Week one learnings

It's been pretty busy or mostly distracting so a quick post on lessons learned, some new and some I needed reminding of. 

• Short-term goals: as much as it's my personality to have the eye on the big prize a year in advance, training like that is going to get demotivating. 
• Training as fun: I don't need the intense discipline of 6 days of ironman training right now. I'm going to build some confidence in one discipline and some fitness in another for the next 12 weeks. Also if I train for 52 weeks solid, I am going to burn out. 
• Nutrition: I am a rapidly shrinking woman. Even my skinny clothes don't fit. I may have to start shopping places for young people. Or better still, learn what I need to eat as I start being more active. 

I've also had some mental boosts, learning of people going to Lanza, having a great swim coach and watching the Lanzarote Ironman this Saturday, the day after my birthday. More on all of those things to come. And for those in the know, it's all becoming real on Tuesday. 

Neolithic Marathon on Sarcens trail

Some time ago, possibly pre Ultra, when I was high on the belief that I would be able to trot out 20 miles ultraeverafter, I entered the Neolithic Marathon, a 26.2 mile trail event from Avebury to Stonehenge on the Sarcens trail. 


So here's the reasoning and reality for new readers: having committed to slow build immediately after the 50km (5, 10, 15, 20 and a series of half marathon races) I figured that a marathon would be good fun! I ended up having an ITB niggle, then a gland inflection and so missing a few weeks of running 13 miles at a trot and then employed the lovely Neil to pace me 13 miles off the back of being sick. That done, I had enough time for some tempo runs and some sensationally good physio and I was off to Avebury. 


In fact I was off to Calne, who had the only rooms left in Wiltshire, via Chippenham - a journey which was so exciting in its Englishness I was constantly squeaking with joy. Shop assistants that spoke to you, helpful members of public, cute buildings - and all under a rare blue sky. I bounced with anticipation all the way to the Bug and Spider, my inn for the evening, hosting some football fans and an 'old enough to know better' Hen's Night. 


Unfortunately I had suffered a stomach bug for a few days and in typical runners overshare, food was going straight through me. I wasn't trying to carb load but just to eat well and I wasn't sure if I was getting much nutrient value from food. I was so queasy on the Friday before the run that when moist chocolate cake from an artisinal bakery came round, I said no, and sipped ginger ale in the hope of its healing powers. I thought I was going to be a little better on Sunday / race day but as it was I was hit again on the way to the inn, and could only eat fruitbread and baked potato from Sunday lunch to race day. 


The start was next to the Stone Circles of Avebury about 9 miles from where I was staying amongst green folds of hills - marked with the chalked white horse. I got there by taxi - again apprarently the only one in the area, it being church day.  Avebury is beautiful - old churches and houses,the sound of bird song and church bells, small wildflowers and of course the stones. I was so visbily excited that one of the marshalls reassured me it would all be here when I got back (but as it was a point to point race, I wasn't going back!)


Registration was fairly simple. There's a lot of men doing races like this and you have to look hard for a women to offer a friendly smile too. I ended up chatting to other foreigners who like me, were running around taking pics of all the cute Englishness. I had my Aussie vest on and a photographer introduced me to another Aussie and as we both used to live in Wodonga there was much excitement between us, his girlfriend and the event organisers. 


The start line was pretty relaxed - a few banners and a man telling us we had sunscreen. We all laughed. Always listen to a man at the front giving instructions! I ended up with a sunburnt nose and forehead! The dogs were raring to go (one runner had a leash around her stomach) and we were off, meandering through small lanes past houses with little rivers and flowers alongside us. It was pretty breath taking. Early on there are a few bottlenecks with tight corners and stiles but after that it opens us fairly quickly and you can see the faster runners snaking ahead as you navigate the muddy holes left by tyre marks by hopping from clump to clump of grass. I liked this kind of terrain as it kept me on my toes - literally! 


There was some pretty impressive heavy breathing going on during the course so I felt assured that I wasn't the most unfit person running and also some pretty pained looking plodders. This made me feel good as I knew I would have some company as I didn't have the fuel for a decent pace, however heavy breathers and pained folk aren't great for chatting!


As we made our way through the first stalling hill (the first few hills most of us kept running) into a walk, people stopped to take off layers and I snapped pics of the fields of rape that looked stunning. I fell in with a man from Berlin who was trying to do 100 marathons. He said he wasn't fast but he could keep going! I liked his attitude and he looked like someone who would do alright. Unfortunately our running styles were so different due to our sizes that we were never going to be able to keep much together on the hills (I could nip up a hill, he could hurtle down hill)

After sideways scrambling the last few metres of a hill, we came to a magnificent bowl of a hill, where we  ran along the top then down one side and up the other. It was  beautiful and exciting - and I had never done anything like this before. The German prompted me to take pics before I hurtled down the side - airplane arms out! It was so exhilerating! I felt like a proper distance runner. 


As we trotted down to more normal levels, a man dressed in a madhatters costume sprinted off and we began to catch some walkers who had started at 730am to do the same route. I made sure they said good morning and as we caught more of them who had covered more of the route they were great at saying "well done" as we plodded painfully past. 


At about 8 miles in, I noticed I was getting black spots in front of my eyes which I assumed was from low fuel and the unexpected warm weather. I was lucky I was dressed in so little and I had also brought a homemade drink of water with chia seeds and lime. I took an early energy gel and immodium and decided to run conservatively as I couldn't afford to get even a little bonky - there weren't many people around and probably aid stations every 5miles but only with water. 


We ran through some villages - one was offering red wine tasting and bacon butties and I fell in with some male runners who must have started a bit later. Sadly couldn't keep up and fell to myself for a bit before coming onto some old ultra runners swapping stories about great events in broad west country accents. 


My backpack broke at one stage as I had stopped to put biofreeze on my knees and ankles. I only noticed it was broken 5 metres after stopping however this was 5 metres with a cattle grid in it. I can't tell you how hard it is to wobble over a cattle grid on shaky runners legs with a car watching and waiting. A quick repair and I was back and had fallen in with a German lady who was looking pretty pink and hot from the weather. We ran walked some hills together chatting and then separated which was ideal company as I seriously wanted to just get to the half way mark - we were at mile 10 - it must be close. It must be close. It must be close. I have never waited so much for a 13 mile mark and it not to come. I was weary as hell when I noticed some tents that must be the half marathon start. I seriously thought I could dip out at this point and DNF - maybe they could give me a half marathon medal? But I didn't think they would so I plodded on. The terrain here was chalk with bits of rock in it which my minimalist Kinvaras and my feet hated. A woman pulled out at this stage - which almost tipped me over the edge, then I spoke to a Singaporean who had cramp since mile 8 who said there was no way she was pulling out so I walked with her a bit for company and plodded on. I fell in with Nicola, a Scottish nurse at this point and we ran some of it together before separating and saying we'd run together again. 


Not only was the terrain awful but we were able to see the route for miles ahead. I found this realy disheartening. I focussed on catching walkers and runners - there was a man who looked nude that was an incentive to catch up. He was actually in a caveman outfit and had bad cramp and was limping home. I plodded past Nicola at one point as she had something in her shoe and there was a period of being really alone. I was really sick and drawing on earlier when I had got some incredibly supportive messages via twitter at an aid station. I kept them in my head and nibbled a  cliff bar. I had one pack of mini Haribo and I desperately craved sugar. When Nicola and I fell in again I decided I need to stick with someone to keep it together to the finish so we chatted as we employed a run walk strategy to the end. Nicola didn't have any real food so I gave her my haribo and begged a man at an aid station for some squash from his own personal supplies. 

We skipped an aid station at mile 20 because neither of us needed water but didn't realise the course went past it. Instead we focussed on run walking on and chatting. Half a mile in I became concerned that there was no one in front of us and no one behind. We looked around and realised we were on a Ministry of Defence firing range. We had no idea where we were or where the route was. We thought we heard a car then realised it was a military vehicle. I went to ring the event organisers but t there was no emergency contact number on the back of the bib and so I sent a message to a friend I knew had the event organisers contact details. We decided to run back to where both new the route was and start from there. On the way, we found the runners again in the distance so that was reassuring and we cut out the aid station to rejoin them. A lot of people we had passed earlier we now had to pass again and they were very surprised about where we had gone to! 


We had to keep really positive about that because so close to the finish that can really demoralise you. It had zapped us a little doing an extra mile and the walk breaks were getting longer. We decided to save ourselves to be able to run the finish. Eventually someone told us Stonehenge was going to crawl into sight and it did, on the horizon like a little model, and the finish thankfully on this side of the road and closer! 


It took me six hours of running, walking, splashing through muddy puddles, scuffling through chalk trails, scrambling up hills and zig zagging down them - but I had finished. I had kept my head straight and mitigated the worse nausea and dizziness and also my legs felt fine other than a niggle where my ankle pronated. I decided to mark it a lesson in running smart and if I wanted to be a proper ultra runner one day that might be a useful lesson! 


Pics of the event

It all starts here

As my lovely virtual coach / super nag James will be asking for my training plan soon I thought I would etch it out roughly here. The plan starts 8 May, two days after this "marathon for fun" I'm doing and which I aim to finish injury free as a result!


Phases

• 8 May to w/c 9 July - beginners base phase 10 weeks
• 16 July to 17 September - intermediate base phase 10 weeks
• 24 September to 19 November - competitive base phase 10 weeks including tri camp
• till 21 January - competitive build phase 10 weeks including sea camp
• 15 weeks competitive peak phase including training camp, taper, travel.

You know I've worked this out a hundred times with a calendar and the date calculations change every time. And I work as a planning manager! 


As I am completely new to two of the disciplines, I've gone for good base phases to build up confidence, knowledge and technique with hopefully minimal injury, adverse impact and my immune system in tact. It will also help me build my lifestyle around my training. 


Luckily I've got a bit of running under my belt so I will use the run training to work on heart rate, fitness, speed and strength. It will mean I also have slightly less anxiety in my weekly schedule and can easily trot out runs around learning some of the other disciplines. 


The plan should have enough space for any injuries, illness and training camps. The training is time based and using Don Fink's excellent Be Iron Fit as well as Going Long. 


The swim training at it's very basic level requires 1600m of competitive swimming - which given I can't master bilateral breathing, is going to be my toughest element to start off with. While the bike still needs a service, I can handle a couple of weeks training and spin sessions at the gym. 


I've got a massive to do list before I get started: book swimming lessons, eating plans, daily schedules, get bike fixed, learn to use heart rate monitor etc etc. But at the bare bones level I will be ready to start come 8 May.  

So what is a 12 hour?

Many moons ago, Valerie aka RomfordRunner, was going to do Crawley 12 hour before her shoulder fell off and I was excited to offer services as a lap counter. I really had no idea what I was getting myself into, but Valerie, if you will do it next year, count me in! To count, no way am I running.

As it turned out, Eric was running it, so I still knew someone in the field and turned up for a look see. It was a cold wet day in Crawley, I'd already got off at the wrong station (Horley) and when I got there, I really didn't know what to do! Most people were lap counting and there was a group standing up of people who knew Eric so I chose to hang with them. It turned out to be a few of his run club mates and his mum, an ultra runner called Allan and runner Ann Bradshaw's sister. They were a good bunch, really funny, pisstaking and experienced. You really need the right people around you if you're going to be cold and standing around for hours. My appearance meant lapcounters could take loo breaks and do stuff so I soon found myself occasionally taking a clipboard and nervously noting the lap times as people rounded the 400m track. Runners tended to nod as they went past you to check that their lap had been recorded. Essentially as a lap counter, you're noting the time on the clock as they pass the start line and then calculating the time it took them to do a lap. Yes maths. Ugh. Also if you have a regular person you're counting for, you can let them know how many laps / kms / miles they are up to. I helped out with a bit of counting, it's quite good fun looking out for your runner and giving them a nod, or seeing that some runners have to call out to their lap counter to wake them from a hypnotic daze!

Turns out that Allan is a proper ultra runner and many time Spartathlon attempter so I picked his brains about Davos and other good runs. It never ceases to amaze me that people like Allan and the competitors look so normal but are actually the kind of people that will break down their kidneys, risk dehydration and hallucinate running distances some of us wouldn't cover by public transport. And smile their way through it.

The Crawley 12 hour is run by a woman who would be described by the unknowing as a little middle aged suburban lady. Pam Storey is an ultrarunner who raises money for charity. She holds the 12 hour annually at the fab facilities at Crawley's K2 Leisure Centre in a low key way, staffed by volunteers brimming with clipboards and haribo. The race also has a 6 hour option which starts at 10am - giving the 12 hour runners some company on their 7 till 7 stint.

Not a lot happens on a 12 hour race. I missed the excitement of  a crow eating an energy gel but was there for the drama of clock turning over at 10 hours - that really was exciting and the number "one" sign being stuck up to remind people they had been there for more than 10 hours - like that was needed! I survived the collapse of two marquees with bits of metal veering towards my head.

As the number of lap counters dwindled I found I had a proper job looking after Robert Woodward, a man who, truth be told, looked a bit like he had no idea why he'd taken up this bet to run this in the first place. I first noticed him when he had friends / family running and walking the track with him or when he was on the phone. Despite this - or maybe because of this - it was hard for his lap counter to track him and she kept having to be told by him to record the time. So when it was my time to take over I tried to be a bit serious about it. I got caught out a few times (confirming the theory that if you walk a lap, your lap counter's mind is going to wander off) but then really put my VLM cheering skills to the test, making sure Robert got a massive wave, smile, cheeky comment, and lap / mileage update as he went through. He was joined by a friend who ran between him and me relaying comments. The armchair critic in me is going to say this as I doubt he'll ever stumble on this blog - but Robert could have cracked 50 miles if he wanted to. In fact if his friend, Allan and myself caught up earlier, we could have come up with a strategy to break the resignation in his mind. You can actually see in people's posture when they don't quite know what their mission is. Compared to Andrew, who Allan was counting, who was power walking the whole race, he covered more laps / miles and had a resolute spirit to the end.

As it was, we wanted Robert to get to 49 miles which involved some maths on my part and something which I am better at, some shouting. And shout I did. His wife called up, and we shouted down the phone at her. We shouted till his times got better and better, under 3 minutes, 2:59, 2:49, 2:46 - shouted so much his final lap was 1:46 and he made it by the skin of his teeth. Where other people bent over when the horn blew, Robert lay on the floor until he had to convince the ambulance staff he was ok! Once he'd done all his celebrating and groaning he even had enough strength to run over and give me a thank you hug. Aw you have to love running!

I was really impressed by everyone on the track - from Ann who looked doubled over with pain, Andrew who walked it all, the winner who had massive muscly legs and was apparently going to run a marathon the next day, the man who shouted like the Major in Fawlty Towers as he went past the start line "what's my lap", the French man who looked like he was on another planet, the man who turned down a coffee till it had sugar in it, and Robert who probably still isn't sure why he did it and why he listened to some woman shouting - all the loveliness and eccentricities made it worth four hours standing in the cold and four hours of bloody commute. I mean I might as well run the six hours next time... now there's a thought!

Watching the pros

"This is 29 Acacia Rd... And this is Eric, the schoolboy who leads an exciting double life. For when Eric eats a banana, an amazing transformation occurs"

As the twitterati will know, yesterday I went to watch the Crawley 12 hour. It was great fun - which I will do a separate post about - because I found a great way to give back to running and meet people. But it was also quite magnificent in that I felt like the ultra running community was seeing something pretty damn cool, and at the risk of making him cringe, that was watching Eriç run yesterday. 


I turned up at 3pm - Eriç had been running for eight hours by then and had covered the second most number of laps of a 400m track. He looked pretty fresh, maybe a bit cold, but cognisant enough that someone new had turned up to join his posse of supporters and even good enough spirits to laugh at us when we called out "nearly there mate, nearly there". 


His running style was really efficient, his legs appeared automated, identical gait, rhythm as the hours wore on; his arms didn't move much which at least made him look cold and he managed a small nod with every lap as we called out to him. 


He came in for a fuel stop and it was amazing to watch that you could stop, grab something to eat, stretch a bit and then keep going. I would have come undone at the stop point! At his next fuel point I wandered over to get a look at his face to see how far gone he was... I just couldn't fathom how you'd feel after so much running. He raised his arms up in a "I don't know" gesture as I said he made it look so easy. 


As the clock ticked to ten hours, we noticed other runners dropping their lap times. Eriç's times did drop, but continued to be very consistent. About this time, some of his Club team mates had to leave, the weather had got worse, the wind had blown two marquees down, the leaderboard had come crashing onto the track and the rain was persistent. It was quite frankly grim. The track was benefiting from a real blast of wind through one straight, you could see the rain dripping off people's caps, clothes and noses. 


Eriç came in for a fuel stop when we were sheltering in the catering tent. His mum, chief lap counter, myself and ultrarunner Allan were there. Eriç was soaked, his hands looked raw and he had an hour to go. He grappled round his bag for fuel. None of us could say a word. All I could think about was his mum; my mother constantly tells me how hard it is to see me go through pain when she can't do anything. I could imagine how hard this must have been for her. It was really emotional; the air was loaded with everything we wanted to say and everything that could not be said. I don't think any of us breathed until he went  back on the track. 


I'm going to tell the truth and say I didn't notice if there was a kick from Eriç in the 45 mins as the weather got so bad his mum went into the stands, and I was lap counting for a guy who needed every bit of support I could give. 


When the horn blew for the 12th hour all the runners stopped where they were and put a stick in the ground so their distance could be measured. Eriç stopped right on the other side of the track alongside the runner who had covered the most distance. Like obstinate petanque players, the two of them stood their ground chatting until a marshall came to measure their spot. After 76.19 miles, Eriç returned to the tent, massive hug for mum, enough presence of mind to thank me for coming (I was so cold I barely knew who I was!) and even started a conversation about how doing Monday's Asics runclub helped him run after a weekend's racing. It was surreal. 


Eriç is only 22 (and therefore not even old enough to appreciate my Bananaman reference!), and he's only been running three years. I don't think he's been massively coached or nurtured by any ultra running specialists. Even Allan, who I hope won't mind me saying, has been around and seen a lot, was very impressed. You know when you think you've just seen something that is going to be the next big thing... I know ultra running doesn't have a culture for big stars (and we love it that way) but I feel very confident that we had just seen something pretty damn special. 


By the way, Eriç is not a mild mannered school boy, I don't even know if he likes bananas, and his name is actually not Eric but Eriç - but when he runs he is a bit of a superhero. 

The come back runs

My last half marathon was 1 April. I created a plan to get me back into training for the marathon on 6 May but an infection in Paris put that to one side. I was on antibiotics, prescription pain killers and repairing my body from the two days when I couldn't walk properly. 


I had tried to run a couple of times when on the drugs and felt sluggish or was sluggish even when I felt I was doing fine. Two kms was the maximum. Then I went to Asics run club with no drugs to see if I could be dragged around 5km and I felt fine. We did 6km and I chatted through it and felt like I could keep going. Yes the pace was easy but finishing the distance was the point. I realised how much easier it was when there was someone to talk to so I decided that my 13 mile pre marathon run would be easier if I had company. 


A quick shout out on twitter and Neil (madebyelves) came to the rescue. We planned to take a lap of the Kingston Breakfast Run 8 mile route then go forward three, and back two to make 13. I needed precisely 13.1 to stay in the Nike Half Marathon a Month Challenge as my 1 April race clocked only 20.6kms. Grrr. 


Neil is a much faster runner than me and even doing London Marathon 5 days earlier hadn't slowed him down. But he kindly ran at my pace and perhaps I won some respect points for being in a tshirt and shorts in the cold and wet while he was fully layered up. All that Arctic training paid off! 


It was still a faster pace than I would run a half at and my lungs burnt a bit. My ITB had a niggle moment early on maybe about 5 miles in, and I had to stop and rearrange my leg. My right knee has been dislocated so many times it will turn any way you don't want it. With a right big toe also veering off one direction and a lazy right glute, that whole leg requires some serious telling off to hold itself together. So I took a moment to literally untwist my calf muscle and associated tendons so it's a bit more on track. 


The rain and wind was intermittent - it could have been much worse. The scenery was quite nice, lovely houses along the river and I recognised I am sure some of it as the Ultra route (we ran from Richmond to Barnes along a similar stretch). There were police horses, rabbits and leafy stuff given it a rural feel. I must admit, I wasn't looking at the scenery too much just trying to keep it together for conversation while dodging the puddles. About 10 miles, and I forgot about both the conversation and the puddles. Neil was good in keeping chatty and upbeat. At about 12 miles I just wanted to get home and felt a good rhythm but it just didn't last the full 1.1 mile needed and Neil had to coax me that last few hundred metres. It did help when he turned a post into the finishing line; having something to aim for gets that sprint finish going and without it my legs were just whimpering "stop stop". 


I was so pleased to have finished and it was a decent time for me let alone without any training. The new Sauconys held up well albiet their beauty was now masked by mud and horse poo. My arches had hurt a little and I wasn't sure if that was from more or less midfoot striking. I felt completely knackered but my ITB was not as bad as I had thought it might be, in fact the errant right toe had taken more of a brunt -pointing to more fore foot striking than usual. [TWO DAYS LATER: My feet are all bruised in the arches and toes so I need to work out what I was doing] 


I really felt like I could not have done this run without Neil so I am truly grateful once again for the twitter community and that the people on it are decent, fun and supportive. Now who wants to run a marathon with me this Sunday?!

Runner takes to water

So in my bid to take the triathlete world by storm (you know, in the way I've changed the face of marathon running!) I entered my first swimathon. I figured this was a good way to put my recent swimming improver's lessons to the test and hit a distance number in a safe environment and get some confidence. 


Marie Curie run a swimathon across the weekend of 2.5km and 5km. I opted for the Sport Relief distance of 1 mile. British Gas provide a number of training plans and other online resources on a special website which is very useful but the interface between Swimathon, Splashathon, Sports Relief and Swimming.org was confusing. But then this blog is not for me to critique them - that's my day job!


I had only one day of proper training from a training plan and I found that so tough I had to change the training plan after the warm up! It was good to go poolside with my bottle of water and plan in plastic pouch feeling a bit pro! But my training ended up being my actual swimming lessons as they put a lot of drills in fitness training in them. 


Lessons were through the City of London gym at the architectural beast of Golden Lane leisure centre - managed by Fusion and the fabulous ironman Jonathon. So that's where I decided to do my swimathon. I was really nervous as I didn't know how long a mile was or if I could do it and I don't know enough about swimming to know what happens when you tired; do you cramp, choke, swallow water?!


There were four of us to take the swimathon and one DNS meant I was sharing a lane with a speedy 15 year old taking on the 2.5km and a chirpy old man doing the 5km. They gave us a neat little swim cap and told us we could go. We had all manner of questions about time at lane ends, loo breaks etc but they seemed pretty laid back! 


I started off fairly slow, maybe even slower than if I did a warm up lap and just let my mind wander. They were providing lap counting so I didn't take my own device with me. This was a great idea because it meant I could just have fun. I thought that sharing the lane would be fraught but actually for me it was entertaining. I could watch proper swimmers underwater (I can see better underwater whereas I can see nothing above) and getting out of their way when they lapped me gave me something to do every now and then. 


I swam breaststroke moving to a lap of crawl (unilateral breathing) every time I felt a slight pull in my lower back. This started out as every 1 in ten but moved to 1 in 6 or 2 in 8 as the swim progressed. That pull in the back was the only thing I felt. I had imagined that my knee would hurt on a breaststroke kick given my ITB niggles but it was ok. I got a little thirsty as well from the chlorine and the thought of more of that with salt water made an Ironman sea swim seem formidable. 


At one point I reckoned I had done 20 laps and then upped it to thirty so I figured I wasn't far to half way. But then never really thought of laps again, just kept swimming, turning and dodging the pros. A couple of times as I got tired, my pushes off the wall weren't in time with my breathing and I gulped water but that was my only hiccup. 


I could see shapes at the end of the pool as the other two swimmers had brought support crew (I know!) and then I noticed a shape really near the pool. I was hoping that this was the lap counter telling me it was half way as I could feel a drop in pace though I could not pin point where in my body the reduced strength was. She said nothing that I could hear as I turned so I swam on. On my next turn I felt her tap me and call out "you've done enough laps". I really couldn't believe it so I stopped and checked "Me? One mile, are you sure?!" I really felt ok! I had done 84 laps in 46 minutes 50 seconds. I was dead chuffed (I can't believe I just used such an English phrase) and expected when I got out to feel a wreck but again I felt fine, just thirsty. 


I waited till the 2.5km girl finished as she was only 15 laps away and gave her a cheer then set about asking where I get my medal from. I only do these things for the medal! 


I was so pleased to have broken some mythical distance barrier. While breaststroke is my preferred stroke it showed me that I have the capacity to do distance swimming I just need to learn technique and build strength. And learn sighting, and swim open water. And... But for now let me just enjoy the medal!