Today begins week 8 of my 16 week marathon training programme. My marathon training takes up the single biggest part of my brain at the moment. At the moment I have to confess that I'm getting a bit fed up of it.
When I finish my Monday run, I start thinking about my Wednesday speed training session (tempo run, hill run, mile repeats or Yasso 800s) - how fast will I go? will I manage it? how much will it hurt? Then, even when I'm stretching after Thursday's recovery run, I'm already thinking about my Saturday long run - what other workouts will I have the energy for before it? what will I eat on Friday? what will I wear, what fuel will I take? what's my route going to be?
And when I'm recovering, I'm thinking about what I'm eating (and wishing I wanted to eat things that aren't just chocolate), procrastinating about stretching, and contemplating which part of me is aching most at that moment in time - usually a choice between my hip flexor, my anterior deltoid, and my foot. Although right now my throat's pretty sore too.
Everything I do, I see it in relation to my marathon training. Does my college class in Current Exercise Trends work my legs too soon before my long run? If I work on Tuesday night, will I be able to run on Wednesday? Should I visit family the day after the tune-up half marathon race, or the day of teh 20 mile training run? It feels like I'm programming my life round my training programme.
Last year, my marathon training only lasted for 8 weeks - this year it's 16. So I've never had to work my body for this long before. I need to find new resolve - mental strength is required, because this is something I've never been through before.
I'm not considering quitting, I still want to run this marathon (Edinburgh on May 26th) and I want to finish in under 4 hours. But unless I continue to remember that really, really want it, my body's probably going to quit on my brain's behalf.
The hideous weather isn't helping. It's the middle of March and there's been snow every day for the last week. I ran in a full-on blizzard a fortnight ago. Yesterday's 18 miles had to be run on the relatively tedious cycle paths and when I was done, I didn't feel joyous, I really just felt relieved.
Right, that's enough moaning. The more I talk up the down, the lower I'll get! Sunday is recovery day and it's all right to feel tired today.
Tomorrow I'll be back on the pavement.
Tomorrow I'll feel better about myself again.
Tomorrow I'll try again to stop eating sweeties and chocolate like Augustus Gloop.
Tomorrow is the first day of the school holidays so hopefully I'll have a fortnight of better rest, more foam rolling and a general bit of R&R.
If you've got any tips to help me find the mental strength to get through this wobble, please share them with me!
Showing posts with label long run. Show all posts
Showing posts with label long run. Show all posts
Sunday, 24 March 2013
Saturday, 16 March 2013
Chilly for March
I'm marathon training again. It's week six. I didn't do a week six last year, I didn't start until week 8. So a full 16-week marathon training programme is new to me. It's fantastic. Well, it usually is, but I'm a little bit tired today.
I ran 16 miles, the second time in three weeks I've done that distance. The first time, I managed an even split after a super-speedy final mile. Today I managed a negative split the same way - about half a minute faster in the second eight miles than in the first. Yay!
When I got home I went for a cold bath. Cold baths - a form of cryotherapy, which sounds so science fiction and Doctor Who that it makes me love it - is recommended to reduce swelling and stiffness after a tough run, and promote a speedy recovery. As somebody who really hates rest days, anything that can help me recover faster is worth a go.
Today was my third cold bath, the first two after challenging speed sessions. I haven't had the organisational skills for an ice bath - I imagine you'd need a fair old bit of ice to have even a slushy bath and my freezer's too full of old fish fingers and bags of veggies for that. I'm hoping that water from the cold tap does the job nearly as well.
So I sit for ten minutes in a hip-deep bath, still in my running hat and jacket, browsing Facebook and reading Dean Karnazes. My kids look bemused. My husband ignored me (how can you ignore someone wearing a hat and jacket in the bath?!)
These ten minutes of cold take more stamina than the two hours and twenty minutes that promted them. After the first minute my breathing returns to normal (instead of that juddery, catching, shallow breathing that you normally only do when you get into the sea on holiday) and after that, it's not actually too bad.
Well, not too bad except for my feet. My feet and especially my toes hate the cold. They properly hurt, like somebody's stomped on them with big boots. They hurt worse than any part of my body hurts while I'm running. I haven't found a way to really keep them out of the water while I'm soaking my legs. My feet hate the cold bath.
But the rest of me? Well like any recovery solution, it's hard to tell if it works. Unless you do just one leg, you don't have a control experiment, right? I do know that after the last two ice baths, (which were following speed sessions which push me harder than I've been pushed before) I haven't had DOMS, and I've been able to continue dancing, walking, zumba class - albeit at a lower intensity than if I hadn't run! So I suspect it's beneficial. Although I know in my heart of hearts that learning how to take proper rest days would be better.
I'm battling my old hip flexor demon too (with an icepack while I type!) which is another incentive for the cold bath. So far the icing, pilates and trying to keep my hip in alignment when I run seem to be keeping it together. Long may it continue.
Thinking of a cold bath? Go on, give it a shot. I recommend waiting until you're so tired you'd sit down anywhere - that's when it starts to look inviting!
I ran 16 miles, the second time in three weeks I've done that distance. The first time, I managed an even split after a super-speedy final mile. Today I managed a negative split the same way - about half a minute faster in the second eight miles than in the first. Yay!
When I got home I went for a cold bath. Cold baths - a form of cryotherapy, which sounds so science fiction and Doctor Who that it makes me love it - is recommended to reduce swelling and stiffness after a tough run, and promote a speedy recovery. As somebody who really hates rest days, anything that can help me recover faster is worth a go.
Today was my third cold bath, the first two after challenging speed sessions. I haven't had the organisational skills for an ice bath - I imagine you'd need a fair old bit of ice to have even a slushy bath and my freezer's too full of old fish fingers and bags of veggies for that. I'm hoping that water from the cold tap does the job nearly as well.
So I sit for ten minutes in a hip-deep bath, still in my running hat and jacket, browsing Facebook and reading Dean Karnazes. My kids look bemused. My husband ignored me (how can you ignore someone wearing a hat and jacket in the bath?!)
These ten minutes of cold take more stamina than the two hours and twenty minutes that promted them. After the first minute my breathing returns to normal (instead of that juddery, catching, shallow breathing that you normally only do when you get into the sea on holiday) and after that, it's not actually too bad.
Well, not too bad except for my feet. My feet and especially my toes hate the cold. They properly hurt, like somebody's stomped on them with big boots. They hurt worse than any part of my body hurts while I'm running. I haven't found a way to really keep them out of the water while I'm soaking my legs. My feet hate the cold bath.
But the rest of me? Well like any recovery solution, it's hard to tell if it works. Unless you do just one leg, you don't have a control experiment, right? I do know that after the last two ice baths, (which were following speed sessions which push me harder than I've been pushed before) I haven't had DOMS, and I've been able to continue dancing, walking, zumba class - albeit at a lower intensity than if I hadn't run! So I suspect it's beneficial. Although I know in my heart of hearts that learning how to take proper rest days would be better.
I'm battling my old hip flexor demon too (with an icepack while I type!) which is another incentive for the cold bath. So far the icing, pilates and trying to keep my hip in alignment when I run seem to be keeping it together. Long may it continue.
Thinking of a cold bath? Go on, give it a shot. I recommend waiting until you're so tired you'd sit down anywhere - that's when it starts to look inviting!
Saturday, 7 April 2012
Marathon Training Week 1
This was my first week of marathon training. It was *varied*.
Tuesday was my first run. The weather was attrocious. Blowing a gale, rainy with sleet. I had 4 miles to run, well within my comfort zone, and if it hadn't been "my first run in my marathon training", I would NOT have gone out in it. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a woos when it comes to getting out there. I have run three times a week, EVERY week through the winter. Snow has not stopped me, cold has not stopped me, rain has not stopped me. In fact, now that the streets are busier with runners, I feel quite sniffy that they've not been on the pavements through thick and thin, like I have. But when I heard the wind howling down my chimney, I knew it was not going to be the greatest run ever.
You know how we say that we never regret a run? Well I *very nearly* regretted this run. It was *miserable*. My face ached from the freezing blasts of wind and sleet. Every so often I'd be suspended in mid-step, unable to run through the force of the wind. Some roof slates crashed to the ground from a tenement as I ran past (scary!).
When I got home, I took off my clothes - full-length leggings, 2 tops and a jacket - and my skin was *burnt* underneath. I've never seen anything like it - bright red like sunburn on my legs, arms and tummy. Add to this the fact I was pretty stressed about running anyway, and I actually wanted to cry. What else could it be but an omen? The first run of my training was one of the worst runs of my life!
So for the rest of Tuesday, I was preoccupied with my imminent failure as a marathon runner. I was pretty close to logging on to the EMF site to register for the half marathon.
Wednesday's weather was a bit better for my 8 miles, but not much. Scaffolding was blowing loose above my head in Portobello. When I got home and discovered I'd actually only done 7.6 miles, I wanted to cry once more. It looked like half marathon for me.
Thursday morning I did 5 miles, to make up for being half a mile short on each of Tuesday and Wednesday. Thankfully it was a bright, clear spring morning. I went to Holyrood Park and really enjoyed the scenery. I did my 5 miles without any stress and felt much better. I could possibly conceive of continuing with my marathon efforts now, phew.
Today's run was 16 miles. I've never run 16 miles before, my max has been a half marathon at 13.1miles. I was a bit nervous. I had a lovely rest day yesterday, resting a lot and eating a lot (although failing to avoid sweeties and wheat as I'd hoped to do), and thinking about doing my 16 miles. With my bottle of water and energy gel, I hit the road at 5.20am.
Well, it was *amazing*. Just brilliant. It was cool and drizzly with light wind. For the first mile I felt nervous and ran too fast - running nervous is something I've only done on race days before, because my regular runs are for pure enjoyment. I worked hard at calming myself and listened to podcasts.
I ran to Cramond and back, with few little detours to make up the distance. I had a big grin on my face the whole way. I kept checking my watch to see how far I'd gone with my feelgood factor, planning to blog "I felt really happy until X miles" - but the bubble never burst, and I felt really happy all the way through. This is training, I thought. The nerves, the change of expectation from relaxed enjoyment to achievement, stepping up and realising that it *feels different*.
The little detours were lovely, just like when I'd just moved to Edinburgh and my runs to explore different streets in my neighbourhood. When I hit 16 miles - 2 hours 27 minutes - I had a wee walk before I got home, which was actually the hardest part of the run! My knees twinged and the change of muscles in use was challenging!
I wore my grin *all day*. was starving for my porridge and loved every mouthful, it tasted amazing. I danced with my daughter and tickled my son in a way I never usually have the energy to do on a Saturday. I dragged them out leafletting for the elections in the afternoon (they didn't enjoy that quite as much). It's dinner time and I still feel fantastic.
So today I added 6 miles to my regular run. That's a big step-up and there'll need to be stretching before bedtime. But it was *fine*. And now I feel like that marathon experience is in my reach after all.
Tuesday was my first run. The weather was attrocious. Blowing a gale, rainy with sleet. I had 4 miles to run, well within my comfort zone, and if it hadn't been "my first run in my marathon training", I would NOT have gone out in it. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a woos when it comes to getting out there. I have run three times a week, EVERY week through the winter. Snow has not stopped me, cold has not stopped me, rain has not stopped me. In fact, now that the streets are busier with runners, I feel quite sniffy that they've not been on the pavements through thick and thin, like I have. But when I heard the wind howling down my chimney, I knew it was not going to be the greatest run ever.
You know how we say that we never regret a run? Well I *very nearly* regretted this run. It was *miserable*. My face ached from the freezing blasts of wind and sleet. Every so often I'd be suspended in mid-step, unable to run through the force of the wind. Some roof slates crashed to the ground from a tenement as I ran past (scary!).
When I got home, I took off my clothes - full-length leggings, 2 tops and a jacket - and my skin was *burnt* underneath. I've never seen anything like it - bright red like sunburn on my legs, arms and tummy. Add to this the fact I was pretty stressed about running anyway, and I actually wanted to cry. What else could it be but an omen? The first run of my training was one of the worst runs of my life!
So for the rest of Tuesday, I was preoccupied with my imminent failure as a marathon runner. I was pretty close to logging on to the EMF site to register for the half marathon.
Wednesday's weather was a bit better for my 8 miles, but not much. Scaffolding was blowing loose above my head in Portobello. When I got home and discovered I'd actually only done 7.6 miles, I wanted to cry once more. It looked like half marathon for me.
Thursday morning I did 5 miles, to make up for being half a mile short on each of Tuesday and Wednesday. Thankfully it was a bright, clear spring morning. I went to Holyrood Park and really enjoyed the scenery. I did my 5 miles without any stress and felt much better. I could possibly conceive of continuing with my marathon efforts now, phew.
Today's run was 16 miles. I've never run 16 miles before, my max has been a half marathon at 13.1miles. I was a bit nervous. I had a lovely rest day yesterday, resting a lot and eating a lot (although failing to avoid sweeties and wheat as I'd hoped to do), and thinking about doing my 16 miles. With my bottle of water and energy gel, I hit the road at 5.20am.
Well, it was *amazing*. Just brilliant. It was cool and drizzly with light wind. For the first mile I felt nervous and ran too fast - running nervous is something I've only done on race days before, because my regular runs are for pure enjoyment. I worked hard at calming myself and listened to podcasts.
I ran to Cramond and back, with few little detours to make up the distance. I had a big grin on my face the whole way. I kept checking my watch to see how far I'd gone with my feelgood factor, planning to blog "I felt really happy until X miles" - but the bubble never burst, and I felt really happy all the way through. This is training, I thought. The nerves, the change of expectation from relaxed enjoyment to achievement, stepping up and realising that it *feels different*.
The little detours were lovely, just like when I'd just moved to Edinburgh and my runs to explore different streets in my neighbourhood. When I hit 16 miles - 2 hours 27 minutes - I had a wee walk before I got home, which was actually the hardest part of the run! My knees twinged and the change of muscles in use was challenging!
I wore my grin *all day*. was starving for my porridge and loved every mouthful, it tasted amazing. I danced with my daughter and tickled my son in a way I never usually have the energy to do on a Saturday. I dragged them out leafletting for the elections in the afternoon (they didn't enjoy that quite as much). It's dinner time and I still feel fantastic.
So today I added 6 miles to my regular run. That's a big step-up and there'll need to be stretching before bedtime. But it was *fine*. And now I feel like that marathon experience is in my reach after all.
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