Falling apart at the seams...

I should have read the sign...

77% of all accidents happen in the home, so, technically, it's safer to go out and play with the traffic... Last weekend I had to put some stuff up in the loft. The dust caused by the loft insulation causes my asthma to play up, so the rule in our house is that MrsC goes up into the loft and I pass everything up to her. Our loft hatch is, for some unknown reason, in our bathroom and the only way to open/close the hatch involves standing on the side of the bath. Last Saturday we'd put some things in the loft and, after closing the hatch, I jumped down from the side of the bath. As I landed I felt a sharp pain at the top of my foot. The pain was such that it elicited a cry of a non-biblical nature. The pain was short-lived and I got on with whatever I was doing. However, after Sundays Wiltshire 10 race I felt further discomfort in my ankle, and again after swimming and playing badminton in the evening. Whilst not painful enough to prevent me from training, it has been sufficient for me to swallow some ibuprofen (this runners recreational drug of choice) and rest the ankle whenever possible. So it's a good thing that I'm on annual leave this week...

Bigger on the inside

On a rest day from training I find it difficult to motivate myself to do anything... On annual leave from work, and lacking the tight structure of my usual working week, I find it difficult to even find the motivation to train properly. The lure of extra long lie-ins with a a cup of tea and a good book (or, in my case, a copy of either Runners World or Doctor Who Magazine) makes it hard to rise and exercise (Saying that, I did find time to read Chrissie Wellingtons autobiography 'A Life Without Limits') I've really had to force myself to get up and do my usual press-up/sit-up routine. Thankfully my hyper-activity won't let me stay there too long and, eventually, I do manage to get up and go. I seem to have spent a lot of time watching old episodes of Doctor Who, Mrs Browns Boys, University Challenge, Star Wars, and, for some strange reason, Fantasia & Fantasia 2000...

Triple Tuesday arrived and I dragged myself out of bed for my press-up/sit-up routine, before heading out the door for a 5.5 mile run which I completed in just under 39 minutes.
My lunchtime coached swim session was as hard as usual and, for the second time in my life, and for the second week running, I managed to swim a mile over the course of the session.

Whitehall Athletics Track aka 'Packers'

The evening training session saw me, once again, at the Whitehall Athletics Track. The session was 8x 800m with a 2:30 minute rest between each rep, which, as I explained in a previous Blog Posting, are affectionately known as 'Yasso 800s'. The last time I ran these I had only done 6 reps and had covered each rep in approximately 2:45-2:250 per 800m, clocking the last rep at 2:38... This time however, I covered the first rep in 2:46; the next five reps in 2:39 each; followed by a 2:40; before finishing with a 2:37... It hurt, but it was worth it. It instilled a little bit more self-belief into me as I was really, really, surprised that I was able to sustain that level of top end consistency throughout the session.

According to my schedule, Wednesday aka 'hump day' brought with it a 15 mile run. Oh joy... Okay, so I got the distance slightly wrong and clocked up 16 miles instead, but what I found so weird about this run was that I was on the receiving end of some of the finest British weather that I've ever had the displeasure to run in. Not only was it bitterly cold throughout, with a lovely cold breeze thrown into the mix every now and again, but it started off snowing, then it was sleet, then drizzle, a very brief glimpse of sunshine, then more sleet and even more drizzle..!!! The run itself was good, considering the beasting that my quads had received the previous evening, and not only did I manage to run at a decent pace, completing the run in a time of 1:56:20, but I also managed, for probably the first time in my life, to execute a negative split. Pretty good going for somebody so lethargic of body...

I just didn't want to get up out of bed and go for a run on Thursday morning. So I didn't. I stayed in bed for a while longer than is normal for me, had a bit of a lazy morning, before MrsC and myself met an old friend for lunch at the Cafe in Bristol Guild on Park Street (lovely food but, a tad pricey if you fancy shopping in there...) When we got back home later that afternoon I got changed and trotted off for a quick 5.5 mile run. My quads were still tight from the previous day so, although it felt as if I was putting in a swift pace, it was, in fact, just a standard (for me) jog... Cue a quiet evening in front of the telly... (Well, it was Valentines Day after all.)

It hurts here, here, here, & here...

Friday morning began with me returning to the theme of 77% of all accidents happen in the home. Not fully awake I managed to fall down the stairs at 5:30am whilst heading for the kitchen to put the kettle on... Why up so early? Another luncheon had been arranged, this time with offspring #3, but 'the schedule' called for a 13 mile run; and who am I to go against the schedule? So, now with a bruised sole of foot, I went through my week-day sit-up/press-up, jog around the block routine to ensure that all was alright with my middle-aged body... As soon as I'd completed the first mile of the run I knew that I was in trouble. My quadriceps were tight and painful. So tight and painful, in fact, that I dropped the pace and intensity of the run. By golly it ached... By the time I had run 7 miles I knew that I was going to cut it short. My mind was set on self-preservation with a view to performing well in Sundays twenty mile race, so a two mile loop was summarily exorcised from the planned route and I headed for home. Once there I ran a Radox bath, clambered in, and soaked my aching legs...

Saturday mornings 5.5 mile jog reminded me that, given 18 hours rest, the pain in my quads could recede, leaving me with only the nagging pain in my left ankle to worry about. So, with this in mind, we packed the car and headed along the M4 to Reading where we spent probably far too long wandering around the large Oracle Shopping Centre before moving on to our final destination for the day, the Premier Inn at Grazeley Green. Somewhere along the way however, something went wrong in my race day planning... My food grazing was starting to affect my digestive system. In view of this fact I posted on Facebook that, although it was a bit late to give things up for Lent, but, in view of all the crap I'd eaten of late, I was giving up all kinds of those horribly addictive cheesy biscuit things as well as all forms of chocolate...

In the morning I felt no better. In fact, I felt worse and my running mojo was missing. I couldn't remember the last time that I felt so sick & nervous before a race. If I could have given up my running addiction then Sunday would have been the day... We arrived at the Bramley 10/20 race, in Bramley of all places, and walked to the race HQ/start area where I was able to meet up with some other members of Bitton Road Runners and share pleasantries before the start.

The entrance to Stratfield Saye Estate (Pre-verge decorating)

Once the race started I quickly settled into a 6:20/mi pace but I knew that I was in trouble. Within two miles my stomach lurched and quickly went into spin cycle. I ran to the opposite side of the road, paused for a moment, then brought up my breakfast. Feeling slightly better, I quickly picked up the pace and all was well; for a few more miles. At the gated entrance to the Duke of Wellingtons Stratfield Saye Park estate I once again redecorated the verge. This was starting to get silly. I got to the 10 mile/halfway point of the race at 1:03:00 and veered off the course, diving into the nearest portaloo. (Not literally, obviously. That'd be too literal a definition of 'in the s**t'). At 1:06:00 I was back on the course and quickly started making up for lost time. Until, that is, the 11 mile mark when I noticed an all too familiar pain under my right foot. A blister; and by the felt I could tell that it was shaping up to be a big one... I had to make a decision; either stop at a first-aid post for a dollop of Vaseline to smear over the blister, or try to ignore the pain and carry on running as fast as I comfortably could. I opted for the latter and pushed on, only slowing momentarily on a further two occasions to decorate the verge... Limping badly I crossed the finish line in a time of 2:11:45 - a Personal Best time of over three & a half minutes . Huge waves of emotions crashed into me; elation, pain, exhaustion,  thirst, and worst of all, hunger. Bearing in mind that I'd been emptying my system of nourishment virtually all morning, my body had been working on an empty tank. How, I don't know, but work it had...

Nothing left to give...

After the race I removed my sock to reveal a 2" long & 1/2" wide blister that started just below my big toe and traversed the ball of my foot. Nice... That'll be sore for a while... Whilst getting dressed I consumed a bottle of For Goodness Shakes recovery drink and a couple of mini muffins. Within two minutes I wished I hadn't as they came straight back up. Outside the race HQ I sat quietly on a bench an sipped some water in order to rehydrate. Not long after that I was able to lie back and regain a bit of energy via a quick snooze before heading back to the car and then home.

My average pace throughout the race had been 6:33/mi, as opposed to 6:46/mi the previous year, which, in theory equates to a prospective marathon finishing time of 2:51:43. That sub-three hour target for the London Marathon is now surely within my grasp... IF I can get my head straight, my fuelling system correct, and start eating properly as opposed to grazing away on junk food... 

Weekly totals:

Run miles: 75.01
Swim lengths/metres: 64/1600m

Sit-ups: 640

Press-ups: 320