A Rough One

The long one planned was supposed to be a bit of a jolly. It was supposed to be a longish pootle for my weekly Sunday run. I'd even opted for an off-road option to take advantage of the chill-out-recovery tone to the session. I set out early under a very fresh blue sky with my bright yellow and mucky off roaders ready for the dirty stuff and a hop over the odd stile or two. After a couple of miles bumbling along the River Wharfe I noticed that the ground was not its soft and squidgy self and more rock 'ard after an overnight freeze. Rather than reconsider my route, or more sensibly run back for a shoe change I pressed on; venturing into the icy February sunshine with my porridge in my tummy, smiling at the plump mummy sheep and feeling rather satisfied that I could just relax and enjoy this one.

Clocking mile 7 took me through Barden Bridge, after much dog walker dodging and still running with a moderate spring in my step I was hello'd by a very friendly running posse (who I now I know to be Ian et al from Horsforth Harriers - hello there again if you're reading). I must have looked reasonably alive still and knew then that my plans to be out for 2h30 would take me on to Burnsall to turn at 10 miles. I hadn't expected to get so far on my bumble but all was good. The turn came quickly and I kicked myself for forgetting my camera and failing to capture the heart stopping beauty of the run into Burnsall. The sun showered the river with glittering shards and the slow thaw with the morning sun formed a fairytale mist across the valley. I congratulated myself on the route choice and regretted no running pal for company to share the bliss.

The running started to feel hard by mile 12, my feet were feeling very sore and my quads rather tight. It was beginning to dawn that the effect of running on hard frozen mud and trail was the equivalent of 20m of concrete, in very knackered fell shoes. What a noodle. As I lurched on for home my quads no longer whined but screamed. By mile 16 I had to resort to a stretch and a bit of walk. What a plonker. I can't remember ever being forced to walk before. It just felt all wrong. I ashamedly confess that the 20 planned ended at a very mediocre 19 miles with bits walking and four more quad stretch stops. Needless to say I was very annoyed with myself and had done more harm than good; mashing quads in great style all on a recovery week! My moans and grumbles when I got home were met luckily with a fantastic massage to ease the pain. M did a great job and managed to reduce the tennis ball sized lumps in my thighs to mere peas of pain. Note to self: never ever wear silly, ill cushioned shoes for long runs again.

The Jack Daniels Formula

The Jack Daniels text of choice came through a couple of days ago and I've been hungrily consuming its pages for running tips - as if I haven't researched things to death already! The book has been recommended by several running afficionados and a fine text it is, both in the accessibility of the writing and the science of the approach. I'm still reading the initial chapters so it's a bit early to report my findings but the process of using race times to determine appropriate training intensity and pace is a real and present need for me which I hope this approach will help resolve.

The additional long runs through the week are certainly helping build up my general strength and the pace feels pretty comfy but I'm still a bit anxious I'm running too fast. A phrase I've noted in the early chapters is the 'avoidance of quality junk', i.e. avoiding sessions that fall between intervals, threshold and easy running pace. I might just be in danger of making that exact mistake. Anyway, I've more reading to do so will suspend any immediate action for now and stick with reading the whole book.

It was a steady 8 miles tonight with a bit of company for a refreshing change. M dragged his glute out for a run with me along the frosty pavements in Ilkley. No real twinges indicate all is well with said bum cheek with just a bit of fitness now to be regained. A massage with Maggie the mauler tomorrow should do the trick in preparation for the weekend; our sports massage is a regular treat highly recommended to regular runners out there. Go get one!

Pain In The A***

After the frantic preparations for night classes and exams on Monday these last couple of days have been a wee bit lazy... the last two perfect mornings have been alarm free with an easy jog before or after breakfast followed by some lolling on the sofa, complete with a saved up film or several episodes of some quality telly drama. A spot of lunch and a feeble attempt at chores has been followed by a proper run of some kind for the remainder of the afternoon. Today was a steady 8 miles, out from home with a wiggle around Ilkley and back. It was one of those flowing, easy and natural feeling runs today on a hilly and windy route. A healthy sub 7 min/mile pace was the average which felt about right after the intervals toil of last night.

Tonight, a bowl of spag bol, another film (I think I might be a filmaholic) and then a bit of bum cheek massage should finish off the evening nicely. It's tough but someone's gotta do it. Poor M has endured another day of cycling and rowing on the spot on a machine; he's a real trooper.

Tough Cookies

Missing out on Sunday's race was tougher than I'd thought. It felt strange to not be on the start line along with everyone; hoping for that half marathon PB to kick off 2010. I played it safe and have instead spent the last couple of days mooning about the house like a lost lamb, wishing my niggles better and eating too much comfort food. An easy run on Monday was niggle filled but gratefully less so around the Achilles. A good decision then.

To add to our woes, Monday night was the first week of our college assessments; there are 5 of these to come, last night being an optional practice. We all opted to be assessed and the pressure to pass was tangible. We all lined up in our stiff, scratchy and rather ugly navy dentist style suits, complete with ugly matching clogs. This was our first chance to lay our oily hands on proper paying punters. As the lights dimmed the floaty music led us into our first massage exam; the tutor tiptoeing around each one of us, clutching his clipboard, watching for exposed toes or limb crushing moves. The hour flew by as we tensely recalled our body routine, carefully counting the minutes massaging toes and arms. With 7 minutes for legs and 20 for backs I was terrified of exposing a forgotten boob or bum cheek with all the tension.

I was all done at 8pm. The tension was massive as we saw our clients out and awaited our results. With a grand drum roll...we passed! I still can't believe it. A great start to a week of holidays. No more frantic routine rehearsing in the car. It's the real thing for the next few weeks but if I've passed one I know I can do it again. We'll soon be proper massage therapists. Though I don't think I can give up the day job, it might make us a bit of pocket money...

So, back to running and today was a return to some quality to test the legs with the hope the Achilles was behaving. A 1k road circuit with a flat start and a killer uphill finish was the session of the day. With no company this week the times were down but the heart rate high enough to call it VO2 work. A total of 6 reps with 90s recovery brought the session total to 9 miles and some very wobbly Elvis legs by the end. Fingers crossed I can keep the niggles away.

Before & After

The more shrewd readers amongst you might have noticed the recurrence of naughty home baked treats featuring in my posts of late. Well, I've been at it again. This time bread shots (little buttons of dough filled with tasty treats like pesto, melted cheese & salsa..mmm) and Figgy tarts with a yummy marzipan centre. They've not gone in the oven yet but they look quite pretty in their pre-baked state...
The onset of my baking fever might 'bear' some relationship to a return to proper running after an easy summertime and a couple of weeks ease down. Today marked the return of the long run and with it the excuse to get my rolling pin out. After the track visit yesterday I stayed with a sensible plan today and ran the nearly 17m at a very steady pace, and was glad I had when faced with the rather long hill from miles 5-7. Felt good despite it being quite a few weeks since I ran this distance though I'm ready for my massage tomorrow night; a role play as client for fellow masseurs-to-be.

Toe Tickling

A late night in from college on Monday made a chore of the easy run in the first morning light today. I’m trying to build regular doubles into the week to help me cope with the building mileage needed for solid marathon training in readiness for the final programme in the New Year. Its gonna be hard in the dark.
College started with an hour of mind-numbing health and safety but we then progressed to the 'salon' where all the magic happens. It was my first massage of a stranger last night. Yes, they let me loose on a real living person. It was initially tense as I encountered a near-naked stranger under a thin and frayed peach towel. But, ever the professional I effleuraged my way through the evening, providing a not-too-bad-though-I-say-so-myself leg massage. We learned all sorts of moves including a weird cupping technique that I clearly need to work on before I’m set loose on a member of the public again. It was fun despite my own longing to have a leg rub as I worked away happily in my scratchy navy uniform.
So, back to the land of work and running. A steady 8 or 9 miles planned for tonight. The legs are stiff but not too sore though I’m sure that fatigue sits in wait. I’ll possibly attempt something a bit more taxing on Thursday but will wait and see what the legs feel like. Recovery is just as important as the hard work as I keep being reminded. It’s great to be back to full training though.

Musings On Maulings

Though it was an easy day of running today I didn't get off lightly with my visit to Maggie the Mauler for a 60min massage ordeal. I do my best to try and keep on top of these niggling legs and feet. Maggie provides an amazing sports massage at half the price of her competitors and can do wicked things with her elbows and forearms - my glutes are currently quivering at the memory. I've had an ongoing achilles niggle this last week or two so thought it best to book in and was glad I had; especially after the hammering on my quads at the weekend. I've also been really well behaved since and done very little hard running and this seems to have worked a treat on recovery. So, after biting on my fist for a whole 56 mins, trying not to howl out loud or jump off the massage table I survived the mauling and called in to the local supermarket to pick up a few bits on the way home.

I've been moderately well behaved food wise this week and am suitably inspired by Tricky's blog and the sheer virtue of his pudding ducking at work. I fared less well. I was breezily nosying through the freshly baked bread when I happened upon this stunner of a cream cake, isn't he lovely? Was very taken with the bright green dome of pure marzipan loveliness, snugly hugging a heavenly light and spongy, custardy, creamy centre. Just had a huge piece to reward my bravery tonight. I hope you'll agree it was well deserved. Incidentally, I managed an easy 4 around the village earlier and plan to do a steady 7 tomorrow before a bit more track work on Saturday. Yay, its nearly Friday.