My training continues to go from strength to strength. I've only had a few problems arise in the last two month's, and I've managed to over come those much quicker than I used to. This week was more of the same good quality workouts.
My Tuesday sessions are really testing and worth their weight in gold. O.K., technically they don't weigh anything but you get what I mean.
This weeks training involved 3 x 1000 metres with 200 metre recovery jogs, followed by 5 x 600 metres. Breaking the session up into two separate parts is a new format I'm coming to terms with since joining my new track group. I'm used to completing the same distance for the entire duration of a session, or a continual increase or decrease in distances. It's challenging to set yourself a pace goal for half a session, which your body and mind quickly becomes accustomed to, then you have to change that body and mind set for the second half of a session, usually upping the tempo for shorter repetition distances. I'm very consistent with my pacing. I can set myself a target and will hit the correct lap times again and again. So to change the pace goal posts has been a bit of a shock to my metronomic style, but a shock that will ultimately help my racing, enabling me to cope with a mid race change of pace, be it of my own making or in response to an opponent.
A clear indicator for me that I'm running into great shape is not the speed sessions, where I finish flat on my back gasping for air, but in my steady run's. I'm consistently completing routes that I've used for years faster than ever. I often look at my watch and do a double take. I worry that I'm pushing the pace of my easier runs too much, but when I'm running I'm not in any difficulty. I'm running relaxed and my breathing is controlled and by no means laboured. I'm just getting fitter and faster and more economical in my running, so I'm covering the ground faster.
All that's left is to prove it in a race. It's here that I feel very undecided. Half of me wants to keep my powder dry. To continue to make progress in training and to wait for a big race to come along where I can smash out a massive P.B. When I was racing nearly every weekend I started to become frustrated with easing back a day or two before and event, when I could have been putting more miles under my belt, increasing my fitness. I also feel that long term I gain more from doing a hard session on a Saturday morning than I do from racing. I just want to stay on the conveyer belt of training and only jump off when I reach the end. But then there's the other half of me that wants to get out and race. I love racing, it's why I train, it's why I run! I start to get itchy feet when I've been more than a couple of weeks without a race. I read results every week, and see how people I know, and people I know of, are doing. I always wonder where I would have finished, and what time I could have run. I'm also wary that if I put all my eggs in one basket I might not get the result I want. If I wait for one big race, a million and one things could happen that prevent me from producing my best. By racing more often and coming out of a training cycle I'll lower the risk of not producing what I'm capable of. It might not be in some prestigious race, but a time is a time whether it's in the Olympic 10k or in some local mid week one man and his dog 10k!
For now I'm happy to continue my training. I'm enjoying my running more than ever. Running faster than ever plays a big part in that. I've also found that by freshening up my training, by changing groups, it's given me a new impetus. Things as simple as training in new surroundings and with new people have spiced up my running. I've never really struggled to find the motivation to put my trainers on and hit the streets, it's just now it all feels new and exciting again. It's like getting a new bike for Christmas. Ultimately a bikes a bike, but the new ones special, you feel more proud of yourself and your bike when you ride the same streets, you take it up new pathways to explore it's potential. The paint works perfect, the wheels are shiny, and you just feel that bit more special when you turn the pedals. I just hope I don't fall off!
Wednesday 30 July 2008
Tuesday 29 July 2008
Training Monday 7th - Sunday 13th July
After the high of running well and setting a new P.B. last weekend, I was brought back down to earth with a bump this week. I felt tired and off colour as a result of the race and all the travelling that went with competing up in Leeds. The race also left me with tight calf muscles, I believe from sprinting full-pelt round the last 200 metres of the race, something my legs are not very use to. This all meant that the week became an exercise in injury management.
I eased myself round my Monday morning run but my legs didn't feel great, it was like walking the tightrope of good health. I knew I was starting to wobble and I didn't want to fall off! Reluctantly I decided not to do my evening run and rather than hit the gym, I spent my time stretching and manipulating my tight calves. The decision was made a hell of a lot easier when a summer storm hit Surrey. I really didn't fancy my chances in it, especially when it started hailing!
By Tuesday I was feeling a lot better. I knew I'd made the right decision and my legs were feeling a bit more like it as well. I knew a track session would really test my health and my slight injury problem but I wanted to get this key session in. I could worry about the consequences later. The session went well. Two sets of 1200, 800 & 400 metres followed by a final 1200. It was a slightly odd session given that every member of the group had one decidedly dodgy rep. Mine occurred in the second 800. I felt dreadful, but quickly regained my composure and flew round the remaining two reps. I reckon it was a case of mind over matter. However, the aftermath of the session was not good news for my calves. They stiffened up a treat and all the stretching, icing and massaging I proceeded to give myself before I hit the hay, made not a jot of difference come Wednesday morning. I knew my calves were not great before I even got out of bed and the walk down the stairs, which I nearly had to do on my backside, made sure I knew they were none to pleased with me.
I began to stress about the training my coach had set for the next few days and there was also a race at the end of the week that my club really needed me to make. I started to get caught up in thinking about the short term and how completing every session was the be all and end all. I got carried away thinking about the ground I would lose on everyone else if I didn't train every day. Thankfully I soon saw sense and chilled out. Missing a few sessions was not really going to hurt the game long term but forcing myself out the door in a vain attempt to complete every run would definitely do me a lot more harm than good. So I spent Wednesday and Thursday rehabilitating my legs. I felt almost nauseous as the time for each session came and went but I knew I was doing the sensible thing. I was getting over this strange and intense guilt you feel whenever you miss a session. It's a strange feeling but it at least shows how much I want to do well and how much I love to run and push myself forwards.
By Friday I felt confident I could run without putting myself back to where I was on Tuesday night. I just set myself an easy twenty minute run, with half a mind on the injury and the other on Saturday's race. I came through unscathed and confident I could race on Saturday afternoon.
The actual race was a bit of an odd one. I was worried about doing more damage to my legs and I think that really affected my mindset. I warmed up really well and paid close attention to the old calves. I didn't want to push to hard, to protect my calves, but I still wanted to perform reasonably well. When the gun went bang I suddenly didn't fancy it at all. I knew I could win but I was so concerned with aggravating the problem that I just dawdled round the track for two laps. I was in third and had lost nearly fifty metres on the leaders. Suddenly at the start of the third lap I got interested. I eased back up to the leaders, stayed with them till halfway, then pushed on. My nervousness towards the injury problem that had left me feeling quite subdued was gone. I was running well, still not giving it 100%, in order to protect my legs, but I felt strong and reasonably fast. I finished first and was pleased to be only thirty seconds down on last week’s effort. Not to bad seeing as my first two laps were a complete joke.
I quickly flicked into recovery mode, taking great care to warm down and stretch out any stiffness in my legs. I continued the process for the rest of the day and went to bed without any problems. I even decided to play it extra cautious on Sunday. Rather than getting up first thing to do my long run as normal I waited till after lunch. I wanted my calves to have woken fully and to have done some rehab work on them before I hit the road for ninety minutes. It all worked out really well. I had one of those runs where you feel like you could go on forever, and take on the world. I felt so relaxed and fast I didn't want it to end.
I feel proud of how disciplined I've become towards dealing with injury and illness problems that will always occur when you are training hard. I didn't panic too much and took my time, which ultimately resulted in a shorter lay off than may have happened. During this new phase in my running I've learnt that Rome wasn't built in a day, and know I know that Rome won't crumble in a day either!
I eased myself round my Monday morning run but my legs didn't feel great, it was like walking the tightrope of good health. I knew I was starting to wobble and I didn't want to fall off! Reluctantly I decided not to do my evening run and rather than hit the gym, I spent my time stretching and manipulating my tight calves. The decision was made a hell of a lot easier when a summer storm hit Surrey. I really didn't fancy my chances in it, especially when it started hailing!
By Tuesday I was feeling a lot better. I knew I'd made the right decision and my legs were feeling a bit more like it as well. I knew a track session would really test my health and my slight injury problem but I wanted to get this key session in. I could worry about the consequences later. The session went well. Two sets of 1200, 800 & 400 metres followed by a final 1200. It was a slightly odd session given that every member of the group had one decidedly dodgy rep. Mine occurred in the second 800. I felt dreadful, but quickly regained my composure and flew round the remaining two reps. I reckon it was a case of mind over matter. However, the aftermath of the session was not good news for my calves. They stiffened up a treat and all the stretching, icing and massaging I proceeded to give myself before I hit the hay, made not a jot of difference come Wednesday morning. I knew my calves were not great before I even got out of bed and the walk down the stairs, which I nearly had to do on my backside, made sure I knew they were none to pleased with me.
I began to stress about the training my coach had set for the next few days and there was also a race at the end of the week that my club really needed me to make. I started to get caught up in thinking about the short term and how completing every session was the be all and end all. I got carried away thinking about the ground I would lose on everyone else if I didn't train every day. Thankfully I soon saw sense and chilled out. Missing a few sessions was not really going to hurt the game long term but forcing myself out the door in a vain attempt to complete every run would definitely do me a lot more harm than good. So I spent Wednesday and Thursday rehabilitating my legs. I felt almost nauseous as the time for each session came and went but I knew I was doing the sensible thing. I was getting over this strange and intense guilt you feel whenever you miss a session. It's a strange feeling but it at least shows how much I want to do well and how much I love to run and push myself forwards.
By Friday I felt confident I could run without putting myself back to where I was on Tuesday night. I just set myself an easy twenty minute run, with half a mind on the injury and the other on Saturday's race. I came through unscathed and confident I could race on Saturday afternoon.
The actual race was a bit of an odd one. I was worried about doing more damage to my legs and I think that really affected my mindset. I warmed up really well and paid close attention to the old calves. I didn't want to push to hard, to protect my calves, but I still wanted to perform reasonably well. When the gun went bang I suddenly didn't fancy it at all. I knew I could win but I was so concerned with aggravating the problem that I just dawdled round the track for two laps. I was in third and had lost nearly fifty metres on the leaders. Suddenly at the start of the third lap I got interested. I eased back up to the leaders, stayed with them till halfway, then pushed on. My nervousness towards the injury problem that had left me feeling quite subdued was gone. I was running well, still not giving it 100%, in order to protect my legs, but I felt strong and reasonably fast. I finished first and was pleased to be only thirty seconds down on last week’s effort. Not to bad seeing as my first two laps were a complete joke.
I quickly flicked into recovery mode, taking great care to warm down and stretch out any stiffness in my legs. I continued the process for the rest of the day and went to bed without any problems. I even decided to play it extra cautious on Sunday. Rather than getting up first thing to do my long run as normal I waited till after lunch. I wanted my calves to have woken fully and to have done some rehab work on them before I hit the road for ninety minutes. It all worked out really well. I had one of those runs where you feel like you could go on forever, and take on the world. I felt so relaxed and fast I didn't want it to end.
I feel proud of how disciplined I've become towards dealing with injury and illness problems that will always occur when you are training hard. I didn't panic too much and took my time, which ultimately resulted in a shorter lay off than may have happened. During this new phase in my running I've learnt that Rome wasn't built in a day, and know I know that Rome won't crumble in a day either!
Tuesday 8 July 2008
Training Monday 30th June - Friday 4th July
This weekend, I’m travelling up to Leeds to make my British League debut in the 5000 meters, so this week my training schedule has been tweaked to allow me to be in the best possible shape for Saturdays race. That entailed reducing my overall weekly mileage, as well as easing back on the intensity of many of my steady runs.
However my disastrous race, the previous Saturday, threw a large spanner in the works. That race was intended to provide me with two things. Firstly I hoped it would be a big confidence boost, which it most defiantly was not, and secondly it was supposed to give me an idea of my fitness levels and along with that, an idea of the pace I would be able to handle in Leeds. Even though I knew I was in good shape, doubts began to cross my mind. I had certain time goals that I knew I was more than capable of achieving but I didn't have that concrete evidence.
I felt trapped between a rock and a hard place. On the one hand I wanted to rest up so my body was fresh and capable of working to its maximum potential, knowing however this would not prevent the doubts from creeping in. On the other hand, should I push hard in training and prove to myself I was in good shape, at the expense of being fully rested?!
In the end I managed to find something of a happy medium. I eased my steady runs on Monday, Wednesday and Friday back even more than I would normally, which allowed me to increase the intensity of my sessions on Tuesday and Thursday. This gave me the physcological pick me up I needed, as well as a full recovery phase.
Tuesday’s session worked wonders. Two sets of 800, 600, 400 and 200 metres. I decided to really go for it during the first set and I certainly did that, running faster in training than I can remember. I think I may have even produced my fastest time over 200 meters ever! For the second set I didn't push myself as close to the edge. I was still pushing hard, I just wasn't bent over double at the end of every repartition, which may not have made much difference physically to my overall recover for Saturdays race, but physcologically I felt I was leaving plenty of unused gas in the tank.
Thursdays final pre-race tune up involved running a leg of a local relay race, run over a two-mile course. On paper it was ideal, a nine-minute work out, in a low-key race, in a very relaxed atmosphere. I even requested the third of the four legs. I was hoping to be in no-mans land. Too far behind any of the leaders to think about catching them up and too far in front of any of the others to fear being caught.
Sadly that didn't happen and I took off in second position one hundred yards behind the leader and the same again in front of third place. To make matters even worse I train with both men, knew they were in good shape, and that they would love nothing more than to put one over me! In the end it actually worked out well. I had a great run, gained a few seconds on the leader and gapped a few more on third. I felt strong yet controlled throughout. I gave it ninety seven percent, those last three I was keeping dry for Saturday!
Leeds 5000 Metre Track:
I experienced the true glamour of athletics for this race. Driving up to Leeds in a cramped mini-bus that had certainly seen better days. (We nearly lost a member of the squad out of the back door, which had a bad habit of opening whilst we were on the move).
I ate my pre-race meal in a service station on the M1 and stayed over night in a Travelodge, which from the sounds of it had a family of elephants staying in the room above! However, I don't think I would have changed a thing!
We arrived in the stadium early on Saturday morning. My race wasn't until late in the afternoon, so I sat in the stands and watched the athletics unfold amongst everything the great British weather could throw at it. High winds, torrential rain, thunder and lightening, you name it we had it. But by the time I started my warm up the weather was perfect for distance running, overcast and cool with only the slightest of breezes - brilliant.
By the time I had my toe on the line however the clouds had dispersed and it was hot and humid - not ideal. Fortunately, I've overcome the physcological barrier I had with the weather and it didn't even cross my mind that the conditions could affect my performance.
The gun went off and I knew after the first lap I was going to have a good one. I was in the zone, I was focused on myself and those I was racing and nothing else. We were circulating faster than I'd ever run for the distance before, but I felt ridiculously comfortable. The race had split into two groups. There were two leaders, one of whom represented Britain at the cross-country world championships, lapping a couple of seconds faster than me in the second group of six. At half way I was still feeling good, tucked in behind the leader of our group who'd been lapping consistently. I really wanted to push on, but because I was into the unknown I was nervous too. A lot can happen in two and a half kilometres and I didn't want to blow my chances of setting a new personal best by being over exuberant.
So I stayed where I was.
With four laps to go the pace began to fluctuate as we battled for position.
It was at this point I had my one bad patch. I fell to the back of the group, but after just one lap I had recomposed myself, moved back through the pack, and even hit the front with two laps to go. I was just testing the waters and slipped back of the pace and onto the shoulder of the group leader, where I remained until there were 150 to go and the mass sprint for the line commenced, as six of us fought it out. We were spread across the track in a single line, as no one was able to make that decisive move. With fifty to go my arms and legs began to flail around all over the shop, as I used that last three percent I'd saved from Thursdays race. It wasn't quite enough to win the race within the race.
I crossed the line fifth, third from my group, but more important than my position was the fact that I 'd improved my personal best by almost 20 seconds. I was elated. I'd run faster than ever before yet still had the energy to sprint to the finish. I know there's still more time to come off.
I felt so comfortable with the pace that I now know I can push it on faster and not fear having the wheels come off. It shows that I really am getting into great shape and if I can improve over 5K, which is a little short for me, and do it on the track, which is my least favourite surface, I can do even bigger damage in the longer races on the road later this summer. It's definitely full steam ahead!
However my disastrous race, the previous Saturday, threw a large spanner in the works. That race was intended to provide me with two things. Firstly I hoped it would be a big confidence boost, which it most defiantly was not, and secondly it was supposed to give me an idea of my fitness levels and along with that, an idea of the pace I would be able to handle in Leeds. Even though I knew I was in good shape, doubts began to cross my mind. I had certain time goals that I knew I was more than capable of achieving but I didn't have that concrete evidence.
I felt trapped between a rock and a hard place. On the one hand I wanted to rest up so my body was fresh and capable of working to its maximum potential, knowing however this would not prevent the doubts from creeping in. On the other hand, should I push hard in training and prove to myself I was in good shape, at the expense of being fully rested?!
In the end I managed to find something of a happy medium. I eased my steady runs on Monday, Wednesday and Friday back even more than I would normally, which allowed me to increase the intensity of my sessions on Tuesday and Thursday. This gave me the physcological pick me up I needed, as well as a full recovery phase.
Tuesday’s session worked wonders. Two sets of 800, 600, 400 and 200 metres. I decided to really go for it during the first set and I certainly did that, running faster in training than I can remember. I think I may have even produced my fastest time over 200 meters ever! For the second set I didn't push myself as close to the edge. I was still pushing hard, I just wasn't bent over double at the end of every repartition, which may not have made much difference physically to my overall recover for Saturdays race, but physcologically I felt I was leaving plenty of unused gas in the tank.
Thursdays final pre-race tune up involved running a leg of a local relay race, run over a two-mile course. On paper it was ideal, a nine-minute work out, in a low-key race, in a very relaxed atmosphere. I even requested the third of the four legs. I was hoping to be in no-mans land. Too far behind any of the leaders to think about catching them up and too far in front of any of the others to fear being caught.
Sadly that didn't happen and I took off in second position one hundred yards behind the leader and the same again in front of third place. To make matters even worse I train with both men, knew they were in good shape, and that they would love nothing more than to put one over me! In the end it actually worked out well. I had a great run, gained a few seconds on the leader and gapped a few more on third. I felt strong yet controlled throughout. I gave it ninety seven percent, those last three I was keeping dry for Saturday!
Leeds 5000 Metre Track:
I experienced the true glamour of athletics for this race. Driving up to Leeds in a cramped mini-bus that had certainly seen better days. (We nearly lost a member of the squad out of the back door, which had a bad habit of opening whilst we were on the move).
I ate my pre-race meal in a service station on the M1 and stayed over night in a Travelodge, which from the sounds of it had a family of elephants staying in the room above! However, I don't think I would have changed a thing!
We arrived in the stadium early on Saturday morning. My race wasn't until late in the afternoon, so I sat in the stands and watched the athletics unfold amongst everything the great British weather could throw at it. High winds, torrential rain, thunder and lightening, you name it we had it. But by the time I started my warm up the weather was perfect for distance running, overcast and cool with only the slightest of breezes - brilliant.
By the time I had my toe on the line however the clouds had dispersed and it was hot and humid - not ideal. Fortunately, I've overcome the physcological barrier I had with the weather and it didn't even cross my mind that the conditions could affect my performance.
The gun went off and I knew after the first lap I was going to have a good one. I was in the zone, I was focused on myself and those I was racing and nothing else. We were circulating faster than I'd ever run for the distance before, but I felt ridiculously comfortable. The race had split into two groups. There were two leaders, one of whom represented Britain at the cross-country world championships, lapping a couple of seconds faster than me in the second group of six. At half way I was still feeling good, tucked in behind the leader of our group who'd been lapping consistently. I really wanted to push on, but because I was into the unknown I was nervous too. A lot can happen in two and a half kilometres and I didn't want to blow my chances of setting a new personal best by being over exuberant.
So I stayed where I was.
With four laps to go the pace began to fluctuate as we battled for position.
It was at this point I had my one bad patch. I fell to the back of the group, but after just one lap I had recomposed myself, moved back through the pack, and even hit the front with two laps to go. I was just testing the waters and slipped back of the pace and onto the shoulder of the group leader, where I remained until there were 150 to go and the mass sprint for the line commenced, as six of us fought it out. We were spread across the track in a single line, as no one was able to make that decisive move. With fifty to go my arms and legs began to flail around all over the shop, as I used that last three percent I'd saved from Thursdays race. It wasn't quite enough to win the race within the race.
I crossed the line fifth, third from my group, but more important than my position was the fact that I 'd improved my personal best by almost 20 seconds. I was elated. I'd run faster than ever before yet still had the energy to sprint to the finish. I know there's still more time to come off.
I felt so comfortable with the pace that I now know I can push it on faster and not fear having the wheels come off. It shows that I really am getting into great shape and if I can improve over 5K, which is a little short for me, and do it on the track, which is my least favourite surface, I can do even bigger damage in the longer races on the road later this summer. It's definitely full steam ahead!
Thursday 3 July 2008
Training Monday 23rd of June - Friday 29th June
Having had such a great week of quality running last week, the pace and intensity of it started to show a little. My body was suffering a bit from fatigue, which was particularly evident during Tuesday’s track session. Having done such a long and intense workout on Saturday, followed by a brisk long run on the Sunday, it stood to reason that I was not going to be fully recovered. My legs were just a little heavy and lacked the bounce of the week before. That said, I was still pleased with how I coped with running hard on tired legs. What also softened the blow was that my training partner, who'd put me through the mill during Saturday’s killer session, was also finding the session tough. It proved to me that he's not a robot after all. The rest of the group and I have often questioned his humankind credentials, due to his ability to recover so quickly from one session to the next and to be constantly at the front of the pack pushing the pace.
It was a session that showed me that my mental toughness has improved. Previously I may have eased back more, or missed out one or two of the repartitions. But I was never going to do that now. I think it’s a mixture of being more confident in my abilities, as well as the benefits of training in a big group. No matter how bad I felt there was always someone on my shoulder pushing me along, or someone in front I could chase. It stops the 'This is a bit tough, I might stop' thoughts coming into my head.
I recovered well during the rest of the week. My coach decided that my body would benefit from doing one longer slower run on Wednesday instead of the usual two thus giving my body longer between sessions to recover without loosing too much mileage. By Thursday I was feeling fresher and I felt that bounce was coming back during my session of six one minute repetitions, which left me feeling in high spirits ahead of my weekend track race.
Saturday 30th June. 5000 Meters Track race: Having not eased up in my preparations for this race I knew it was going to be a little tough. But mentally I was prepared for that. I knew the night before what I wanted to get out of the race, what pace I was going to go for and that I needn't be overly concerned if the time I wanted didn't happen. However I wasn't prepared for the nightmare scenario that actually occurred.
I'd downloaded my route to the track meet from the Internet the night before. The “AA man” said it would take one hour and six minuets. I love it when he's so precise! However Mr AA man hadn't told me about the road closures, traffic works and the masses and masses of weekend drivers that I would encounter. I knew I was in trouble straight away when, after only fifteen minuets of driving, I ground to a halt. Two and a half hours later I arrived!
Being stuck in my car for so long meant I dare not take on as much fluid as I would normally - where was I going to get rid of it?! I wasn't going to lower myself to using my Lucozade bottle to relieve myself; it still had some left and I don't like to waste my Lucozade! Driving through various unfamiliar London suburbs I knew I was never going to find a loo, not one that was open and in working order anyway! So I took to sipping and consequently was well dehydrated by the time I arrived. Additionally, the soaring temperature in my car, which to all intense and purposes turned into a rolling green house, meant I was also getting annoyed with my slow progress, not to mention stressed that I was going to miss my race.
I'd left home with plenty of time to spare, but when my journey had taken double the expected time I began to doubt that I'd make it. I was slowly getting closer. From the race time I'd been given I had ten minuets to kick off. I was close but still in traffic. I decided in my infinite wisdom that having never been to the track before I was just round the corner. So I ditched the car in a side road and pegged it with vest and spikes in hand. After five minuets I knew I'd gone wrong. Two minuets further down the road and I was sure of it! I reluctantly turned round and ran back to the car, still going at a fair old pace just in case. I was telling myself, 'You never know the start might have been delayed'! I looked at my route instructions and realised I was “oh” so close, but stupidly I'd taken a wrong turn. Sadly this was due to me needing to use a handy bush to finally relieve myself before I exploded! Thus I headed back onto a different main road, in the wrong direction!
I finally drew up to the track. Hot, bothered, tired, thirsty but gamely clutching spikes and vest in hand. As I hit the track I could see my teammate standing on the start line. I wasn't quite sure to laugh or cry. On the one hand I had made it, my journey wasn't wasted, but on the other hand, I was in no state to run. I sprinted to the start and asked them if they'd wait, which they did. The meet was running behind schedule on top of the fact that the start time I had been given was ten minutes early. I was so late I had to draw my number on a piece of paper and pin it to my vest - very professional!
So I towed the line, went to the front and tried to hit the target pace I'd decided upon the night before. What a fool, I was never going to be able to do it in the state I was in. I managed to circulate the track only a second per lap down on my target pace, but only for a grand total of four laps. Only eight and a half to go then! The rest of the race was a bit of a blur. My legs were shot. Not surprising as I'd been sat down for two and three quarter hours, sprinted two miles and done no stretching. I had no energy, as I'd over heated and not taken on enough liquids. My head was all over the shop and I was stressed, first thinking I wasn't going to make it, then that I was, then that I defiantly wasn't and finally, I had!
I finished a whole minute down on what I'd expected. One race to forget. So I will, it's gone. Next week is a new week and next Saturday’s bigger and more prestigious race, is a new race!
It was a session that showed me that my mental toughness has improved. Previously I may have eased back more, or missed out one or two of the repartitions. But I was never going to do that now. I think it’s a mixture of being more confident in my abilities, as well as the benefits of training in a big group. No matter how bad I felt there was always someone on my shoulder pushing me along, or someone in front I could chase. It stops the 'This is a bit tough, I might stop' thoughts coming into my head.
I recovered well during the rest of the week. My coach decided that my body would benefit from doing one longer slower run on Wednesday instead of the usual two thus giving my body longer between sessions to recover without loosing too much mileage. By Thursday I was feeling fresher and I felt that bounce was coming back during my session of six one minute repetitions, which left me feeling in high spirits ahead of my weekend track race.
Saturday 30th June. 5000 Meters Track race: Having not eased up in my preparations for this race I knew it was going to be a little tough. But mentally I was prepared for that. I knew the night before what I wanted to get out of the race, what pace I was going to go for and that I needn't be overly concerned if the time I wanted didn't happen. However I wasn't prepared for the nightmare scenario that actually occurred.
I'd downloaded my route to the track meet from the Internet the night before. The “AA man” said it would take one hour and six minuets. I love it when he's so precise! However Mr AA man hadn't told me about the road closures, traffic works and the masses and masses of weekend drivers that I would encounter. I knew I was in trouble straight away when, after only fifteen minuets of driving, I ground to a halt. Two and a half hours later I arrived!
Being stuck in my car for so long meant I dare not take on as much fluid as I would normally - where was I going to get rid of it?! I wasn't going to lower myself to using my Lucozade bottle to relieve myself; it still had some left and I don't like to waste my Lucozade! Driving through various unfamiliar London suburbs I knew I was never going to find a loo, not one that was open and in working order anyway! So I took to sipping and consequently was well dehydrated by the time I arrived. Additionally, the soaring temperature in my car, which to all intense and purposes turned into a rolling green house, meant I was also getting annoyed with my slow progress, not to mention stressed that I was going to miss my race.
I'd left home with plenty of time to spare, but when my journey had taken double the expected time I began to doubt that I'd make it. I was slowly getting closer. From the race time I'd been given I had ten minuets to kick off. I was close but still in traffic. I decided in my infinite wisdom that having never been to the track before I was just round the corner. So I ditched the car in a side road and pegged it with vest and spikes in hand. After five minuets I knew I'd gone wrong. Two minuets further down the road and I was sure of it! I reluctantly turned round and ran back to the car, still going at a fair old pace just in case. I was telling myself, 'You never know the start might have been delayed'! I looked at my route instructions and realised I was “oh” so close, but stupidly I'd taken a wrong turn. Sadly this was due to me needing to use a handy bush to finally relieve myself before I exploded! Thus I headed back onto a different main road, in the wrong direction!
I finally drew up to the track. Hot, bothered, tired, thirsty but gamely clutching spikes and vest in hand. As I hit the track I could see my teammate standing on the start line. I wasn't quite sure to laugh or cry. On the one hand I had made it, my journey wasn't wasted, but on the other hand, I was in no state to run. I sprinted to the start and asked them if they'd wait, which they did. The meet was running behind schedule on top of the fact that the start time I had been given was ten minutes early. I was so late I had to draw my number on a piece of paper and pin it to my vest - very professional!
So I towed the line, went to the front and tried to hit the target pace I'd decided upon the night before. What a fool, I was never going to be able to do it in the state I was in. I managed to circulate the track only a second per lap down on my target pace, but only for a grand total of four laps. Only eight and a half to go then! The rest of the race was a bit of a blur. My legs were shot. Not surprising as I'd been sat down for two and three quarter hours, sprinted two miles and done no stretching. I had no energy, as I'd over heated and not taken on enough liquids. My head was all over the shop and I was stressed, first thinking I wasn't going to make it, then that I was, then that I defiantly wasn't and finally, I had!
I finished a whole minute down on what I'd expected. One race to forget. So I will, it's gone. Next week is a new week and next Saturday’s bigger and more prestigious race, is a new race!
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