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2016 London Marathon Training – Week 11 (14-20 March)

Week 11 of training had long one been down as a week that could either see some of the highest volume in the training plan or some of the lowest. It turned out to be the latter.

Monday morning I woke really stiff and sore from the exploits of the Fraction the day before. I got myself on the elliptical trainer first thing for a very gentle hour of pushing the legs back and forth. I headed to the gym that evening for a spin session, which was treated very much as a recovery ride, keeping the FTW low at 230 and averaging just 3.4 w/kg.

Tuesday and I was busy preparing for the Australian Grand Prix weekend, having already woken at 1:40 for an hour or so prologue effort as the first images from the event began to head my way. That meant I just had the evening to train. I had an unexpected opportunity to visit the gym and managed to grab the last place for the spin class. First I headed to the treadmill for a very easy paced recovery 5k, beginning at just over 6 mph and peaking at around 8 mph. Everything was pretty stiff, especially the calves, but I was thankful to be even able to run.

The spin session was much easier than the day previous, I increased the FTW to 240 (my normal figure is 260-265) and put in a solid but deliberately not too taxing effort, averaging 3.7 w/kg. I then put in 30 minutes on one of the gym elliptical trainers, the effort quite high compared to the home machine thanks to the ramp feature mine does not have.

Wednesday and I was up at 2 am to begin work proper on the Australian GP. I only got to sleep at around 11pm so was pretty shattered when I finished work at around 11 am and headed to bed for a few hours fairly dreadful sleep. I dragged my sorry body out at 4 pm for a really tough easy ten mile run. Both calves continued to ache and generally I just felt really lethargic, both from not enough sleep and the efforts of Sunday. It says something for my form at the moment, that I averaged a fairly respectable 7:20 per mile pace.

In recent years this week of covering the Australian GP has offered the opportunity to put in a surprising amount of running – two years ago I put in my first, and probably only ever, one hundred mile week. The reason I could fit this into a busy working schedule was the GP was held at twilight, which meant I could go to bed at 10 or so, wake at 3 or 4 am, work for six or seven hours, get a couple of hours nap, then have the late afternoon and early evening to run.

Following the tragic accident of Jules Bianchi they have largely dispensed with races ending in poor light and so the practice sessions, coupled with an eleven hour time difference, were beginning as early as 1:30 am, with my work beginning an hour or so before that. This transpired to make things very difficult.

I got around three hours sleep Wednesday night before waking at 2 am on Thursday evening for ten hours continuous effort behind the desk, finishing at 11:30 or so and retiring to bed. I am a dreadful daytime sleeper and managed just a couple of hours sleep before giving up and pottering around the house for a bit. I’d agreed to take Grantham Running Club’s Thursday night marathon paced session, so I was out at 6:30 to meet up with the other guys. The legs were tired, the hip a bit bothersome. I threatened repeatedly to drop out when we passed my house at six miles, but there was some kind of team spirit going on as I found myself continuing and completing the ten mile group run and putting in another mile or so to make it 13.1 for the day.

I headed to bed at around 9:30 but found it impossible to get to sleep, knowing I had 12:30 am alarm set. So I finally drifted off to sleep at around 11:45, giving myself just 45 minutes sleep to ready myself for a break free 12 hours stint as the opening practice sessions of the 2016 F1 season took place. Shattered I headed straight to bed, but by now my body was virtually jet lagged and woke less than two hours after getting to sleep.

I took Friday as a rest day, as I often do. I went to bed at 10:15pm and was able to get around 3 1/2 hours sleep before waking at 2 am for qualifying day. This was not quite as long a day as Friday and I was done by 11:30 am. I got a couple of hours sleep before waking again prematurely. I had plans to run 16 miles or so. I set out at 4 pm. I was tired but actually running quite well, the first mile 7:20, the fourth mile 6:39. Then, out of the blue I found the very top of the right thigh, near the hip flexor giving off alarming pains, very much like an attack of cramp.

I stopped at a bus shelter, sat for a minute or so then began to stretch the hip. I set off again and was able to run with a moderate amount of discomfort. I was in a strange situation where I felt I couldn’t possibly run 16 miles but didn’t feel bad enough that I had to take the very shortest route home. So I ended up meandering a little, finally drifting home having covered nine miles at an average of 6:56 per mile. I assumed it was a cramp as the pain was quite intense having finished, but by the time I retired to bed had mostly dissipated. I was though quite clearly exhausted, so I gave up any ideas of supplementing the missing miles with an hour on the elliptical trainer and settled down to watch the World Indoor Athletics Championships.

I managed to get nearly four undisturbed hours sleep on Saturday night before waking at 2 am for the final day of work covering the Australian Grand Prix. The race itself was quite eventful, I began work at 2 am. I was hopeful perhaps of finishing early enough so I could ride solo the 13 Hills ride Witham Wheelers were taking part in on Sunday morning. Any hopes of an early finish were dashed with the sheer volume of work coming in, we reckoned it was our busiest race ever!

I kind of finished at 1pm and crashed on the sofa, hoping to get an hour or so nap before maybe going on a bike ride. By 3 pm I still hadn’t got to sleep, but I was too shattered to contemplate leaving the sofa. Finally I got to sleep and before I knew it it was 5 pm. With more work still to be done I abandoned any notion of exercise and resigned myself to a very easy week of training, but a really hard week physically in terms of sleep deprivation – hoping that a quiter week before Easter may see more opportunities to put in a full week of training.

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Notts AC 5 – Wednesday 22nd July 2015.

Not feeling totally refreshed from the Bronte Sportive, thoughts turned to the Notts AC 5 mile race which took place just three days after the 88 miles of torture. It was at this race last year I ran a 27:53 PB and saw the beginning of a good run of unexpected form that ran through to late September.

It was also that race where I woke up with really tight hamstrings that jeopardised my participation until literally after the warm-up. Alas a similar predicament struck this year, although the malaise came in the form of a mild sinus infection, which may or may not be late season hay fever, which may or may not be post Sportive fatigue syndrome. Whatever the cause it left me through the day feeling lethargic and stiff limbed. Like last year I waited until the last minute before deciding to head off to Nottingham, a check of the resting heart rate revealing nothing too alarming made it plausible to at least turn up and jog I reckoned.

The delights of Nottingham in its continued pursuit of a working tram network causing traffic chaos meant I finally made it to the start a bit later than planned but not dramatically so. I changed into my running kit and knocked out a distinctly uninspiring two mile warm up. There was nothing particularly amiss, just a real feeling of lethargy.

My spirits were hardly raised when I then attempted to use the pre-race toilet facilities. At a new start venue near a pavilion, the organisers were apparently let down by the council who failed to open the ladies toilets. The men’s were in a frankly disgusting condition, a rusted urinal and just two toilet blocks, one of which was leaking profusely and had it’s sole toilet roll sitting in what I hope was a pool of water. I queued patiently with a number of ladies who had the delights of watching 200 or so men using the urinals in front of them before walking into the toilet cubicle and promptly walking straight back out. Trainspotting’s “Worst Toilet In Scotland” immediately came to mind and I decided I wasn’t that desperate to use the facilities. I pity the ladies who had no choice – a sadly unacceptable state of affairs.

All this didn’t leave me in the best frame of mind for running, and as I took my place on the start line I felt a little disinterested in racing, so much so I placed my self five or so rows back from the front of the race. It began with little fanfare and we were soon into our running. Thankfully from the first hundred meters or so I knew that I wasn’t feeling quite as bad as I had first feared. Legs were a little stiff but otherwise okay. I decided I would limit my efforts on the day to something around half marathon heart rate, which would be a solid workout but nothing that would likely stress the systems too much.

I found myself overtaking a few people quite early on and feeling comfortable, passing Philippa Taylor in the opening mile, who would go on to win the ladies race. Much of that opening mile was run into a head wind, which wasn’t as much a feature as last year’s race, but was still noticeable. I passed through a mile on the Garmin in 5:33 – solid, but ten seconds slower than last year. The Garmin is by no means the last word in accuracy but it was better than the erratically placed opening mile marker, which I went past in excess of 6:10….

With the wind behind me along the Embankment I settled into a comfortable pace, one I felt very assured in being able to maintain until the finish. The race unfolded in an undramatic manner, mile two was passed in 5:32 (the mile marker more or less tallying with the Garmin this time); the third mile which took us into the second and final lap was run in 5:28, with 5k passed on the Garmin in 17:12, which would have been PB territory a year ago, but today felt easy.

The fourth mile, back along the Embankment, saw me pick off three other runners, leaving me in 12th position, where I would end up finishing. That fourth mile saw another 5:28, had I realised how close I was to a PB I would have made a larger effort in the final mile, but my still relative disinterest in the race saw me instead maintain steady pace – so much so that I passed through 5 miles on the Garmin in another 5:28.

Unhappily the beep on the watch for the fifth mile didn’t mark the end of the race – another 0.09 was required, taking us off road onto the grass finishing chute. It was there I glanced at the official clock and saw that a narrow PB was a possibility. I put on a sprint finish and came home on my Garmin in 27:54 (rounded up to 27:55 on the official results). A little frustratingly this was two seconds outside my PB set a year ago to the day.

So despite going home without a PB and not feeling particularly healthy it was a largely positive race. To finish two seconds outside my five mile PB feeling sub-par beforehand and therefore having run it at half marathon heart rate is good indication that form is very good at the moment as thoughts move towards the Chester Marathon in October. The only frustration is knowing that had I given it full gas I could have gone a lot, lot quicker. That though will hopefully come on another day.

 

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Day 92 – Trying Things Out

The Tuesday run, for a variety of reasons, never materialised. Family illness played a big part, the bigger part though was the left hip and thigh which was painful through much of the day and begged to be rested for an evening which had hill reps planned. They are always a test on the body at the best of times, for once I thought of the bigger picture and kept myself indoors.

The leg felt a little better on Wednesday, but still far from perfect. I headed out for a run which I had no firm idea over its duration or intensity – the theme being very much play it by ear. The opening mile wasn’t too bad, the left thigh took around half a mile before it began aching, similar to intensity to how it was on Sunday – not enough to slow me but enough to make running a not entirely pleasurable affair.

Running the usual park route, at around three miles I decided I was going to run further, originally thinking I could manage ten miles then, when the thigh began to ache a bit more, maybe eight then, a bit further along perhaps just back to six. Back in the town centre I thought I could maybe run seven so I headed back to the park. What was I doing? I couldn’t decide.

Then in the park the body decided to launch itself into a full on mile rep type effort. Not entirely sure why – perhaps frustration, perhaps a desire to see if the heavy mileage had killed my pace or not – but it did, and, somewhat surprisingly, there was no pain at all in the hip nor thigh. I slowed briefly at the crossing then, into Queen Elizabeth Park, I ran the entirety at pace, enjoying running pain free and fairly quickly.

Once out of the park I slowed the pace again and the pain in the thigh returned. This makes me think a part of the problem is coming from the IT Band (I’m sure I’ve read somewhere that the pain can be less when running at pace). Pleasingly too the final stages were run at around 6:20 pace and it felt like I was jogging. If I can shake this problem the things are looking encouraging indeed.

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Day 89 – Somebody Hit Me With The Stiff Stick

Now into day five of getting up in the middle of the night to cover the Australian GP and the body is finding familiarity in the routine. I managed four hours sleep during the night and then nearly three over lunchtime. I’m not what you would call wide awake and alert, but at least the soporific effects of enforced early middle-of-the-night shifts are a little less than in previous days.

I would have liked, then, for my run to feel a little easier than it did. From the off the legs felt really stiff and sore. The calves in particular, which have felt remarkably resilient in recent times, felt suddenly as though they had done eighty odd miles in the past six days. The first mile was a wince and shuffle affair, at least the sun was shining, albeit with a stiff breeze blowing.

I aimed to run ten miles; the main challenge of the run the climb at around three miles up Somerby Hill, which was greatly aided by having the wind firmly at my back. From then on, down to Little Ponton and then back into Grantham, it was a case of knocking out the miles, the relatively swift mile splits belying the lethargy dominating the legs.

I ended the run feeling as stiff as when I started, but comforted in the knowledge that, with one day of the week still remaining, I’e already, at 87.8 miles, knocked out a record mileage week. With a belated running of the Newton’s Fraction Half Marathon course planned for tomorrow, a century of miles for the first time ever looks a distinct possibility!

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Day 87–So So Tired

This is, by necessity, going to be brief. Two and a half hours sleep before being up at 1am and then working straight through to midday. Four hours at best sleep before some more work and then time to head out for the club run. I was on zombie autopilot.

For all that the legs didn’t feel too bad. The left hip was sore for the solo miles I ran, so before heading a but out I did a little stretching which seemed to help. It was a small group running at the club. The first few miles were actually run at a pace I could have kept with until, with one or two with a half marathon on Sunday, dialled the pace down to a rate that would have me snoozing by the layside if I wasn’t careful.

Along five gates and a strange weather pattern in the still air as we ran through cold and warm packets of air – I don’t think I’ve ever run through air with such a clear temperature difference before. Little things like that were just about keeping me alert, but I was struggling.

At Londonthorpe with the main climb of the run tackled, I said my goodbyes to the group and pushed on alone, the thinking being the sooner I got home the sooner I could get to bed ready for the next night shift. The final miles were fairly hard going with the legs stiffening, but the pace had picked up too to be comfortably under seven minute miles, so hardly suffering too much yet from the lack of sleep.