Next weekend I will put my toes on the start line of the 5000m of the BMC Grand Prix at Solihull. I’m really looking forward to it and am very grateful that my entry was accepted despite my season’s best being outside the entry standard, but it’s going to be predictable. This is what will happen: the assigned pacemaker will stand near the starter and say something like ’68s OK boys?’ referring to the target time per lap. Someone will say yes and that will be it. The race will string out in single file ahead of me whilst I hang on for dear life at the back, either until I get cut adrift or until people whose early pace was too optimistic start coming back to me. No tactics, no thinking, just running as hard as I can from the gun. I will either run a PB or blow up trying, and limp home in a time I’m disappointed in. I know this because it happens every time.
Last Sunday I raced for my club in the final fixture of the Midland League season. I was in the 1500m and then the 3000m half an hour later, a tricky combination at the best of times, but even more so when you’ve only got back from holiday the day before. The wind was up so I suspected the race would start slowly. Sure enough, by the time we got to the first bend, we were in a tight pack, all looking to see what the others were doing. Jogging, it seemed.
This didn’t really suit me because I’m no sprinter and didn’t want it to turn into a 400 metre race. I wanted to get to the front and make a long push for home but was boxed on the inside of lane 1. We went through 800 outside my 5k pace and shortly after we did so a small gap appeared to my right. I stepped out, darted through the gap and ran as hard as I could, trying to distance myself from the field. I knew that this probably wouldn’t get me the win, but would at least take the sting out of some of the faster athletes. I was third in the end, a pleasing result, and probably better than I would have done if the pace had stayed slow for another lap. Half an hour later in similar coniditions, the 3000m went out slowly and we only really got going in the last km. Heavy legged from the 1500 I let two guys get away who I knew to be significantly faster then me, whilst making sure I did just enough to hold off the runners behind.
In both races I was constantly thinking, judging my effort, making decisions about what I should do to maximise my position. It was thrilling, and certainly added a dimension to the races. When watching athletics on TV you often hear commentators talking scornfully about tactical races, as if anyone who doesn’t run an ‘honest’ race is a disgrace to the sport. I disagree. These are the races I enjoy the most. They are less predictable and more exciting, both to watch and to be part of, and often throw up nice surprises. At the level I compete at, races where you have to make tactical decisions are rare and therefore even more interesting.
Time trials have their place, but give me a ‘dishonest’ tactical race anyday.
Training has been going really well recently. For the last 6 weeks I have maintained a decent training volume and have had some excellent sessions by my standards. As a fitness test last week I did a 10km run on the track, exactly two weeks after doing the same session. I was half a minute quicker for no extra effort. If anything it felt easier. On Sunday I did exactly the same long run (hour out, hour back) as two weeks ago and by 57 minutes had already reached the point that took me an hour to get to a fortnight earlier.
Whilst this is a satisfying measure of progress, the only measures that really count are race results. In the past I have always possessed the ability to push myself hard in training and produce sessions that look good in the training log, but have failed to produce race results of the same standard. I have become much better at this recently though; I obsess (slightly) less about the numbers and times in training and am able to see the bigger picture. The longer you train for, the easier it becomes to train according to how your body feels as opposed to just doing what you think you should be doing. Being flexible is important; if you need to cut a session short then do, if you need to take an unplanned rest day then do, if you’re struggling with the pace of a session slow it down. It is easy to rattle off a load of common-sense statements like this but much harder to actually enact them. A few years ago I would have ignored them.
The reason I say all this is partly a reminder to myself. I am training better than ever at the moment. All the key elements seem to be there – sleep, mileage, diet, strength and conditioning, quality sessions and all the rest – I now just need to make sure I cash it all in with a race performance to match. Next week I am racing over 10000m at Highgate and am in shape to run a good time. I just need to watch what I do over the next 12 days in order to achieve this.
Good training means nothing without the results to back it up.
And frankly, I’ve asked myself this question a few times in the last week. The first time was on Wednesday. I had been in London all day and didn’t get out for my 12 mile run until about 6:30. When I finally mustered the mental strength to haul myself out the door I was faced by icy cold winds and a general feeling that what I was doing was pretty stupid. Couldn’t I have just put the kettle on and settled down on the sofa? The next morning I had my next ‘why the hell do I do this’ moment, running through a snow storm at a time of morning so early that some people don’t even know it exists. The next was the very same day, running home from work through more snow, hands freezing and teeth gritted, when it would have been easier, warmer and quicker just to get on the train.
At this time of year the weekend offers me a rare treat: the opportunity to run in daylight. That doesn’t mean it’s any easier to get out and train though. The second half of this morning’s out and back run was a struggle against a powerful (and very cold) headwind that nearly knocked me off my feet at times. Not good when you’re running on a narrow towpath next to a canal not generally known for its cleanliness. Why the hell do I do this?
Well, one reason I (and hundreds of others like me) choose not to take the easy route, is the satisfaction that comes from having done something difficult and uncomfortable. You rarely feel worse for having been out running, but very often feel much better. Regardless of training outcomes, the act of running itself gives a huge feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment – especially at this time of year when it is so much easier to find an excuse not to.
The rewards are the other reason. Despite what I have just said, my main incentive is getting better at what I do. The races won, the personal bests run, the year on year improvements relative to others. These are what keep me going in January when it is cold and dark and other alternatives seem more appealing.
Seeing as I keep a record of all my training, it would be silly not to spend the first day of the year crunching the numbers on the past year’s figures. Here’s what I found out:
Total distance run: 5757 km / 3578 miles
Mean Daily Mileage: 15.8 km / 9.8 miles
Mean Weekly Mileage: 110.4 km / 68.6 miles
Biggest Week: 164km / 102 miles
Number of Runs: 396
What does this tell me?
1. I have run further this year than in any previous year. Even though I had periods of low mileage due to illness or injury, particularly towards the end of the year, these were offset by blocks of very high volume. Although running high mileage wears you out and leaves you feeling exhausted, I find it tends to pay off later on.
2. I averaged more than one run per day. Although I didn’t check, I’m also certain that I have taken more rest days this year than previously. Running more than once on my hard days, whilst making sure I take a rest day every week, really seems to work for me.
3. I’m faster than 365 days ago, but only just. My main achievements this year were taking 2 seconds off my 5k time and 5 seconds off my 10k time. Although this is almost nothing, it is good to know I’m still improving; if I keep training sensibly and consistently I know that I will have a breakthrough. Hopefully when it comes, I will be hacking chunks off these times rather than gently chipping away at them.
Yesterday I got my arse kicked. Granted, the arse kicking was handed to me in a metaphorical sense, but was no less painful. But then again, sometimes you need to get your buttocks bruised to remind you of your place in the pecking order, and as motivation to get better.
What am I talking about, you ask? Well, yesterday’s race was Leeds Abbey Dash, the deepest 10k in the country. I was beaten to the line by 104 people, roughly enough people to fill a double decker bus, and this whilst running just seconds outside my PB. Believe it or not I was pleased. Only days before I was struggling to walk without pain due to a problem with my heel as well as suffering from a cold. I was pleased just to finish. However, as always, satisfaction soon gave way to realisation that there are still lots of people out there who are better than me at running.
I’m motivated though, and being put in my place yesterday has only served to make me more hungry. I want to get better. Just this evening on my run I was thinking about the training ahead of me not with fear or worry, but with excitement and anticipation. Whether this is foolish or not, I believe that if I keep putting the miles in and training hard but sensibly I will get my big breakthrough race at some point.