If you've been reading this blog, you'll know that for a few years I've been talking about getting my 5km time under 30 minutes. My PB stood at 31 minutes, so near and yet so far! Today I beat it. Not only did a beat it, I smashed it! New PB stands at 29.44
I haven't been doing a lot of running lately, throughout the summer I've been spending most of my workout time on my bike. I'm trying to build up my distance again as I'm finding 5km a chore at the moment and I have committed to the Rudolph run and Half Marathon again. My aim today was to increase my distance a little. I was going for around 6km, maybe a little more. I wasn't really concerned about the time and figured on recent performances it would be a bit of a plod.
I set off surprisingly well and felt comfortable at a good pace. A couple of km in and the app in my ear told me I was still holding a good pace but then came a km of steady uphill, which has been a challenge in the past. I expected to slow but was determined not to stop. As I turned the corner into the uphill road, I was greeted by an unwelcome headwind. Though unwelcome, it served to increase my determination and I started to pump my arms a little more. As I turned the corner back on to a flat road at around the 4km mark, the app told me I was still doing well and I started to think about the PB. At 4.5km I knew I was on and that spurred me on to pick up the pace a little bit more. Ironically, in the back of my mind I was thinking that the objective of today's run was to increase my distance and it would be a shame if I ran so hard that having hit the PB I would then want to rest and recover rather than keep running. At 5km the app told me I'd done it in 29.44 and a smile spread across my face. I wanted to do a fist pump but in fear of looking like a poor shadow of Rocky, I held it in. I resisted the urge to walk and revel in my glory, and kept running. At the risk of sounding like Forrest Gump, I just kept on running. At this point I was still a couple of km from home so if I stopped to walk it would just be a long walk home. When I run for distance, I do this deliberately so that even if I quit early, I still have to walk home. I made it to 7km leaving a short cool down walk to finish. On checking my stats I discovered that my fastest pace was the sixth km, the one straight after I hit the PB. Perhaps I flew it (or more likely it was the tailwind)?
I'm feeling so good at the moment, if a little perplexed that of all the times I ran with the PB in mind, the time I wasn't aiming to challenge it was the one that did the business. I'd also like to give a little shout out to the new trainers I got for my birthday, Some top quality Asics. I'm sure they helped.
So now the 30 min 5km is no longer the challenge, so what now? For me, it feels like Roger Bannister cracking the four minute mile. Of course, I will continue to try and better the PB, but shall I set 25 mins as a new goal? Could I do that? Or do I focus on maintaining the pace over a longer distance to better my 10km PB? Well that's one for me to ponder for a while, I think. For now I'm just happy with today. That's one in the bag for "Faster" #FasterHigherStronger
Sunday 13 September 2015
Tuesday 17 March 2015
I am officially a "runner"!
I did it! I completed the Rudolph run and even more impressively the Half Marathon.
Both were blighted by ill health annoyingly. I have only had two colds all winter, the first was a week or so before the Rudolph run. I made a good recovery but was still struggling a little with a blocked up nose. It was a bitterly cold day down by Southend sea front, about 5 degrees, as I recall. I was nice and warm once I started running even though I only had a vest top on. Darren on the other hand was nigh on frozen standing waiting for me to finish. I completed the 5 miles in 50:47 which I was quite pleased with considering the breathing issues.
The second cold was actually Flu and kept me in bed for two days. It struck around 6 weeks before the Half Marathon. I had got up to 18km in training (the race would be just over 21k - I train in km even though this race is measured in miles, a bi-product of doing 5k's for so long). I didn't do any running for about 3 weeks as breathing was tough. I tried a couple of bike rides just to get something in but it was a struggle. By the time I felt well enough it was getting close to the race and I didn't want to over do things or risk injury so I just got in a couple of 5k runs. I was really hoping to have gotten in a couple of 18-20k runs before race day but it wasn't to be. I would just have to hope that adrenaline and pure determination would be enough to get me to the finish line.
Race day was very favourable with the weather. It was colder and wetter than it had been the weekend before but thankfully the rain stopped and the sun came out shortly before I started and didn't change until we were in the car and well on our way home. For that, I am eternally grateful. I don't know how I would have faired in worse weather, especially if it were windy.
We had a ten minute walk from the stadium to the start line (which I was not impressed with). Olympic medal winner Mo Farrah sounded the horn at the start line and we all set off. It felt like literally every single runner was passing me, but I had my tracker app feeding information through my ears and I was very conscious of my pace. I knew I must not get tempted in trying to keep up with them. I saw some official race pacers who were labelled as "2:15 pacers". I knew I would be 2:30 or over so I was happy to keep them in my sights for a while. I know that my pace slows towards the back end of the race (which is something I'm working on). Before too long I could see the soaring arch of Wembley and we weaved our way towards it. As we came into the underground car parks of the stadium there was a thunderous roar dwarfing any sounds coming through my headphones. Just as I wondered what it could be, I turned a corner and there were a whole bank of drummers and I imagined that I was a player getting ready to run onto the pitch to the roar of the crowd. And then, there it was, the pitch in front of me, the seating surrounding me like an all encompassing hug. I was smiling, which the race photographers managed to miss it seems. Within seconds it was over and it was all about the homeward slog. The trouble now was that I had made a note of a couple of the hills I had enjoyed running down, knowing full well that I would now have to run up them. As I approached the worst one I tried to clear my thoughts, get my head down and power on up. As I did so one of my very favourite songs "Mr Brightside" came through my ears giving me just the boost I needed. I started to think about the 2:15 pacers, who were now long gone into the distance. That was not an issue but it occurred to me that I had seen faster pacers but I had not seen any slower pacers. Were there any slower pacers? Perhaps they didn't bother with anyone slower than 2:15? As I passed the 10 mile marker my question was answered and I watched 2:30 pacers pass me. I was ok with that. I had 3.1 miles to go and I wasn't too far off the pace. I knew though that I was only going to get slower and hoped I would not grind to a halt. By the time I got to 12 miles all I wanted to do was walk. I knew if I walked though that it would just be longer until the pain was over and it would only get tougher and tougher. I tried to walk for a few seconds once or twice but my muscles were so tight I actually couldn't straighten my legs enough to walk properly. I stopped to stretch a couple of times then cracked on with it. As I came back round into the Saracen's stadium towards the finish line the course took us across some grass which was a little muddy and uneven. Within seconds of setting foot on it my left foot went into a painful cramp, unable to deal with contouring to the bumps. Thankfully I managed to shake it off. What bad luck it would have been to have to limp over the finish line now! As I came towards the finish line I looked up to the clock which was reading 2:45. I knew my chip time would be a little under that. Then I looked for Darren and found him. I found a little energy for a wave and a smile as he filmed me then over the finish line with my hands in the air. I was aware that there was a rubber bump across the finish line hiding wires and it was an effort to lift my feet over it. Having readjusted my stride, I found myself slightly off skew for a second rubber strip. I nearly tripped over it and as I corrected myself I could feel another cramp shooting up my calf muscle. I managed to walk and keep it at bay, again fearful of an unglamorous ending to my race!
And that was it! Done! The official chip time was 2:43:20.
When I was younger, and going for job interviews, I would always struggle if asked "what is your greatest achievement" or "tell me about something you are proud of". Now I can answer easily. Despite Doctors telling me not to run if it hurts, I took control of my life and my destiny. I didn't need gym memberships, personal trainers or anyone else to motivate me. I got off my butt and done it by myself, for myself. Now I am a "runner" and this runner ran a Half Marathon!
Remember: its not a "Half" of anything, its a "Whole" 13.1 mile race.
Both were blighted by ill health annoyingly. I have only had two colds all winter, the first was a week or so before the Rudolph run. I made a good recovery but was still struggling a little with a blocked up nose. It was a bitterly cold day down by Southend sea front, about 5 degrees, as I recall. I was nice and warm once I started running even though I only had a vest top on. Darren on the other hand was nigh on frozen standing waiting for me to finish. I completed the 5 miles in 50:47 which I was quite pleased with considering the breathing issues.
The second cold was actually Flu and kept me in bed for two days. It struck around 6 weeks before the Half Marathon. I had got up to 18km in training (the race would be just over 21k - I train in km even though this race is measured in miles, a bi-product of doing 5k's for so long). I didn't do any running for about 3 weeks as breathing was tough. I tried a couple of bike rides just to get something in but it was a struggle. By the time I felt well enough it was getting close to the race and I didn't want to over do things or risk injury so I just got in a couple of 5k runs. I was really hoping to have gotten in a couple of 18-20k runs before race day but it wasn't to be. I would just have to hope that adrenaline and pure determination would be enough to get me to the finish line.
Race day was very favourable with the weather. It was colder and wetter than it had been the weekend before but thankfully the rain stopped and the sun came out shortly before I started and didn't change until we were in the car and well on our way home. For that, I am eternally grateful. I don't know how I would have faired in worse weather, especially if it were windy.
We had a ten minute walk from the stadium to the start line (which I was not impressed with). Olympic medal winner Mo Farrah sounded the horn at the start line and we all set off. It felt like literally every single runner was passing me, but I had my tracker app feeding information through my ears and I was very conscious of my pace. I knew I must not get tempted in trying to keep up with them. I saw some official race pacers who were labelled as "2:15 pacers". I knew I would be 2:30 or over so I was happy to keep them in my sights for a while. I know that my pace slows towards the back end of the race (which is something I'm working on). Before too long I could see the soaring arch of Wembley and we weaved our way towards it. As we came into the underground car parks of the stadium there was a thunderous roar dwarfing any sounds coming through my headphones. Just as I wondered what it could be, I turned a corner and there were a whole bank of drummers and I imagined that I was a player getting ready to run onto the pitch to the roar of the crowd. And then, there it was, the pitch in front of me, the seating surrounding me like an all encompassing hug. I was smiling, which the race photographers managed to miss it seems. Within seconds it was over and it was all about the homeward slog. The trouble now was that I had made a note of a couple of the hills I had enjoyed running down, knowing full well that I would now have to run up them. As I approached the worst one I tried to clear my thoughts, get my head down and power on up. As I did so one of my very favourite songs "Mr Brightside" came through my ears giving me just the boost I needed. I started to think about the 2:15 pacers, who were now long gone into the distance. That was not an issue but it occurred to me that I had seen faster pacers but I had not seen any slower pacers. Were there any slower pacers? Perhaps they didn't bother with anyone slower than 2:15? As I passed the 10 mile marker my question was answered and I watched 2:30 pacers pass me. I was ok with that. I had 3.1 miles to go and I wasn't too far off the pace. I knew though that I was only going to get slower and hoped I would not grind to a halt. By the time I got to 12 miles all I wanted to do was walk. I knew if I walked though that it would just be longer until the pain was over and it would only get tougher and tougher. I tried to walk for a few seconds once or twice but my muscles were so tight I actually couldn't straighten my legs enough to walk properly. I stopped to stretch a couple of times then cracked on with it. As I came back round into the Saracen's stadium towards the finish line the course took us across some grass which was a little muddy and uneven. Within seconds of setting foot on it my left foot went into a painful cramp, unable to deal with contouring to the bumps. Thankfully I managed to shake it off. What bad luck it would have been to have to limp over the finish line now! As I came towards the finish line I looked up to the clock which was reading 2:45. I knew my chip time would be a little under that. Then I looked for Darren and found him. I found a little energy for a wave and a smile as he filmed me then over the finish line with my hands in the air. I was aware that there was a rubber bump across the finish line hiding wires and it was an effort to lift my feet over it. Having readjusted my stride, I found myself slightly off skew for a second rubber strip. I nearly tripped over it and as I corrected myself I could feel another cramp shooting up my calf muscle. I managed to walk and keep it at bay, again fearful of an unglamorous ending to my race!
And that was it! Done! The official chip time was 2:43:20.
When I was younger, and going for job interviews, I would always struggle if asked "what is your greatest achievement" or "tell me about something you are proud of". Now I can answer easily. Despite Doctors telling me not to run if it hurts, I took control of my life and my destiny. I didn't need gym memberships, personal trainers or anyone else to motivate me. I got off my butt and done it by myself, for myself. Now I am a "runner" and this runner ran a Half Marathon!
Remember: its not a "Half" of anything, its a "Whole" 13.1 mile race.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)