Hypocrite? Hell yeah and I love it.

Started my London Marathon training this week.

I'm trying out a 20 week training plan based on the principal that I have the speed (ish) but lack the stamina at the full distance. The sight of me 'running' the last three miles of Abingdon and London marathons looking like I was carrying an elephant on my back probably illustrates that perfectly.

So, three days in and that's one steady run, one long run and one rest day. Nice to have a rest day so early on - I might even start with one next time.

Why does this training this make me a hypocrite? Well, back in March I wrote a break up letter to Marathon training. It all got a bit hard and a bit sore and bit repetitive and I stomped off like a hormonal teenager worried that his girlfriend is too good for him.

But then I did London. Not well, I'll grant you, and not without pain either but I enjoyed it. So I had the summer off, focusing on some fun triathlons (a mere holiday fling compared to the commitment of a runners' relationship with their sport) and I ran purely for enjoyment.

Now I'm ready to scrap again. So goals for this year:

1) More stamina - get those miles in

2) More strength and conditioning (for which you can read *some* Strength and Conditioning)

3) No junk miles - just four or five quality runs backed up with big rides on my bike

Things I have learned about running from the London Marathon

1.    Optimism is great but reality will get you in the end
          No matter how much I tried to convince myself that a torn hamstring three weeks before the event need not prevent me from running fast, the reality was that it stopped me running fast for 26 miles.

2.       The crowds are special

I have done a lot of races of distances from 5km to marathon but nothing – no matter how much people told me – prepared me for the roar of noise and the overwhelming positivity from the VLM crowd.  Cheers, posters, high fives all helped get me round. My favourite was a sign held aloft in Embankment which read simply ‘Motivational Sign’.

3.       Water bottles are lethal

I was staggered by the number of numpties who chose to simply drop a water bottle at their feet, leaving it to trip a fellow runner. I was one of those fellow runners and it ended my hopes of a moderately fast run. I was even more staggered by those who thought the best alternative was to launch water bottles – some of which were 90 per cent full – over the heads of runners. Of course it meant they avoided tripping fellow marathoners but the bottles became vicious missiles to the crowds of spectators. 

4.       Egos should be left at the start line

Nothing will prepare you for being overtaken by a runner in a large fancy dress costume. It is a peculiar kind of damage to your self-image.

5.       Mental toughness isn’t everything

No matter how I willed myself to run faster, I couldn’t overcome the cramp in my hamstrings, the pain in my foot or the tightness in my leg. Taming the chimp is all very well but the body has a say too.

6.       Marathoner’s mirages are real

You can imagine the strangest things. As my mate Nathan  pulled away from me at mile 15 he looked like a young Haile Gebrselassie, gliding away like a gazelle. In fact Nathan more closely resembles the experimental progeny of The Thing and She-Hulk. It is a highly effective running style though and he gave me a proper spanking.

7.       Training pain soon forgotten

I swore off marathons forever in March, inspiring this breakup letter. Within seconds of finishing I had decided to claim my Good For Age spot in 2017 and break that 3hr mark.

London Marathon: A tough day but not a bad one

I feel chewed up and spat out after my first experience of the London Marathon.

I started off in 2015 aiming for a sub 3.15 marathon, injured my knee last year and had to defer my place for 12 months. Between then and now I managed a 3.08 marathon at Abingdon in October and, at London 2016, my aim had been to get under the magical 3hr mark.

But life isn’t straightforward. The training was tough this year. I was hampered by a tight glute all the way through, found the relentless pounding of 18 months marathon training unenjoyable and finally, with three weeks to go, I tore my hamstring.

After all that training it was something minor of course that caused the injury – ducking under a metal railing with a sack of footballs on my back. It was a very small tear and I had physio which really helped but it was essentially no running for three weeks beforehand.

It bothered me right up two days before and then started to ease. On the morning I could barely feel it and thought that maybe this was going to be my day. How wrong I was!

I set off at good pace and as I was at the front, tried to keep the 3hr pacer in sight as we fought the crowds in the first 5km. Then I found some open space and stretched my legs out but still couldn’t catch the pacer. I should have trusted my watch over him as it turned out because he was flying in the first 8 miles, setting the pace for a 2.55.

My left foot was sore – something was digging into the joint on my big toe. I carried on and every few hundred metres gave it a shake to relieve the discomfort.  

I was enjoying it – crowds were amazing and the pace I was maintaining felt great. But then at Tower Bridge my hamstring just started to complain and tighten. That continued for the next couple of miles so I shortened my stride and pushed on.

My pace was still good and I saw my family at halfway which felt great.

I was still going well but by mile 14 my shortened stride started to have an impact – different bits of me started hurting – hips, quads and the other parts of my body trying to compensate for the tight hammy.

At mile 15 a club mate, Nathan Blake, passed me. We had a brief chat and I tried to use him as motivation to keep my pace up but I didn’t have it any more. Sore foot, tight hamstring and burning hips are not conducive to fast running and he serenely glided way in his cheerful style.

I eased up a bit and the hips and hamstring hurt less. My foot however was now really painful and each step seemed to make worse. Finally, about mile 18 I got worried that I could be doing myself some permanent damage so I stopped, undid my laces, took my shoe off and sorted it out. 

I don’t know if I had tightened my laces differently but there was a crease in the shoe near the eyelet which was causing the damage. My foot was red and angry-looking (and is a lovely black and green today). I loosened the laces as much as I dared and gingerly put it back on. The act of putting the shoe on and off was incredible difficult after 18 miles of running and I could feel minor cramps all the way up and down my leg but the adjustment made the foot pain bearable again.

But then I was off. I walked for a while and took on a gel while I assessed the foot. I decided it was ok so broke out into a run – it was a great feeling and soon I was flowing along a nice jog of about 4.30 per km. 

I knew the sub 3 was long gone but now a Personal Best was still not out of the question. The enjoyment returned and I was loving it right up to the moment I was suddenly on the ground. 

I had stood on a discarded bottle, turned my ankle and down I went. I swore like a trooper and a few other runners stopped but I waved them on (mainly out of embarrassment). A kindly St John’s Ambulance lady came over to help and after a few tests I discovered that nothing was broken and that it could bear my weight.

Up I got and I set off at a tentative walk which became a purposeful walk and eventually a slow jog. I was back in the game!

At about mile 22 I saw my family and stopped for a quick hug and power boost – it was just what I needed and my pace picked right up again. For about five minutes I was back running but just couldn’t maintain it – my injured hamstring twitched and then cramped and I was back to walking.

After 100m I picked up into a slow jog and just set about finishing. A sub 3.15 was still on but with 1km to go the 3.15 pacer overtook and all I could do was watch as he pulled away into the distance.

I finished in 3.17. Not the time I wanted but after all that had happened I couldn’t be too upset. 

 

I'm disappointed not to have done better but with the challenges I had I have to be pretty pleased to finish. Plus my first experience of a city marathon was very positive. Say what you like about the overwhelming commercialism, they are enjoyable for tens of thousands of runners and hundreds of thousands of spectators and that is worth a lot. 

Am I done with marathons? Well, I have qualified for London next year as a good for age and that sub 3 itch won't scratch itself ...

A runner's break-up letter

Dear Marathon Training, 

This is one of the hardest letters I have ever had to write.

You and I have had a mutual attraction which spans decades, although it was a relationship which was consummated just five years ago. But, as hard as it may be to face the truth, we must accept that the spark is no longer so bright, if it flares at all.

The joy of those early morning long runs, accompanied only by the sounds of nature and a fanciful internal dialogue, has faded. The intense passion of the breathless interval runs has given way to mechanical repetition, and, as much is it pains my knees, the hurt I feel as I remember how it used to be is an ever sharper wound.

You see, I think I am falling for someone else – no-one new but someone from my past. Sure, nostalgia plays a part but it’s fast and easy and also intense and sociable. I don’t face the loneliness that I have when I’m with you and I feel more energised than I have in months.

We have just over one month together preparing for The Big One. I know that the temptation will be there to carry on but we must think back to this time. We must remember the darkness, the nagging doubts and insecurities, and the lower body aches which have plagued the winter months.

Let us not be sad and mourn for the past, let us be joyful in the gifts we have given each other. You have taught me much about commitment and made push myself more than I ever thought possible. You have given me a waistline that I thought lost in my teenage years.

No. We are adults you and I, and it is time to face the future. It will be a future of heady dashes around parks and fields, a future of the thunderous footfall at the start of a fast 10k, and a future without the endless exhaustion I have when we are together.

You will always have a special place in my heart and I will remember our time together with warmth.

Yours in gratitude,

Malcolm Bradbrook

Here we go again: 2015 Marathon Training Take Two

The beautiful Besselsleigh Woods near my home

I’ve started training in earnest for Abingdon Marathon later this year.

My knee is now recovered from the injury that struck me down two weeks before London Marathon and it’s time to start cranking up those miles.

It’s a very different experience to January when it was all rosy and every run was a joy which brought poetry to my heart. Now everything feels a bit sore and my legs feel a heavy and it’s a real effort to drag myself out of bed in the morning.

I’ve had a sore hamstring for a couple of months now. It doesn’t prevent me from running and the pain eases soon after setting off but what it does do is puts doubt in my mind and takes the gloss off.

I saw a physio last week who said the pain in the hamstring was referred pain from seized and inactive glutes  (insert tightarse joke here).

The only treatment apparently was to treat my glute with some of the most brutal physio I have experienced. It was 30 minutes of excruciating pain and it is no exaggeration to say that at least once there were tears in my eyes and three times I emitted involuntary whimpers.

The glute problem is not really a running injury, it’s caused by sitting down too much (curse this office job). So now I’m trying to remember to work standing up for some intervals throughout the day. It feels good to work standing up every now and again but it’s nothing to compare to my friend Rose George who has taken to a treadmill desk in recent weeks.

Once I get out there and get running I am enjoying it. I’m loving the warmer weather after the beardcicles of January. The trails along the Thames have dried up and the ‘swamps’ of the woodland firm enough to skip across so I’m getting some scenic routes in – about 60km of them this week.

It’s harder (and not really advisable) to do explosive speed intervals with a tight hamstring/glute so the top end training is not there at the moment so I am not predicting a really quick time at Abingdon Marathon but having missed out on London it will be a positive to get to the finish line.

Injury strikes

It was all going too well.

14 weeks of hard training. A few blips along the way – some mental, some fatigue-caused and the usual aches and pains that you’ll get from running 50 to 60 miles a week. 

But there had been no injury. Now, with less than two weeks to go, I have been struck down.

I have (I think) Runners’ Knee. 

I did Harcourt Hill Park Run on Saturday – in a personal best time – and felt a grumbling in my knee. Not pain, just grumbling. I forgot about it as you do and carried about my business playing football with my boys, making Lego spaceships and generally having fun.

Sunday was to be my last intensive workout. Eynsham Duathlon seemed perfect – it’s short, flat, informal and filled with friends from Oxford Triathlon Club. I was looking forward to showing that all this winter training had had an effect and challenging some of the better athletes in our club.

But, 50 metres into the 5km run that opens the event, my knee started grumbling again. 500 metres into the run is starting hurting and 1km later it was really hurting. I eased up and prepared to pull out – I wouldn’t normally but with the Big One just 14 days away why risk it?

But then it went from really hurting back to hurting and from hurting back to grumbling and I decided to carry on. I throttled back on the pace and decided to enjoy it.

My knee grumbled and creaked throughout the 20km bike section but then so did my mind as I cycled 8km into what was apparently 50-60mph winds.

As I set off on the second run, a shorter 2.2km, my knee once again stepped up to hurting, through really hurting and onto flaming painful. I finished the race (about five minutes slower than I should have done) and waited for the pain to stop. It usually stops straight after running if it’s just a niggle but it didn’t. It hurt sitting down, it hurt standing up and it hurt on the very slow cycle home.

Rest, Ice and Elevation were applied as my spirits soared watching Jonny Brownlee crush the opposition in the Gold Coast Triathlon. I posted a picture of my icepack on Facebook and it generated some sympathetic comments mixed with extreme banter at my Ugg-like slippers.

Apparently Runners’ Knee comes about from overuse, can strike at any time and has an indeterminate recover period. I woke up on Monday pretty sure I would be back to normal but a walking the kids to school showed otherwise and my climb up the stairs to my office this morning was borderline excruciating.

More ice and some gentle stretching is in order. I’ve even broken my personal rule and taken Ibruprofen (they were the root cause of an ulcer three years ago).

I’m trying to think positive and am staying off my bike for a few days but I have to say that this does not feel good.

I feel the need, the need for speed

Pace is on my mind.

 

Perhaps I can channel the great Haile Gebrselassie's speed?

Specifically, which pace should I run at the London Marathon in less than three weeks?
 

This is only my second marathon. My first, in 2011, was completed in 3.37 and my target this year was to knock more than 22 minutes off that so I could run under 3.15 and thereby qualify as good for age for the following two years.

That means running each of the 42 kilometres in 4.37. A stern challenge and one that seemed daunting when I started my training in January.

But then I threw a spanner in the works. I ran a 20km race in 1.21.16; far quicker than I was expecting, especially as the Great Northern course in Derbyshire had a rolling profile - not hilly but far from flat.

A few friends, who are pretty experienced at running, got in touch and said that my time was an indicator that I was ‘setting my sights too low’ and that my 20km time showed that I was capable of sneaking under the magical 3hr mark.

I checked on ‘The Bible’ (also known as the Runner’s Word Pace Predictor) and true enough my predicted time was shown as 02.59.07. And that is worked out by science - actual science of the kind that built the railways, put a man on the moon and made hair glossy and manageable.

Terrifying. To achieve that I would have to run each of the 42km at 4.14. It’s only just over a year ago that running 10km at 4.00 per km was beyond me so the thought of my new predicted pace seems out of reach.

And here I am. Stuck between naturally wanting to go as fast as I can to make the most of the hard training I have been putting in, and the fear of blowing up with 10km to go and ending the race in a world of misery and missing the original 3.15 to boot.

I could just man up and  blast through it. But, as written about previously, mental strength is not one of the arrows in my quiver.

It’s a pickle alright and any advice would be most gratefully received and considered even if I can’t promise to take it!