Month: November 2013

Chi. Still got it.

This is another running related blog. Sorry. My life seems to go in obsessive spurts in one direction, followed by disinterest and active avoidance. This is one of the reasons I enter races, so I have to train. I tried to stick to that training plan, starting last week. It said start off with a 6 mile ‘easy’ run. I thought if I was doing a slow one I might as well up the incline on the tready. Such a mistake. Runner’s World said to train at 1% incline to simulate proper running, but then I went for a 10 mile road run (at 7.30 m/m pace) and my pulse was 153, the same as 6.30 m/m on the tready. That can’t be right. So, slow run, put it at 2%. You wouldn’t think it would make any difference, 1%. It does. It really does. My ankles and shins were really sore and my muscles had set the next day. That kind of buggered me up for the week. That was on Monday, but I determined to go through with my plan to join a running club, meeting on Tuesday. Whadda ya know? I braced myself (I was nervous about going, after all) girded my loins and drove to Birchwood. I was there, 3 other confused runners were there, the club was not. The others seemed to think the club had met up somewhere else. Ace. I determined to go to the next session then, 1845 on Thursday. Work went tits up and I didn’t get home until 1900. The gods mock me. Again. No worries, the hold weekend meets. Saturday I was working, so I determined to do the Sunday run. I looked on the website on Saturday night, Sunday runs: times and locations to be confirmed at Thursday session. *death from headdesk* So I’ve still not joined. Or done a run with them.   After a few days rest I determined to batter my 3 mile PB yesterday. I did that 6.15 m/m with energy to spare. Yesterday was going to be the day. 6 m/m. A landmark. A line in the sand. This far and only further. I crashed and burned after 5 minutes. Balls. My pulse was 163, my breathing wouldn’t settle into a rhythm and my mental toughness wasn’t there. I was looking at the clock ‘I’ve only done 4 minutes, I can’t do another 14 like this. I’ve got to stop’. Once you weaken and start thinking like that you’ve had it. You have to embrace the pain, grit your teeth and soldier on. I was that disgusted with myself I changed into my outdoors running kit, complete with my super-duper gps watch, and went for a 20 mile run. It is different outside. Cold, which is good. With mile markers, so you are running to the next landmark, not for the next 2 hours. I know the mile markers for the first 5 miles, ie for my 10 mile run, after that it’s […]

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It is *ON*!

I had set the bar for my best effort for 3 miles. It was a 6.30 m/m. It near killed me, but that was it, best effort. I then upped the pace to 6.20 and failed badly on two attempts on tired legs. As I said in my last blog I was going to rest for a day or two then try again. On Friday I warmed up, rested for a minute and gave myself a stern talking to. “Do. Or do not. There is not try. And there is no ‘do not’. Do it, fatlad.” I set the pace at 6.15 and went for it. I battered it! I kept the pace up for 5k (3.1 miles) to see what my best speed was for the distance, then dropped the speed (still sub 7!) for 2 miles to get my breath back, then did the last mile of 10k at 6.30! Check me out! Catching my breath at sub 7! Straight after setting new PB. And finishing off with my previous PB! The thing is, it wasn’t that bad. I just stared ahead, concentrated on my breathing, got my pulse down to 150 ish, and carried on. As demonstrated by the extra .1 of a mile. Usually I’m playing mind tricks for the last 5 minutes, telling myself ‘after this is only a half mile, after the next minute it’s only a minute, 10 seconds, 9, …1,  STOP!’  This time I reckon I could have done another mile at that pace. So, so chuffed. After those failures earlier in the week I was worrying I might not be able to improve. I’d started to think that I’d hit my physical barrier. Which would have been doubly embarrassing as I’d not previously considered the possibility that I might have one, and I’ve told everyone my plans based on the assumption that graft = results. It would have been a monster portion of humble pie to choke down if I couldn’t have improved at all. Anyway, that is not a concern now. Mission Improbable is *ON*!   After such a glorious day yesterday, I went to hop on a trailer at work today and pulled my groin. D’oh! I tried to do some fast miles when I got in, but my legs weren’t having it. My shins were hurting and my groin was sore. My funky new watch arrived today. It is all-singing and all-dancing. I’m going to put it through it’s paces tomorrow. Probably slowly if my legs aren’t better.   I had a moment of epiphany earlier this week; I’m on mornings at the moment, I can join a running club! That is why I was testing my 5 and 10k times. The Spectrum Striders (Birchwood running club) train in three groups. The fast group is defined as 5k in 16-22 minutes, 10k in 33-44 m and a half marathon as 1.09- 1.34. I did 5k in 19.27 and 10k in 40.22. I’ve not tried a half marathon at […]

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Mojo. I haz it.

Just a brief blog before bed. 3 days off (glorious, it’s felt like a holiday, I don’t want to go back to work tomorrow) and I’ve found my mojo again. On Sunday I did some running on the treadmill, I forget what. Monday I set out to up the bar on my 3 mile best time. I managed 2½ miles at 6.20 m/m then cracked like an egg. To make up for it I went out and did a cold 10 mile run. My legs didn’t want to play, my breathing was tits, I thought I was going to have to turn back in the first mile. It got better in the second mile and then I found my rhythm. A shit slow rhythm, but a maintainable one. At the 5 mile point I was a minute off my default pace of 8 m/m so I girded my loins and upped the pace on the way back. One mile was 8.05, but I still managed to get back dead on 1 hour 20, ie 8m/m pace. I’ll take that. Today I tried again on the tready, but broke after 1½ miles. I did a few more minutes at different speeds then reset the machine to 7½ m/m and went for 10 miles. This is different to outdoor running. On the one hand you don’t have to worry about your pace dropping off, but on the other you aren’t running to the next mile marker, you just have an hour and fifteen minutes to endure. At the hour point I thought I’d better check what exactly ten miles is in French (stupid km/ h machine) and to my horror found it was 16.09 k’s. I was only at 11 something. I ramped up the speed to a sub 7 m/m pace and went for it. It nearly killed me but I battered the next mile and a half before realising I’d set it too fast and was going to easily make it. I slowed it down to just under 7 m/m for the last half mile. I finished 16.01 (slight confusion over where the ‘1’ was in my mind, so 80 meters short) in 1.12:54 I’ve just battered my brain working out that the .08 of a K is 80 meters, and at 7m/m pace that would take 20 seconds, so call it 1.13:14. My target, on tired legs, was to do 30 seconds per mile faster than yesterday, which would have been 1.15, so I battered that and did a heroic and apparently unnecessary, catch up on the last two miles. I’m happy with that.   I’ll give it two days to rest my legs a bit and then I’m going to raise the bar on the 3 mile pace. I’ve done 6½ m/m, this time I’m aiming for 6:15. Then it’s only 15 seconds per mile off starting that bloody evil training plan.   I’ve found the ideal race for getting me started on Mission Improbable. The Manchester marathon, […]

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Change, change and change again.

What a farce this week was. I went in work on Monday and they officially told me that my job had been given to a full-timer and if I wanted any work I’d have to go to Crewe. They said to think about it and tell them on Tuesday. I went in on Tuesday and they were surprised and confused. Apparently that was it on Monday; either commute 350 miles a week to Crewe or bugger off. Oh. I said I couldn’t do Crewe and was all set for going home, but then they swapped stuff around and sent me on my usual run after all. Bugger. The agency rang me shortly after to tell me what I’d just found out, that I was without work. They said I could have Wednesday off, work Thursday and Friday for some other firm, then they’d put me back in Irlam on Monday on a different job, 0800 start. Nice one! I’d barely put the ‘phone down when Irlam rang me on the truck ‘phone again. They had work for me in Knowsley. I said the agency had just been on and arranged work for me for the rest of the week, back in Irlam Monday. He said that was an ad hoc job and they wouldn’t need me Monday. *headsteeringwheel* He rang the agency and then rang me back five minutes later about the Knowsley gig. “I’m going to make you this one time offer”,  “I’ve stuck my neck out to get you this”, “You either take this or that’s the end of your career with Ceva.” Honestly. No shit. He actually said that bollocks. I said I’d do it, just to shut him up. I got finished at 23.45 on Tuesday, home and in bed for 0100, had to be up for 0745. I was already knackered, after a couple of long days, that was a killer. I went in to do the “Trunking… It will be right up your street” only to find it was shunting around the yard and short distance general haulage. Ace. This was picking up and dropping off pallets of newspapers. To new places I’d never been, down routes I didn’t know. I did the first run without too many problems. I came back, got tipped, and loaded. I set off to the second drop. When I got there the whole load had tilted over. It was all leant against one curtain. The papers were still on their pallets, still wrapped, but the wrap didn’t go around the pallet so they had just tipped sideways.  The depot refused the load and I had to take it back to the yard. On my first day at the new gig. Then on the way back the M60 was bollocksed and I got stuck in it so went a few minutes over my driving time. I was thinking ‘ah well, at least I won’t have to face them tomorrow’ (as I’d be so sacked off.) They told me to […]

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