Tri training has begun - Swimming at the local pool.
Now, I have to say that in previous years I HATED swimming. I would never go swimming on its own, I only do swimming as part of Triathlon "training".
"Training" is a loose term I use to describe the struggle to complete 400 metres of so in a pool before hauling myself out and getting on the bike.
Before taking on my first Triathlon (2004) I could hardly swim at all, but somehow over a few years, I acquired enough skill to tough it out. Amazing what you can do when you put your mind to it.
So, I checked the old diary and found that I hadn't been 'proper' swimming since 2008. Lounging around in the pool in Cyprus doesn't count, mate.
Hopes weren't high for yesterday's debut session. Just keep going, try not to look too much of a prat and when you need a rest, take a rest. My advice to myself.
But it actually turned out ok. I was slow, but after a fashion I completed enough lengths and I hadn't stopped midlength gasping for air or spluttering as per normal. I did have a funny moment where I dived to retrieve a ring which turned out to be a cracked tile though, but that's what getting cheap goggles does for you :-)
It was so good, I went back THE NEXT day. As both of these sessions were 7am this made it even more impressive. In session 2, I was able to complete the 400m without stopping and in fact I did another block of 400m. I really enjoyed the swim, too. It wasn't quick but who cares? Now I know I'll get round the triathlon in one piece :0)
Why did I enter the London Marathon Ballot? What was I thinking?
I looked at some race training schedules today and to be honest, I was scared and baffled all at the same time. In years gone by (aka “the Golden Age”) I wouldn’t have looked at anything like that, I would have just gone and bashed out the miles, and well, the results are there for all to see. And laugh at.
But now I’m older, and presumably wiser. And I’m well out of the game, too. Recent efforts to train for the Wenlock Marathon aggravated some long-term injuries which I’m only just getting over. The memory of my sitting at the roadside with 3 miles still to go, holding back the tears of pain, on my last long training run will live long, although I now think it’s “funny” and “character building”.
So how the hell to I get from where I am now to, where I would like to be? Some realism is called for here. In my head, I still have the potential to run under 3 hours. My body though would probably give another opinion, if asked. I looked at one sub-3 schedule and it said “race 5km, 18.45/ run 3 miles in 18 minutes” in week 1. Hmm. It’s been a while since I ran sub-20, never mind a sub-19 (see my ‘training diary’ post earlier, that will tell you).
On the one hand, even if I manage anything like the training I did before, then surely I will get the same results ..at best. I’m probably better aiming for the Good For Age time of 3.15. But in my defence M’lud, I can run quicker than sub-3 pace (6.50)…but just not for 26.2 miles.
The theory goes, it’s just the stamina that needs building up, so we can maintain the speedy pace over a longer distance. Yes? We’ll see. I am clearly barking mad. And delusional. Only an outright rejection by Virgin London Marathon is going to save me. And I’ve got a feeling that ain’t coming this time..
And while I’m on. This GFA (Good for Age) malarkey is a load of tosh. If I was a lady, all I would have to do is to run sub-4.00. But as I’m not, it’s sub 3.15. That is the standard for everyone from the age of 41, up to the age of 59. This seems an extremely harsh call by VLM, no doubt it’s an attempt to keep as many extremely un-photogenic 50-somethings in varying states of undress and distress off the streets of London as possible. And for that, I suppose, we should all be grateful.
This picture has absolutely nothing to do with the blog post. Its Mick & Marc (I think) cheering Lord WIggo on to victory at the Olympic Time Trial. Great Days.. ..I have kept a training diary for 20 years on & off. More on than off.
Other than to tell me when events have taken place (e.g. the Anywhere 5km fun run) and what my time was, at first glance it seems like it has served little purpose. I mean, who wants to re-read 17 entries of “4.5 miles steady” for the month of May 2007?
There have been times when I have stopped altogether for a month or so, when mr mojo has truly deserted me. There were also those times when I tried to record my efforts in some other way (step forward, Excel spreadsheet). These didn’t last too long though, although I have recently gone back to using the excellent Fetcheveryone website training log, more out of convenience and a desire to join the unofficial training league than owt else.
The real value to me though is two-fold; firstly, stepping back from the day-to-day stuff and look at weeks/months, you get a picture of a particular ‘block’ of training; what sessions were involved, how many speed/ hill sessions, how many long runs, how many off-road etc and, with any information gathering exercise, patterns start to emerge. Not accounting for decline over the years due to age, given no injury or illness issues and if I am the same running weight, over a similar time period, the same training *should * produce the same results.
The best example of this is that I have, over a 7-year period, after 3 month’s training (Jan – Mar) of on average 45 miles per week, much of which was 5 – 7 miles run at tempo pace (in a group) with few if any specific speedwork sessions, with one long, slow run at the weekend ranging from 12 – 20 miles, peaking with 3 consecutive 20 mile runs (one or more of which was a race) I could near as guarantee a 3.20 – 3.30 marathon run anytime after that during April or May. Put your money on me, folks.
Of course, looking at the cold stats now, it’s easy to say that with a few more longer, quicker runs to replace some of the tempo sessions and also more longer runs at the weekend I would have turned the 3.20 into more like a 3.00 but given the time constraints I had I was very much on the limit, and it was a remarkably consistent set of performances.
But it’s also easy to pick out smaller blocks of useful training; from 2010/11 I know that two months’ worth of steady run + speedwork or hills + 8ish midweek + longer at weekend (av 35-40 mpw) (most of it done alone) is going to get me low-40 min 10k and a place in the Cross Country team. Whoopee! I have a recipe for (relative) success !
So am I going to carry on with it forever? Will it be like the classic outbursts of angst you see in Ron Hill’s famous diaries? Probably not..
“1st September 1973. Got up early. Seem to have a broken leg. Ran 20 miles steady in plaster. Doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it might”. (..I may be slightly misrepresenting the great man here :0) ).
Summer.
Should be a good time for training, yeah?
Well, for some reason, call it Holiday-Olympic-Cantbearseditis or whatever, it's bloody tough.
You'd like to think I'd come back from holidays all fired up, but it's been a bit sporadic. Probably not helped by this knee injury stuff either.
Last week's results were poor, to day the least:
My speedwork session was a bit poor, I usually run 1.8k out and back with a minute's rest. It's slightly downhill going out and I was reasonably happy with 9.45 but the return leg was 10.20 which is a new low. However I know this is a baseline and things ought to improve.
The Dales Dash on Thursday was a bit weird, with Dave dipping out of the main route, leaving Mike to set the pace; I was 3 minutes down on my usual time, having gone out far too quickly, and by the time I got to the big climbs back from the river my legs had gone. However, one great thing; I tried on my knee support strap for the first time ever. And it was amazing. Ran downhill, quickly, pain free. Maybe things aren't so bad after all.
Friday saw me back in the gym, setting new PBs on the treadmill, bike and rower in a desperate attempt to work up an appetite for the chippy.
I entered Ludlow Tri (End September) with Mike and also Newport Duathlon (7/Oct) and so I need some bike and swim miles. Kicked off on Sunday with 30 hilly miles round Cressage, Sheinton, Ironbridge.
So, to sum up. Sporadic. But at least I'm running.
We set out from home at early o'clock to go down to That London to see the Olympic Marathon. It was the last day of the Olympics - and we just couldn't get enough.
We were SO early, we got to Stanmore before the tube started running. While we were waiting, Alan almost had an accident while slipping off the toilet seat (not fixed. Yay. time to crouch),
The platform was dotted with volunteers and spectators all off to the games, it was a time of quiet excitement. Co-incidentally, Dave had planned our route so the Tube took us right into Westminster and our proposed standing area, right opposite Big Ben, so no changes were needed. This was good, all coming together at the moment...
a picture of the others in the Kenyan Supporters' Club
We were quickly adopted into the group of fans on the corner and treated like lifelong friends!! We guarded our spot jealously, as the early morning joggers, runners and cyclists took a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to go on the traffic-free roads, the signs were still being set up, the streets were being cleaned etc.
We were 'adopted' by the Kenyan supporters and generously given some shirts and flags (well, Mike blagged them really) and we had to promise to support their man. This left us in a quandry as we had also promised to support the Spanish, Irish and our brave lads from GB (and Guernsey) - but what the hell, we had time for everyone.
While all this was going on, the Japanese were busily making their own banners, painting themselves up and devising new ways of getting themselves onto the TV. Of course, we dispatched someone to join the fun..
Pretty soon the streets were clear... and the security guards were in place. We befriended Boniface who was a smashing bloke, from Kenya (of course) and Dave delighted in telling him about his Arsenal fandom, where he was hilariously denounced by another Gooner fan..
..'I was at Wembley in '71 when they did the double'
...'So was I sir, and I can safely say I don't recall seeing you there'
The helicopters, the photo crews, the motorbikes announced the arrival of the race...
And the noise... was.... utterly fantastic!
Being at Mile 1 also meant we were near Mile 9, 17 and 25 - so we were able to see the race develop. Apparently we were on TV at 17 miles :-) I shall sign autographs if required.
Here's Scott Overall (GBR) at 9 miles.
He was going really well here and we had high hopes he would carry on through the field, but it wasn't to be.
Mike disappeared at this time to the floor, in search of food. While this was happening a midget tried to take the oxygen from him by leaning on top of him to take photos. He was swiftly removed.
As the race developed, the group behind us changed from Kenyan, to Dutch, to Italian, to Mexican. They were all there for the craic.
Team Ercall Kenyan Stompers continued to cheer everyone on, all the little countries who had sent their best runners to pound the streets in the hot, hot sunshine. Costa Rica, Lichtenstein, PRK. The Lesotho man managed to stay in front of the broom wagon. Just. Forza!
What was amazing from a running point of view, was that even the stragglers were knocking out 2.30-2.40 marathons. Some stragglers. Puts our efforts into perspective.
We tried a two-man Mexican wave for a Mexican runner (Dave wouldn't join in..) and we even got the Koreans to smile and give us a thumbs-up.
Eventually, sadly it was all over. We said goodbye to our new lifelong friends and set off for the tube home, to be followed by getting lost in the Northamptonshire countryside in search of a pub which had changed its name, where in our Kenyan shirts we were then treated like celebs. But that's for another day.
Well from now on, the Stompers will be associated with the Axe Valley Runners. There is no logical reason for this save our trips down to the South West from time to time, and also because it is so bizarre it is right up our street. Oh yeas, and they didn't charge much. And they are a bit mad. As I am about to misquote someone "There will be a corner of Shropshire that will forever be the Axe Valley".
