I passed another runner just by taking the racing line past Clonskeagh Hospital. The climb started, but I could see another runner or two ahead, so just resolved to keep plugging away as best I could. I stopped thinking about splits and PBs, goals and times, and slipped into survival mode. I knew once I got to the top of the hill, I was in my home stretch - my roads, my territory, I just needed to get to the top of the hill. I passed another runner who was in a dark place and shared my water with him, trying to drum up some interest in joining forces, but he was spent. I in turn was passed by a very strong runner from Raheny, who flew up the hill, and what must have been a pretty staggering negative split. Garmin splits: 6:05, 5:56, 5:54, 6:04, 6:16.

Miles 21-Finish:
The climb up Roebuck Road was really tough, but I spotted my marker up ahead; I knew exactly where the top of the hill was, and that helped massively. I passed the ‘Lucozade Wall of Shame’ or whatever it was called, designed purely to embarrass those who were forced to walk sections of the hill, and before I knew it, was looking down Fosters Avenue. Suddenly, I was smacked by a wave of emotion, and knew I was teetering on the brink of crashing. I had to get some sugar into the system and had to do it fast. I grabbed some caffeinated jelly beans that I’d inadvertently stuffed into a pocket before the race, but the idea of trying to stuff food into my mouth while running was horrifically off-putting. I grabbed a bottle of Lucozade and started to take big mouthfuls, knowing that If I didn’t get something into the system, my race would come to a crashing halt. Lots of friendly familiar faces as I headed down Fosters Avenue, as I pretended to look stronger than I felt. I got around the corner onto the N11, and was glad to get a break from the cheering crowds. The relief was only momentary as the wind hit me for the first time on this homeward stretch. How could we be running into a head-wind when we have faced it in the opposite direction on the Crumlin Road? It defied logic, but was there nonetheless. Crossed the N11 at the UCD flyover, and my pain must have been plain to see, as I got some really heartfelt words of encouragement, as I neared RTE.

Another brief break from the wind down Nutley Lane and some more fantastic encouragement, but at this point, I started to feel some pain in my right side. It was the same side stitch that had driven me to stop just 150m from the finishing gantry on my first sub 60 ten mile attempt (60:02). I dug my fingers in under my ribs and tried to relieve the pressure, massage the area; doing anything to provide some relief from the growing pain. It all seemed futile as the pain grew. I hit Merrion Road and the wind was there again. I felt strong, but between the wind and the pain I was slowing down. I was passed by a second runner and would love to have dug-in, but all I could do was try to lift my rib cage. Massively frustrating. As I turned down Shelbourne Road, all I could do was hold my side. Again and again, the pain arrived and subsided and each time it forced me to slow down. I was getting close to the finish and I was fit to run faster, but was hit with waves of sharp pain. Now I was running 5:45/mile. Now 7 min/mile. 30 seconds later, back on pace, then off pace. I was lurching my way to the finish line. Garmin splits: 6:11, 5:56, 6:03, 6:13, 6:13, 6:12.

As I rounded Trinity, the waves of noise were unbelievable. Lots of familiar faces shouting encouragement, as I made as much progress as I could over the last 800m. With around 400m to go, I took a look at the watch, assuming that all was lost. 02:37:xx. I still had time to clock a PB. I picked up the pace as much as I could. 150m to go, I could see the clock. 2:38:05. I still had time. Picked it up as much as I could. There were hundreds of photographers at the finish line, all of them with their cameras pointed at me. And a finishing tape… Why was there a finishing tape?! I swung to the right to avoid the tape, and heard the compére announce that the first lady was arriving home. Final stretch according to Garmin: 5:45/mile. Hard Worker was at the finish line, and asked me how I'd done. It was only then I thought to check my watch and confirm something like a 20 second PB.

The afterthought:
I stumbled away. I knew I should have been happy. A PB is a pb, and as I recited many times in the pub afterwards, I’ve celebrated a one second marathon PB before. I didn’t know it at the time, but I’d finished 40th, taken the 3rd M40 spot, and 31st in the National marathon, all results I’m absolutely delighted with. But something kept nagging at me: the massive frustration I had felt at not being able to run faster over the last few miles. It had been everything I had trained for, for the last few months. 12-15 hours per week of running and core/climbing, all the sacrifice, all swept away over those last couple of miles. The problem wasn’t my time. I was well happy to run another sub 2:40 marathon and even record a minor PB. But, how could I possibly invest all of the hours, miles and commitment again, if it was all just for another 19 seconds? I wasn’t so much disappointed about the race I had just run, but rather how much harder I had just made it for myself for my next shot at the marathon.

I’m in a much better place now. The results that unfolded over the subsequent 24 hours gave me a massive lift. I’ve had some time to chill, enjoy some beers with mates and reflect. I know what I need to do. I’m going to take the break from marathoning that I should have taken after London. I’m going back to shorter distances (5k - 15k), to improve my speed for the next few months. When I’m satisfied that I’m faster, then I’ll think about a marathon again (hopefully this time next year). I reckon that breaking 2:35 is within my range, if I can build the necessary speed, but for now, recovery…. and more beer..

Summary: 26.2 miles in 2:38:31, @6:03mile, HR=155

Huayra wrote: »

That was some race report. Well done. With no nasty wind, stitches, and on a flat course, I know you could get to the low 2:30s. Great idea focusing on short stuff for a while before the next attempt.

Thanks for the sentiment, but I don't really think so. Not in my current form. All of my training was based on achieving 6 minute mile, which equates to around a 2:37:00 type result, at best. It's pretty rare when you get gains for free (as I did in London, when I ran a minute faster than my target). One of the problems with this round of training, is that there was no wriggle room. I typically spout out the same advice, that to break three hours, you need to train for 2:55. By training for 2:37 (or thereabouts) there was no wriggle room for wind, stitches or any other delays. I reckon running the Jack Daniels A plan on max 100mpw leaves you really strong, and potentially better than corresponding vdot would suggest, but unless you change one of the fundamental underlying variables (e.g. speed), you won't see corresponding changes.