Week 18: I did it, and I loved it!

After all the worry about injury, lost training, stomach issues, fitness, my body just not coping with the distance, I actually did it, and in a time I am really quite pleased with.  I keep pinching myself.  Best of all though, I by and large enjoyed it.  I had a couple of moments, but I felt good while I was running, I enjoyed running, and I would absolutely love to do another one.

Week 18 began with the end of tapering and the beginning of carb loading.  Laughing aside I nailed this part of training and those who know me well will realise that on the tapering side of things, that's quite an achievement for me.  I do not do waiting or inactivity well.  On Monday I did 10k at marathon pace, Tuesday and Thursday I did 2-3 miles very steadily with some short strides to shake my legs out, and on Saturday I ran half a mile just to loosen up and keep moving.  On the Tuesday run I realised that I actually had no calf tightness at all for the first time in at least a month and my Achilles felt absolutely fine.  I had no idea how it was going to stand up to a long run, but at least this looked like a good starting point.  By Thursday, having done another calf trouble free run, I realised I was spending more time worrying about digestive issues than injury which I viewed as a good sign.

On the subject of digestive issues, which I suffer horrendously from on longer runs and in particular when I use gels, I have been experimenting with ways to limit this and alternative fuelling.  Unfortunately, the last couple of long runs were canned because of the injury so I hadn't really tested out what I wanted to before the race.  I've found that limiting my fat intake in the build up to hard races reduces the chance of problems, so while carb loading I cut almost all the fat out of my diet.  It has to be said that this did not make for the best carb loading experience and my dreams of running free around a bakery grabbing everything in sight were somewhat spoiled.  I ate a lot of pasta and a lot of dry bread products.  Also a lot of malt loaf.  In fact I think my marathon was at least 50% fuelled by malt loaf.  The malt loaf at least was good.

I woke up on race day feeling excited but also calmer than I had for at least a week, and really up for running.  I did a bit of a dynamic warm up in the hotel room before I even left for the venue, and realised that my legs felt properly good.  Boingy.  I felt fantastic.  I had one of many conversations with the fabulous Stacey Sangster, who has a huge amount of patience with my garrulous nervous running related rambling which calmed me down a bit.  I loaded my belt up with my carefully planned race fuel, a banana for mile 3, with another banana being delivered by my husband for mile 9, three packs of 4 jelly babies for miles 6, 11 and 13, and enough Clif Bloks to have one a mile for the remainder of the race.  In retrospect, I think I could have done another 4 miles on jelly babies, started on the Bloks later and avoided the issues I did eventually have, but that did work a lot better than anything I've done in training.  I also made the decision that rather than picking and choosing where to take on water, I would use every water station whether I thought I needed it or not, and have at least a small drink.  I don't like drinking on the run, I hate water stations, but I was going to use the lot.  I decided to race with music which I've never done before.  I was concerned about claustrophobia kicking in on such a big race.  This was definitely a good decision.

The race was great.  I started at a pace that felt easily maintainable, a little bouncy trot, I resisted the urge to swear at anyone video selfie-ing themselves in the first half mile in the middle of thousands of racers who mostly didn't want to get tripped up or be slowed to a snail's pace, I checked my watch and realised my easy pace was at the very top end of what I'd given myself as a possible starting pace.  I questioned whether adrenalin was making it feel easier than it really was, and decided no, I felt good.  As I went through mile 2 Mr Bellamy was informing me through my headphones that he felt good too, and I was very glad to hear about it.  I thought about letting my legs pick up the bit of pace they wanted to and decided against it.  I'm not sure that was the right decision, another 5 seconds a mile or so may have been feasible without any additional fatigue, it felt like it was, but that was outside my plan and I may have tanked later on if I'd tried it.  I'll never know. I firmly reminded myself of the words of wisdom from the formidable Ian Chant; respect the distance.  A marathon is a long way.  I stuck to the plan.

Just a regular Sunday morning run with Sophie...

The crowds were busy in places and I was feeling quite penned at times, but concentrating on the music and my breathing dispelled that.  I was settling in for a run and I felt good.  At around mile 6 I was caught by the lovely Sophie Eadsforth who I have done the large part of my long runs with.  She started further back so she'd clearly been running quicker than me and she was motoring.  I watched her fly by and hoped she didn't regret it later on, but shortly after she slowed a little and we ran most of the next 14 miles pretty much together.  For a large part it was just a Sunday morning run with Sophie.  I've done lots of those, this is something I understand, and I think it made a huge difference to my state of mind.  We were both running well and passing people fairly regularly.

At mile 10ish while listening to Simon and Garfunkel singing about a lady of questionable moral standards by the name of Cecelia, I saw the lead man coming back in the other direction.  I genuinely love these reminders that there's always someone compared to whom one is a plodder.  They give perspective.  He looked awesome and apparently went on to set a course record.

At the half way point, bang on schedule, I had my normal half way wobble.  Some people love that over half way feeling but I do not.  In my head it always turns into a realisation that I've worked quite hard for quite a while, and I have to do it all again from a more tired starting point.  I put my focus onto my picnic schedule and where on the run I was likely to see people.  To this point I know there had been a huge amount of support on the course from the wonderful people of Long Eaton Running Club who travelled up there, but it was largely in the busy places and I'd been zoning out to deal with the crowds.  I felt briefly very guilty.  By mile 14, now on to Paul Simon who was Under African Skies at this stage - frankly the last place I'd want to be running a marathon - I was mentally back on track and preparing for the fatigue to hit and the need to dig in.  I started focusing on the mile markers as target points where I would eat, then forgetting about distance and concentrating on my music in between.  This really worked well for me, and I know on a couple of occasions I did sing out loud, because I did get some of "those looks", as one does when one sings out loud with headphones in. 

Mile 16

For the next few miles I just ran, and ran, and ran, and with each mile that went by I realised that I was feeling stronger than the people around me were looking.  I was holding steady at around the 7:37 mark and realised that getting under 3:20 was perfectly reasonable.  My legs felt good, my calf wasn't grumbling, my stomach wasn't grumbling, and I was tired but not that tired.  

At mile 21 while listening to the fantastic Mr Manson telling me about his Tainted Love, and having just seen the brilliant LERC support crew, I was passed by my good friend Tim Baggs on his bike.  He pulled in next to me and gave me a few words of encouragement, along the lines of "you're destroying them all", and rode off.  That was definitely the boost I needed and at that point I made a decision that if I still felt OK at mile 23, I was going to push for a sub 22:30 5k from 23.1 miles to finish.  I felt like I had it.

By mile 22 I was overtaking a significant number of people and feeling truly determined.  My middle toe on my right foot started to threaten cramp, which would have meant a stop and a massage, so I moved my foot strike right back to squarely on my mid-foot for a half mile or so until it eased.  It didn't slow me down although I felt clumpy and probably hammered my calves quite hard for that half mile.  At mile 23 I felt good and started to bring the pace up ready for my spectacular finish, absolutely sure that I had this.  

Half a mile later my stomach started to object, seriously object, to my hour long diet of bloks, and suddenly I was faced with incredible cramping and the knowledge that it was only a matter of time until the inevitable happened.  I went from feeling grand to struggling to stand up straight in around a minute or so and this carried on for over a mile and a half.  My pace dropped right back and instead of picking it up I was running almost 8 minute mile pace for the first time.  When the inevitable did happen I was a lot less bothered than I'd thought I would be and actually somewhat relieved to be able to run again.  Shortly after this Freddy Mercury began telling how about how The Show Must Go On, which frankly amused me a huge amount, thank you sir for helping me from beyond the grave.  I picked the pace back up for the last half mile glad that I would be able to finish standing up straight and running strong.  If I had to make a list of the best people to bump into immediately after soiling oneself in public Tim Baggs would definitely be top of the list, and seeing him again at mile 25.5 just as I was starting to actually RUN again gave me the boost I needed to make a strong finish.  It would have been perfect if my magical music hit list and given me We Are The Champions to finish, but it wasn't to be.  I honestly can't even remember what was playing as I crossed the finish line, I'd picked up the pace and was paying no attention to it, but I did feel good and I did feel like a champion, albeit a fairly stinky one.

Still a little something left in the legs...

I didn't quite make the 3:20 in the end, but for my first marathon and after all the problems along the way, 3:20:12 on a run that I by and large hugely enjoyed is a definite win in my book.  I will do more marathons, I get why people love them, I will train more sensibly, manage nutrition better, and run quicker.

For now, however, I did it.  I haven't always managed to do the things I've set out to or wanted to do in life, some of the more difficult ones have often escaped me, but on this occasion I set out to do a truly challenging thing, and I did it.  I cannot help feeling proud of myself.

Week 17 Part 2: Starting to feel the benefits of tapering?

I believe I may be starting to exhibit strong signs of Bipolar Disorder.  My marathon related mood swings this week have been a little... extreme.  This hasn't been helped by other factors, the Easter Holidays being one.  Stress levels are running high in the house, and sleep levels aren't.

My thoughts at the moment are a confused and jumbled mess of wildly misplaced optimism with very little basis and probably equally misplaced despair.  I've not trained enough, I've not done enough of the right training recently, I'm going to be slow, much slower than I want to be.  I've got slow in general, what if I can't get fast again after the marathon?  What if I stay slow?  What if I just never get back to quite where I was let alone make the improvements I had believed I was capable of?  What if I can't start the marathon because of injury?  What if I can't complete it because my Achilles plays up?  What if I can't complete it just because I'm not fit enough?  What if I do complete it and just run a time that leaves me feeling massively disappointed in myself, and then I still can't get quick again afterwards.

I tend to deal with low moods by running, or at least by exercising, but of course I'm tapering so this isn't really an option at the moment.  Instead try to talk myself out of these moods logically.  I'm a reasonably good runner for my age, nothing special, but above average.  Even on reduced training a reasonably good time is perfectly feasible if I pace myself well.  I'm starting to feel some life coming back into my legs as I'm tapering.  I've reminded myself of training runs I've done where I've run a good pace for a significant amount of time, and felt strong doing it.  I tell the little demons in my head who keep pointing out to me this is now a while back and I haven't felt strong for a while to shut the fuck up.  They largely ignore me.

Saturday morning I went to parkrun with a goal of running at the top end of tempo pace, 7:00 minute mile pace or a little quicker.  When I planned this the day before it felt like a mammoth task which is utterly ridiculous.  It's not long since I was running 5k at 6:15 pace, so why would that feel daunting?  That's just where my confidence was on Friday, still suffering with the tail end of a cold, tired, tight calf, and generally feeling like a wreck.  On Saturday morning I got up and warmed up and my calf didn't feel tight.  In fact, as I warmed up in the kitchen at home I even commented to my husband that for the first time in a long time I felt a little bit boingy.  I jogged up the parkrun with absolutely no doubt at all that I could do what I wanted to, and the temptation to push myself started to kick in.  

I resisted, started the run with a friend from the club, ran with her for a little while until she started to push the pace, automatically my instinct was to match her but I had a word with myself and eased off.  In the end I ran perfect splits for what I wanted to do, 6:49, 6:47, 6:49, 6:37.  No sprinting, no stress, and I felt awesome.  I suddenly realised that not only was I relatively easily running sub seven minute miles but I was chatting, boinging, and wanted to push.  I smiled almost the entire way round and must have looked like a right grinning idiot, but my mood just rocketed.  No, even if I had run all out I'm not as quick as I was four months ago over that distance, all out I know I couldn't run at my PB pace just now, but I realised that I wasn't as far off as I'd thought and getting that extra bit of speed back in afterwards stopped feeling like a monumental task. 

Feeling the benefits of tapering in my legs and no pain at all from the dodgy calf or Achilles, my confidence rocketed way too far in the other direction.  Maybe I could run my initial target pace I thought, after all it's a lot slower than this and this is feeling pretty maintainable for a good while, I can do it, I'm invincible, I have this!  

I don't, but I hope today I'm thinking clearly and getting some balance.  If my leg holds I can aim for my half way house pace from the start and have a chance of achieving it.  If I don't, I'll do the training differently for the next one, and I will run faster.  This week I'm only running a few miles before Sunday.  I inadvertently entered a race which is tomorrow, without clocking it was only six days before the marathon.  I had thought to skip it, but actually, I can exercise some self control.  I've done little with the club recently and I've missed that so I'm just going to rock up and run it at a little slower than target marathon pace.  I'd like to do it at marathon pace, but I am expecting a complete mud bath and it's the effort level I want more than the pace so I'll factor that in.  I'll place badly, probably run my slowest ever 10k, may even pace for someone after my target time if anyone is, and just enjoy a muddy run.

Thursday I've got 3 miles on the books, with a few short strides, and Saturday I may just do a good dynamic warm up and a mile or so to stretch the legs.  Really nothing to add any fatigue at all.  I want the calf to feel like it does right now come Sunday, and who knows, maybe I'll actually enjoy myself. For now, I am breaking my drive to eat healthily just a little bit, and spending this evening with my new shiny gold covered friend.  Happy Easter Folks.

Week 17 Part 1: If I was a horse they'd have shot me by now

I still have the cold, just the end of it, but the phlegm in the back of my throat is vile and I'm just knackered.  My legs still ache like I'm training hard but I'm not.  The calf is being "dodgy" again.  My mood is swinging wildly from probably misplaced optimism to thoroughly miserable.

Tuesday night I went to do the club time trial.  Well, I didn't really go to do the time trial, I went to have a run and it happened to be the time trial.  I sensibly put myself well back and started steadily.  My calf was tight, in fact both of them were, but especially the right one.  I had thought a gentle run may loosen them up and allow me to get a few miles in at marathon pace, and that's just what I set out to do.  Despite starting very gently I was breathing remarkably hard when talking; I seem to be really struggling to shift the tail end of this cold.  By a mile in the calf hadn't loosened at all and when there was still no improvement a half mile later I turned back cutting my run short. 

Things then started to feel a lot better so I ended up doing the whole five miles, with three miles at a rough approximation of marathon pace - it was a bit quick but largely wind assisted so from an effort point of view not too far off - and all of a sudden I felt good.  Not just good, but great.  Probably not quite awesome, but definitely great.  I was just running.  Running is something I enjoy hugely.  There's a good effort level that I get a real kick from, not flat out, not trotting, definitely not shuffling or plodding, just running.  Hard enough that I can feel my breathing, my legs stretching out, that I'm putting some effort in and the body is responding.  The spring weather helps with this.  I love spring, I love autumn.  Cool, crisp, clear days.  All of a sudden, lapping the park on my own like a right Billy No Mates, I was incredibly happy and comfortable running.

As soon as I dropped my pace off again my calf went stiff again and afterwards it was sore.  Not the Achilles, just the calf, which is something at least.  I'm trying to work this out.  My calf hurts when I run slowly.  I haven't tried running properly fast for a couple of weeks, but at a sort of mid (marathon type) pace, it becomes stiff and is often sore afterwards.  I've been really focussing on how I'm running when I drop the speed off to make sure I'm not being sloppy and I don't think I am exactly but I do have a theory.  When I run harder, out of necessity I kick off harder, push my back leg out more, and my hamstrings and glutes are doing a lot of the work.  When I run slower I tend to just trot on my forefeet with a much smaller stride, as one does, and this seems to be putting a lot of stress on my calves.  I'm boinging too much for the pace I'm running at, lots of that is going into up and down (which is confirmed by my HRM data) and therefore I'm not only wasting energy, I'm stressing my calves.

When I ran again today (Thursday) I tried to be concious of running "flatter" when I'm running slower, and not wasting energy and precious calf muscle on bobbing up and down needlessly.  It wasn't at all successful according to garmin.  I bobbed less at the three miles I did at a pace which was far too quick given they were meant to be marathon pace practice than I did on the four easy miles I stacked either side of that.  I was also sick running 8 minute miles warming down for no other reason than Catarrh.  I just cannot shake it.  I knew it was coming I could feel the bile in the back of my throat for a couple of miles before I couldn't fight the nausea any more.  I persevered, but I felt pretty rough.

Then, to round it all off, this evening while taking dishes into the kitchen I knocked the kitchen door open and walked through it.  Only I didn't.  The door got caught on the corner of the rug and instead of opening it wedged and I walked right into it.  I now have a lovely bruise developing on my knee.

Really, I am a wreck.  A stressed, tired, slightly ill, injury fighting, wreck.

Ten days to go and I'm already such a ridiculous combination of terror, excitement, hope, and disappointment. 

Week 16: The beginning of the end...

This is, officially, the first week of tapering.  In my battle with fatigue, injury and a horrendous cold I've once again had to abandon plans and wing it, which I hate.  I've felt physically and mentally rough as a badgers back end.  Despite that the week's running has finished as positively as it could, with a pain free if easy paced eleven miles in glorious spring sunshine.  Look, photographic evidence of me going running in the sunshine.

The uncertainty about whether I'm going to be able to actually do the marathon has been tough to deal with this week when I'm utterly knackered and feeling crappy.  Neither has my determination to accept the reduced pace I'm going to need to run at, at least for the first part, to nurse the dodgy calf and Achilles through the race without damaging myself.  This is sitting extremely badly with me and I need to get over this now and deal with the disappointment of my plans falling apart somewhat; I don't want to finish my first ever marathon feeling disappointed. 

I am attempting to readjust my expectations to a realistic level now, get my grump out the way early, so I can enjoy the day.  I had been training towards attempting to run 3:15 and for the first two months of training this looked realistic.  I think I have the fitness to run around 3:20 despite the lost training, and that's the pace I'd like to go for, but on the way it feels now I suspect my Achilles would not hold up to the job.  Realistically I'm now thinking about 3:25 to 3:30, starting at the slower end, and hoping that my leg feels up to increasing the pace later on without my dodgy body breaking down.  Grump grump.

I've done everything I can to be as healthy as I can this week in terms of food intake, resting where I can, and generally taking care of myself.  I am now, however, treating myself to a large glass of wine with my otherwise very healthy tea.  Because I'm worth it.

The calf and Achilles are still tight.  The problem this gives me in terms of tapering is that some running loosens it, and it's not necessarily low paced running, short reasonably paced runs tend to help, plodding doesn't, and it's very much a take it day by day and judge whether a little run will help. 

Tuesday a run would have been helpful, but I was so full of cold I didn't feel up to it.  This is really unusual for me, I would normally just run through a cold, but my breathing was utterly shot.  I did a little on the cross trainer which was good in terms of loosening the leg up, but bad because the cross trainer leans more towards strength than cardio for what I want to be doing right now.  I decided to combine this with my last weights session before the marathon and just get it all done.  That's that box ticked, no more leg strength work until after I've done it.

Thursday I still felt dreadful but did feel up to running.  I went for a run with no goals or aims other than to see how the leg felt and get a few miles in.  I just sort of fell into running around 7:30s which is encouraging.  I thought my natural pace had reduced to a plod or a shuffle, and finding myself just sitting there, albeit with a lot of struggling for breath and enough snot the population of Long Eaton are probably still searching round my route for the invasion of giant snails, the actual running felt not too bad.

Saturday I went to do parkrun and totally mis-paced it.  I did plan the pace here, just 7:30s, get the heart rate up to a working level but not a push.  Running this pace lately has felt hard work on my high mileage weeks, and I was running on feel.  I thought I was running 7:20s to 7:30s and was surprised at the end of the first lap to find I was actually running 6:50s.  This is of absolutely no benefit at this stage and I'm just risking injuring myself so I stopped, stretched, and did the second lap on pace.  I did have a little grump at the end when I realised I'd missed out on a very, very easy first lady the like of which almost never crops up at Long Eaton these days, then I had a word with myself.  The word being twat.  I've had lots of first lady finishes at parkrun, in far quicker times, and that is not the current goal.  The goal is to get to Manchester able to run 26.2 miles without breaking myself.  This is the only goal that matters for the next two weeks.  Best of all, I finished with no tightness or pain, and after a good stretch and massage with my roller stick, I felt good for today's "long" run.

Sunday dawned, wait for it, sunny.  Yes, sunny, and very much spring like.  What is this madness?  12 miles on the menu and it's not freezing, sleeting, snowing, howling with wind, it's crazy!  It was wonderful.  I met Sophie at West Park this morning and was greeted by a huge smile at this change of weather fortune, before we trotted off wearing shorts on a long training run.  Shorts!  I did get some tightness in the second part of the run but it never went further than a mild tightness.  I had breathing issues at the start and the cold is still not entirely gone, but it will be in two weeks so that's nothing to worry about.  I'm still quite tired in my legs, but on the way back I suddenly found myself getting into it.  I love running on days like this, I was starting to feel springier, we were getting a little quicker, and it was just a gorgeous day to be alive and outside.  Coming through the park at the end of the run I know I was grinning like an idiot.  This is what I love about running.  After a steady start we picked it up a little on the way back and it just felt like a good run.  I have some ache in my calves now, but it's kind of normal after run ache and doesn't feel like it'll still hurt tomorrow.  I hope.

I also managed to eat a banana with absolutely no issues at what I expect will be around marathon pace.  If I can do that while unable to breath through my nose then I can do it on race day.  I'm hoping I may be able to fuel myself on banana and jelly babies for the first part of the race and delay using cliff bloks until the second half.  I shan't use gels, it's a recipe for crapping myself.  I do, however, in case of the worst happening, have my aptly named crap catcher shorts; double layered for extra protection.  It's amusing me at the moment, but I was concerned about chafing.  As a general rule you never know what chafes until you run at least 10 miles in it, so I wore them today.  Barring my club vest I wore everything I intend to wear while running the marathon.  No problems with attire bothering me in any way.  I did not test out the other potential function of the shorts, because today my stomach was happy.  Let's hope that's something I never need to think about again!

So finishing the week I'm feeling optimistic of at least running this marathon, and looking forward to some chilled out runs in glorious sunshine over the next week.  Mostly steady, low mileage, and I'm declaring it officially spring and packing away the thermals. 

Week 15 Part 2: For better or worse I've done what I can; time to taper

Happy spring, folks.  You will note that behind the smiley person who has just finished training, there is a lot of snow.  In fact so much snow the fucking Christmas jumper is back out.
 

This weekend was in theory the last weekend of build up.  Given the running I've missed due to injury over the last six weeks I've been toying with the idea of a shorter taper, slotting in another longer run next week, trying to get a bit more good training in before tapering.  This weekend I ditched that idea.  It was the stupid idea of an obsessive person.  It was the sort of idea that resulted in the injury that's plagued the last few weeks of training. 

Even when I've not been able to run I haven't cut my training back at all, in fact if anything I've done more training to make up for the fact it wasn't running.  I'm like that.  The training I've done may not ultimately be as effective in terms of running the sort of time I'd have liked to run as if I'd done all the workouts I wanted to, but I've still done it and my level of fatigue is absolutely fucking huge. 

I woke up yesterday morning full of cold, and utterly knackered.  To be fair I initially woke up in the night with a horrid sore throat, the initial cold threat, and feeling dire.  I spent quite a while awake feeling dire, then I woke up in the morning full of cold.  My legs were knackered from all the training I've done over the last two weeks.  Some running, cross training, cycling, pool running for crying out loud, strength training, intervals, a tempo run that I waded, and probably more stuff I've forgotten about.  In my head an argument started between the legs and the head over who was feeling worse.  It was like listening to the kids' incessant bickering, but I was doing it to myself. 

Then came the next consideration for my planned morning run, yep, the weather.  Now, when I picked the background for this blog it was on a bit of a whim after an initial and rather novel snowy long run back in December.  On that occasion it was all rather nice, just 10 miles through pretty, crunchy snow.  I did not realise at the time that I was basically the harbinger of weather doom for the winter.  It has been a cracker in terms of weather.  At first I wondered if this was just perspective, given I've been out in it a lot more, but no it really has been a particularly cold, wet, windy and snowy winter... and apparently also spring.  It's mid-March and the view out my kitchen window should not look like the above photo.

Fortunately, by the time I went out yesterday morning the snow was just starting to come down and hadn't settled.  It was, however, rather windy.  I took the view that I'd do a route with a lot of cut backs, run extremely steadily, and just see how far my calf managed.  Once I got running it all got a lot better, however.  Actually trotting along at 8:20s ish was relatively problem free even given the tired legs, pounding headache and sore throat.  I did not feel shiny, however I did feel up to running.  In the end it was 12 miles before the right calf got sore.  It wasn't the same place I've been having pain previously, it was almost certainly just an achy tired calf, but I didn't want to risk any Achilles problems following on.  I walked a mile or so and stretched it, during which time I got extremely cold and miserable.  This was no longer fun.  I then realised I'd just missed a bus home, but before I actually burst into tears I also realised that the calf was feeling better for the stretch, so I carried on running at an even slower speed.  I wasn't dressed for the slower speed, and I was freezing.  My head, throat and legs started their internal argument about who was feeling the most miserable but as they aren't actually the kids I told them all to shut the fuck up and get on with it.

In the end I did 16 miles at around 8:35 average.  Much more than I'd thought I would, but I was bizarrely restless.  This wasn't the big weekend run I've got used to!  I decided to make up the cardio today by cross training, and this afternoon I went out, now streaming with cold, and spent 90 minutes on the cross trainer pushing the heart rate up to long run territory.  The good thing about this was the cross trainer really stretched out the calf and I realised I felt up to running.  I wasn't going to risk running out in the snow and slush, plus I was wearing shorts and a vest in the gym, so I hauled myself onto the treadmill and stuck it on a 1% incline with the pace at 7:00 minute miles.  I put on the emergency stop clip and decided to see what was left in my legs.  3.6 miles it turned out, at which point I felt in serious danger of coming off the back of it, and stopped.  Honestly it was more than I thought and I was reassured it didn't send my heartrate through the fucking roof in the process.

I'm done, absolutely done.  This week the cut back starts.  I'm looking forward to getting some life back in my legs.  I'm fine if I end up doing most of my running as pool running this week and then get actual running in the next two, I'm OK to give the dodgy calf the time it needs to fully recover from the weekend's madness.  The week's plan is four days of training, two or three of those running.  I'm hoping to get in a 10-12 miler next weekend with fresher legs.  I'll also do the last strength session early this week.  Finally, I'm hoping to shift this bloody cold, which I guess is better come now than in 2 weeks.

Tonight I'm going to get a little bit tiddly, and then comes three weeks of easing off, lots of healthy food, and hopefully feeling my legs start working again.

Week 15 Part 1: This shit just got real

This just dropped through my letterbox this morning, and it's fair to say my stomach has done a big flip over and it's just hit home what I've signed up for.  In a purely figurative sense on this occasion, I took one look at it and shat myself.

So far this week I've managed to run 12 miles as I nurse a still very tight calf and Achilles through as much running as I dare.  This is double what I did last week.  It was really hard.  The tempo run through several inches of bloody flood water was hard, but it was hard anyway if I'm honest with myself, my legs are just tired.  The intervals which I did on the treadmill to reduce impact were really hard, I've never struggled so much to maintain 5k pace for a few minutes.  Despite not running much the last two weeks I'm still suffering from huge cumulative fatigue because I'm cross training like a nutter to try and keep my cardio fitness up. 

Tomorrow's plan is for a 10 miler at 7:30s, followed by 75 minutes on the cross trainer.  I was intending to do 7 miles and finish with parkrun which works well for me generally, but the park is flooded and to add the bells and whistles on, snow has been forecast again.  It's fucking March for fuck sake, and snow is forecast!  I daren't run on snow again so I'm bracing myself for doing it on the treadmill, doing it a little quicker and sticking some inclines in to make myself work as hard, and just sucking up the boredom and hatred. 

To add the icing and cherries on the bells and whistles my inner ear headphones have broken. 

But I'm doing it anyway, because as previously stated, in an extremely exciting and utterly terrifying way, this shit just got real.

Week 14 Part 2: Maybe, just maybe, we might get there...

I have managed to run a total of 6 miles this week against a target of 55.  This was going to be my highest mileage week of the whole damn plan.  That would be the plan that I had to rip up and chuck out the window a few weeks back.

On an up note however, I have managed to run a total of 6 miles this week.  Perspective is everything.

On Friday I did an exploratory half mile on the treadmill, which told me almost straight away that I should not be running on the dodgy calf.  The Achilles was also giving me a dull ache and the whole thing was incredibly tight.  I did some limited cross training but I'd spent so much time on the bike already this week that my quads were basically dead.  I did what I could on the bike and then used what was left in my legs up doing low weight high repetition strength training using the machines in the gym.  My calf hasn't been up to squatting all week.  I have been faithfully doing all my physio exercises, theraband stretching, ice, massaging and rollering all week.  I did it again.

On Saturday I woke up with somewhat less pain and I decided to attempt an incredibly slow 3 mile loop of Hook, the town I was staying in.  I made 1.5 miles, running over 9 minute mile pace, and my calf and Achilles went so tight I stopped there.  Four weeks and a day to go and I couldn't run three miles at over a minute and a half off what a few weeks ago was my target pace.  Again I did all my physio exercises, etc etc, same as above.  I also got rather down, and then in the evening I got rather drunk.  Getting drunk is always more fun when my little sister in law is around.  

On Sunday I woke up with no pain at all, actually no pain, although my Achilles was very tight when walking down stairs.  I was meant to do 16 miles today including 4 at marathon pace.  Clearly, I was not going to manage this, but I did feel up to trying another run.  I ran a mile steadily and it felt OK.  I stopped off to drop off my coat and gave my leg a little stretch and massage, and set off to run another 4 miles.  In the end I did just over three, stopping when the tightness kicked in, but it was more than I'd expected to manage and while it wasn't fast it also wasn't crawling pace either.  It was absolutely lovely to be outside in the sun wearing shorts and vest, despite the cider induced hangover.

I then went into the gym and spent two hours, yes two whole hours, on the cross trainer.  Luckily I started it feeling somewhat buoyed by having been able to run, because this was dire.  For the first half hour my entertainment was my music, OK, and Songs of Praise on subtitles.  Luckily the rugby came on before I actually punched the TV.  This had pros and cons.  The pros of course being that I love rugby, and while incredibly scrappy, it was a reasonably entertaining game.  The big con of course being that while I had the time covered on the machine I was using, once the match started I had the match timer right there, and seeing the minutes go by was definitely not helping. 

But, I did it, it felt good to really stretch my legs out, the range of motion was great for aching legs, and better still I actually maintained an average heart rate roughly equivalent to running 8 minute miles so from a pure fitness point of view it was bang on.  

This therefore allows me to finish the week feeling more positive.  I'm going to have to be incredibly careful with the calf and Achilles, they really aren't quite right, but I might be able to muddle through this and manage to run the marathon at a reduced pace without breaking myself.  In many ways that doesn't sit well, but that's the reality and I need to go with that.  I'm hopeful of managing 20 miles over 3 runs this week, that's my target if the leg is up to it.  Two midweek runs topped up with cross training, and then if I can a Sunday 10 miler which I'll top up with the same length of time cross training.  I've got an aqua belt which unfortunately arrived too late to use today, but it's here now and aqua jogging is on the menu for a couple of my cross training sessions.  I have no shame, I really don't care about looking like a tit in the local pool while doing it if it helps me keep the right muscles working.

So fingers and toes are crossed, four weeks to go and I'm just going to have to go with the flow and listen to my body on this one, two things I'm not always particularly good at.  At least for today I have the satisfying "good ache" of having worked hard and actually achieved a decent training session.