Why do we do it?

Sitting in Burger King at 3am on Sunday morning, the long run should have been the furthest thing from my mind. Even after 9 pints of Guinness it must have been nagging away at me because I ordered a bottle of water to go with the Whooper Meal. The healthy option!

The morning of a hangover is not the morning you want to have 15 miles marked down. After 6 hours of drunken sleep I had to spend the first 10 minutes of the morning with a heart rate circa 160bpm as the alarm clock managed to freak me out no end. Then after breakfast it was 2 hours of drifting in and out of consciousness on the couch, while really wishing that bowl of porridge was replaced with something that little bit greasier. To make this morning complete add in jealousy as my hungover sibling is just getting out of bed while I was doing my stretches. I know that for the two hours I'll be out running around like an eejit, he'll be sitting in front of the TV, and the most he'll have to exert himself is by going as far as the kitchen to cook a fry. One thing that was missing from all this was the headache. However, within 10 footfalls outside it reared it's unwelcome head.

The longest 15 miles I've had to do in a long time followed. Not something I want to repeat anytime soon. Saying that, I am well aware that it's only a matter of weeks until Christmas party drinks are going to start... God help me...

Grumble

Gloves last worn on Monday? Wet.
Monday's Hat? Wet.
Tuesday's Hat? Wet.
Runners from Monday? Wet.
Tuesday's? Wet.
Outside? Wet. Cold. Dark.

*grumble grumble* stupid weather *grumble* dark days *grumble* deer *grumble*

Race Report #32: Stuck in the mud

Have I ever had two posts in a row that have been race reports? I seriously doubt it, especially considering this was the first time I'd ever run two races in the space of a week. Cross country is a tough one to decide if you had a good race or not - time is out the window, hills, mud and wind combine to break up your natural rhythm and you just feel like you're plodding around. So everything is based on position related to others of the same standard. But what if they had a shit race? Does that mean I had a good one? Give me a road and a time to beat any day.

Yesterday's start line was nose bleed territory. Toeing the line in the Dublin Seniors, alongside guys who want to see their names in the squad for the Euro XC Championships next month was not where I belonged. Probably only 70 people started the race and all of them could move. Only one thing for it - a la last week, start at the back and start moving through the field. 6 laps, 10km, rain soaked turf and blustery wind... there were many, many other places I wanted to be.

As the first lap went around I tried to find that happy medium of working but not killing it. When we were only 3/4 of the way through the first lap I was thinking there was no hope I could keep going for 6 laps. I remembered the slog the final 4km of the 6km race was only three weeks ago. What the hell would happen if I was spent after 2km this week and still had 8km left? Then from nowhere I got passed by a runner I recognised from that race. That time he flew by me like I was standing still. This time he went by and I knew I had to stick with him - his plan had obviously been to start from the back and work through, like mine. All thoughts besides "stick with him" were out the window. Over the next two laps I couldn't tell you how many people we went by as I just stuck to his side and followed every surge he made.

Eventually he dropped me and I plugged on on my own. I felt sluggish at half way and again evil thoughts crept in. I've never run this far in cross country before... The last two races I've been shagged after 6km... Only half way... Then the second wind kicked in. Besides the sections of the course into the wind the rest of the forth and fifth lap felt effortless. As hard as I tried to close the gap on the guys a head of me I couldn't up the pace at all. This was all the pace I had and I had to stick with it. The last lap was fairly uneventful, the spectators had all made their way to the finish for the climax of the race (you know the part with the top guys, not this guy), and it was all a bit quiet out there. I spent the lap trying to fend off the attentions of the lad right behind me and I'm pleased to say that for the third race running I was successful in this endeavour...

The scariest thing was that crossing the line I felt like I could have gone another lap at the same pace. All the mid race fears of blowing up, not making the distance were for nothing. My endurance is top notch at the minute. Time to add some speed, and possibly some mental strength (where does one get that?) to the training...

Race Report #31: Ankle Deep Cow Dung

Control. Steady. Work into it. Control. Steady. Work into it.
"It'll just be the gun to signal the start men"
BANG!!
My reaction times are shit. I'm way back already and boxed in.
They're only a few seconds ahead. Remember 10 seconds is nothing. Control.
Nice relaxed running.
Don't get carried away.

"3 laps to go"
Start to move, start to move
Relax. Steady.
"That's it. Moving through the field, keep going. Move up"

CRs words echoing in my ears 'Everyone hurts on the third lap'
I'm not hurting.
I'm definitely working.
I'm not hurting though
Passing people left and right.
Controlled against the wind, working up the hills, hard on the straights.

"Last lap"
Another place gained.
WTF. I beat that guy in a sprint finish in the last race.
I was dying then.
How the hell was he infront of me there?
How far back did I start in this race?

C'mon. There's another place here up for grabs. Dig in.
I'm not going to get him.
Don't lose any places.
Strong to the finish

Last 100m
"That's it Gavin. You have him. Keep it going Gavin"
Fuuuuuuuckk. I'm not Gavin. Better bloody get moving.
"C'mon Stephen. Every place counts"
How many ****ing people are behind me.
Dig in. Run. Fast. Bloody Move.
I'm moving, I'm bloody moving.
If anyone passes me now they deserve it.
There's the line.
Don't slow down.
Run through that line.
Don't slow.
Fin.

Boy, this is deer country...

A pet peeve of mine is the lack of bins in the Phoenix Park. At times I end up running around for over 2 miles with an empty water bottle in hand waiting for that elusive bin to appear.

Yesterday I found a new gripe - lights! There's shag all in the park, and lots of them that are there simply don't work. At one stage I went by six lights in a row, both sides of the road, not working. I'd never noticed it before but now with the main road closed to cars in the park, no lights from traffic coupled with a lack of working lights, the visibility after 7 o'clock is non-existent.

With no cars around for company, and not being able to see more than 10 metres in any direction, that park becomes an eerie place. On my final 2 miles I suddenly noticed deer crossing the road right in front of me in an orderly line. I stopped, looked to the right and couldn't make anything out. I had no way of telling how many there were or when they'd finish crossing as I was the only one with the decency to have lights on! I then spotted daddy deer hanging back, not crossing the road, staring straight at me. Mexican standoff.
Bugger, time to take a detour

What I didn't realise was that my new route to escape the deer was completely light free - that's wrong, there was one light. To add to that I entered right into deer country. In the dark, with no cars, this was their territory, even if I was on a footpath. What noise do deers make? Is it braying? like bray the place? Anyway, it sounds like a growl slash grumble, and is pretty damn freaky when you don't know if it's directed at you. I had this sound in my ear for the next 2km, almost like one deer was stalking me. I kept passing signs with warnings of deers crossing on them, convinced that a deer was going to shoot across the road to the field on the other side and crash into me.

All in all, the 10 minute detour jog that brought me away from the initial deer encounter was an altogether unpleasant affair. Until cars are back in the park in the evenings, increasing visibility, it looks like I'm out of there. Once back on the main stretch of road, complete with traffic all I had to deal with was the occasional ninja cyclist and runner.

Race Report #30: The Return of XC

10 months. It took a mere 10 months for me to forget how I feel about Cross Country. Maybe I should have read my last cross country post a few weeks ago to remind myself. Instead I had this weird feeling going into the race that I was good at cross country - one good race and five miserable outtings to date should have told me otherwise.

Even though I haven't been happy with my race performances of late I know deep down that I'm in the best condition I've ever been in and that sooner or later I'm going to have a big race. Going into this race I thought, maybe, just maybe this would be it. One thing I didn't realise was how much the hills were going to kick my ass. 6km consisting of 12 short steep hills really took its toll. Infact by the 5th hill, about 2km in, I could feel that I was starting to go backwards. From there on in it was a battle with the inner demons to keep going.

Rather than dwell on the negatives of the race I'm trying to take as many positvies out of this race as possible.

• Them 12 hills are going to stand to me in future races
• I pushed myself harder than any I would have in any training session
• For once in my life I possessed a sprint finish to regain a place I'd lost
• I will be stronger and will take the lessons from this race into the next one.
• There's only another 5 months of Cross Country left... actually... Five months?! WTF!

Photo by David Bradshaw

Friday Fartlek

Hills. I always hear about hills. Everyone seems to do hill training. I've never done hill training. Until yeseterday. Good Christ that hurt.

Again, I took the spikes out for this session. Again, the ground semmed far too hard for them but I've got to get used to them. This time however no blister, which means there's no need for new spikes before next weeks race. Nice.