“I never felt so bad in my entire life”

Chunk – The Goonies

After my 18 mile ‘heroics’ on the Sunday, I am feeling it on the Monday. The dodgy left knee is a bit sore, but so also is my right hamstring.

I did feel both on the Sunday evening, so got out the foam roller and swore loudly as it did the devils work on my tender hamstring muscle. Let’s hope the toddler next door was asleep, or he’ll be asking his parents some awkward questions in the morning.

Thank the Lord therefore that Monday is a rest day. Well, apart from the 30 minute Yoga and the 30 minute Weights session. But no running, that’s a rest.

This wouldn’t be one of my Marathon posts if I didn’t have a weather update. And, well, it’s looking positive for once. As we head into March, we might have turned a corner. By Thursday, the temp will be double figures. Tropical I tell thee.

This weeks long run (just the 16 miles this week) I’ll be doing on Saturday, and potentially it will be 9 degrees when I get out. It might be time to start thinking about dropping the base layer. Hopefully the crap is finally behind us. Jinx. It’s a nice boost going into the week anyway.

Monday morning I enter a race. In fact, I’ve entered two in the last few days. The Blaydon Race in June, and the Cookson at the end of May. The Cookson is only about 3 weeks after the Marathon. It’s a 10k race organised by my running club and it basically two laps of a hill twice. Look, it seems like a good idea now so it’ll be fine.

Yoga is great, lots of stretches which I like, but the Weights session is hard going on the knee. Maybe I should have given it a miss, but it’s done and nothing that Ibuprofen can’t solve. I get the feeling that Ibuprofen may become my friend in the next few weeks, although I’m very aware that you should never take them before a run. I’m sure Paula Radcliffe taught me that. Or was it my Mam. Doesn’t matter.

It feels like on Tuesday morning that, despite what The Verve claim, the drugs do indeed work. My knee and hamstring both feel better. Which is just as well, as it’s the Club Speed night. Tonight’s session is an oldy but a goody – Domebusters. 8 laps round The Spanish City Dome down the sea front – hence the name. For complete transparency, here is a photo I took of it. See, it’s a Dome.

It’s a not a long session. Well, unless you’re a spanner who signed up for a Marathon and you have to do a 5 mile warm up before hand. The Tuesday warm up is again the crappest run of the week. Shaking off the rust of the weekend big run, so it always feels a bit stiff and leggy, I also do it without my bone conductors, as I don’t want to take them to the club, so there’s no 90s dance to kick my arse into gear.

I finish at the Club House so I can join the social group warm up down to the sea front. This is a good time of year to do Domebusters. In the Sunmer evenings, there are a lot day trippers down here, it can get quite packed, and it’s fair to say groups of us flying round at pace pisses these people right off. The Club gets lots of angry emails. No really. In the Winter though, not a friggin soul down here.

I get into a group of 8 and the pace is fast. In fact, the first four laps seem really fast. I can’t decide if it’s because a) they are fast b) my legs are tired c) I’ve actually forgotten how to run fast.

In the middle of lap 5, I have a Phoenix from the Flames moment and suddenly find my extra gear. I’ve flicked a switch somewhere, and I finish the final 4 laps strong and fast. Proper endorphin releasing stuff. A cool down jog home, and a quite satisfying 9 miles for the evening. After a shower and something to eat though I hit a wall and feel absolutely fucked. I drag myself to bed and within 5 minutes am fast asleep having drifted into a runners coma.

Wednesday morning and my legs are tired. However, it’s a ‘good’ tired. Like how my legs would feel the morning after a speed session at the club. The key is, they’re not sore.

I go out for my easy 6 mile recovery run in the evening and it’s leggy but ok. It’s almost like I run it on autopilot. I drop down onto the sea front for half of it and it’s cold and windy down there again. I have the massive urge to shout ‘JUST FUCK OFF MAN AND GIVE ME A FUCKING BREAK’ but realise that people have been sectioned for less. When I finish I’m leggy but alright. Like I say, very much an autopilot run.

It’s Intervals Thursday once again and, frankly, these can’t be as shit as last weeks. On the plus side, weather wanker alert, we’ve got a micro front of mild stuff hitting us. At last, hallelujah, thank the Lord, Buddha, Yoda, and whoever else you can think of. It’s a balmy 11 degrees – double figures! – when I head out. I’m as happy as a pig in shit.

The session is the same as last week, except I think I’m supposed to mix the pace up. To be honest, as I do jog recoveries rather than static ones, I’m just going to do what I did last week. Except less shitter.

The residents of Red House Farm Estate, where I always do these, must be proper sick of me now, looping their quiet estate multiple times as they try to enjoy Emmerdale. It’s been 6 weeks now, so I assume we’ve reached a point where I’m being mentioned in the Neighbourhood Watch minutes.

I decide to channel my inner Luke Skywalker and turn off my tech and go with my gut tonight. Everyone on the Marathon WhatsApp group keeps saying the Thursday session is hard, that they’re pushing themselves, and it’s the one they hate. I’ve had the opposite – I get frustrated that I have to keep slowing down to keep my HR down. So tonight, I’m going to ignore Pace and HR and just run at what I think is pushing it.

I concentrate on my music, go harder for the 2 milers, very easy for the 2 min recoveries. I hate it less, I’m not as frustrated, and I only slip into Max for 11 minutes. That’s not bad.

It’s 4 miles easy Friday morning, and just like Wednesday, it’s very much autopilot for the legs. I’m starting to think this is a good thing. It’s already light when I get out, and it’s mild. The run and the hill reps are almost enjoyable. Almost.

In the evening, my early night ready for my long run tomorrow won’t happen. My wife and daughter are hanging out with friends and I’ll need to pick them up. In the end, we don’t get back in until after midnight. I’m not really bothered though, they are making sacrifices for me while I train, I can make some for them. It’s not all about me. I have to work around stuff, and to be fair to both of them, they’ve been brilliant with it so far.

I’m up at 5:45am and feel surprisingly pucka. I’m buoyed by the fact that it’s definitely getting lighter in the mornings. It’s also 9 degrees out there with only a light and mild wind.

Dropping onto the sea front, in mild weather, no wind, natural light. and only having to wear one layer, is glorious. I’ve had 6 weeks of long runs in the cold and dark. Honestly, I could cry. If I wasn’t male and northern.

This is a good day to execute a plan. I’m going to start slow and steady, and see if I can increase the pace as I go on. I’m also going to build on Thursday and ignore my HR. Suck it and see I think they call it.

And execute it I do. I keep at around 9:30 pace until about mile 9, when I just increase it slightly. By mile 15 and 16, I end up running sub 9 minutes. More importantly, my HR never goes into Max.

For the first time since I started the Marathon plan, I really enjoy a long run. I haven’t hated the other 5, just not ‘loved’ them. At mile 13 I’m on the Wagonway, the sun is shining through the trees, silence other than the birds singing, and I have a dose of running endorphins. Cue Elgar.

Its been a good week, a real contrast from Week 5, where the first niggles and both physical and mental fatigue were creeping in. Push through it, and I have. Week 7 is a big week though, ending with a 20 miler. Hold on to your butts.

Mood: Warm