“Bring me four Fried Chickens and a Coke”

Jake Blues, The Blues Brothers

Week 4, we’ve reached the Quarter point. Is the Quarter point a thing? This will be the end of my first 4 week ‘Block’ anyway.

After switching my long run to Saturday in Week 3, Sunday became a rest day, other than a bit of gentle stretching yoga. Therefore on Monday there is no stiffness or anything niggly.

My long Yoga session is far less ‘ouch ya fucker’ than last week. My weights session also goes really well. In fact, this was the first week of weights where I felt like I was both into it and finding it a little more comfortable. I’ve been doing it twice a week since the end of December now, so maybe the first signs of progress. Maybe.

When I wake up Tuesday though, I feel a bit meh. Like I might be at the very start of getting a cold, which would be a massive pain in the arse.

I’m also a little stiff and sore in the legs, even though I haven’t run for nigh on 72 hours. I find this happens to me a lot. The more rest I get between runs, the stiffer I get. Weird. I do some stretching Yoga in the morning in the hope I can shake some of it out.

Tonight is a Club Grand Prix night. I’ve mentioned the Grand Prix before, but in a nutshell, once a month from September to March we race a 3.4m course against each other. It’s all Handicapped depending on performance, that handicap changed every month dependent of how quick or slow you ran the last one, and we compete in Teams of 8. It’s a bit of fun really, although some people take it far too seriously. I’ve seen grown men literally push women out the way as they hurtle for the line. Arseholes.

I’ve had a cracking GP so far this season. I’m on a 3 race PB streak, although I’m under no illusions that it will end tonight. I’ve no problem with that, but it will be interesting to see how much running slow and long for nearly a month will affect my 5k speed.

The longer the day goes on however, the crapper I feel. At least my new running gloves arrive today. My old ones have served me well, I reckon I’ve had them a decade, but they’re no longer doing the job. I was diagnosed with Raynaud’s a couple of years back. As such, my hands suffer badly in the cold. And I’m bored shitless of it.

I have to get in a 5 mile warm up beforehand, to make sure I hit the 8-10 for the day. There’s a bit of a cold wind, so my new gloves get a test, and they definitely make a difference.

Warm up complete, I’m at the start. Due to the aforementioned good streak I’m having, my handicap start time is a stinking 17mins 50secs. I look at the list of others who’ll be starting with me, and there are some absolute beasts in there.

I’m not going to time my race tonight. I’m just going to restart my 5 mile run. That way I’m not looking at my time or pace, so I’ll hopefully just listen to my body rather than try to fly round it too fast like a tit.

Once we start, predictably, the rest of my group shoot off. It’s what I expected, so I’m not bothered. I am surprised by how comfortable running at a faster pace is though.

I turn at the halfway point and this is going quite well. Then I notice my left shoelace has come undone. What an absolute melt. I’ve only been tying my laces since I was a child, but tonight’s the night I choose to lose that basic life skill.

I keep going, but the sensible decision is to stop and tie them. Stuff my time and position. The finish line is usually a shit show anyway, without me sending either myself or other runners flying.

I find a spot out of the way on the Prom with about a quarter of a mile left and attempt to tie them. Runners are flying past me, and the more places I know I’m losing, the more I fiddle with my laces like a toddler who’s never done this before.

I tie them, take a look to make sure I’m not jumping back on in front of anyone, then resume. I notice that some of the runners I’m gaining on I’ve already passed earlier before shoelacegate, but it’s too late to catch them, I’ve run out of real estate. Mother fucker!

I find out later that I’ve just run a 23:16 5k, my 3rd fastest ever, and finish in 25:50, only 40 odd seconds down on my course record. Damn you shoelace! I finish about 50 places down as well. Double Damn you shoelace!

Wednesday will be an enforced rest day. Although, there’s nothing restful about it. I’m up early on the first train to Edinburgh to meet with my boss for a catch up. I’ll be back later that same day, then off to the match. So, absolutely no time for a run. Anyway, it was quite a nice day in Edinburgh, weather wise. I even cut round the back of the castle on the way into the office and took some arty photos..

As the day goes on, I can feel my cold creeping on and getting worse. That evening, like the athlete I am, I sink many pints in the pub before and after watching Newcastle win and get to the League Cup Final. More on that in the weeks to come, as that is massively going to fuck up one of my weekend long runs.

Thursday I wake up feeling shite. Yes, some of it is down to those pints I consumed, but also my cold is now very much bedded in.

Its intervals day, although not as long as the previous weeks. Today I need to do 6 x 1km Intervals. Usual drill, 10 min warm up to the local estate, do the loops. Big difference this week? It’s hard work. I feel quite weak, a mixture of the cold and probably a slight hangover. I get them done, stick to my thresholds, but the struggle is real.

Friday is my birthday. Happy Birthday to me. I reward myself by doing 4 easy miles with hill reps. I used to be cool. I wake up feeling even more shitter than yesterday and the can’t be arsedness is pretty high.

It doesn’t really get any better once I’m out there. The thought of doing those hill reps really doesn’t appeal to me. When I get to the hill though, it’s actually ok. If anything, they actually snap me out of the meh. There’s a bit of a wind coming off the sea though, so I’m actually quite glad when I finish. I end my Birthday with a family curry and still with a wankful head cold.

We’re back to normal training timetable this weekend. So a short threshold on the Saturday, with a long run on the Sunday. I also receive my next training block of 4 weeks. Shit is about to get real this next few weeks. An 18 miler followed by another 16 miles and then two lots of 20 milers. I’m tired just reading it.

For the first time in forever, I struggle to motivate myself to get out Saturday. I still have a manky cold, there’s a chilly wind coming off the sea, and the thought of getting out to run 3-4 miles at a slightly faster pace isn’t appealing.

I give myself a mental slap and get out the door. Once I’m out, it’s actually all right. Tis always the case. Now I just need to psyche myself up for the 16 miler tomorrow.

This will be the same route as last week, with a little tweak at the 9 mile point, because I can’t be arsed to climb out of Wallsend Burn. So I’m going to run over the top of it instead. A bridge over the top of it. I’m not a Marvel character.

Up early Sunday and it’s grim. Just on the positive though, my cold has miraculously almost disappeared. It’s a recovery of biblical miracle proportions. Whilst I’m feeling better, it still doesn’t change the fact the weather is shite.

First 3.5 miles again are all on the sea front. The sea is rough and noisy, which is always a sign the weather is shite down here. The wind isn’t really that strong, but constant and enough to lash cold rain onto me. I’m staying positive though. Someone told me you have to remember these runs when you get to the start line. The early, cold, wet, dark, mornings when you’ve got out and done it. Bottle them, you might need to go back to that mental reassurance at mile 1, 10, or 22 of the Marathon.

I cut inland and just like last week it’s a relief to be out of the weather. Well, at least the worst of it. The Plan this week has me at this point forward doing 3 mile at Marathon Pace, followed by one mile at easy pace, 3 times. I have a go at this, but the problem is I’m not 100% what my Marathon pace is going to be yet. Yes, I know.

I do have a good go at this anyway, and actually feel pretty good. Another bonus is that at mile 11, where my heart rate suddenly jumped last week, stays in threshold. It stays like this all the way home. I never go into max at all for the whole 16.

I change my route slightly at the end as well. I have my Marathon trainers on, and my original route home through the fields will be a quagmire. I don’t want to get them muddy or wet, so I dive off the Wagonway early and through the streets where I grew up instead.

There is something quite poignant about plodding through my childhood neighbourhood. 15 year old me would never have believed that 30 years later he’d be running past his old bedroom at 14 miles.

I feel so good that my last two miles are my fastest. This despite the fact we’re heading back easterly to the coast and that bastard head wind has returned. It’s probably not what I should be doing, the last two are supposed to be more of a cool down, but I feel good and my HR indicates I’m comfortable, so sod it. It ends up being 16.3 miles in 2 hours 35 mins. Slightly faster than last week. Lovely.

Just like last week, I’m really happy with getting through another 16 miler, fairly comfortably, at a pace that is on or around Marathon pace. Even though I haven’t really figured out what that is yet.

I probably should.

Bring on Week 5!

Mood: Bored of the weather