Hitler’s Running Injury
I don’t normally like these Hitler parodies but this one made me chuckle!
Archives // General Running
Being Shit
For a long time I suspected it but couldn’t be sure. It seemed the most likely answer but there was still a small chance that it might not be the case. I hoped it wouldn’t be but the evidence seemed pretty conclusive, and yesterday I had it confirmed to me by my participation in the National 6 Stage Road Relays. That’s right ladies and gentlemen, you guessed it; I’m a shit runner.
I like the 6-stage but it doesn’t half throw up some mismatches. After the late withdrawal of one of our club’s top two athletes I was bumped up to leg 2, receiving the metaphorical baton from my club-mate Paul, the kind of runner for whom the word talent was invented, and who possesses the best running style of anyone I know. He’s also quite quick. So quick in fact that I ended up starting my leg in 6th position. In a national competition no less. Now I know how the phrase ‘lamb to the slaughter’ came into existence. Within the first 50 metres I had been overtaken by a couple of runners, and within 50 more I had doubled my position (think about it – that’s not a good thing). The first lap was a procession of more able runners flying past me with ease. Thanks to a conservative first half, I managed to find some strength and pick off one runner near the end, but the results don’t lie. I ended up with -17 next to my name.
Now I know I’m comparing myself to the best in the country, but it is hard not to be disheartened when you see that. When you run against genuinely decent athletes it is easy to lose perspective about the quality of your performance, but I love having the opportunity to run against them.
And talk to them. In the car on the way back to Birmingham were the team manager, his son Jack, also a phenomenally good runner, a guy from another club who has run sub-14 for 5k before, Paul, and me. Spot the odd one out. What struck me most about the conversation was the one thing that good athletes have in common: belief. Yes, they all train hard and have some degree of natural aptitude for running, but the main thing that seems to set good runners apart from bad runners is the conviction that they are going to be the best. All three of them seemed confident about what they could achieve, whilst at the same time being humble and realistic. I suppose it is pretty hard to motivate yourself if you don’t think the training is going to pay off. I was also struck by the way in which they take complete responsibility for their success or failure as an athlete. If they run badly it is their fault. If they run well it is because they trained hard. Simple as that. When Charles Van Commenee started his job at UKA he was reported to have banned all British athletes from making excuses for poor performances. The reason was simple enough; you don’t get better by blaming someone or something else.
On my long run with another club-mate this morning, we contrasted these views with those of some athletes we know whose progress has stalled because of an unwillingness to accept the blame for poor performances. Consider the following phrases: “I’m in great shape but the weather was terrible”, “It was a tough course so I didn’t run well”, “I never run well at this time of year”, “It’s not really my distance”. Identify with this? Shit runner.
I joke of course, and am as guilty of this as anyone else, but it does seem that those who make excuses don’t fare as well as those who are willing to act on their failings in order to improve. So is it as simple as that? Poor runners make excuses and good runners don’t? Probably not but it is worth bearing in mind next time I complain about a performance.
Good runners think they’re bad and bad runners think they’re good. I’m a shit runner so I probably ought to get better.
Shoes
Today I went to my local running store with a rucksack on my back containing around 7000 miles’ worth of used trainers. The store has a collection bin for old running shoes which are then recycled or sent to other countries so that they can be re-used, and I took the opportunity presented by not being at work to have a clear out.
Although it was hard to part with shoes that had provided many happy running memories it is probably a good idea to get rid of old pairs. Hoarding is not a habit I want to get into at only 25 years old; I’m also well aware that running shoes hardly smell like roses and I value having an odour-free shoe cupboard. Here are some of the shoes I got rid of and their stories.
Shoe Number 1: Asics DS Trainer 16
These were bought last November because two of my mates had them and because they were red. I’m not joking. As it turned out, as well as being the most stylish trainer available they are surprisingly good for running in too. They are a lightweight pair of trainers that could even double up as racing shoes if needed, but are supportive enough for every day running. They are unquestionably the best trainers I’ve ever had. A few months ago I replaced them with the latest model, the DS trainer 17, assuming they would be exactly the same as their predecessors (runners are creatures of habit). Unfortunately these lacked the lightweight feel of the 16s and felt heavy around the heel. I emailed Asics to ask if this was the case or whether I was just imagining it. They told me there was extra cushioning in the heel. No wonder I didn’t like them as much. And they’re not red. The bastards.
Shoe Number 2: Asics Gel Hyperspeed 3
These beauties date back to October 2009 and are the first pair of racing flats I ever owned. Unfortunately at the time I didn’t realise they also came in red. Despite this they are an excellent pair of flats. As you can see from the picture, they have small square holes cut out of the sole to shave an extra few grams off the weight of the shoe and as a result are very very light indeed.
The first time I wore them was for the Coventry Half Marathon which took place the day after a cross country race I had taken part in. Despite having hammered myself in the mud the previous day I set a personal best time, which tells me two things. The first is that I was clearly on an upwards curve at the time and that that kind of thing would never happen these days. PBs are few and far between now and I have to work much harder for each second now. The second is that racing in new shoes buys you time like nothing else; the first run in a new pair is always the easiest.
Shoe Number 3: Brooks Green Silence
Just to prove that I’m not solely as Asics man, here is a pair of running shoes from Brooks, not to be confused with the legendary Dunlop Green Flash shoes. I first set eyes upon these at the 2010 London Marathon Expo and asked for them as a birthday present the following month. Their unique selling point is that they are biodegradable and made out of recycled materials. And they look awesome in asymetric red and yellow. These are primarily lightweight racing flats but I found them supportive enough for track sessions and tempo runs. These served me very well until recently when their biodegradable properties came to the fore, and I found a split down the side. They have now been replaced with exactly the same shoe again (I told you we’re creatures of habit) and despite Brooks now offering a vast range of colours, I plumped for the original red and yellow.
Shoe Number 4: Asics GT 2150
I liked this shoe so much that I bought it 3 or 4 times in a row. Slightly cheaper than the DS trainer, it was the shoe I first bought when I was a student and it is very good value for money. The 2150 (I think they’re on to 2170 now) is a solid, reliable cushioned trainer that enabled me to build up my mileage to the 70-80 per week range without getting injured too often. Now I’m used to it I can get away with a lighter trainer but this one served me very well.
I wish these shoes well in their retirement.
Plan B
Today was a Plan B day. After a week of very little running due to work commitments I was keen to get a good week of hard training in. Well, in fairness the work commitment was a school cycling trip that involved several hours of exercise per day. But still, it wasn’t running.
I went down to the track this afternoon with a plan to do a session I hadn’t done in a while, namely 10×600 with half-lap jog recoveries, and a rough idea of how fast I wanted to do them. I jogged to the 200m start line and started my watch. By 300 metres I was hideously out of breath and by 500 my legs were giving up. I crossed the line in roughly the time I had hoped for, but knew there was no way my legs were going to allow me another effort, let alone another 9. I sat on the wall and thought about what I should do. Having not considered the possibility of feeling terrible, there was no Plan B but it soon became ‘run home, get in the shower and have dinner.’ Then the athlete in me kicked in, and put forward his own suggestion of running a short effort (maybe 800 metres or a mile) flat out, thus relegating the previous plan to C. I then started to think rationally. I still wanted to run something fast but there is no point doing a massive session if your legs aren’t up to it, so I opted for 6×200 off 200 jog, a completely manageable session even on tired legs. I went easy on the first two, clocking outside 30 seconds and then pushed it on the next four. I was disappointed not to run the session I had planned but was pleased to have at least got some quality in, even though it was only about one mile’s worth in total. I dragged my weary legs back home, taking a longer route home in the vague hope that a long cool down would help my legs loosen up. It didn’t.
The idea of binning your session and doing something else is one I got from a friend and training partner. It makes perfect sense, I suppose, but you never hear about the pros doing it. Does Mo Farah ever turn up at the track for a session and say ‘8 times one mile? Sod that. I’m going home to watch the Arsenal game.’ I doubt it. Does Geoffrey Mutai ever wake up before a 40k tempo run and say ‘You know what, I don’t really fancy it today. I’m going back to bed.’ Of he doesn’t, that’s why he’s better than me.
Screw being sensible, I’m sticking to the schedule in future.
Thoughts on Pacing
We did mile reps yesterday; 5 reps with a lap jog in between. I was really happy with how the session went, both in terms of how I managed to control the pace and the times I was clocking. I averaged 5:02 with the last couple under 5. A satisfying session all round, and an indicator that I’m starting to get in good shape after my post-marathon down time. I was helped greatly by Rob, whom I was training with on this occasion, and who paced me to at least 800 metres on most of them. The effect of this was that the first two laps were pretty much ‘free’ – I still had to do the work but it helped having someone set the pace. The thought of doing the session on my own was a daunting one so I was relieved when Rob’s name popped up on my phone yesterday morning asking what the session was. There are definite training benefits to training on your own, but on a cold and windy day I didn’t want to know about them. I wanted someone to follow.
This got me thinking about a few weeks ago when I went down to my local parkrun on Saturday morning. I was tired and had no intention of racing the 5k distance but wanted to get my legs moving, so I ran the first lap of approximately one mile with my friend Martin, who was leading the race. I then stopped and jogged until another friend, Dan caught up with me and we ran the rest of the 5k together as a tempo run. It never occured to us that we were doing anything wrong or unethical until the runner just behind us said “pacing is cheating,” referring of course to me having paced Martin around the first mile. Dan and I dismissed him as politely (I think) as we could and carried on. The debate continued after the run, and the other runner, who strangely didn’t seem to have any moral objection to tucking in behind us and running at our pace, wouldn’t let it drop. His argument was that it is a race rather than a time trial and that no one else gets someone to set the tempo for them. He was right, to an extent, but Martin couldn’t help it that no one turned up who was good enough to challenge him. Would he have objected so much, had someone hammered the first mile and then pulled up injured, in the process setting a quick pace for others to follow? I’ve written about this before, when debate raged about the validity of Paula Radcliffe’s marathon world record, set with the assistance of male pacemakers. It wasn’t her fault that none of her competitors were good enough to challenge her on the day, so why deny her the chance to run a faster time?
I heard an interesting statistic recently; that 4 of the 5 men ranked below Hicham El Guerrouj in the all-time list for 1500m ran their personal bests whilst coming second to the great Moroccan. Everyone, it seems, benefits from a bit of pacing. Even El Guerrouj didn’t run those fast races as solo efforts; he had two or three guys capable of taking him to 1200 at world record pace. He then just had to hang on. Say what you like about the prevalence of EPO in the nineties and the fact that all the best times seem to come from the turn of the century, but the depth in middle distance running at that time was remarkable. Several guys were pushing each other and getting great times as a result. It is no co-incidence, then, that in this era where anything under 3:30 is considered outstanding, that the quality of pacemaking seems to have dropped too. The splits were all over the place at the Pre mile at the weekend, and the pacemakers rarely get it right for races over 800 metres. Anyone capable of doing it is in the race themself.
Of course, there is no right or wrong answer to all of this. I like the purity of championship races, where the pace is dictated by the athletes who are racing, and where the event is a genuine race and not a time trial. I also love watching people run super-fast times. In just the same way I love trying to run as fast as I can, but sometimes there’s nothing better than ditching the watch and getting in a good old-fashioned race.