The Blessed Taper

After six months of (quite) dedicated and (mostly) consistent training for the San Francisco Marathon, this week I have finally reached the blessed taper.  Those 27 weeks since January 3rd of gradually increasing mileage and diligently logging training sessions culminated in Saturday’s Last Long Run, a pleasing and relatively fast 20+ miler composed of consecutive 9 and 11 mile loops, briefly stopping off at home in between to enjoy my own personal aid station (wo-)manned by my long-suffering Crew Chief. Despite the heat, humidity and ever-present hills, which I had brutally decided to cover in the latter loop, I finished strong with a smile on my face and clicked off some pretty fast miles. Even accounting for the pit-stops, seemingly endless traffic lights and popping into a running shop to buy an energy gel, I managed to average 8:27 m/m, which, since you’re wondering, would equate to a 3:41 marathon were I able to sustain it for the last six miles.

Click to enlarge.

So now I’ve reached the taper, ready for the gentle cruise down to race day, focusing on stretching, hydrating, relaxing, sleeping and not running very much at all. Sounds great!

However, when still a little fuzzy in the post-run glow, I thought I’d better look up my plan for the taper as I don’t seem to remember what an optimum schedule would look like. I was aghast at what I discovered. Week one of the taper (this current week) is supposed to be 80% of my peak mileage. That means a 16 mile long run at the weekend and some pretty hefty outings on other days. Next week is 60% of the peak mileage, which still equates to a 12 mile long run – actually rather a long way in the real world. Sure, it’s a big reduction, but nothing like the walk in the park I had been picturing... In fact according to the plan I still have 70-80 miles to cover before race day, which is really quite a hefty distance. Sigh.

Then I made another, even more extraordinary discovery. I haven't actually left myself enough time to taper. Instead of leaving three weeks of training plus race week, I mistakenly have just left myself two weeks of training plus race week. Whoops.

But that’s OK. It’s less than three weeks to SF now, which surely means that my rest and relaxation period is right around the corner.

No.

Because, like an arse, I have signed up for the Great North Run just seven weeks after ‘the race even marathoners fear’. Worse still, I seem to have set myself a ridiculous challenge and intend to run it barefoot in aid of the Alzheimer’s Society (FYI, if you haven’t already, now would be a good time to visit my justgiving page, make a donation and remind me why I agreed to this idea...). So it’s ten weeks until I can relax, right?

Wrong.

Two weeks after the GNR I am running the Loch Ness Marathon with my dear friend Mr Ben Nicholson. It will be rather fun, unless of course he’s in a hurry, in which case it might be quite difficult...

I’ve no idea what my training’s going to look like over the next twelve weeks, oddly there don’t appear to be many online training resources designed for people running two marathons and a barefoot half-marathon in the space of nine weeks. Perhaps I should corner the market and write my own? It’s unlikely to be a commercial success but maybe it will attract a cult following.

So 12 weeks. Just three short months and then I can relax properly, ease off the training, try to grow back some of the bits missing from my feet and generally attempt to restore myself to full working order. There’ll be no races in the calendar and I’ll be free to kick back and ignore the pestering of my running shoes. I definitely won’t be spontaneously signing up for anything else. No sir-ee. Not even one.

Probably.

Happy running

Dave

2011 to date - miles: 741.32, parkruns: 6, races: 3, miles biked: 54.38, metres swum: 1225

P.S. I'm starting to panic a little bit.

'Target Marathon pace'

I'm burnt out. Consecutive 40+ mile weeks, compounded by swims, bike miles, tennis and working full time have left me tired and feeling like I'm running on empty. Luckily, with just 3 weeks and 5 days to the San Francisco Marathon, this week is the last big training week before the taper. Right now, it feels like the taper can't come soon enough. I pounded out a quick 10 miles this evening, and before the week's out I'll run two 4 mile max efforts, one 8 mile fast run and 20 miles at the weekend at target marathon pace.

Target marathon pace. So easy to type, so difficult to define...

Because most people can't just run a marathon every day, it's hard to accurately gauge what you're capable of achieving and therefore what pace you should be aiming at. One way is to use a running calculator, like the one available on marathonguide.com. Unfortunately, I pretty much refuse to believe what they've predicted for me based on my half-marathon PB:

Screenshot from marathonguide.com, plus commentary...

3:18! Rubbish. There's absolutely no way I can run that time. 

Judging by my recent runs of 16-18 miles, I could be looking at 8:10 - 8:43 minutes a mile, which would equate to a marathon in 3:34 - 3:48. I would be utterly ecstatic with 3:48. I'd be incredibly happy with 3:59, to be honest. I'd be pleased to run a new PB, ie under 4:05. 

You know what?

I'm going to be happy to finish.

If the hills or the jetlag or the ridiculously early start conspire against me and I run some distinctly average time then who gives a damn? You? Probably not. If you do, I don't care. Me? Not a jot. I'm going to San Francisco, baby! I'm going to run 'the race even marathoners fear'. I'm going to run my third marathon in three years. It will be amazing if I run 3:34 or 4:33. 

I'm going to be very, very happy to finish. After years of fretting about cracking four hours, I can't tell you how much of a relief that is.

Happy running.

Dave

2011 to date - miles: 698.97, parkruns: 6, races: 3, miles biked: 54.38, metres swum: 1225

Psychology of a Long Run

There’s something incredibly satisfying about running really, really long distances. This is going to sound stupid, but I think the reason is that once you’ve run a really long distance, you only have to run a really short distance to make your really long distance even longer. This is the kind of madness that descends after more than two hours' non-stop running.

Stupid, I know.

I noticed the phenomenon when I was out on my long run at the weekend. The psychology of the long run is a fascinating thing, it goes something like this:

• 1^st mile – I’m just warming up! Still warming up and already a mile’s in the bag! I never have to do that mile again! This will be easy!
• 3^rd mile – settling in now. Golly, three miles isn’t far at all. 5k runners are such wimps.
• 6^th mile – feeling the strain a little. And I’m only a third of the way there. [inconsolable misery]
• 8^th mile – [miscount the mileage, think you’re at 9 miles, realise mistake and descend into deep, irretrievable depression.]
• 9^th mile – WOOAAH we’re halfway THE-ERE! WOOAOOAAH livin’ on a PRA-AYER!!
• 10^th mile – time for an energy gel. Rely on mysterious magic goo. Buoyed by caffeine and glycogen/possible placebo effect.
• 12^th mile – two-thirds of the way there. Less than an hour to go. Yes yes yes.
• 13^th mile – OMG I have to do this *twice*!?
• 14^th mile – only one more mile and I’ll have run FIFTEEN MILES. That’s totally far.
• 15^th mile – am I too young for a double hip replacement?
• 16^th mile – just another 16 minutes and I’ll be home not drinking a cold frosty beer. Emotional rollercoaster.
• 17^th mile – ZOMG only one more mile and I’ll have run 18 miles!
• 18^th mile – wait, is that the wall? SOFA TIME!

This is the magic of reeling in the miles – the miles you’ve covered are yours and no-one can take them away. Once you’re over halfway, the next few miles are piled on top of your conquered miles, making each single mile conquered somehow worth more than itself. So when you reach mile 16, you may only have covered one additional mile, but in so doing  you turned a 15 mile run into a 16 mile run. That last mile is more or less worth 16! Magic!

By this infallible logic I reckon a marathon is actually more or less the same as conquering 351 miles. Which is a really long way.

In more grounded news, I covered the aforementioned 18(.17) miles on Saturday morning in a rather hasty 2:28, averaging 8:10 m/m, which projects a slightly terrifying 3:33 marathon finish. Check out the RunKeeper record. I then tested out my new theory that muscle pain the day after long runs are due to me seizing up in the afternoons rather than the impact of the run itself, so I went out for a bike ride in the early evening  and covered six slow miles in the pouring rain. I'm delighted to report that this appears to have worked and I’ve got very little residual muscle ache – either that or I’m actually fit and able to recover much quicker than I used to...

Megan's ridiculously strong finish.

On Sunday I was privileged to witness *the* Megan Crawford PB at the Dunfermline half marathon, finishing in an amazing 1:20 as 3^rd Scot and 5^th woman. Ridiculously proud and basking in reflected glory. On top of that I had a genuinely excellent time supporting the race rather than running it, which bodes well for the day my knees finally do give in... Here are my tweets from my ‘live coverage’ of the event.

  

And finally, to round it all off, a leisurely 2.5 mile jog around Inverleith park in the Vibrams to rack up 20.75 miles of running and 5.95 of cycling over the weekend.  Good times.

4 weeks, 6 days to the San Francisco Marathon.

Happy running

Dave

P.S. If donating online's not your thing, you can now contribute to my Barefoot Great North Run adventure by text! Why not text DAVE86 £5 to 70070 to donate £5 to the Alzheimer's Society? Or more? Or less? Go ooon...

2011 to date - miles: 648.34, parkruns: 6, races: 3, miles biked: 53.38, metres swum: 925

Zero to Hero

At 11am on Saturday I was sprawled over the sofa in my pyjamas; lethargic, grumpy and bemoaning various aches and pains. I had more or less no interest in leaving the flat for any reason whatsoever, least of all to pursue the 16+ mile run I had scheduled in for myself. I was on my own, slightly glum and generally not bothered. At all.

By 2pm I was back in the flat, elated, surging with endorphins and having recorded my longest run of the year to date. How did this miraculous turnaround happen? I’m not sure, but I’ll try to work it out.

The first hurdle was to bully myself into getting dressed and ready. I agreed with myself that if I put my gear on, I would go for at least a little run. No way would I put my running kit on and then endure the shame of taking it all off again to return to pyjamas. I did, however, take an outrageously long time to get dressed, postponing the moment that I’d actually have to step outside for as long as possible. My procrastination was epic. I downloaded a new podcast (The Marathon Show) to listen to on the run. I tied and retied my laces. I insisted on adding ice to my water bottle. I pursued every avenue of potential timewasting for as long as possible, until I had literally no further excuses.

I finally got out of the door at 11.55, almost an hour and a half later than optimum-run-o’clock. I stubbornly maintained absolutely no interest in running the full, prescribed 16 miles, but since the first 8 miles of my planned route were loops relatively near the flat I thought I may as well pursue them. I trotted cheerfully up the hill, confident in the knowledge that I had dozens of opportunities to cut things short.

My first mile was heavily handicapped by traffic lights, registering an impressively slow 9:41. I didn’t care. This run didn’t matter. It wasn’t a long training outing or anything. I trotted cheerfully along the Grassmarket and eventually all the way down to Holyrood Park, ticking off the miles slowly but surely. I dug in and put in a lap of Arthur’s Seat, slowly remembering why I like running and amiably racing a few other pavement-pounders who had joined me on the popular route. At the highest point, with a staggering view over the Forth and across to Fife, I knew this run was going to go well.

At the foot of Arthur’s Seat I headed for the Royal Mile, intending to run all the way up to Edinburgh Castle and rack up some altitude. Seemed like a great idea. But no, terrible mistake – the Royal Mile on a Saturday lunchtime is more or less the most densely populated place in the entire Universe (it’s definitely in the top ten). I was weaving in and out of the camera-toting masses, trying to contain my pedestrian-hating rage as I picked my way through the crowds. There was a wedding, some street performers, half a dozen bagpipers and coach loads of bimbling tourists. Nightmare.

Then suddenly, like a triathlete sensing the very gravest injustice, I could feel someone running on my shoulder. I glanced back. A greasy boy of about 16, laughing and shouting in Italian to a friend toting a camera, was keeping pace with me. His reeking cigarette hung lazily from two fingers. His gleaming white tracksuit shimmered in the sunlight.  I doubt it has ever been near a track. My brief stint of studying Italian was enough to know that I was being mocked for running slowly. 

The boy kept pace for just a fraction too long.

I know, I know. I was out for a training session. I was 6 miles into what was clearly now going to be a 16 mile serious long run. I was climbing a very steep hill and maintaining a carefully modulated pace. I am a serious marathoner with multiple long-distance goals in both the short and long term. But the Italian was very, very annoying. I know I shouldn’t have. But I did it anyway. 

I decided to teach him a thing or two about runners.

I surged forward like a shot, sprinting at full pelt up the cobbled street. The Italian laughed, he was game, this was what he wanted. He picked up too, a fraction behind. But I just kept sprinting, dodging back and forward between bollards and groups of tourists. I glanced back to see the look on his stupid face, and saw him fading faster than a free commemorative T-shirt. After just a few seconds he was long gone, I imagine he started crying. To prove the point I pounded out another few hundred metres at suicide pace, finally reaching the castle with burning lungs and heavy legs. It was awesome.

The next 10 miles were more difficult as a result, if I'm honest. But who cares? Some random tourist who I'll never see again was taught a pointless lesson and it made me feel great. I finished the full 16.6 miles in 2:17, averaging 8:18 minutes/mile. I was elated.

Aaw, yeah. Click to enlarge.

I encourage you to educate any Italians who annoy you, too.

Happy running

Dave

2011 to date - miles: 570.52, parkruns: 6, races: 3, miles biked: 47.44, metres swum: 925

Getting serious

10 weeks and 6 days to San Francisco. Time to start getting serious about training then... But first - three other places you could visit for my ramblings and musings:

•  The June issue of Runners’ World UK, page 99, features my report on the Alloa Half Marathon.  Go and buy a copy now!
  
  
• My interview in the latest edition of Adventure Travel News on muchbetteradventures.com, where I divulge more details of my 10-marathons-before-I'm-30 plan than I had intended to...
  
  
• Twitter! I have joined the tweeting masses, you’ll find me as @davidjhaines. I’ve added a twitter-update feed on the right-hand panel of this blog. Follow me – you’ll probably not regret it too much. While we’re at it, you could follow this blog, too. There's a button over there on the right. That would make my day.

So, being serious...

The first of my efforts to ‘get serious’ was yesterday’s long run; a hearty and comfortable 16 miler around north-east Edinburgh, taking in 1072 feet of climbing and descent, as well as a monster headwind and driving rain along the coast. I often forget how privileged I am to run in a city like this, where a couple of hours’ running can take in beautiful Georgian architecture, a yellow-sand beach, medieval cobbled streets, an extinct volcano, a medium-sized sea port, charming Victorian parks and a calm, pretty riverside. Who could complain about wind, rain and aching muscles against a backdrop like that?

In order to properly illustrate the hills involved in SF and explain why I'm going to be ascending Arthur's Seat (the aforementioned volcano) several times a week for the next 10 weeks, below is a graph illustrating the elevation change of the SF Marathon, with some excellent anecdotes... This image is courtesy of Ben Clark's blog, Proclivity for Hyperbole - go check it out and tell him I sent you. Ben's training for SF too, see you there!

Click to view a larger version (worth it)

All humour aside, I need to take those hills and those miles seriously. Sunday's 16 hilly miles caused no major problem. Adding another 10.2 might, though, so here's my long run plan:

First I’ll be consolidating and strengthening my 13-16 mile runs. I’ll put in another 16 miler this Saturday, followed by probably a long bike ride on the Sunday along and around the Edinburgh Marathon course to support a few friends. Then I’ve got the Mull of Kintyre Half Marathon coming up in two weeks, which I’ll run at a roughly medium-effort pace, aiming to finish in something around 1:40 (look out for the Runners’ World review in a couple of months!). The week after that I’ll be aiming for another 16-miler.

Then a weekend ‘off’ for a stag-do (probably still going to do 10 miles or so), before launching back in the following week, ramping up to 16, 18, 18, then 20 miles in the four Sundays from 19 June. That leaves me two Sundays before the main event in SF, which will be for easy runs of 10-13 miles or so. Possibly incorporating the Milton Keynes half, still thinking about that one... That 20 miler 3 weeks out will be my longest run before the marathon, which hopefully will be enough to carry me through on race day.

Basically I'm back in long run season. Goodbye weekends, farewell alcohol, see you later lazy lie-in. But here come major endorphins, huge mileage and thighs of steel. It's a fair trade...

Happy running

Dave

2011 to date - miles: 467.79, parkruns: 6, races: 2, miles biked: 20.07, metres swum: 675

Back on track

Exciting things have happened for my running this week. First, following the saga of ruining all of my toes, I decided it was high time I bought some new running shoes. As always, I insist on having new shoes properly fitted by someone who knows at least a thing or two about running. The bloke who sold me my shoes was actually studying podiatry at University, and as you'd expect, he was pretty clued-up on his feet facts. After trying half a dozen pairs on the treadmill I went for the new version of my outgoing shoes, replacing my Saucony Omni 8s with the creatively-named Omni 9s. 

The only difference I can see is that whilst the 8s inexplicably had glitter in the side panels, the 9s are slightly less, er, sparkly. I also learnt that my running shop of choice (Snowlines/Footworks Edinburgh) will take your old running shoes and send them off to sports projects in developing countries, as long as they're still good for a minimum of 100 miles. Since my 8s have done 550, I reckon they're still usable for another 100-150 miles, and I'll be happy to see them sent somewhere useful - much better than gathering dust at the back of a cupboard.

Omni 8s, below, and the shiny (but not sparkly) new Omni 9s, above

Second, I've had a great mileage week. I'm completely back on track in terms of my planned mileage, logging 33.4 in the past seven days, christening my new shoes pretty thoroughly. I recorded these in 6 outings (2, 3.1, 3.5, 5, 7.2 and 12.6 miles), rather than my targeted 5, which isn't ideal, but the total is all good.

Third, my weekend runs have been superb. Yesterday's parkrun was my fastest ever and first sub-20 minute 5k, recording 19:51.6 on my watch for an official time of 19:53. I crossed the line with a little bit too much self-congratulation, cheering myself in a rather over-the-top fist-pumping display. Particularly awkward as I went to parkrun on my own and didn't actually know anybody else there... But regardless of my various embarrassing behaviours the conclusion is the same; I've reached my goal and run 5k in under 20 minutes. Like all sufferers of wandering-goal syndrome, this means I now have a new goal of sub-19:30. Where will this end!? Olympic gold, probably.

My long run this morning was great too - 12.6 miles around Edinburgh taking in Arthur's Seat, which accounted for most of the 968 feet of climbing (and descent). I went out intending to take it very easy, probably around 9 minutes/mile, but ended up feeling fantastic and on a mission. By the time I got home I had averaged 8:02, including one mile at a rather brisk 7:31. This is great news for the Alloa Half Marathon, one month today, which I had previously thought would be quite a slow one. With this massive hill training at a good clip in the bag, I might get closer to my 1:37:03 PB than I thought...

Last, some other exciting things are happening (more detail to follow), which if they come through will make my race calendar much more exciting. Stay tuned.

Happy running.

Dave

2011 to date - miles: 169.86, parkruns: 3, races: 0 

Running with the whisky demons

‘I’m ready whenever you are, mate.’

I am not ready. The time is 7.55 on a Saturday morning, my head is pounding, I have been asleep for a little over four hours. Last night I put away the best part of a bottle of wine, four or five beers and quite a lot of excellent cask-strength whisky. I slept fitfully on a sofa that was exactly the wrong size. I am not ready.

Unfortunately, the mate in question is bright-eyed and bushy tailed, dressed in his running gear and poking his head round the door with a look of expectation. Ben has rediscovered running and is training for his first half-marathon. He wants to run nine miles this morning, and I would quite like to stop existing.

Fifteen minutes later, motivated by outrageous competitiveness and a tiny amount of shame, I am ‘ready’. I am dressed as a runner, but it may as well be a fancy-dress costume given my utter lack of preparation for the task ahead. Ben baulks at my shorts and long-sleeved baselayer – he is wearing tracksuit bottoms and a hoody. It can’t be that cold, I insist. I run in Scotland, usually at night, on top of a small mountain.

It is that cold.

Somehow we are shuffling along the north bank of the Thames heading towards Westminster, working against a biting headwind and maintaining a mournful conversation. Our pace is dictated by two things – Ben’s current training tempo and my proximity to death, which conveniently happen to demand roughly the same speed, somewhere around 9:30/mile. I am very, very cold.

Arduously we cover the miles, Ben providing 90% of the conversation as I fight the whisky demons. He points out certain sights along the river, which are welcome distractions for a few precious seconds before the various new and interesting pains resurge with a vengeance. I should add here that Ben’s alcohol intake last night was no minor accomplishment either, though he did make it to bed an hour or two before me. He still looks sprightly as I start to perspire pure ethanol. The bastard.

After we reach the blessed turnaround at the Houses of Parliament, Ben asks if I would mind a quick walking break in Battersea Park, around the 6 mile mark. Impressed by the maturity of his training plan and entirely keen for a bit of a break, I agree wholeheartedly. It is the best news I’ve had all morning. However, as we slow down I realise that the running is doing two things – keeping me a tiny bit warm and distracting me from my hangover. The walk freezes my muscles and the thin layer of warm sweat quickly cools and sits on my skin. A tortuous headache comes to the fore. The hangover demons start a game of badminton in my stomach. I have literally no idea why I allowed my life to reach this point. I glance at Ben in his warm layers and tracksuit bottoms and think murderous, hoody-stealing thoughts.

When I ask Ben if we can run again, I fear that he thinks it’s because I am impatient or bored. This is far from the case; in fact I very literally have to run right now. I’m slightly frightened of what might happen if I don’t. With non-committal grunts I try to make Ben believe that I need to go faster due to some sort of innate athletic urge, and, with difficulty and heavy legs, we resume our pavement pounding.

Lifted ever so slightly by a tailwind, we pick up speed as the landmarks from early on in the run call us home. I am reminded of something I was told by a very good runner when I asked him why he always ran so fast in training, never far from his threshold. He smiled and said ‘if I run faster, it’s over quicker’. We run faster.

Half a mile from home I agree to a ‘cool-down’ walk with a wry smile and the resignation of one who is getting everything he deserves. We make it back to Ben’s house and the warmth makes me think that perhaps I could live another day. Ben is delighted with our run – it is his 9-mile PB.

The longest miles in London

Ben offers me breakfast, coffee, water, a shower. I want them all but I don’t know in what order. I collapse on the sofa, hoping someone else will decide. Eventually the antisocial reek of cold sweat pushes me towards the shower first, and later we wander over to a local greasy spoon for our brunch.

A few hours later Ben hands me another beer. We are not going running tomorrow.

Happy drinking.

Dave

I love a good training plan

‘How many miles do you run a week?’ is a question I am asked literally no times a day, though I am prepared for it as if Her Majesty's Secret Service might one day bundle me in to a van and demand a breakdown of my weekly mileage. The short answer for last year was ’20-25’, cheerfully ignoring the many weeks in which I did much less that. The long answer is that it varies, hugely, and hopefully in 2011 will be a lot, lot higher.

The main thing that affects my mileage is whether or not I'm building up to a big race – when I’ve got a marathon in the pipeline I become a slave to the spreadsheet, carefully planning how many miles I should cover in particular weeks, what distance my long run should be, and the frequency and variation of my other runs. 

Right now I’m in week three of a monster 29-week plan leading up to the San Francisco marathon. Most marathon training plans are 12 or 16 weeks, and are designed by professionals. This one covers seven months, and was designed by Dave. 

The weekly mileage projection peaks and troughs due to the short tapering sessions I’ve allowed myself for my other planned races in the period, but basically started two weeks ago with a 22 mile week, dictates that I should run 29 in this current week, and tops out at the start of July with a frankly terrifying 50-mile week, including a 22-mile long run. It covers a total of well over a thousand miles, and suggests that I’ll beat last year’s total distance by the third week of June this year. When completed I'll have thighs of steel, chiselled calves, wrecked feet, five more medals and hopefully a couple of new PBs. It - will - be - awesome.

But.

Like all runners - from first time 5k-plodders to elite and extreme superhumans, my training won't go entirely to plan. I'll get ill, I'll get injured. I'll be grumpy or fed up or busy. I'll decide not to enter one or two races, and training will change accordingly. I'll probably have to write off a few days after Nick's stag-do, and doubtless there'll be other weekends when I have a few too many glasses of wine. Basically, it will go wrong one way or another, to a greater or lesser extent, and for once I've accepted that from the get-go. Hopefully this means I'll be able to deal with setbacks better than in previous years...

Tony before his world record run

And if I thought I had made my plans with a hefty dose of realism and a side of pessimism, try this for size - on a recent Marathon Talk podcast, Tony Audenshaw (an Emmerdale actor who also holds the Guinness World Record for fastest marathon dressed as a baby - 3:13:30 at London 2010) divided his marathon training schedule into four distinct phases: 

"Running when I feel unfit, then running when I feel relatively fit, then getting sick of running with my fitness hitting a plateau, and finally getting ill, injured, or going on holiday at the wrong time, leading to a below par race." 

This from a 47 year-old bloke who regularly runs sub-3:20 marathons! What hope do the rest of us have?

What all this boils down to is that I'm going to aim to run an awful lot of miles, and if I manage even the majority of them I'll count myself lucky and in good shape to tackle SF. I'll let you know how I get on.

Happy training!

Dave

P.S. Haven't had a guest blogpost in a while - any takers?

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!

How I accidentally ran 18 miles.

I found myself, yesterday morning, with absolutely nothing to do. This hasn't happened to me in a long time, and I was at a bit of a loss - the flat was empty, no-one was free to meet up, and there wasn't much going on in town. So I decided to go for a run. I was most certainly not planning to run more than two-thirds of a marathon, but inexplicably that is exactly what happened.

I had a rough idea that I wanted to run a section of the path along the Water of Leith - an excellent and well-maintained footpath that runs for 12-13 miles from Balerno to the Port of Leith, passing through a series of attractive villages, parks, woodland and very close to the city centre before flowing into the Forth at Leith. I use this path to train on relatively frequently, but usually only the 3-4 miles or so in either direction from my flat - which means that I had at least 5 miles of it left to explore. The problem was that those 5 miles were 4 miles from my flat...

I packed up my rucksack with some energy gel, a banana, water, phone, cash, iPod, camera, keys and a spare T-shirt. Packing such an extensive kit list should have been a subconscious clue that I was in for the long haul. Heading out towards Balerno, I had the pleasure of running past such distracting places as the Dean Gallery, Murrayfield Stadium, a skate park in Saughton, some incredible bridges and on to the Water of Leith visitor centre, stopping to take photos and enjoy the scenery.

One of the 6 Anthony Gormley sculptures in the Water of Leith

Eventually, after running not many miles in quite a lot of minutes I reached the visitor's centre in Slateford, and stopped to answer my phone. Looking around when I finished the call, I noticed that the centre had signposts citing the distances to various towns, and there it was: Balerno 5 miles. The end of the road. Who could resist? I repacked my bag and cheerfully set off towards the end goal. (I resisted temptation to do some basic arithmetic: I ran 4.5 miles to get here, it's about 5 miles to Balerno, and when I get there I'll have to run all the way back again...is this really a good idea?)

I would never have met this giant wooden...thing...if I hadn't been running all day!

So on through woodlands, past industrial estates, huge houses, beautiful parks, endless allotments and countless other nuances of Scottish suburbia. My knee started to complain, and before long my hips and ankles were getting a little tetchy too. I got lost a couple of times and once nearly ran straight into a surprising horse, but reached the end of the path without too much drama, running along a gloriously flat old railway path for much of the last few miles. I stopped to eat my banana, gulp some water and put on the spare T-shirt, as I was starting get a little cool. There isn't a great deal there to congratulate you on reaching the end:

I was lucky to get this photo, as I had just dropped my camera and had to coax it back to life.

Well now I've got a problem. I'm nearly 10 miles from home and starting to hurt quite a lot, with barely any water and no food left. Churchill once probably didn't say: "If you're going through hell, keep going", so I turned up the volume on my iPod, turned around and started for home. It was tough going, but things didn't start to really fall apart until around 15 miles, just as I got back to the visitor centre. I popped in to buy a copy of the footpath map which includes some of the history of the area, and the very sweet old lady who sold it to me insisted on refilling my empty water bottle. When I went back outside, I sat down on a bench to retie my shoelace, and from there onwards I was in trouble. Never sit down during a long run, Dave! For God's sake, man, have you never done this before!? Exit, pursued by a cramp.

So I managed the next 5 miles by running with walking breaks, which then turned to walking with running breaks, which then turned to plain old walking. Still overtaking the hikers, but walking nonetheless. I was reminded of Dean Karnazes's maxim "Run when you can, walk if you have to, crawl if you must, just never give up."

Finally I made it home, and after a recovery shake, half a kilo of pasta, four pints of water, a bath, a small pile of painkillers and a gin & tonic, I felt a little more human. 18 miles of running and a couple more of walking can really take it out of you, so if you're thinking of spending most of your Saturday running, please make a slightly more thorough plan than I did... Here's a map of my mad out-and-back adventure:

I had planned to meet a friend for a quick run this morning, but after the unexpected very long run yesterday I texted him to cancel, expecting the worst of post-run pain. The bizarre thing was, I actually felt ridiculously fresh this morning, almost ready to go out and do it all again. The 12-hour sleep probably helped, but I think my incredibly leisurely pace, at around 10 minutes/mile (which is hugely light compared to my usual 7:45m/m ground pounding) is what preserved my much-punished muscles. I thought about going out for a quick jog today, but just to be on the safe side, I went to the pub instead.

Jog on!

Dave