Coming together

It’s all starting to come together. Whilst I feel that I am still somewhat in recovery mode from my heavy training week in Portugal, the bits and pieces of running I have done over the last ten days have shown glimpses of what I hope will be a new, faster, fitter me. If, over the next three Saturdays, I can manage a Newark parkrun PB, an all-time parkrun PB and a decent run in my first 30-miler, I’ll be pretty pleased to say the least.

In the world beyond my own running, it’s also starting to come together. With about a week to go until I will be ready to launch my new business, I feel I’ve made a lot of progress. Partly this is down to getting myself a desk, and organising an office space. Until this week, I’d been working on my laptop around the house, and depositing a trail of debris wherever I went – bits of paper, pens, equipment and so on. Although getting things done, I felt a bit directionless, almost homeless. I needed a space, a space to focus, a space to bring everything together. A quick trip to IKEA, and I was sorted. It’s amazing what difference a simple piece of furniture can make!

Training, however, has been the highlight of my week. I was fortunate to spend a whole day with British Orienteering, brushing up on my skills for teaching basic navigation to children. I came away inspired, full of ideas and keen to get going. But this was nothing compared to the buzz I felt after a day’s coaching training with the Fell Runners Association in the Peak District. With an inspirational coach and a talented group of fellow trainees, I relished every theory session we were taught and every chance given to put theory into practice. Out on the rough and rocky hillside, coaching my group in hill running techniques, I felt I had come home. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt a buzz like that, and it reassured me that, even though there will be a long hard road (or should that be trail?!) ahead, I am doing the right thing. It is, indeed, all coming together.

 

10 things I learned on my training camp…

… about running and myself.

Fresh from a week in Portugal, I’ve been reflecting on my training in the sun (well, sun, wind and rain to be more accurate!) and what I have learned from it.

1. Given the luxury of a ‘professional athlete’ lifestyle – in other words having to do nothing except sleep, eat, run, relax – and repeat – my body coped with an awful lot more training than I had thought it could. 70 miles in a week was more than twice my normal average, yet I managed it just fine. OK, I’ve wanted to sleep for England since I got home, but at the time, I was fine.
2. Taking new, untested kit on a training camp was not a good idea, especially when it was kit bought in a sale. Kit is in the sale for a good reason. Getting friction burns from the cheap fabric of a new running vest resulted in the use of a lot of Assos cream and antiseptic, and having to adopt a very odd way of moving my arms when running.
3. Running on the track can be fun. OK, I’ve only done it twice before in my life, but I was not enamoured. This time, however, was different. This time I was paired with the fastest runner in the group for our 12 x 400m relays, bringing out my rarely-seen competitive streak. I was on a mission; I had target splits to meet! Every lap of the track brought another target met; with every target met my love of the track grew just a little more. We won’t be having a long-term relationship, but if the track and I should meet again, at least I know we will get on reasonably well.
4. I can run 22 miles and feel great throughout, both physically and mentally, if I pace it right, eat real food and drink well. Salted cashew nuts, slices of Edam, and the occasional ShotBlok, washed down with water; one foot in front of the other at a sustainable pace, keep moving forwards and Bob’s your uncle! Mileage done!
5. I can run 22 miles and have my legs feel good afterwards too, if I keep moving once finished. Walking, stretching, standing in a nice cold swimming pool drinking tea; anything but sitting down!
6. Ice-cold full fat coke tastes fantastic at the end of a 22 mile run, especially when craved since mile 7, and bought on a longed-for visit to the supermercado at mile 21.5. I never normally drink it, but boy it tasted good!
7. I actually enjoyed running on a looped course more than I thought I would, a lot more. I found it strangely comforting, the familiarity allowing my mind to wander onto other, more pleasant things, such as calculating how many more times I’d need to pass the supermercado before I could go in and buy a coke.
8. I can run faster than I think I can when I really, really put my mind to it. If only I could replicate those mile interval splits at parkrun; I’d be on for a massive PB!
9. When it comes to recovery, I am impatient. Recovering from a 70 mile week takes time, time that I don’t want to waste when my motivation levels are sky high. Patience needs to be my virtue; PBs will come to she who waits!
10. I love running. In a week of running, preparing to run, recovering from runs, talking about running, listening to others talking about running, and reading about running, not once did I tire of running. Running on clifftop trails, woodland tracks, the road, the track, the boardwalk and the beach, I loved it all!