Swimming lesson #4

Week 4 and we were thrown into the deep end... the theory of treading water is a world away from practice as several mouthfuls of water prove. The ol' front crawl is coming along... slowly! Last lesson next week, must start looking for another course; a not a beginner but not quite a swimmer course.

On the running front I haven't been out all week, I need to give these blisters a chance to heal. Next outing will be the weekend long run; 14 miles.

Walking in slow motion...

The first thing i did this morning was weight myself... still 84KG. Not bad, could be better but hey ho.

The plan was to run 18 miles but due to my rubbish map reading skills I accidentally planned a route of 20.4 miles. I suspected that I had made an error when my legs decided to stop working after 2.5 hours. I knew what there were doing and completely understood but I was a long way from home. What followed was a very, very, very long and uncomfortable walk home, stopping on several occasions to rest and stretch. My legs we incredible tired and stiff, and my arches were just unbelievably painful. My biggest fear was getting blisters, they can take quite some time to heal.

I was walking as fast as I could because the only place I wanted to be was home, sometimes the really is no place like home. I eventually made it, walking up my street was an incredible feeling after such a hard slog for over 5 miles.

Once home the first thing I did was sit down, I just had to take the weight off those exhausted and very sore legs. The phone rang a couple of times and after 30 mins or so I took my trainers and socks off to realise my greatest fear... blisters. Not just ordinary blisters, these were monsters. They may have started out as several blisters earlier in my run but over time they decided to pool resources and band together to form a union. They were big, one on each arch, and they explained a lot!

I was in really in a lot of pain, in fact climbing the stairs was a serious ordeal and I had to make sure I did it as little as possible. While upstairs I weighed myself and to my surprise I was 83KG, a whole 1KG down since this morning. I wasn't sure but I may have discovered something incredible, the weight of something previously though not measurable; I may have discovered the weight of the will to live! You see the only thing that I'm sure that I lost during my 20 miles of hell this morning was my will to live, could that account for the missing KG??

After a couple of hours of rest I had to do a little shopping for blister related stuff. I drove to the shopping mall and parked in the usual way. Walking to the shopping area was a little strange, like walking in slow motion. My legs were operating on work to rule basis.

With the marathon so close (5 weeks time) I'm a little worried that I may not be able to train this week. We've got a 5-9-5 and a 14 mile run at the weekend. I think I'll be OK by the weekend but the mid-week runs look doubtful.

Early morning dash...

A late night made sure it was a struggle to get out of my comfy bed but after many failed attempts I finally crawled out at 6am. It turned out to be a pretty good run; 5 miles in bang on 45 mins., that's a pace of bang on 09:00, another first! I'm sure the 18 mile run planned for Sunday will see a return to a more familiar pace...

Swimming lesson #3

Swimming lesson number 3 last night. Like most things; I get the theory, it's the putting it into practise bit that I sink on. This week was pretty much the same as last week, we're obviously not getting it right!

A 2008 triathlon could be a little adventurous, and quite possibly my last unless I get one of those wetsuits with a emergency ripcord that inflates the suit into a balloon; with the right wind direction I could do a pretty good time... the wrong wind direction and I could end up several miles upstream... what if its blowing a gale; I could be last seen heading out toward the Isle of Man... let's stick with swimming.

Not even a little twinge...

I gave the 4 mile run yesterday (Tuesday) a miss, I felt that me knee could do with a rest. This morning I added being geographically challenged to my long list of challenges and didn't quite make the 9 miles, instead clocking up 8.2 miles; close enough! The good news is that we ran the 8.2 miles in 1.14, that's a pace of 9:04 and an all time best! The other good news is that it looks like my new insoles are doing the trick; no sign of any knee pain at all, not even a little twinge!! A couple of blisters but it's a bargain price to pay!

Long way round...

Sunday afternoon is not the best time for the longest run of the week and we proved that fact this afternoon as we dragged ourselves around the 12 mile route; it was a killer, a drag, a shoot me now kinda run but we still managed to run the full 12 miles. Not only did we finish but we did it in record time: 12 miles in 1.51. That is a time not to be sniffed at...well, maybe proper runners like Monica have the right to sniff... but not for long, at this rate we may find ourselves in the proper runner category someday soon!

I'm into the final few weeks of preparation for the Cork marathon, and the distances will getting into the really long category. 18 miles next weekend and in 3 weeks it'll be the dreaded 20 miler; that 20 mile run will make or break the marathon!

Last short run of the week...

Another early start, I'm getting used to these! 5 miles later we were surprising relaxed when rounding the last corner, finishing in a mere 46 minutes. It looks like this training is starting to pay off! Looking forward to the 12 mile run this weekend, it should be a walk in the park... oh, let's not tempt fate again.

Swimming lesson #2

Just back from swimming lesson number 2 and I finally managed to breathe with my head out of the water. Towards the end of the lesson I managed to get 1 relatively calm breath in followed a few seconds later by a familiar panicked breath which, combined with a very impressive front crawl, got me half down the length of the pool; a new record! Tonight's new skill was the back stroke; the trick is the look up and kick like hell.

Mid week run

Another early start and 8 miles without any sign of injury, looks like the shoe advice worked!

Early morning & first run of the week...

Up and out early! I'm back in my old Asics and they feel pretty good. No knee trouble until the last 100m when I felt a twinge followed by a sharp pain and had to stop, but I'm putting it down to agitation and swelling from the long run on Sunday. 8 miles tomorrow morning, should be another early start, then week 2 of swimming lessons.

Finally some good news...

After expert self-diagnosis I decided to give the experts a go, it turns out that the problem is not with my IT band after all! My right foot it the root of the problem, specifically the arch or lack of it... After much prodding, poking, twisting and pulling my Physio deduced that the arch support in my trainers is nowhere near adequate. It makes perfect sense; the arch on my right foot begins to ache a mile or so before my left knee begins to ache. It's a huge relief that I haven't damaged my knee or IT band. Looks like we're back on track for Cork!!

Limp, stretch, Hitler and extra miles, but not necessarily in that order...

After resting all week to give my IT band a chance to heal I joined Joe for our long weekend run; 16 miles was on the list this week. After our 15 mile run last week, this week's 16 miles should be a walk in the park! That's what you might call tempting fate!

It started very well; good pace and a lovely route through the Kildare countryside. We agreed to stop every 4 miles to briefly rest and take on water. The first stop was pretty uneventful but somewhere between mile 4 and 8 I started to feel an ache in the arch of my right foot. This was followed by a dull pain in my left knee. We stopped, as scheduled, at 8 miles as I was starting to feel a lot of pressure on my left knee. After much stretching we carried on and almost immediately I knew I was in trouble; the pain was getting worse, I could feel pressure in my left hip and I was developing a limp. We carried on and I gradually fell behind.

The 12 mile stop was breaking point; I was limping and in considerable pain. I hated to do it but I had to throw the towel in and Joe took off to complete the run alone. I cut a rather pathetic figure as I dragged myself up the hill towards Naas, it reminded me of my 3 week stint in the Gaeltacht when I much younger.

The Gaeltacht is an area where only Irish is spoken and during the summer months there are organised residential Irish language courses. There are several Gaeltachts in Ireland; most are located in the western counties (Donegal, Mayo, Galway and Kerry). It wasn't a particularly pleasant or uplifting experience for me; we had to walk everywhere and for a city boy that had less than a mile walk to school walking almost 4 miles to our Gaeltacht College was quite a novelty on the first day. On the second day it was considered a joke and on the 3rd day it was beyond a joke. We had to walk to the college in the morning, walk back home that afternoon, walk back to the college for our evening ceili, and walk back home that night. If you add it up I think you'll find that's a lot of walking. We often hitched to college and met some interesting characters; my heart skips a beat when I think about what could have happened had we been unlucky with a lift.

The priest who appeared to manage the college was a cross between Hitler, my worst nightmare and Hitler. It was clear that he disliked his job, himself and people in general. There was one pivotal event that confirmed his close friendship with the devil. It was a weekday morning and as usual we were faced with a long march to the college with one significant difference; the weather was foul - the wind was blowing a gale and the rainfall was heavy and horizontal. We were unhappy walking several miles to college in fair weather, and we decided that in this foul weather we'd had enough and we were not moving. You could say we were on strike, our house keeper (or Bean an tí) couldn't move us. We were united, dry and wanted to stay that way. Unknown to us we had been betrayed.

The priest had been informed of our strike and was speeding towards our remote house. We heard to screech of tyres outside, we all knew Jim the postman drove at 2 1/2 miles an hour so it couldn't be him. Peering out the window we saw it was the college minibus, we could scarcely believe it... we were saved. The evil priest had a heart after all. He stormed into the house and angrily ordered us outside; we reckoned he must keep up the act of Satins' right hand man to keep us in line so we happily marched outside ready to board the bus. Only when he had us all outside did the terrible truth revel itself as he ordered us to march to the college, into the howling wind and driving rain. As the last boy joined the march of the damned he climbed into the dry, roomy mini-bus and drove slowly behind us... all the way to the college. Happy days!

As Joe ran into the distance I struggled up the hill, I wasn't entirely sure where I was but it turned out to be 3 miles back to town; 3 long, lonely miles with a limp. The funny thing is that I made it back before Joe, we should have travelled the same route and I didn't notice a pair of trainers poking out of a ditch. 10 minutes later he arrives, exhausted. It turns out the planned route would only reach 15 miles, and the plan was to run 16 so he took a slight detour to add a miles. Several wrong turns later he finds a familiar road and in the way home after adding an unexpected few miles. That'll hurt tomorrow!

Meanwhile I'm slowly ceasing up and by the time I get home I can bearly walk on the flat, walking up or down stairs was unbearable and to be avoided at all costs. About an hour later I had decided to hunt down and kill the lunitics that designed my house... all the toilets are upstairs, what were they thinking??

Swimming lesson #1

It's been on my to-do list for many years, and I'm finally taking swimming lessons starting tonight. I really didn't know what to expect, I hadn't been in a pool for many, many years apart from sea survival courses but they don't count (you're wearing a life jacket).

When I got out to the pool area the instructor asked what level I was, I answered honestly "complete beginner". He wanted clarification... "You’ve never been in the water?", I answered "the last time I was in the water I was being dragged out by a life guard" which sent me straight to the bottom of the beginners line. It's a true story, I was on holiday in Spain, near Barcelona, and my sister (Marie), brother-in-law (Alain) and some friends were pottering in the beach; a beach packed with bronzed gorgeous Latin types. And then there was the Irish contingent; lashing on plenty of factor 30 to preserve our bluey white complexion.

I was feeling very confident; I had my snorkel, goggles and a firm seabed within reach. I was having a great time peering into the colourful Mediterranean, every so often my snorkel would fill with water and I'd have to stand up to empty it out. however, there came a point when my luck ran out, I tried to stand up and found to my horror that the sea bed has fallen out of reach, either that or I had shrunk and that was a real possibility considering the amount of time I had been in the sea but it didn't really matter, the fact that I couldn't stand was the critical issue. It took a fraction of a millisecond to appreciate the gravity of the situation, and at that moment gravity was my nemesis. I had a couple of options: relax, lie on my back and float; make for the shore as the sea bed could not be that far away. I did what any sensible non-swimmer would do and panicked. Luckily Alain spotted me as I went under for the 2nd time and sprang into action. The next thing I remember was being dragged from the water like a drowned rat, I knew the chances of me scoring that afternoon were reduced from virtually zero to a definite zero.

Back in the swimming pool I was surprised that I could swim a little, but as soon as the instructor I was promoted to the "can swim a bit" line. It was a great class and learnt the basics of the crawl, or is it the breast stroke. Breathing was a bit of a challenge, it turns out it's better to do it with your head out of the water. Next week is the back stroke! Triathlon here we come...

Iliotibial Band...

...is not one of the more obscure groups in my music collection but, according to my mate Marie, the cause of my recent knee injury. It's a band that runs from the hip to the knee and it's a common injury for professional runners, and I can testify that quite a few rubbish runners get it too. The solution, according to my mate Kerry, is rest for 3 days (I like that), ice (good in a G&T but we can share), and ibuprofen. This is day two of resting; I'll rest it again tomorrow and get back to training on Thursday.

God calling...

Here's another handy hint but it only applies to bikers in Ireland: If you've got a radio built into your motorcycle helmet (which I do) which is not easily controllable with your gloves on (which mine isn't) and your radio station of choice is RTE Radio 1 (which mine is) and you tend to set the volume quite high (which I do) then avoid at all costs travelling anywhere near 6pm because you will instantly have one thing in common with Quasimodo: The Bells... THE BELLS!!

You see in Ireland, RTE (the national broadcaster) transmits the Angelus every evening at 6pm. For those outside the catholic circle, the Angelus is a minute long sound of the Angelus bell, a church bell. I admit, a minute doesn’t sound like a long time but let me assure you that your mind will be quickly changed, challenged and probably crushed if you find yourself hurtling down the M7 at breathtaking speed happily listening to the latest in world affairs when suddenly your crash helmet is replaced by a huge church bell that is rung with gusto for a full minute!! And there's NOTHING you can do about it... ARRRGGGGGGGG.......

This happens to me with alarming frequency... it may explain a lot...

GIR 2008: A long walk back...

Morning broke and, while my knee was not 100%, in my wisdom I decided that I should run the GIR this afternoon. I went through my usual pre-race routine; a monster bowl of porridge, a couple of bananas, lots of water, a frantic search for the car keys (I can never find them when I really need them) and off to the race. My knee felt pretty good in so far as I couldn't feel it which I guessed was a good thing.

I parked in the Phoenix park some 3K from the start line (I thought it was more like 1K but ask anyone that knows me and they'll tell you that I have no concept of distance, I'm one of these "it's just around the corner" or "down the road" people) where I met a steady stream of fellow participants jogging and looking a little worried. I asked one which way to the start line and was inform that it was 3K this way... with 15 mins to the start time. I wasn't overly concerned, I have run this race of a few years now and it has never started on time. But it crossed my mind t hat this year could be different and I adopted the worried look and jogged to the start line.

By the time I got there I was exhausted and a little creaky in the knee dept. Not a good start, but I should have trusted my instincts as the start was delayed by 20 mins. On the plus side I had time to catch my breath and stretch. When the race finally started I found myself a the back of the crowd, I could see a few chickens, batman and a couple of very large, bearded women (I made the assumption that there were men dressed in drag but since the collapse of the iron curtain you never know, they did all kinds of weird experiments on athletes behind that curtain...) so I knew I'd be stuck behind quite a few walkers.

When I crossed the start line I set my watch and sprinted to a halt as I hit a walking wall of middle-aged women, why they have to walk side by side I'll never know. Getting past them I had another half a kilometer of walking walls to scale. I felt a little like Steve McQueen in one of the closing scenes of the Great Escape, although I didn't have half the German army out to kill me.

Anyway, as soon as I started running I felt the pain in my knee and it got progressively worse, hitting a peak at around the 5K mark where my pace plummeted. The last 5K was a painful stretch and it was a real effort to keep going. I crossed the line in a little over 1 hour 3 mins. Not my best but glad to have finished. However once I had crossed the line and had stopped running the pain really hit home. It was a long, long walk back to the car.

Just when I knee-ed you...

This was the first of many long runs myself and my mate Joe are planning in preparation for the Cork marathon; 15 miles in a little over 2 hours 34mins. A really good time for that distance and our pace was pretty constant throughout. I felt pretty good for the entire run but half way I became aware of a dull pain just behind my knee cap. The pain persisted, perhaps increasing slightly but not enough to make consider stopping although there were a few occasions towards the end that I'm sure I would have stopped had I been running on my own.

The last few miles were the hardest but it was a question of mind over matter as it usually is; it never will cease to amaze me how much more you can find in yourself when you're sure your energy is spent. I felt pretty good for an hour or so after the run but then it hit me as I tried to climb the stairs at home. So I did what I knew to be the right thing; ice and rest and the pain slowly ebbed away. Tomorrow is the Great Ireland Run; here’s hoping my knee has recovered by the morning!

Pre-lunch dash

Another pre-lunch run from the office, a little over 4 miles in a little under 39. It felt like an easier run compared to Tuesday's run, looks like it's coming together... Feeling good!!

7 miles in Naas

I'm sticking to the program... 7 miles in 1:07, pretty good pace and felt really good afterwards. 4 miles tomorrow.

Munchies

Just back from a pre-lunchtime run with my mate Joe: 3.59 miles in 33 mins; a respectable pace. One of the obvious downsides of running when you're hungry is how much hungrier you are after the run... I could have eaten a horse and considering I work in Clondalkin it could have been a sticky end to one of the preferred domestic pets in this part of the world!

Luckily we got back to the office before the mega munchies kicked in. The mega munchies are the munchies you get after a night a much beer and little or no food... you'll eat everything in the fridge regardless of what or how old it is.

It was during one of these attacks that I discovered how sensitive the digestive system can be... it was very, very late and I was very, very drunk. I opened the fridge door and there was nothing there... empty, except for 7 onions... "hmmm... I do like fried onions" I thought to myself, but if my brain cells were functioning properly rather than swimming in a bath of alcohol I would have finished that sentence with something like "on a burger" or "with lots of other things..." but eating 7 fried onions is a bad, bad idea. Eating 7 fried onions with a burger or lots of other things would be bad enough, but on their own is beyond a bad idea. When you're inebriated things like bad ideas rarely get in the way and I proceeded to fry up the last residents of my fridge. I'm not going to go into detail but the next few days were not pleasant, I cannot even find the words to describe how unpleasant they were but experience will be forever etched on my brain.

Happy days!