Baby Steps

What a pleasure it was to re-visit Ballycotton to make my debut in the famous ten miler, known through the British Isles and Ireland as one of the best road races either side of the Irish Sea. On first view it was easy to see why, with rugged coastline and long stretching views to welcome the annual pilgrimage for a race that has remained true to its simple values. Pity that a slight calf strain the day beforehand affected my final preparations but with an element of risk I took my place amongst the two and a half thousand strong crowd knowing that caution would be the order of the day.

Taking a chance with an injury so close to the main event is always fraught with danger but as there was no pain on the morning of the race it made little sense not to run. My eagerness for action was tempered by the longer view of the season as a whole. Throwing the dice in situations like this means you have to prepare for the worst case scenario of having to pull up early if things don't feel right. You're taking a chance and if it doesn't work you need to respect that and act accordingly before you do more damage.

Ballycotton Island and Lighthouse

Running one paced throughout in the glorious sunshine that held high above us, I felt good for the most part. Where normally around the seven and a half mile mark, I would look to start ratcheting up the effort; here there was no searching to be done. The mental doubt regarding my calf along with the tough uphill finish in warm conditions gave me reason to think that getting home in one piece would be a success in itself.

Finishing in 63.45 was hard work in the end, with the steady climb to the finish line proving tougher than expected even given my more relaxed attitude on the day. Taking the positive out of each performance while remaining truthful to yourself is key when reviewing race efforts. Learning to accept that not every day is going to be a PB day is another worthwhile lesson to become familiar with (not too familiar though, of course!)

Post Ballycotton week coincided nicely with what is the most enjoyable week of the year for some friends and me. Most people have Christmas in December, ours comes in March and it's called Cheltenham! All the build up and excitement for the preceding 360 or so days never fails to deliver the greatest four days sport of the year. Man and beast running for glory in one of the most spectacular settings I have been lucky to visit.

Cheltenham

Of course, with all the excitement there also comes some time to treat yourself and let go of the usually careful diet. Steaks, chips, burgers, pasties, pork rolls, coca cola, caramel cappuccinos and much more aplenty. You do have to live, as people remind me. I tend to overdo it though, I really do!

So with a few pound gained around the waistline and another few lost from a mysterious hole in my pocket, I attempted to get back into the daily training routine. I can honestly say that I found this the hardest few days training since taking up running twelve months or so ago. No matter how fit or otherwise you are, a break in the manner of which I enjoyed is going to make those first few days feel like you’re starting over again.

Ten-minute miles along the extremely flat and fair Tay Road seemed like torture, having to concentrate on your running form at this pace isn't what I'm used to thinking about. I do have to admit to having doubts during these few days. How would I get back to that pre-Ballycotton sharpness? How long would these seemingly easy runs feel like torture? When could we just get back to normal, I wondered?

Charlie + Alfie

As momentum was gathering in my training, into our world arrived another wonderful little baby boy, a little brother for one-year-old Alfie who we named Charlie. Thankfully the new arrival was delivered with the minimum of fuss by his amazing mother so our time in Cork University Hospital was brief enough. Yet, any small amount of time spent in a hospital has the affect of centering your outlook pretty quickly. You see people young and old dealing with issues far greater than what you quickly realize are your own somewhat insignificant ponderings.

Thanks to Victoria and the help of our family, I've been able to continue building back in to another training phase which will see me peaking for the Great Island 10 on April 12th. This Sunday's BHAA 10km race sponsored by UCC will serve as a good workout in advance of the main event two weeks later. 

Whatever happens this weekend, I'll surely have a PB in the bag by virtue of this being the first time I have raced over the 10km distance! That said, a realistic target here will be to break 38mins which would put me in a good position to run well on the local roads a fortnight later.

Hope your training is going well, don't forget to enjoy it!

A Runners Journey - Twelve Months On (Part Two)

Until you have went all the way down the long and winding road of marathon training, it is hard to fully appreciate the amount of time and effort required to ensure you are fully prepared for the main event. Despite the enormous commitment, this can be justified for the simple reason that the athlete themself has a wish to complete the distance and understands they need to prepare for the challenge as best as they possibly can.

An area of this preparation that can sometimes be overlooked and seemingly go unheralded is the part played by the family of the athlete, in particular the partner of the runner. I was and still am very lucky to have someone so understanding and selfless in my own partner. Believe me, there were days when I got told off for the amount of time I was spending with my new friend, Tar MacAdam, but in general I got off very, very lightly!

With our first wonderful new baby arriving into our lives only a few months beforehand, it was easy to understand how my increased absence was putting extra pressure on Victoria. Thankfully, patience is one of her virtues. I would never have lasted this long if it wasn't, that's for sure!

Parents of newborn children will know that lie ins are a rare thing but they become non existent when your partner is out and gone for a two and a half hour run by the time the little person decides it's time to start the day. Leaving home as a baby is crying or needing a nappy change can only be done so many times before it leaves you carrying a level of guilt out the door with you.

The Black and Amber

Strangely, I think this is where a lot of my motivation comes from. If I'm going to have people I love making such sacrifices, I better make it bloody well worthwhile. I might have been training on my own, for the most part, but I had it my head that I was doing this for far more than just my own satisfaction.

Victoria and my fantastic parents had stood by me when things were not so good during my drinking days and their support throughout those less happier times was now inspiring me to provide to them something that could be considered in some small part as payback. To make them proud, to show them they that all that heartache endured was in someway worth it, above all else to thank them. These thoughts often came to me whilst on my weekend runs and at that moment when your body also felt the strength that your thoughts possessed, you had a potent combination. At times you would feel capable of running through walls, as close as I've ever felt to unbreakable.

Of course, there were times too when you didn't feel so good. When doubt crept in. It was all very well getting comfortable with the planned marathon pace in my training runs but sometimes I questioned if I would be able to sustain this for the full distance on the big day, when it mattered most.

As the bid day drew closer, I began to realize and accept that the preparation was almost complete.  I would enjoy the taper period which saw less running in the last couple of weeks to allow the body recover while absorbing all the training it had underwent. It felt good to feel so fit and healthy, no doubt in the best shape that I had ever been, at 32 years young!

The Bakers Dozen

 

Twelve of my club mates were also on the marathon journey and on the morning of the race we spent some time together where the craic was as good as always but with a nervous edge hidden underneath us all. After the team photo, I headed down to the start line where the atmosphere was building, enjoying the warmup and letting some of the emotion wash over.

After the playing of the national anthem, the gun fired and off we went, swinging across the fair city and on up into a very blustery Phoenix Park. I had soon lost sight of the three-hour pacers who seemed to go off a lot quicker than would have been expected. It's better to make your own decisions; you only have yourself to blame if it goes wrong.

The support along the route was something that I heard a lot about in the build up and gladly it surpassed even what I had expected. Encouragement coming from both sides of the road made you feel like you weren't on your own. Getting to the halfway mark in the ideal time for a good shot at the sub three-hour target added to the quiet confidence I was feeling.

I continued to run strongly all the way up to the twenty-three or four mile mark, although as time went on it felt that I was doing more work to maintain the same pace. What seemed like easy running in the first few miles was now starting to be a real grind. Despite my already limited ability to calculate now diminishing rapidly due to fatigue, it was becoming clear that the goal was slipping away from me the further I went.

Hanging on

Mentally accepting that the target had been missed was soon and not surprisingly followed by the physical pain that comes with hitting the dreaded wall. Despite the noise that the large band of Ballymore Cobh AC supporters were making about a mile from home, I was oblivious to it all as I passed them. Away in my own world fighting a fire that seemed impossible to quench. Heavy legs were cramping badly and this was becoming a real struggle. Stopping to gather myself twice in the home straight before the rousing crowd helped lift me again.

3.06.48

Finishing was a relief and it took me sometime to recover from those last couple of punishing miles. My condition at the finish line reassured me that I had went pretty close to the bottom of the barrel for effort. There was little more I could have thrown at it.

After a few weeks recovery I resumed training and enjoyed Christmas knowing that the New Year would require renewed effort with the main target being another shot at a sub three-hour marathon in the autumn, this time in the flatlands of Amsterdam.

The first half of this years training has been centered around the 'Ballycotton 10' and the 'Great Island 10', and I’m very excited about making my debut in the first named event this weekend, when over three and a half thousand participants line up in the East Cork village for the 38^th running of this famous race. Despite a few interruptions due to sickness, preparation has went relatively well and provided conditions are ideal, I am confident of getting close to the 62minute mark for the 10miles.  

''So we're all here again for the Ballycotton 10'' 

All the best if you're taking part, enjoy!