Send in the Clowns - BAC 10K Challenge

ThebitterLemon

Not bad for an auld lad.

Welcome aboard the OAP bus

TbL

RayCun

Great to see you back running well.

There's life in that old antelope yet!

UM1

watch ur back...Tony Bren is on the comeback trail

annapr

Great report, philosophical as ever... hope the rest of the Rotterdam training goes well for you.

dna_leri

Krusty_Clown wrote: »

After a couple of miles of warm-up, I rued the fact that I didn't have similar dynamic stretching warm-up routines to the lads, as all I had in my repertoire was running in straight lines, with a bit of 'hugging the knees to the chest'. Warm-up routine needs a lot of work to be credible.
.

I'd recommend lunge matrix and leg swings which have the dual purpose of helping warm up and looking credible. Best to take at least once everyday before running.
https://youtu.be/GJo7_MiRLkU

davedanon

Krusty_Clown wrote: »

Running is one of those great anomalies. As a distance runner, you can head out to a 10 mile race with a good reputation, finish 4th out of 1,200 runners just 15 seconds off of your PB, and pick up enough prize money to take the family out for some rock climbing and some cheap eats. A good day out. You don't go out looking for prize money or 4th place (who would?!), but rather, you start the race hoping to run the distance faster than you've ever covered the distance before, looking for a sign that you've made progress and are in good shape for your marathon. You set out at target pace, for various reasons, things don't pan out the way you want them to, but you finish well, knowing that you've run a decent race and at the very least, you've earned yourself a hell of a training stimulus. You go home with the body and the ego intact. It's safe. There's very little at risk. If you don't hit your PB, you can draw on a handful of reasons to justify it. You run a PB? Greatness awaits! Finish in the top-10? Yeah, it was always pretty much going to happen, and you knew that before you headed to the race, looking at the previous year's results. As 'above average' distance runners, it's easy enough to pick your battles, and maintain that indestructible resolve. In the words of Lego Batman... I.... Am.....Awesome....

And then you go to Armagh... If you've ever been to a graded meet, you'll know the feeling. It takes balls to come last. Coming first isn't easy, but if you don't come first, you'll still finish on the podium, or somewhere close. You face disappointment. Facing ridicule? That takes balls.

This was my second visit to Armagh's International 5k, having run the same race last year. In 2016, I walked away with a sense of pride that had nothing to do with my finish time (15:52); my 107th place ranking; or the fact that I was the only runner old enough to have grandchildren (old enough to father most of the runners). I was proud of myself for being in the mix - casting my fears aside and going for it. There are no prizes in Armagh for being a decent runner for your age and that's part of the attraction. There's a start line and a finish line. You are measured by how long it takes you to get from the start line to the finish line.

And so I found myself back again this year, this time with a couple of running buddies in tow.. Neil, a runner who is improving in leaps and bounds and was training for a sub 15, and Luke - looking to pop his Armagh cherry and similarly aiming for a time close to his PB, knowing that like me, we'd be at the back of the field.

By the time we arrived in Armagh, I was feeling a bit knackered from the drive, but thankfully parking was trouble-free, and race logistics were sorted in less than 20 minutes. After a couple of miles of warm-up, I rued the fact that I didn't have similar dynamic stretching warm-up routines to the lads, as all I had in my repertoire was running in straight lines, with a bit of 'hugging the knees to the chest'. Warm-up routine needs a lot of work to be credible.

The clock ticked off 8:05pm and with an 8:20pm start we headed to the Mall. Arriving at the start line, the mind is blown. Surrounded by runners who are wearing national vests, hoping for national spots or hoping to keep or win sponsors, you can't help but feel like that ageing antelope at the back of the pack - the one that immediately gets picked off by the equally ageing leopard. I do some strides, just to pretend that I can run fast. Nobody's looking at me funny. Maybe if I keep doing fast strides, they won't notice that I'm a little bit wrinkly around the edges. It seems to be working. Some whistles are blown to mark the beginning of the terror. We assemble. Firmly at the back. I'm never really confident enough to toe a starting line, but I'm right here at the back with Luke, still feeling nervous, remarking on the Great Britain vests just in front of us. I should be nervous, but remembering last year's race, I had an idea of how the race would play out. Start fast; settle in; hurt a pile more with every lap, and finally arrive at the last lap, heart bursting from my chest, seconds ticking down on the clock.

The gun fired (was there a gun?) and immediately we surge until the abrupt slow-down - the kind you only expect in one of those road races with a 90 degree bend after 200m. Soon, we're moving again though, and hurtling to the only brief climb on the 1,030m loop. I think it's 4.7 laps, but I'm not entirely sure. I don't think it really matters. Like last year, the plan is to slot in, run fast, and keep running faster until the running stops, or something stops me from running faster. Alarmingly, I find myself behind a group of runners who are allowing a gap to form to the next set of runners. It's way too early for me to be pushing the pace, but I know that this group ain't right and my race is already dusted if I don't push on. I start to work my way past a couple of runners, and a bystander is calling splits. "3:10" - as I go past. I realize at this point that I have absolutely no splits plan. I remember targeting 3:10 some time ago, knowing that it's probably around a 15:50 finish, and figured that it sounded about spot on. Still feeling good, headed up the second climb at the back-end of the mall. It's been a soggy mucky day and the runners ahead are kicking up the muck from the road. Soon, I'm tasting a mixture of road-dirt and petroleum, and we all look like we're running cross country.

"6:20", he shouts out,and I'm amazed that you can simply run without watches or any kind of guidance, and still run the next kilometer exactly as fast as you ran the previous kilometer. I'm still feeling good - breathing is heavy, but I'm making up a couple of spots. There's no racing happening at this end of the field - it's just maintaining the pace and passing the occasional runner who, for various reasons has self combusted, and slinks away quietly, between the barriers into post-race oblivion. "9:32". I have no frickin' idea what time I'll end up with, and my brain can't think, but it sounds like it should be sub 16. I'm making up a few more places, consciously watching for those ahead who are slowing, and gliding past. I love the climb. I know that after the brief climb, we go down, so the climb means respite. I'm not fast, but I recover incredibly quick, so this kind of course with occasional downhills suits me well.

I'm suffering now, and miss the shout-out from the guy calling the splits. Doesn't matter. My brain has switched from counting up, to counting down. We're past the half-way point (I'm a glass half full kind of runner). Two laps left. That's like an incredibly hard lap, and then the final lap, where you get to give it everything. I'm good at survival - I've been doing it for a long time. The penultimate lap is really tough, but I'm making up places - more of an inconvenience, as everyone is running the shortest possible route, but at some primeval level, passing others is still good. We head down past the clock for the last time and I know I can survive one last kilometer, without bleeding too much time. I remember looking at the clock and thinking that I had to run a 3:10km to break 16 minutes, so I was up against it. Thankfully, there was no let up in the runners around me and we were all forging our way to the finish. I ran strongly up the final climb, heart pounding in my temples knowing - it was the last climb, and hit the straight for the last time.

This was it.. The last straight. It's where you can gain or lose a single second from your PB. We were all hurting towards the finish line. Nothing to be gained or lost.. Nobody's racing now - we're just giving everything we have to get to the finish line as quickly as possible. One runner goes past at a massive clip - and you think briefly that there's someone who isn't going to run to their potential. I see the clock. 15:45.. I'm going to be outside the PB. I have only seconds to resurrect my race.. I push, push, push until I can push no more, and cross the finish line in 15:51. One second faster than last year. Mixed emotions. Glad to have run faster than last year, but hoped to run a few seconds faster.

Seconds... That's the difference between a really positive frame of mind and a really negative one. Thankfully I've fallen one second on the right side of Damocle's sword on this occasion and briefly, I walk away happy with a decent performance. I'd hoped to run quicker, but I could have run slower. The distance runner mentality wins again. Neil has run 14:58. I'm delighted for him. I knew he could run that time in Armagh - but you still need the racing gods to line-up for you on the night and I'm glad to see that he had to suffer for it - cos times like that just shouldn't come easy! Suddenly though, I'm feeling my mortality. I've trained and raced with Neil over the last few years, but now he's run a time where the chasm is just too great to even contemplate following him down that path. The disquiet isn't about sizing yourself up against your training partners (which you inevitably do), but rather about coming to terms with the realization that somewhere in the distance, there is a horizon.

But for right now, it's just past 2am and the horizon won't be visible for a few hours. Tomorrow is another training day, so I get a few hours of sleep before I lace up the runners and take another step towards Rotterdam.
Summary: 5km in 15:51, for 148th place.

Fantastic report, and admirable humility. But you can still **** the **** off, because we all know how good you are, curse you.

Abhainn

Well that's the "Race Report of the Year" and it only Feb.

Itziger

davedanon wrote: »

Krusty_Clown wrote: »

Running is one of those great anomalies.  As a distance runner, you can head out to a 10 mile race with a good reputation, finish 4th out of 1,200 runners just 15 seconds off of your PB, and pick up enough prize money to take the family out for some rock climbing and some cheap eats.  A good day out.  You don't go out looking for prize money or 4th place (who would?!), but rather, you start the race hoping to run the distance faster than you've ever covered the distance before, looking for a sign that you've made progress and are in good shape for your marathon.  You set out at target pace, for various reasons, things don't pan out the way you want them to, but you finish well, knowing that you've run a decent race and at the very least, you've earned yourself a hell of a training stimulus.  You go home with the body and the ego intact.  It's safe.  There's very little at risk.  If you don't hit your PB, you can draw on a handful of reasons to justify it. You run a PB?  Greatness awaits! Finish in the top-10?  Yeah, it was always pretty much going to happen, and you knew that before you headed to the race, looking at the previous year's results.  As 'above average' distance runners, it's easy enough to pick your battles, and maintain that indestructible resolve.  In the words of Lego Batman...  I.... Am.....Awesome....

And then you go to Armagh... If you've ever been to a graded meet, you'll know the feeling.  It takes balls to come last.  Coming first isn't easy, but if you don't come first, you'll still finish on the podium, or somewhere close. You face disappointment. Facing ridicule? That takes balls.

This was my second visit to Armagh's International 5k, having run the same race last year.  In 2016, I walked away with a sense of pride that had nothing to do with my finish time (15:52); my 107th place ranking; or the fact that I was the only runner old enough to have grandchildren (old enough to father most of the runners). I was proud of myself for being in the mix - casting my fears aside and going for it.  There are no prizes in Armagh for being a decent runner for your age and that's part of the attraction.  There's a start line and a finish line.  You are measured by how long it takes you to get from the start line to the finish line.

And so I found myself back again this year, this time with a couple of running buddies in tow.. Neil, a runner who is improving in leaps and bounds and was training for a sub 15, and Luke - looking to pop his Armagh cherry and similarly aiming for a time close to his PB, knowing that like me, we'd be at the back of the field.

By the time we arrived in Armagh, I was feeling a bit knackered from the drive, but thankfully parking was trouble-free, and race logistics were sorted in less than 20 minutes. After a couple of miles of warm-up, I rued the fact that I didn't have similar dynamic stretching warm-up routines to the lads, as all I had in my repertoire was running in straight lines, with a bit of 'hugging the knees to the chest'.  Warm-up routine needs a lot of work to be credible.

The clock ticked off 8:05pm and with an 8:20pm start we headed to the Mall.  Arriving at the start line, the mind is blown.  Surrounded by runners who are wearing national vests, hoping for national spots or hoping to keep or win sponsors, you can't help but feel like that ageing antelope at the back of the pack - the one that immediately gets picked off by the equally ageing leopard. I do some strides, just to pretend that I can run fast.  Nobody's looking at me funny.  Maybe if I keep doing fast strides, they won't notice that I'm a little bit wrinkly around the edges. It seems to be working.  Some whistles are blown to mark the beginning of the terror. We assemble.  Firmly at the back.  I'm never really confident enough to toe a starting line, but I'm right here at the back with Luke, still feeling nervous, remarking on the Great Britain vests just in front of us.  I should be nervous, but remembering last year's race, I had an idea of how the race would play out.  Start fast; settle in; hurt a pile more with every lap, and finally arrive at the last lap, heart bursting from my chest, seconds ticking down on the clock.

The gun fired (was there a gun?) and immediately we surge until the abrupt slow-down - the kind you only expect in one of those road races with a 90 degree bend after 200m.  Soon, we're moving again though, and hurtling to the only brief climb on the 1,030m loop.  I think it's 4.7 laps, but I'm not entirely sure.  I don't think it really matters.  Like last year, the plan is to slot in, run fast, and keep running faster until the running stops, or something stops me from running faster. Alarmingly, I find myself behind a group of runners who are allowing a gap to form to the next set of runners.  It's way too early for me to be pushing the pace, but I know that this group ain't right and my race is already dusted if I don't push on.  I start to work my way past a couple of runners, and a bystander is calling splits.  "3:10" - as I go past.  I realize at this point that I have absolutely no splits plan.  I remember targeting 3:10 some time ago, knowing that it's probably around a 15:50 finish, and figured that it sounded about spot on.  Still feeling good, headed up the second climb at the back-end of the mall.  It's been a soggy mucky day and the runners ahead are kicking up the muck from the road.  Soon, I'm tasting a mixture of road-dirt and petroleum, and we all look like we're running cross country.

"6:20", he shouts out,and I'm amazed that you can simply run without watches or any kind of guidance, and still run the next kilometer exactly as fast as you ran the previous kilometer.  I'm still feeling good - breathing is heavy, but I'm making up a couple of spots.  There's no racing happening at this end of the field - it's just maintaining the pace and passing the occasional runner who, for various reasons has self combusted, and slinks away quietly, between the barriers into post-race oblivion. "9:32".  I have no frickin' idea what time I'll end up with, and my brain can't think, but it sounds like it should be sub 16.  I'm making up a few more places, consciously watching for those ahead who are slowing, and gliding past.  I love the climb.  I know that after the brief climb, we go down, so the climb means respite.  I'm not fast, but I recover incredibly quick, so this kind of course with occasional downhills suits me well.

I'm suffering now, and miss the shout-out from the guy calling the splits.  Doesn't matter.  My brain has switched from counting up, to counting down.  We're past the half-way point (I'm a glass half full kind of runner). Two laps left.  That's like an incredibly hard lap, and then the final lap, where you get to give it everything.  I'm good at survival - I've been doing it for a long time.  The penultimate lap is really tough, but I'm making up places - more of an inconvenience, as everyone is running the shortest possible route, but at some primeval level, passing others is still good.  We head down past the clock for the last time and I know I can survive one last kilometer, without bleeding too much time.  I remember looking at the clock and thinking that I had to run a 3:10km to break 16 minutes, so I was up against it.  Thankfully, there was no let up in the runners around me and we were all forging our way to the finish.  I ran strongly up the final climb, heart pounding in my temples knowing - it was the last climb, and hit the straight for the last time.  

This was it.. The last straight.  It's where you can gain or lose a single second from your PB.  We were all hurting towards the finish line.  Nothing to be gained or lost..  Nobody's racing now - we're just giving everything we have to get to the finish line as quickly as possible.  One runner goes past at a massive clip - and you think briefly that there's someone who isn't going to run to their potential.  I see the clock.  15:45.. I'm going to be outside the PB.  I have only seconds to resurrect my race..  I push, push, push until I can push no more, and cross the finish line in 15:51.  One second faster than last year.  Mixed emotions.  Glad to have run faster than last year, but hoped to run a few seconds faster.

Seconds... That's the difference between a really positive frame of mind and a really negative one.  Thankfully I've fallen one second on the right side of Damocle's sword on this occasion and briefly, I walk away happy with a decent performance.  I'd hoped to run quicker, but I could have run slower.  The distance runner mentality wins again.  Neil has run 14:58.  I'm delighted for him.  I knew he could run that time in Armagh - but you still need the racing gods to line-up for you on the night and I'm glad to see that he had to suffer for it - cos times like that just shouldn't come easy!  Suddenly though, I'm feeling my mortality.  I've trained and raced with Neil over the last few years, but now he's run a time where the chasm is just too great to even contemplate following him down that path.  The disquiet isn't about sizing yourself up against your training partners (which you inevitably do), but rather about coming to terms with the realization that somewhere in the distance, there is a horizon.

But for right now, it's just past 2am and the horizon won't be visible for a few hours.  Tomorrow is another training day, so I get a few hours of sleep before I lace up the runners and take another step towards Rotterdam.
Summary: 5km in 15:51, for 148th place.

Fantastic report, and admirable humility. But you can still **** the **** off, because we all know how good you are, curse you.

To rub salt in to the wound, he described himself as old and fat on Strava. Mate, you want old and fat, I'll trump you in both stakes AND I'd stagger in 2 minutes behind you in the race.

Krusty_Clown

dna_leri wrote: »

I'd recommend lunge matrix and leg swings which have the dual purpose of helping warm up and looking credible. Best to take at least once everyday before running.
https://youtu.be/GJo7_MiRLkU

Thanks. The lunge Matrix looks very credible indeed and if nothing else, will fill that dead-zone, between the warm-up and the racing bit. The leg-swinging was already in my repertoire, just need to actually do them!

MisterDrak

After reading that race report, I want to be come a better man, writer, runner !

Well done Krusty...

denis b

Superb and very inspiring personal account (its more than a report) Krusty. Lucky that we live on a sphere and the horizon is never reached. Hope you get what you want from Rotterdam. I think that you will.

Sparkzy

Krusty_Clown wrote: »

the plan is to slot in, run fast, and keep running faster until the running stops, or something stops me from running faster

I like it. This is definitely going to be my plan for this years races. Great report btw. Pretty much sums it up/

EauRouge79

Fantastic stuff Krusty, an excellent read. Great to see you back fit and racing.

Djoucer

That's easily the best race report I've read.

Brilliant stuff.

brownian

Great report - thanks for sharing. Makes me want to get up from the machine and go running now... That horizon is a fair way off yet, KC!

Krusty_Clown

Monday:
Lunch:9 miles with 6 steady (6 min/mile)
Evening: 5 recovery
Went ok. Gym was extremely hot (24'C) so sweating buckets. 6 minute mile should be feeling relatively pedestrian (and at times, I can tick off 10 miles at this pace without too much effort), but in a hot gym, it's hard-work and the signs that I've lost a lot of hydration are plain to see.

Tuesday: 9 + 5 + 6
Had only planned two runs - a 9 mile run to work and an easy 5 miles at lunch, but I was working late all week, and didn't fancy sticking around until 8pm for a lift home so jogged as far as the LUAS. Just missed a tram, so just kept jogging home.

Wednesday: 16 miles inc 5 x 1.5 @MP + 800 steady
Back on the treadie - 5 Mile warm-up, with last 1.5 miles progressing to slightly faster than target pace, then into the quality. It's a tough session as there are no breaks. 1.5 miles @5:40/mile, then straight into steady (I've settled on 6:17/mile), so you never fully recover and you run the full 10 miles in just over 58 minutes, occasionally trying to grab a drink during the steady bits, to compensate for the gym's excessive heat and subsequent dehydration.

Thursday: 7 + 7
Morning run was crazy, with 7 uphill miles into an icy headwind. By evening time I was looking forward to the run home, as I felt the tail-wind was owed to me. Justified!

Friday: 2 Miles @10K/1Mile @5K/800/400/400 @3k effort
Was meeting some long lost friends for drinks in the evening and with a hefty work day ahead, had no choice but to try and chalk this one off in the morning, which meant no brekkie and just a couple of cups of coffee to wake me out of my early morning stupour. Strangely, there were a few people in the gym, which marks quite a contrast to the typical experience. After the warm-up, the 2 miles @10k (5:15/mile) went well, but the trouble was only starting. The treadmill only runs to 5 min/mile so while it's convenient to get up to pace (you just hold the button until it will go no further), it also means you can't go any faster. After finishing the 5k paced mile (tough), I raised the gradient for the 800m and 2 x 400m and just focused on staying on the bucking bronco. Quite the spectator sport, running at 5min/mile up a gradient. Hard work but was pleased to get what was likely my first ever early morning session completed. Ticked off another three miles at lunch as I had a very small window to run, and didn't want to end up with big mileage at the weekend.

Saturday: 19 mile road/trail recovery run
I had ended up at a pool hall drinking beer until 2am the night before, but my quality work was all sewn up for the week, so the pressure was off. I could just head out and enjoy the long run and take it nice and easy. 'Enjoy' is a relative word, as I was pretty tired and dehydrated and found myself taking quite a grueling route up over Bray Head, so perhaps a little tougher than it should have been and just wanted to see and end to the run. Still, I lasted on my feet for approximately the amount of time I want to run the marathon in, so perhaps a subconscious 'time on your feet' ploy. In any case, I fully expect to be a lot more tired and dehydrated during the marathon, so perhaps the hungover run represents some element of simulation. That sounds legitimate, right?

Sunday: 6.8 miles recovery trail
Just enough to tick off the weekly mileage. Very much a down-day, as I navigated the muddy fields and climbs around Carrigologan and The Scalp. Enjoyed the last few beers until after the dirty deed has been done. I need to get down to race weight, but more importantly, need the sleep and recovery that I'm just not getting, when enjoying a few drinks at the weekends. Current weight: 157lbs. Ideally I'd like to be around 153 or lower, to give myself a chance at holding my target pace for as long as possible.

Outlook: 42 days to Rotterdam. Lots of hard sessions and high mileage weeks to go, but four weeks from now the mileage will be winding down, and hopefully soon afterwards, I get to run the marathon I missed out on last year. It's been a long wait, but I just have to hold everything together for another 42 days.

ThebitterLemon

Serious kudos on the treadmill efforts, I despise the thing and. Don't know how you manage it mentally or physically.

Maybe your just a big blouse and don't like the cold!

TbL

RayCun

10 miles in 58 minutes, on a treadmill!

AuldManKing

Regarding your weight - has it changed much over the last 5-6 yrs?
Have you an 'ideal' racing weight or does that vary.

Krusty_Clown

ThebitterLemon wrote: »

Maybe your just a big blouse and don't like the cold!

Even with the treadmill sessions, I probably run more miles outside than you do! Maybe 75-80 miles per week? I despise them too, but at the moment they're a necessary evil. I reckon I've only got another 4-5 visits to the treadmill left.

AuldManKing wrote:

Regarding your weight - has it changed much over the last 5-6 yrs?
Have you an 'ideal' racing weight or does that vary.

Not a huge amount. Both standard weight and race weight have probably dropped a couple of pounds each. Race weight is just a guess. When I get down around the 11 stone mark (154 pounds), I start to look scrawny and running gets a bit easier. No science involved.

RayCun

Have you ever felt you've dropped to too low a weight? Or does beer keep that in check most of the year?

Krusty_Clown

RayCun wrote: »

Have you ever felt you've dropped to too low a weight? Or does beer keep that in check most of the year?

Nope. Never gone below 154lbs (except immediately after a couple of particularly hard long runs (like today's)). Could I afford to lose a couple more pounds and go below 154lbs? Possibly, but I'm kind of satisfied that if I'm running high mileage, off the booze and eating healthy food, my body weight will normalize at what it needs to be. I'm obsessive enough about my training without to need to introduce new obsessions!

Working class heroes

If you don't mind me asking, what height are you?

Krusty_Clown

Working class heroes wrote: »

If you don't mind me asking, what height are you?

6 foot on the nose.

Younganne

Your better half once told me that when you start looking scrawny she knows you're set for a marathon!!

davedanon

Working class heroes wrote: »

If you don't mind me asking, what height are you?

Ha! I was going to ask that. But I would have guessed at 6ft. I'm 5'10", and I'm pretty sure I've never gotten under 11st for a marathon, but that's because I never control my calories enough, and I'm not running 80+ miles a week. Not yet anyway.

Singer

Are you doing much different to avoid similar injuries as last time (more/less S&C, no rock climbing, no soap in the shower )? Or is it just a case of rolling the injury dice and seeing what happens?

Also, do you think you had any benefit from a relatively long time off running, other than allowing the injuries to heal?

Krusty_Clown

Younganne wrote: »

Your better half once told me that when you start looking scrawny she knows you're set for a marathon!!

Too right - she's the real litmus test. My mum tells me I'm too skinny all year round, so she's no help at all.

Singer wrote:

Are you doing much different to avoid similar injuries as last time (more/less S&C, no rock climbing, no soap in the shower )? Or is it just a case of rolling the injury dice and seeing what happens?

Also, do you think you had any benefit from a relatively long time off running, other than allowing the injuries to heal?

I wish I could provide an affirmative 'yes', but that wouldn't be entirely true. The plan was to repeat last year's marathon program, but just inject some common sense this time around, and for the most part, that's what I've done. I can't help but feel that the program I'm following is designed for better runners than me, who spend less hours of the day sitting at a desk than I do, with more access to supporting services/infrastructures (tracks, physio, S&C, advice), and at times it feels like I'm following this plan despite the self-imposed hurdles I put in front of myself (long working hours, fondness for beer, other interests like rock climbing, blossoming age, etc.), but that's probably just the tiredness talking. At times like this, I know I'm straddling the fine line between intensive training and over-training, but in my mind, that's where marathon success lies.

The last 24 hours is a good illustration of the difference between last time around and this phase of training. I did a really tough session at lunch-time yesterday, that had I not taken recovery periods, would've had had me running close to a half-marathon PB. I locked up the office a little earlier than usual (7pm), went home and cooked dinner for the family which took a couple of hours (I'm a slow but caring cook!), watched TV for an hour and hit the hay at 11pm. Up at 7:30am and hit the road at 8:30 for a 10 mile run to work. I'll fit in another 8 miles (either at lunch, or on the way home) and then head to pilates class this evening. Sounds hectic, right? But I did exactly the same thing last August, but clocked up 120 miles for the week, and threw in a Parkrun at the weekend. So this time, I'm just toning down the level of craziness. Making the start line is critical because if it doesn't happen, I don't think I'll be able to raise myself to this level of training intensity again. It's just too much to go through without having something to show for it.

I'm attending a weekly 'old guys' pilates class, which I find brilliant. The intensity isn't massive (about 25% of the intensity of the S&C classes I was doing in Iten), but I feel the benefits the next day on my run. I'm doing a lot less rock climbing (which is ironic, as I think it was an important part of my recuperation), but will knock the climbing on the head in a few weeks time. I don't feel like I benefited from the layoff. I have the same niggles now that I did before my back injury. My volume has dropped, but the intensity is up slightly - so I'd say I'm back to where I was pre-back injury - hopefully just a little bit wiser.

Murph_D

Impressive commitment here after all you've been through. Is the Pilates class specifically for 'old guys', and if so what's different about it? Interesting that you feel benefit right away the next day - how exactly?

Krusty_Clown

Murph_D wrote: »

Impressive commitment here after all you've been through. Is the Pilates class specifically for 'old guys', and if so what's different about it? Interesting that you feel benefit right away the next day - how exactly?

It is a guy only class and all are probably in the 30-50 range, so while not technically an old guy class, that's generally-speaking what it is. There is an 'older guy' class before our class. The only thing different about it, is that it's positioned at a pretty novice level to accommodate the inexperience and inflexibility of the participants. In terms of the benefits, I average around 14-15 miles per day, and don't do any stretching at all. So my first run the next day feels easier and looser, with less tightness in my glutes. I'm sure I'd realize much the same benefits from doing some pilates movements at home (and I did last week when the class was on a hiatus), but the scheduled class environment provides the discipline I need to see it through.