Let it snow!

Just back from my second run of the week. Neither has been very far, and neither has been very fast, but both were through about a foot of snow and both were absolutely brilliant.

There's been a lot of snow in Edinburgh this week. It started on Friday night and has been pretty consistent since then, laying a lot of the white stuff across the city. The roads are a disaster - our car has been immobile for days, and very few people have bothered even trying to drive on the icy cobbles. Buses are delayed, diverted and cancelled. Cyclists are foiled from the get-go. The roads are practically deserted.

This is running territory.

I love running in the snow. The icy bits of the road are mad and unpredictable, the deep snow is crunchy and grippy, and the slush is a hilarious obstacle course. I chose a ridiculously hilly route to make things even more interesting. Leaning in to the hills and gripping with my toes on the uphills was fun, but slipping down the icy descents with one hand hovering near the railings was absolutely brilliant. I managed to avoid losing it completely, but had a few near misses. Exhilarating doesn't cover it. I've run out of superlatives.

The hill up to work this morning. 

There are one or two downsides to running in freezing conditions. It's -2C out there, so I've had to give in to wearing extremely uncool running leggings, much to my displeasure. I'd rather just be in shorts, but if I do slip over on an icy patch then I don't want to risk losing all the skin on my legs to grit and other nasties. I've also had to wrap up in a baselayer, shorts, hi-vis jacket, gloves, hat, headtorch and reflective bands. But ordinary socks and ordinary trainers. Because I don't own anything else.

I particularly enjoyed running at full out-of-control downhill sprint past several groups of wellington-booted pedestrians swaddled in heavy coats and wrapped in scarves - I recommend sneaking a glance at their shocked and appalled faces. I only regret missing out on their reactions were I wearing shorts... Once or twice I exchanged knowing looks with other runners out tonight. There was no self-congratulation or smugness in this look - all it said was: 'Screw the snow. There's running to be done.'

Enjoy the snow - go lace up your trainers!

Dave

Marathoning for beginners - part three

Something happens in a marathon which does not occur in other athletic events. It's a physiological event associated with running very long distances, and often stops or slows runners so significantly that lazy writers liken it to hitting a brick wall - personally I think it's more like having a wall thrown at you, whilst trying to cook a soufflé with a blindfold on. Underwater. Wearing clothes made of sadness.

This point often comes as much as 8 miles before the finish line, leaving the poor runner to endure an hour or more of perhaps the most wretched existence in sport. Just thinking about hitting the wall is making me feel nauseous and worried, slightly faint and nervous. Though right now I'm planning to do it again, and again, and again, which would suggest that there's something extraordinary and amazing about overcoming it. Here follow my thoughts.

‘Hitting the wall’ (the metaphor we'll stick with, for brevity if nothing else) occurs when your body has used up all its available glycogen, the primary fuel for muscles. Glycogen burns very quickly and efficiently, which makes it an ideal source of energy, and energy for running in particular. However, most people are only able to store enough glycogen to get them through 18-20 miles’ running, at which point the body switches to its auxiliary fuel supply: fat. Fat is much less efficient for fuelling muscles and this makes running (and thinking, among other things) much, much harder. What's more, strong runners don't tend to have much fat going spare...

Back to that point in the marathon. Despite your devout training and having diligently read part one and part two, every part of your body and mind is suffering. This is normal. As you approach the wall your feet, ankles, knees, legs, hips, and back are likely to be hurting, your arms may start to go numb and your neck may start to ache - this is ordinary discomfort caused by the impact of running for a long, long time. But once you hit the wall you realise that every atom of your being is throbbing with pain. Your eyelashes hurt. Your fingernails hurt. I distinctly remember laughing during the latter stages of the Brighton Marathon because my elbows hurt so much.  Why my elbows?  No idea.  After I hit the wall during the Paris Marathon I realised, with bemusement, that I couldn’t remember how to speak French.  Seeing as I’ve been bilingual all my life this was something of a surprise. I was exhausted. I was miserable. And there were still miles left to go.

Somewhere around mile 23-24, Brighton 2010. The thumbs-up is a lie.

As their bodies start to fall apart, marathon runners set themselves apart from normal people. A normal person’s self-preservation instincts kick in: they slow down, then stop, sit down, and probably call an ambulance.  A marathoner assesses the damage, sighs a tiny sigh, and ploughs on for another 7-8 miles, drawing on a deep, primal reserve of energy and self-belief.  As the final miles are slowly but surely covered through grinding pain and increasingly creative swearing, the end draws into view, and the sheer, unadulterated joy of having overcome the wall releases a hard-won surge of endorphins. The marathoner crosses the finish line, is handed a medal, and enters a different world.

This is how marathon runners are different to normal people. They’ve discovered how to keep going after they’ve done everything they possibly can but still find themselves significantly short of their goal. They’ve found an extra level of ability, a spare reserve of energy and drive which they didn’t know they had, and they are rewarded for finding it. 

This knowledge (I hope) never fades, and my perception is that marathoners retain a greater confidence in human ability than most.  They know that they are capable of going beyond the visible spectrum of possibility, of doing that little bit more than anyone might reasonably have expected. Whenever anyone asks me about running a marathon, I tell them they can do it – not because I think it’s easy, but because I know that everyone is capable of achieving the feat.

In short, life is just better ‘beyond the wall’ - it’s a 24/7 festival of optimism, self-confidence and faith in humanity, and there’s always pasta on the menu.  Come and join the party.


See you on the other side


Dave


P.S. Hello Guernsey and Denmark! 

Parkrun

I am too cheap and ill-disciplined to join a proper athletics club. I'm not good at speedwork and track sessions and hill reps and I generally begrudge anything that replaces a nice long run in the countryside. This is why the Edinburgh Hash House Harriers suits me as a club, with no pressure to attend training sessions and very little pressure to do anything when you do show up (except to drink beer...).

However, the Hash is perhaps a little too far away from actual running for my liking. Sometimes I really do want to know how far I've run, and how fast, and have some friendly competition. And now I've got it, because I've discovered parkrun. Parkrun is a national organisation offering free, weekly races, on professionally measured courses where every competitor's time is digitally recorded. All you have to do to get involved is register online and print off your personalised barcode. Mine looks like this (though not actually, because I've scrambled it - can't have you lot turning up to races and skewing my stats...):

I showed up on Cramond promenade for my local parkrun just after 9am on Saturday morning, and was bowled over both by the wind and the sheer number of people warming up for the race. A quick briefing for the first timers and then we're off with very little drama. We battled against a monster headwind for 2.5k, heading east towards Granton, before turning around and coasting back on the same tailwind for the rest of the course. This isn't really a race - it's supposed to be an opportunity to measure your progress and chase your own PB.

This doesn't stop me racing. I have a 5k Christmas fun run coming up on December 5th (more detail to follow), which I'm taking excessively seriously and so I've been working on this distance rather more than usual. I settle into a brisk pace against the wind, astounded at the range of ages and abilities of the people around me. An 11 year-old stays consistently ahead of me - every time I catch up with him he brings on another enormous surge. At one point he stops to tie his shoelaces, then gets up and sprints to catch up to his pack. Unbelievable. Behind me a rather older chap with an impressive moustache seems to be chasing me. I just about stay ahead. After the turnaround I'm passing whole families, mothers jogging with buggies and older men and women. This is an extremely inclusive event.

Just crossing the finish line, man with impressive moustache behind.
Linds took this photo, when she was very cold...

I make it to the finish line, a few seconds behind the incredible 11 year-old, but a few seconds ahead of the impressive moustache. A marshall makes a note on a tablet PC as I cross the line and I'm handed another barcode. I present both my own barcode and this finish-time one to a marshall with a scanner and a laptop. An hour later very detailed results for the whole race are posted online, and my personal data emailed to me.

"Your time was 20:43. You finished in 29th place and were the 28th gent out of a field of 178 parkrunners and you came 2nd in your age category SM20-24.

You achieved an age-graded score of 62.27%. You have earned 73 points for this run, giving a total of 73 points in this year's Edinburgh points competition."

This is really impressive stuff. With 178 people finishing the 5k course, this is a really good-sized field for this kind of event - a proper community feel. I finished in 20:43 and 29th overall, and this suits me fine, as parkrun tracks how much you're improving online so it would be nonsense to try too hard on the first go...

If you need a bit of motivation or just want to run a perfectly-measured course, consider having a crack at your local parkrun - you've got literally nothing to lose.

Happy running!

Dave

Marathoning for beginners – part two

Last week I blogged (insofar as ‘to blog’ is an acceptable verb...) that Haile Gebreselassie retired from distance running in the wake of his disappointing performance in NYC. However, since Haile has now unretired, I suppose I shall have to unblog. He has since stated that he loves running and racing too much to give it up – which I can sympathise with – and that his sights are now set on London 2012. Hooray!

I can only assume that Haile has made this decision having read Marathoning for beginners – part one, and realising that actually running marathons is superb and he should carry on doing so for as long as possible. Well, Haile, here goes part two: tips...

Training
Your weekday training runs will have to fit around your life, which means running at non-ideal times of day. First thing in the morning, straight after work or last thing at night may not seem like optimum times for exercise, but unfortunately the miles have got to be done and this is the only time most people have to do them. There are a few things you can do to make them easier:

- Try to eat a high-energy, healthy meal or snack 2-3 hours before your run. If running first thing in the morning, have a big dinner the night before and look forward to breakfast after your workout.

- Stay hydrated, not just during your runs but throughout the day.

- Vary your routes to keep things interesting – get hold of a map showing local footpaths and cycle lanes to plan these, which will give you more options than following roads. Or use websites like www.mapometer.com to plan your run before you start.

- Use your training runs to explore new parts of town, such as areas you’ve only ever seen from the road or on a map. When I first moved to Edinburgh I did this to learn my way around. Unfortunately this knowledge proved almost no use at all when driving around this ridiculous city...

- Every so often, plan a ‘destination run’ and drive to a different area to train in, ideally meet someone to run with and get them to show you their favourite routes. This is a great way to break up your routine and to give you some training to look forward to. (In time, you'll end up running to your destination run!)

The Long Run
The weekend long runs in the mileage chart may look intimidating if you don’t run much at present, particularly the 16 and 18+ mile runs. Which is fair enough, that’s a bloody long way on foot. But don’t worry. You’ll build up to them gradually, and your body will be ready to tackle a 36-mile week because it will have had 11 weeks of preparation by the time you make that demand.

It’s impossible to overstate how important the long run is. You and your body will learn certain things during your long runs which you won’t get anywhere else; you’ll learn how to cope with the inevitable aches and pains and test out how your body reacts, how to manage your eating and drinking before, during and after the run, whether your clothing and kit is comfortable, and how to overcome or manage the temptation to stop or slow down. At the same time your body will learn how to efficiently turn glycogen into energy, which will help you to avoid hitting the wall on race day, or at least delay hitting it for as long as possible. (I'm going to blog separately on hitting the wall, it's a big concept).

More than that, long runs are awesome. When you meet your mates on a Sunday afternoon, walking into the pub like you’ve got no knees, you can tell them with a calm sense of pride that you ran 18 miles before lunch, and will probably go for an ‘easy 5’ tomorrow to shake off any tightness left in your epic leg muscles. I like to add an element of drama to this by planning a route to somewhere specific – pick a town 9 miles away for an out-and-back route and tell your friends you ran there this morning. I used to run from my parents’ house to the next county and back, turning around at the border, which sounds much further than the 10-12 miles it actually was.

Food and Drink
During training, eat a lot of food and drink a lot of water. Straightforward.

Try to cut down on alcohol during training, and go teetotal for at least a week before the race. I avoided drinking (almost) entirely for 6 weeks before both of my marathons, and it was a revelation of health and wellbeing, regardless of the athletic benefits. I also cut down on caffeine, though not by much...

You can see my energy gels on my fuel belt above, 

waiting for the Brighton Marathon to start.
You can also see my friend Alex,
who beat me by a solid 15 minutes.

Make a plan for your raceday nutrition, which you should practice before/during your long runs. This means planning exactly what you’re going to eat on the day, at exactly the right time. This might be more difficult than it sounds, particularly if you’re staying away from home the night before. If the race starts at 8am, will you be able to get a bowl of porridge at 6am in Berlin, for instance? If you’re using energy gels or other products during your run, will you be able to take these with you? Or buy them there? For your reference, I have a bowl of Oatso Simple and a banana, with a small black coffee and a glass of water with a berocca vitamin tablet, two hours before the race starts. Then I use energy gels containing carbohydrates, electrolytes and caffeine, typically one gel every 45 minutes or so. Buy these from running shops for about £1 each. Above all, go the loo before the gun fires. The consequences of not doing so are grave indeed.

The Race
If you're new to running, consider entering a half-marathon or a 10k before your big race, so you can learn the basics of race day protocol. However, in brief:

- You'll be issued with a race pack, which may be posted to you in advance or you may have to pick up at the race 'expo' the day before the event. In here you'll find your race number and some safety pins. On the back of the number you'll have space to fill in your details - do this immediately - if the worst happens the first aiders will rely on your info being correct. You'll get a brochure explaining the course and any other special arrangements for the race. If it's a big race, you'll also be given a timing chip. This goes on your shoe and will record your time as you cross the start and finish line, ensuring you get a result accurate down to the second, which will probably be posted online for all to see...

- You'll probably be assigned a 'pen' behind the start line, based on your predicted finish time. This is so runners of roughly the same ability are grouped together, so everyone can start running immediately without having to waste energy weaving in and out of slower runners. Inevitably, a lot of people lie when registering, or overestimate their ability, or just sneak into a faster pen. This is antisocial and bad form - when you're trying to run an even-paced race the last thing you want is to spend the first 10 miles dodging walkers and people in banana suits who've put themselves in your way.

- You'll be handed water, energy drinks and possibly food by volunteers. Don't take it if you don't want it, particularly if you've made a careful nutrition plan, though make sure you're taking on at least some water throughout. But if you get to the end of the race and you're feeling rough, then you may as well just pig out. This logic is how I ended up eating pastries and drinking cider in the last few miles of the Paris Marathon...

- For god's sake, thank the volunteers, or next time there may not be so many. The same goes for marshalls and police who control the traffic. Similarly, smile and at least acknowledge spectators and fellow runners - this will make the race a much happier environment for everyone.

- When you get to the finish (and you will get there), keep moving once you've crossed that magic line. Suddenly the world will be a different place, colours will be more vivid, life will have more purpose, trumpets will sound and elephants will dance, but before you enjoy all that you need to hand over your timing chip, collect your medal and goody bag, drink some water and try not to seize up...

This post has got extremely long, so I'll leave my musing on hitting (and overcoming) the wall and my pseudo-philosophy of marathoning and marathoners to another day. Perhaps part three. If there's anything I haven't covered or anything which seems peculiar, please leave a comment below and I'll try to address queries as best I can. Equally, if you're planning on running a marathon next year let me know, I'd love to hear your plans.

Happy Marathoning!

Dave

P.S. Hello Singapore!

Marathoning for beginners – part one

You’re thinking of running a marathon. Maybe you don’t know it yet, but somewhere, deep down, you love the idea of being a marathoner. You’re thinking that everyone seems to be planning a marathon: badgering you for sponsorship, starting narcissistic blogs, swapping the pub for the gym and investing in high-vis lycra. You’re thinking that there must be something in it, if everyone’s doing it... Just yesterday yet another friend of mine asked me for advice on training for his first 26.2. He reminded me that making the jump from ordinary human to extraordinary higher being is as easy as completing 16 weeks’ training and enjoying a few hours’ ground-pounding and soul-searching on race day. So I'll try to write down some things I learnt from training for my first marathon and hopefully convince you that it's worth your time and effort...

Me looking rather pale, somewhere after mile 21 in Paris, the wrong side of the wall.

The reality check first: not everyone can run a marathon. It isn’t easy. If it was easy, it wouldn’t be extraordinary. It requires significant dedication to a demanding physical regime; sacrifice, hard work, and a certain willpower just to get to the start line. The race itself will be unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. It will probably be the best day of your life, but you will suffer for it. The pain is real, as every joint and muscle will ache like never before, ‘hitting the wall’ can make you want to stop existing, and (to me at least) the pressure to finish the race can be so draining it becomes almost unbearable.  However, for those who are willing to put up with this torment, the rewards are immense.

 Still sound like a good idea? You may just be unhinged enough to approach a marathon. In classic Blue Peter style, here are some things you’ll need before you start:

-          A pair of properly-fitted running shoes and a few pairs of running socks

-          A few pairs of shorts and T-shirts, ideally some specifically designed for running/sport, but ordinary cotton ones will be fine when you're starting out. You'll be much better off buying some good quality kit to race in, and it's best to do this at least a few weeks in advance so you get a chance to train in it and make sure it's comfortable.

-    Layers for the cold, and a lightweight jacket for the rain.

You should already be able to run or jog at a consistent pace for at least 30 minutes non-stop, without any pain in your chest or significant muscle pain. If you can't do this you'll find the programme below very tough going, and potentially quite damaging. If you've had respiratory problems in the past or serious issues with your hips, knees, ankles or feet you may want to have a chat with your GP to make sure you're in a good position to start training. (This is massively hypocritical of me, I love running too much to concede to doctors' instructions to stop or slow down...)

Next you need a plan for training. To prepare for my first marathon in Paris in April 2009, I started 'training properly’ in December 2008, following a 16-week training programme I lifted from a book. The schedule I worked to was based on running just four times a week: two short runs, one medium run and one long run. As you can see, this starts out at 3-4-3-5 miles and tops out at 5-8-5-18 miles. The long run is typically best placed at the weekend, allowing you to take a day off either before or after it (or both). 

Week	Day 1	Day 2	Day 3	Day 4	Total
1	3	4	3	5	15
2	3	4	3	6	16
3	3	4	3	7	17
4	3	5	3	8	19
5	3	5	3	10	21
6	4	5	4	11	24
7	4	6	4	12	26
8	4	6	4	14	28
9	4	7	4	16	31
10	5	8	5	16	34
11	5	8	5	16	34
12	5	8	5	18	36
13	5	8	5	18	36
14	5	8	5	9	27
15	3	5	3	8	19
16	3	3	walk 3	26.2	35.2
Total					418.2

The first sixteen weeks of the rest of your life...

You'll notice that the schedule peaks in weeks 12 and 13, then tapers off. Tapering is just as - if not more - important than getting all your miles in, as it allows your body to recover and store up energy to carry you through raceday. Likewise taking proper rest days, and not increasing your mileage to fast or too soon, will give your body the best chance to deal with the increased demands you're going to make of it. Too many beginners (and experienced runners, come to think of it) do too much too early, and end up suffering overuse injuries or burning out before raceday. 

You might be surprised that the longest run in this plan is 'only' 18 miles. This is a major point of debate in marathon training circles - should your longest training run be 18, 20, 22 or even 26 miles? My advice is that 18 miles is enough, 20 would be good, 22 is probably too much and 26 is madness. This is because hitting the wall during training is miserable, and that if you push too far it will take you too long to recover and interrupt your training as a result. If you're new to running leave it at 18. If nothing else, you probably don't want to know the full scale of the pain that awaits you after mile 20... Bear in mind that the atmosphere and vibe of the race is likely to carry you at least a couple of miles further than you can comfortably run in training.

There's the basics - get some kit, make a plan, follow the plan as best you can and enjoy it. In part two I'll go into more detail on training advice and what you can expect during the race, as well as musing on why marathoners are very different people to the rest of the population...

Happy training!

Dave

Womble vs. The World

Yesterday saw probably the greatest race on Earth, the New York City Marathon, end in triumph for a beginner and tragedy for a veteran. Ethiopian Gebre Gebremariam took the win in 2:08:14 - taking home $170,000 for his first marathon at age 25. 10 miles earlier his countryman Haile Gebresalassie, the 37-year old world record holder (2:03:59 at Berlin 2008) pulled up with a knee injury and dropped out of the race. 

At a press conference later in the day Haile announced his retirement from distance running, ending an extraordinary career which included 25 world records at every distance from two miles to the marathon and a huge collection of Olympic and World Championship medals on the track. He's become synonymous with the marathon and with distance running in general - so much so that he was paid a reported $400,000 just to start the race in NYC. Like most marathon runners, Haile's career has been underpinned by championing charitable and grassroots sports causes in Ethiopia and internationally. He's planning on entering politics now that he's retired from racing. His biography is unimaginatively but accurately titled 'The Greatest'. I miss him already. Full coverage of his race and retirement is available here on marathonguide.com.

Haile announcing his retirement yesterday. Photo (without permission...) from marathonguide.com

This has got me thinking: yesterday the greatest marathon runner in the history of the world announced his retirement, choking back the tears as he explained how he just can't do it anymore. Yet for some reason the news coverage was all about a Chilean miner who finished the race in a literally pedestrian 5:40. Imagine that David Beckham retired tomorrow, and the BBC devoted their breakfast coverage to some newsworthy but basically ordinary blokes having a kickabout in the park. Unthinkable.

This is what I love about the sport. Haile is amazing, but the mystique of the marathon is the challenge of the distance, not necessarily the speed of its completion. Anyone with the courage and confidence to cross the start line, facing 26.2 grinding, painful miles stretching out in front of them has already achieved more than the millions of 'normal people' sat at home enjoying the race from the sofa. All 45,000 runners who started the race in Staten Island on Sunday faced the same challenge, and most saw it through. 

That's why the sport belongs to the masses - the fun runners, the fundraisers, the club runners, the dedicated pavement pounders and everyone else in between. We're all in the same race - all the random runners in Womble suits or Spiderman costumes or dressed as a pantomime horse ran their races in Gebremariam's footsteps, and - in theory - they could even have won. Anyone could. What other sport allows complete amateurs to compete against the best in the world? 

I don't race to win, obviously. But it's awfully nice to have the opportunity.

Happy running

Dave

P.S. blogging is weird - hello readers in the UK, USA, Germany, France, Holland, Luxembourg, Spain, Mexico, and South Korea!