As I ran down the final straight I could feel the lactic acid burning in my legs. I had never put this much effort in before; I’d never felt that much burn. This was the hardest run race of my life. I crossed the line triumphant, the hot Lanzarote sun burning down on me.
Eh?
What’s that got to do with Abingdon on a rainy October Sunday?
It seems that last eye-balls-out 8*200m session, run as a 3 person relay race ‘paarlauf’, was one session too many at the training camp. I’d felt good all week but looking back I think that session pushed me over the edge into over-training territory. 2 days after returning to the UK I went for a long run feeling drained. My heart rate was at least 10bpm higher than what it should have been for the pace I was running. In other words I’d lost 30secs/mile in pace.
I’ve felt fatigue before, being unable to pick my pace up, but it’s never affected the pace/HR relationship: fatigue has slowed me in the past but my HR would be correspondingly lower. It would seem that this is the essential difference between simple fatigue and over-training: suddenly you become a less efficient runner, your HR spiralling.
Added to this I’d suffered a few niggles following Lanzarote with a slight calf strain leading to tightness and shin splints, and a strange phantom pain in the side of my calf. Fortunately this had just resulted in a few missed days of training and a reduced mileage, which may have helped with the over-training recovery anyway.
Fast forward to the Abingdon marathon and I lined up unsure of whether my pace had recovered. I’d seen a glimmer of hope at the Bells of Pattingham run, where suddenly it seemed my pace was better, as far as I could tell on the hills, ploughed fields and mud. The gentle runs in the days before the marathon seemed to contradict that though – had the Bells Run pushed me back over the edge into over-training territory?
My target for the race was to get the 3:15 London Marathon Championship qualifying time. I knew this was going to be a tall order after the upsets to my training, whereas a month previously I’d been confident. I’d told people that I’d know if 3:15 was a possibility once I was just 4 miles into the race – by then I’d see what my pace/HR relationship was and would know if I was going to be able to run the required 7:25/mile.
Spot Susie:
So the race was off, in near perfect weather conditions: a miracle considering a) the forecast and b) the horrendous weather suffered by the Great South Run later in the day. I felt quite relaxed after being chauffeured to the start by Gill, giving up most of her night’s sleep to get me there unruffled – what a star!
My heart rate monitor took a while to register as I built up a sweat, so I relaxed into what felt a sensible pace. After a mile I started to get a reliable reading and instantly my fears were realised, 2 miles earlier than I’d predicted. 3:15 was not going to be a possibility today, with my heart rate already at 144bpm, just a notch below my target, and my pace nowhere near the 7:20-7:25 I needed. As I settled to a sensible stable HR over the next few miles I was running at 7:40/mile and I had indeed lost nearly the 30secs/mile I feared.
I saw Gill at 6 miles. As she handed me a drink I shouted that I’d already missed 3:15.
I felt good, despite the lack of pace and a touch of stitch ( always a risk topping up with 250ml of sport drink before the start), so carried on undeterred to grab that PB and club record.
Ah yes the club record: 3:24:33 set by Chris at London a few years back. I love to have my targets! I did some quick calculations. The club record is 7:50/mile (it’s actually 7:48 – I should have known that) and I’m doing 7:40/mile so that’s a good buffer to allow for a slight slowing at the end surely? Hmmm.
The Abingdon course is quite nice, even if you include the industrial estate – it’s a very clean well-architected industrial estate – with a particularly nice bit down by the river and some pleasant countryside. It’s not as flat as London – there are noticeable undulations – but it must be one of the flattest courses around. We had a slight breeze in places and a little light rain mid-race, but boy were we lucky with the weather!
I was comfortable at half way, going through in 1:41:18. I realised though that I was now going to have to run the most even paced marathon I’ve ever run if I was to get the club record – the two halves of the race were going to have to be within 2 minutes of each other. My pace had suffered in Lanzarote, but what was my endurance like? Each mile was now a game of mental gymnastics as I calculated the required pace. I allowed myself 2 minutes to run the last 0.22 miles and calculated the pace with each passing mile in order to get to 26 miles in 3:22:30. I needed to run at 7:52/mile for the remaining miles. (In case you’re wondering, I’m well practised in pace calculation!)
The miles ticked by 7:48 – good, 7:32 – excellent, although helped by questionable mile marker positioning, 7:55 – oh dear, 7:58 – aaggh!, 7:53 – still not there, 7:48 – better. By mile 20 I was still needing 7:52/mile as I entered the tough last 6 miles.
A quick mention for the rest of Team Gratton. The ladies were well represented with Tigger’s mate Roo and Tootie Applebuns hoping for good results. Rich had spotted me at the start but I hadn’t spotted Dull Napoleon. I’d left TmR to her thoughts before the start – I’d spotted the ‘Do not disturb’ sign on her body language. TA had shot off like a rocket at the start and I was hopeful she might have more luck with her 3:15 target than I was experiencing with mine. Incidentally, I’d thought that Tootie Applebuns was some sort of reference to a pert bum playing tunes on expelled gases as she ran – something I can relate to – ah, the gastro-intestinal problems of high mileage! The truth is somewhat less spectacular having discovered that she got the name after typing her real-world name into a screen name generator – shucks!
At around 18 miles I spotted TA, in her distinctive purple kit, walking! Oh no! I patted her on the back and heard “bad stitch”. She’d started with a sore throat thinking it was race nerves, but was struck down badly the following day. She may have gone off a tad quick, but clearly she wasn’t in full health that day. :-(
Back with my race I tried to slot in with a few strong runners around me to try to pace off them. Following two guys in green who looked strong I passed a group, overtaking a young woman in a red crop top whom I’d had in my sights for much of the first half. She then left the group and overtook me. Clearly in her mind the race was on. This didn’t last for long though as she soon dropped back. Unfortunately so did the guys in green and I was left to latch on to a guy in a white vest who then came past. The guy in white looked really strong and I though he might be my ticket to the finish, but he too faded and I was left battling the clock on my own in the last few miles.
After putting in a 7:50, 7:47 and 7:53 things were looking good for the last 2 miles, but as I passed the 25 mile marker in 8:24 I got rather worried, apparently losing a lot of time and needing to run the last mile in 7:30.
The mile markers were mostly on stakes in the ground, as was mile 25, but I noticed they didn’t always correspond with the painted marks on the road. There was a faint 25 on the road 50m before the 25-mile marker – why would they deliberately put the sign past the mark when they could stick it in the verge right next to the line? I had to hope that the 8:24 lap was wrong and I wasn’t slowing. My GPS seemed to say I was still pacing well, but I’ve been caught out before trusting GPS – it usually measures long and gives a flattering pace measurement.
Entering the stadium at 26 miles:
I pushed as hard as I could, but couldn’t muster any more than 7:40/mile on the GPS. As we entered Tilsley Park for the run in, there was a slight incline which felt like a mountain to my tired legs. A few twists and turns and I ran onto the track, with just the 0.22 miles of the 26.22 to go. I’d made it with 2 minutes to go! I pushed on around the track and with relief saw the finish clock telling me I was well inside the club record.
I crossed the line in 3:24:10. Did I say well inside? I’d made it by 23 secs!
I punched the air, happy with my achievement, but it was tinged with the question of where my pace had gone. Hopefully in the coming weeks I might get the answer to that question.
I got my first ever spot prize: an Abingdon Marathon towel. I guess it's getting harder and harder to claim I had a bad day!
TmR and TA came in a bit later, well down on their expectations, however we waited around for the results of the British Masters Championships ever hopeful. TmR got the gold medal and TA got silver! Result! Well done you two! We all got something out of the race despite not achieving the times we thought we were capable of.
It was lovely to meet all the Runner’s World people at the end: RichK and his photos, Tiger, PS66, Beanz, Plodding Hippo, Dull Napoleon, who PBed but just missed 3:00, lp who got her championship place (well done, I’m jealous!), Hollywood and Shiraz. One pair I saw at the start but missed at the finish were
Mick’n’Phil – they PBed in 4:03 – brilliant!
Well done to Mel, my real world friend, who just missed the 3:45 Good For Age mark, but she'd already achieved the GFA time for London earlier in the year.
I’ll post the splits and HR details separately, but looking at them I ran the best race I could possibly have run given my reduced fitness. In fact that’s the best marathon I’ve ever run and not just because it’s a PB – my execution was spot on.
As for my legs, they felt great! It was lucky I caught the tight shin muscle on Friday and managed to massage it out, or I would have had 26 miles of phantom pain, thinking I was pulling my calf apart. My legs feel great today, 2 days on, so it looks like I should bounce back quickly.
Now that doesn’t sound like overtraining does it?
