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!