March 2012 – Page 2 – Not a Jogger

Small Mercies

Another day, another 5:55 alarm call.

If I get up at 5:55, by 6:10 I can be running, dressed, teeth brushed, cats fed. It is such a pain to have to feed them before being able to get outside – the stinky food, the loud miaowing, the time spent making sure Ted doesn’t steal Bill’s food.

Today, on my way back home after a terrible hill session in the rain, I was struggling up Crouch Hill feeling sorry for myself when I passed a dead cat on the pavement. He was beautiful. A tabby, quite small, laid out as if sleeping by the fire on a particularly cold day. There was a smudge of blood on his nose and his eyes were closed to the rain. A lump rose in my throat.

I fought back the tears for the remainder of my run. How pathetic, I thought, whilst unable to stop. A 36-year old woman blubbering over a cat she never knew. I couldn’t stop thinking about the poor driver who had hit the cat, the person who had moved it to the pavement, the owner missing him at breakfast time…

I was all set to write about the joy of returning to hill “sprints” after a couple of weeks’ absence, but it now seems unimportant. Back at the flat, both cats ignored my return. They had been fed, what did they care for this sweaty human invading their personal space? I choked back a feeble sob of gratitude.

Do Recovery Runs Really Work?

Monday’s plan was uncharacteristically democratic, and offered me a choice: “Rest, or 4 miles easy, off road”. I had the day off work, mostly to catch up on sleep after Sunday’s 18 miles, and pondered the decision. I wanted to rest, obviously, but would it be better for my legs to get in a ‘recovery run’? Might this help me avoid muscle fever?

I was dubious. How would exercising my tired legs ‘bring out’ the soreness early, or in some way appease my poor broken down tissue? After a marathon, the advice is to do nothing for a week, so if you wouldn’t attempt a recovery run then, why would you do it at any other time? Doesn’t that suggest that it won’t actually help you recover?

Some brief google-age found me this great article, which puts my half-baked thoughts into scientific and properly researched terms. A ‘recovery run’ is actually nothing of the sort, it won’t help you recover, which is why most marathon runners don’t do them after a marathon. Ultra-marathoners might though, because what they really are is ‘pre-fatigued running practice runs’, helping increase your endurance when you are tired and re-programming your brain to be more efficient in using your muscles.

As I didn’t do this google-age until today, you may surmise (correctly) that I did not run yesterday, but took the rest option instead. It was great. Happily, I also avoided muscle fever last night, though I did have some very strange dreams involving running gels. Make of that what you will.

Anticipation, Procrastination and Dread

I ran 18 miles yesterday. It was the first ‘proper’ long run of this marathon training schedule, meaning longer than 13 miles. A mere half-marathon? Pah! I laugh in your face. I could take you on any day. An 18-miler, however, means preparation.

I had planned to run mine on Sunday. Actually, I didn’t plan it, the plan dictated it and I didn’t question it. On Friday night, however, I checked the weather forecast: sun and mild on Saturday, rain, wind and cold on Sunday. At this point I had already drank two beers. I had to stick to the plan. On Saturday morning I went for a miserably lovely 5 mile run in the sun. I ate toast and bread and pasta and cake. I drank litres of water. I spent all day in a bad mood.

On Sunday morning I woke to the sound of rain. I cheered myself with the thought that every minute that went by was a minute closer to it being over. I got out the vastly expensive pink rain jacket I never wear and my camelpak water bottle holder and put them on the bed. While I brushed my teeth, Bill S Preston Esq sat himself on them and looked up at me. ‘Who goes out in this?’, he seemed to be saying.

It wasn’t a bad run. It was wet, my running gels were disgusting, but I stuck to my pace of 8 minutes 30 seconds a mile and it felt ok. It was a lot better than the same run when I trained for a marathon in 2010, when I can remember thinking my legs were going to snap off my hips like a broken barbie. Having already run 26.2 miles, you know that in a long run things will hurt, you will panic about being injured, then mysteriously they will stop hurting. Then something else will hurt. It really is just pain, and it really will go away.

Getting back home, filthy, soaking and stiff, I was elated. It was over! I could actually start to enjoy my weekend; the relief was instant. I have now learned my lesson. Sunday long runs are out, Saturday long runs are in. Subject to weather forecasts.

This week’s numbers:

Tuesday: 6 miles (intervals)
Wednesday: 4 miles (easy)
Thursday: 6 miles (steady)
Saturday: 5 miles (with 3 mile tempo)
Sunday: 18 miles (2 hours 32 minutes)

Total: 39 miles

Early Bird

I seem to have become a morning runner.

I have always been a morning person – when I was a kid I used to get up at 6am on a Sunday to spend two blissful hours scraping through my pile of lego before anyone was up to moan about it. I’ve never been a morning runner, though. When not training for a race I never darken the streets until after breakfast, at least. I run about 30 seconds to a minute slower per mile on any run completed before I’ve had some tea and toast and a bit of a sit down.

Morning runs used to be torture. Even on mornings when I hadn’t drunk any wine the night before, I felt hungover. Attempting any kind of speed session led to nausea and, well, other natural urges.

I started running in the mornings out of necessity. Fitting marathon training into your life is difficult, and getting a run out of the way first thing leaves you free to slot in the little things like meals, a social life, a job. More importantly, it stops your run from being derailed at 6pm by a sudden deadline or urgent visit to the pub.

I realised recently that I now start almost every run, even the weekend ones, before 9.30am. I run most without breakfast and they’re fine. They aren’t amazing sessions – those still only tend to happen once I’ve eaten – but they’re nothing to throw up about.

In an ideal world I wouldn’t have to go to work and I could run at 10:00am every day, after breakfast and while still feeling positive about the day. That’s what it must be like to be a full-time athlete, I sometimes think mid-run, I could do that no problem. Then I have to stop and walk up a hill.