September 26th was the day. When I entered this race several months ago, I knew I would be in for a PB. I've been in great shape, have trained well, and knew the course from a few years ago when it knocked me on my metaphorical backside. With good weather, I was on target to finally break 1:30.
Then, I suffered some calf issues due to a little too much time in flip-flops during my beach holiday in September. I know, the sympathy violins are all being uncased now - sore leg caused by being a lazy article on the beach! Sad, but true. The only other possible cause was the increase in running and hiking during the first 4 days of my vacation, since I had so much free time and sleep. But, it can't be more exercise! It must be the flip-flops! Anyway, the result was 5 days with no running, much to my annoyance.
Then, after only 1 run, I caught a cold upon my return to frozen England. From 30 degrees (C) to 6 was a bit of a shock! I have a rather nasty habit of turning sinus congestion into a chest infection, so I was pretty annoyed. For once, though, I listened to the best practice of the entire running community and stopped running as soon as the cold symptoms moved below my larynx. The good news was that this was enforced rest to allow the full benefits of my fabulous massage from Sara. The bad news is that I was fit to run on Friday (very cold and rainy) before Sunday's race. So, I decided to take the rest of the week off and waited until the race for my first return to running.
Given the poor preparation, I changed goals to: finishing the race without re-introducing illness, run at my goal marathon pace or better, feel OK after the run since I was flying to Japan that night for a business trip. On Sunday morning, I practiced as much of my pre-marathon prep as I could. Breakfast of oatmeal at around 2 hours before the start. I missed my energy bar at T-1 hour, since I was running a little late and was still driving. Then, 1 Torq caffeinated gel at T-20 minutes followed by my warm-up.
The warm-up was a bit scary. Within about 2 minutes I was up to 90% heart rate. I normally have to push quite hard to get there in early warm-up. So, I eased back a little and focused on getting all the muscles moving for a few minutes before ramping back up. The unexpected jump in HR gave me a revised race plan of maintaining 80% heart rate for a few miles before re-assessing.
Then, the gun fired and we were off. I kept an easy pace for the first mile (mostly up-hill anyway) and eased into the race. Even with the gentle undulations, it was a struggle to stay at marathon pace, so I let my legs have free reign for a bit to see how things went. As long as I kept below roughly 90% HR, I was able to keep a comfortable pace (with a bit more work down the hills where I could pick up time). By 10 miles, I knew I was on for a pleasing time (no PB, but pretty good given the prep). The run in for the last 5k is roughly 2 miles up hill, 1 mile down. So, I kept pace as much as possible and aimed for around 1:33-1:34. Since I've only beaten that once, I was in a good mood entering the last 5k.
At 11.5 miles, my knees started to complain about all the activity after a week off. I pushed on, hoping to recover a bit of form and speed on the down hill. It was, rather unfortunately, against a very strong wind. So, my form remained ragged and my pace was still slowing. I looked into the distance to see the guys I'd hoped to catch stretching away from me. I'm pretty sure one of them (Ranjit Samrai) did the same thing to me a few years previously. He'd obviously improved just as much as I had! Then, we hit the flat, turned out of the wind, and everyone seemed to be shouting "Come on, Maureen!" or "Go, Maureen!". I thought to myself, "I don't know who she is, but this Maureen is running strong and I feel like death warmed up, so I guess she'll pass me."
Then, my friend Dave, who had finished some 6 minutes earlier, started shouting some encouragement from the sidelines, including "Don't let her catch you on the line!" That woke me up. I usually have a pretty strong finish, and I reminded myself that I wasn't going to get caught on the line. That's what I do, not what's done to me!!
Still, the shouts of "Go Maureen!" and "You can catch him, Maureen" were ringing in my ears. Obviously, this Maureen was pretty popular.
Now, my aunt and godmother's name is Maureen (well, it's one of her many names, and one that she has been known to use fairly regularly). So, I had a fleeting image of a venerable, six-foot tall, generously proportioned nun bearing down on me. There was absolutely, positively, no way I was going to let a big old lady in a habit catch me in the finishing straight - no matter how much I love my aunt. When we turned on to the grass for the final 0.1 miles around a field, I reminded myself that I am an off-road runner, and this was my territory. Some unknown roady wasn't going to pass me on a lumpy, difficult surface!
Cue the internal feeling of winding up a dirty great hulk of a machine to make it move slightly less slowly, and I pushed forward with what must have actually been a pretty imperceptible increase in speed. In the end, I held off "Maureen" by a second (it turns out her name is Mallory - so my ears were obviously not recovered from the cold!). Turned around, and noticed a young woman who had the look of one who had been using me as a target for quite a while. I congratulated her on a good run and carried on towards the massage table hoping not to cough up a lung once I'd slowed down and they realized what I'd been doing to them for the last hour and a half.
In all, it was a good and challenging race. The result was much better than I expected given my preparation (just under 1:35), so I'm hopeful that once I get over the Japanese food (yum!) I will be able to get into a good state for Amsterdam in a couple of weeks. And to Mallory: thank you for pushing me as much as I'm sure I pulled you towards the finish.
Thursday, 30 September 2010
Sunday, 8 August 2010
The Bugatti Beer Race - the best 10k ... in the world!
There are few events in the world that I plan my diary around - my September holiday in Greece, my family trip to Georgia, New Year's Eve. The Bugatti Beer Race doesn't rank with these, but it's very, very close! The race is pretty low key, very good value, and every runner gets a T-shirt, beer, and burger at the end. It's mid-week, which means that on a tough training schedule it can be a speed session, or on an easy schedule it can be a focus race. Oh, and the second half is fantastically undulating! Hurrah! None of the boring, flat, out & back PB course here. A good time at Bugatti is something like 10k PB + 2-3 minutes. It challenges the mind and body, and with its great atmosphere, feeds the soul. Add to that the fact that the Bugatti is a focus race for several of the local clubs, and you get a bit of fun, some familiar faces, and just a little bit of needle to try and put your club ahead of the others.
So, this year, I have been looking forward to the race for a few months. I'd planned a pretty quick attempt (for me). It would be a full on speed session - 10k at the fastest pace I could keep up for the duration. Due to a minor revision of the schedule, though, I was going into the run with a 14 mile goal-marathon-pace effort. I knew it would be tough, but I also knew that I wouldn't have a clue how I was going by time and pace. So, I planned to use my heart rate monitor to keep the effort high. I aimed for 85%-90% of the max HR for as long as I could hold on.
On the evening of the race, the legs were, as expected, feeling a bit tender and heavy. I warmed up as usual, trying to push a bit of speed into my legs, and to get my head in gear. To minimize impact on the local villagers coming home from a long day at work, Cheltenham Harriers kept us off the road until the last minute. Then, we moved out to the line, stood still for a few seconds, and the horn sounded. Without all the usual standing about and waiting, it was pretty much straight from the warm up to the race. So, I set off down the gentle decline (100ft in the first 1/2 mile) with half an eye on my HRM to keep from going off too hard - a common mistake among Bugatti newbies.
This was my first try at "racing" the Bugatti. Previously I'd done it as a "just finish" on unfit legs - followed by a 4-month layoff having finished off a tear - and a 1/2 marathon pace tempo run. So, as I paced along, I found myself among several of EVRC's top performers of the year. We had the chance to watch the very fastest guys shoot down the road, and joined into a mini pack about 50 runners back. A few of my fellow EVRC runners were heading out pretty quickly. Sheila, Steve, Shrimp, and Julian all worked past me as we moved through the second mile. When we turned into the wind, I upped the effort a bit, moving to about 95% to keep onto the back of Steve and Shrimp - they're taller than me and offered a little shelter from the headwind.
Once we turned out of the wind, I let them go, hoping to pick them up again in the hills. I had no hope of seeing Julian again, since he'd blown past me like I was standing still (you may remember his first 10mi run was the Hilly Hundred in May - he's having a great Summer!). I eased back down to 85% to recover from the extra effort against the wind and prepare for the hilly section.
Ah, the hills! The Bugatti isn't actually particularly hilly, by trail running standards. But, for the flat-track bullies of the 10k road race fraternity, the second half of this race is a killer. There is a long drag (~100ft ascent) after 3.5 miles, and a few 50-75ft rollers to get the blood moving after that. The finish is at the end of a nice half-mile drag, just to kick you a little while you're down. Unless, of course, you know it's coming and you like some hills! For the first climb, I set into a good rhythm, ignored the HRM, and powered past the nearest runners. I must admit a bit of smugness as I noticed that these guys & gals who left me for dust on the flat hadn't changed their stride, their RPM or, as far as I could tell, anything else except their speed as they struggled up the hill.
Once at the top, I flew down the other side, catching the first of my club-mates. I began to pick up the others as the rollers took their toll. At the penultimate hill, I picked up Julian - to the surprise of both of us! At 9k, I pushed the pace a bit, working to 95%. With 800m left, I pushed a bit harder and again stopped looking at the HRM. The final drag of around 400m was an all-out affair - I didn't know whose footsteps I could hear, but I didn't want them to get any louder. I had one runner in view, and was determined to pass him before the finish - and I did! I finished in 43 even, and was absolutely elated! Even with the hard run a few days before, I'd managed to take 30 seconds off the previous year's time, and I'd finally raced a controlled 10k. In fact, hindsight says I could have pushed harder from about 1k further out and taken another 10-20 seconds off the time.
I waited at the end to congratulate my club-mates as they raced in, and when Nic crossed the line we headed for the beer & burger queues. Eventually, we divided and conquered. Nic went to get the beers, while I held our place for the burgers. She rejoined and I got my 3-4 sips before handing over the bottle (I was driving), and we picked up our delicious burgers, celebrating a fantastic event. Thanks, Cheltenham Harriers! We'll see you again next year!
So, this year, I have been looking forward to the race for a few months. I'd planned a pretty quick attempt (for me). It would be a full on speed session - 10k at the fastest pace I could keep up for the duration. Due to a minor revision of the schedule, though, I was going into the run with a 14 mile goal-marathon-pace effort. I knew it would be tough, but I also knew that I wouldn't have a clue how I was going by time and pace. So, I planned to use my heart rate monitor to keep the effort high. I aimed for 85%-90% of the max HR for as long as I could hold on.
On the evening of the race, the legs were, as expected, feeling a bit tender and heavy. I warmed up as usual, trying to push a bit of speed into my legs, and to get my head in gear. To minimize impact on the local villagers coming home from a long day at work, Cheltenham Harriers kept us off the road until the last minute. Then, we moved out to the line, stood still for a few seconds, and the horn sounded. Without all the usual standing about and waiting, it was pretty much straight from the warm up to the race. So, I set off down the gentle decline (100ft in the first 1/2 mile) with half an eye on my HRM to keep from going off too hard - a common mistake among Bugatti newbies.
This was my first try at "racing" the Bugatti. Previously I'd done it as a "just finish" on unfit legs - followed by a 4-month layoff having finished off a tear - and a 1/2 marathon pace tempo run. So, as I paced along, I found myself among several of EVRC's top performers of the year. We had the chance to watch the very fastest guys shoot down the road, and joined into a mini pack about 50 runners back. A few of my fellow EVRC runners were heading out pretty quickly. Sheila, Steve, Shrimp, and Julian all worked past me as we moved through the second mile. When we turned into the wind, I upped the effort a bit, moving to about 95% to keep onto the back of Steve and Shrimp - they're taller than me and offered a little shelter from the headwind.
Once we turned out of the wind, I let them go, hoping to pick them up again in the hills. I had no hope of seeing Julian again, since he'd blown past me like I was standing still (you may remember his first 10mi run was the Hilly Hundred in May - he's having a great Summer!). I eased back down to 85% to recover from the extra effort against the wind and prepare for the hilly section.
Ah, the hills! The Bugatti isn't actually particularly hilly, by trail running standards. But, for the flat-track bullies of the 10k road race fraternity, the second half of this race is a killer. There is a long drag (~100ft ascent) after 3.5 miles, and a few 50-75ft rollers to get the blood moving after that. The finish is at the end of a nice half-mile drag, just to kick you a little while you're down. Unless, of course, you know it's coming and you like some hills! For the first climb, I set into a good rhythm, ignored the HRM, and powered past the nearest runners. I must admit a bit of smugness as I noticed that these guys & gals who left me for dust on the flat hadn't changed their stride, their RPM or, as far as I could tell, anything else except their speed as they struggled up the hill.
Once at the top, I flew down the other side, catching the first of my club-mates. I began to pick up the others as the rollers took their toll. At the penultimate hill, I picked up Julian - to the surprise of both of us! At 9k, I pushed the pace a bit, working to 95%. With 800m left, I pushed a bit harder and again stopped looking at the HRM. The final drag of around 400m was an all-out affair - I didn't know whose footsteps I could hear, but I didn't want them to get any louder. I had one runner in view, and was determined to pass him before the finish - and I did! I finished in 43 even, and was absolutely elated! Even with the hard run a few days before, I'd managed to take 30 seconds off the previous year's time, and I'd finally raced a controlled 10k. In fact, hindsight says I could have pushed harder from about 1k further out and taken another 10-20 seconds off the time.
I waited at the end to congratulate my club-mates as they raced in, and when Nic crossed the line we headed for the beer & burger queues. Eventually, we divided and conquered. Nic went to get the beers, while I held our place for the burgers. She rejoined and I got my 3-4 sips before handing over the bottle (I was driving), and we picked up our delicious burgers, celebrating a fantastic event. Thanks, Cheltenham Harriers! We'll see you again next year!
Tuesday, 27 July 2010
The Seaview 17
My friend Dave posted an announcement on our club discussion board describing a great trail race in Devon - the Seaview 17 - 17 miles if you can fly, 20.5 if you're on foot. The race description included helpful tips like:
After a little more thought, I declined the offer and continued to plan my race-pace training run. But, the best laid plans of mice and men are often over-ruled by our nearest and dearest. I had forgotten to close web page, and Nic saw the race description. Nic loves the North Devon coastline, and we haven't been down there for a few years. So, with only a little effort, she convinced me to go and enjoy the trail, taking a fairly relaxed pace, and move my race-pace run to the next weekend.
We found a nice campground in Exmoor National Park, about 30 minutes from the race HQ for Saturday night. Since I've never been camping before (shocking! I blame the parents...), it was a bit of an adventure. After joining the queues on the motorway (first weekend of the school holidays), we enjoyed a tranquil evening and a fabulous meal at The Royal Oak in Winsford.
On Sunday, we got up, packed up the dewey tent, and headed to Minehead - just in time for me to collect my race number and jump on the bus to the starting point, near Lynton. As we headed into the hills, low, concerned voices began to ask, "how will we see the trail, much less the markers?!"
You see, it can be a bit misty on Exmoor. So, although it wasn't too cold, it was touch-and-go whether the cloud we were in would burn off or turn to rain. Having nearly frozen on the South Coast, I decided to be cautious and chose the short sleeves instead of the vest. After all, this would be a nice easy run.
At the horn, we quickly trotted 10 metres and then waited for everyone to join the single-file track. Those with ambition, like Dave, sprinted off down the trail. The rest of us filtered in and went at whatever pace the person in front could manage. So, I had a slow and easy 3 miles of warm-up, passing where there was space and jogging along where there wasn't. I didn't feel any need to hurry, since I hadn't run 20 miles since the 3 Forts in May. I knew there would be time and space to tire myself out later on. During much of this time, I was actually happy to have a mist to keep me from enjoying the views. At times the track was quite technical, so a glance at a stunning sea view might have quickly turned into a snail's-eye view of the trail-side bushes (some of them a fair way below the trail).
At about 5 miles, the mist rose just enough to confirm that I did have the sea on the correct side. The course rose and fell enjoyably, with a nice steep track down to Portlock, the lowest point on the race. We joined the pebble beach/sea-wall for a short distance and then passed through the fields to the foot of Selworthy Beacon.
The pebble beach looked much worse than it felt, but I wouldn't have wanted to run it in a hurry!
I'd spent a bit of race-prep time looking at the big climb on the topographic map, so I knew it would be evil. Preparation is one thing, but execution is another... I kept my heart rate down as I hiked up the hill, so I wasn't exhausted at the top. Unfortunately, my calves were in rebellion - they didn't get much of a break even though the heart and lungs did. So, with 5-6 miles left to go, I shuffled along the top of the ridge until the legs started to relax enough to break back into a run. Any pretence of speed was killed by the hill, but I still hoped to pick up some pace on the descent into Minehead.
As I headed down the final hill, I realized the switch-backs would be too short to allow any good running and eased down to the beachfront. I checked my Garmin and was relieved to note that I only had a mile or so left. As I approached the finish, I heard Dave cheering me on. I checked his result (8th!). He had done well, but added a little extra with a wrong turn. I misunderstood, and thought the course was longer than expected, and my heart sank. I only had enough oomph left for another few hundred yards, not another mile! I struggled through the chewed-up ground near the cricket club, rounded the fence, and ran in the final 200 yards to the finish. I was spent!
A shower, followed by fish & chips on the seafront, helped revive me enough to decide that, on balance, this was a good race. The organization was great. The route was a mental and physical challenge, and the finish in the cricket club featured some nice tea and cakes. What more could a runner want for a nice day out at the seaside?
Take some sustenance and a deep breath here as looming above you is the long climb to Selworthy Beacon which will take every ache in your body and double it.So, what's not to like? Normally, I would jump at a chance to test myself against a tough course in a beautiful part of the country. But, right now I'm deep in training for a fast run in the Amsterdam Marathon, so I've got to spend a few Sunday mornings on the roads, getting used to maintaining a steady pace. So, I left the web page open to return to after a little more thought.
After a little more thought, I declined the offer and continued to plan my race-pace training run. But, the best laid plans of mice and men are often over-ruled by our nearest and dearest. I had forgotten to close web page, and Nic saw the race description. Nic loves the North Devon coastline, and we haven't been down there for a few years. So, with only a little effort, she convinced me to go and enjoy the trail, taking a fairly relaxed pace, and move my race-pace run to the next weekend.
We found a nice campground in Exmoor National Park, about 30 minutes from the race HQ for Saturday night. Since I've never been camping before (shocking! I blame the parents...), it was a bit of an adventure. After joining the queues on the motorway (first weekend of the school holidays), we enjoyed a tranquil evening and a fabulous meal at The Royal Oak in Winsford.
 |
| The intrepid campers prepare for a peaceful night at Halse Farm Campsite. |
 |
| This may be The Blue Ball Inn near the start. It'ss hard to say, as I was a full 30 feet away... |
 | ||
| Where's the sea view? |
At about 5 miles, the mist rose just enough to confirm that I did have the sea on the correct side. The course rose and fell enjoyably, with a nice steep track down to Portlock, the lowest point on the race. We joined the pebble beach/sea-wall for a short distance and then passed through the fields to the foot of Selworthy Beacon.
 |
| The rather large pebbles at Portlock |
 |
| The long, slow, hot, slow climb (slow) up Selworthy Beacon |
As I headed down the final hill, I realized the switch-backs would be too short to allow any good running and eased down to the beachfront. I checked my Garmin and was relieved to note that I only had a mile or so left. As I approached the finish, I heard Dave cheering me on. I checked his result (8th!). He had done well, but added a little extra with a wrong turn. I misunderstood, and thought the course was longer than expected, and my heart sank. I only had enough oomph left for another few hundred yards, not another mile! I struggled through the chewed-up ground near the cricket club, rounded the fence, and ran in the final 200 yards to the finish. I was spent!
A shower, followed by fish & chips on the seafront, helped revive me enough to decide that, on balance, this was a good race. The organization was great. The route was a mental and physical challenge, and the finish in the cricket club featured some nice tea and cakes. What more could a runner want for a nice day out at the seaside?
Sunday, 4 July 2010
Short and to the Point - Man vs Bicycle
On my recent holiday to the Georgia Appalachians, I had the opportunity to properly test my hypothesis that a cyclist climbing a mountain on the handy switchback roads is not going to reach the top as quickly as a runner on a slightly straighter trail. The venue was Brasstown Bald - Georgia's highest peak.
For a few years, my dad has forged an annual battle with the Bald. He spends a week or so getting used to the mountains and then does a one-man time trial from the base of the climb to the scenic car park below the observation area (2.4 miles, 1890ft). Last year, Nic and I joined him on his attack - we hiked the nearby trail that tops out on a minor peak and then descends to the car park (1.9 miles). All the way up, I thought, "this is nearly runnable". Especially for the gentle drop from the peak to the end. So, this year, I challenged Dad to a race, fairly sure that it would be close enough for some good family rivalry - he's been in top form in his racing, and I've never been running stronger. After a good deal of needle, and the promise to Nic that I wouldn't race back down the fairly treacherous slope afterwards, we set out on the challenge.
Although the distances are different, the challenge is pretty equal. The trail is shorter, but includes some stretches that run between 30% and 50% grade climbs. The road is longer, and requires pushing a bike, but is steadier with gradients generally ranging between 10-16%, with a short evil stretch of 24%. Given all that, I figured the winner would be the one in better shape for his sport.
The race started, and within seconds I was already above Dad and his road. From then on, I was never at a lower elevation than the road. The first quarter mile was about as horrible as I remembered it, but manageable. Then, a short runnable ascent followed by a steep, tight switchback. My heart rate topped out in the low 170s (about 10bpm lower than I'd expected), and I could tell it wasn't going to get any better. Occasional 5-10 second stops for recovery became necessary, and I had to give up all hope of running. The steep part was lasting a lot longer than I'd remembered. I looked at my watch and took my phone out to send Dad a message - I wasn't injured, just very slow. I knew at 25 minutes that I wasn't going to beat him, and that he'd have a bit of a wait on his hands. Finally, after around 1.5 miles, I peaked and was able to hit the fun gentle descent. I was sure it would be more of the route! Anyway, I took a couple of mind-clearing breaths and hit my pace. Then, I hit a root, followed by the ground. I minor fall, except that I'd already landed on the same bits earlier in the week on a short trail run. I quickly washed the mud out of the re-opened wounds and raced on. I wasn't about to let an evil ascent and a little fall ruin the fun of this fabulous drop from the peak. I reached the car park in just under 37 minutes, 4 minutes behind Dad and about 8 minutes behind what I'd thought possible (bad trail memory, for sure!).
Still, I'd say my hypothesis is still correct. A trail runner in the same relative form as my dad has at the moment would probably nip in before him. This trail runner, though, was totally outclassed! Hats off!
For a few years, my dad has forged an annual battle with the Bald. He spends a week or so getting used to the mountains and then does a one-man time trial from the base of the climb to the scenic car park below the observation area (2.4 miles, 1890ft). Last year, Nic and I joined him on his attack - we hiked the nearby trail that tops out on a minor peak and then descends to the car park (1.9 miles). All the way up, I thought, "this is nearly runnable". Especially for the gentle drop from the peak to the end. So, this year, I challenged Dad to a race, fairly sure that it would be close enough for some good family rivalry - he's been in top form in his racing, and I've never been running stronger. After a good deal of needle, and the promise to Nic that I wouldn't race back down the fairly treacherous slope afterwards, we set out on the challenge.
Although the distances are different, the challenge is pretty equal. The trail is shorter, but includes some stretches that run between 30% and 50% grade climbs. The road is longer, and requires pushing a bike, but is steadier with gradients generally ranging between 10-16%, with a short evil stretch of 24%. Given all that, I figured the winner would be the one in better shape for his sport.
The race started, and within seconds I was already above Dad and his road. From then on, I was never at a lower elevation than the road. The first quarter mile was about as horrible as I remembered it, but manageable. Then, a short runnable ascent followed by a steep, tight switchback. My heart rate topped out in the low 170s (about 10bpm lower than I'd expected), and I could tell it wasn't going to get any better. Occasional 5-10 second stops for recovery became necessary, and I had to give up all hope of running. The steep part was lasting a lot longer than I'd remembered. I looked at my watch and took my phone out to send Dad a message - I wasn't injured, just very slow. I knew at 25 minutes that I wasn't going to beat him, and that he'd have a bit of a wait on his hands. Finally, after around 1.5 miles, I peaked and was able to hit the fun gentle descent. I was sure it would be more of the route! Anyway, I took a couple of mind-clearing breaths and hit my pace. Then, I hit a root, followed by the ground. I minor fall, except that I'd already landed on the same bits earlier in the week on a short trail run. I quickly washed the mud out of the re-opened wounds and raced on. I wasn't about to let an evil ascent and a little fall ruin the fun of this fabulous drop from the peak. I reached the car park in just under 37 minutes, 4 minutes behind Dad and about 8 minutes behind what I'd thought possible (bad trail memory, for sure!).
Still, I'd say my hypothesis is still correct. A trail runner in the same relative form as my dad has at the moment would probably nip in before him. This trail runner, though, was totally outclassed! Hats off!
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