This weekend saw the toughest part of my training to date. At the end of a high mileage week, I had to run 9 miles at race pace on Saturday followed by a 19 mile long run on Sunday. This is all part of the Hal Higdon's advanced marathon training plan, and (I assume) is designed to build your endurance for the race ahead.
I headed off out into the light snow flurries on Saturday with my goal pace in mind. As is my usual habit, I went off far too fast and ended up at a pace about 25-30 seconds a minute faster than planned. I decided to see how long I could keep it up, expecting the usual drop off in pace. But instead of dropping my pace, I managed to stay below the target pace I'd set myself and did the whole 9 miles in 1:21 - my fastest ever training time in nearly 4 years of marathon training.
There are benefits to running faster than usual. I felt incredibly proud of myself. I got home for lunch a lot sooner than I would have if I had just plodded round at a medium pace. And my breathing was so noisy, I didn't once have to ask a pedestrian to move aside - they all dutifully stepped out of the way at the sound of the wheezing human looming behind them. But after six puffs on the inhaler when I got home, I was ok and raring to recover by making petits macarons.
While I was elated at my Saturday achievement (the run, not the macarons), I knew it would mean a hard time on Sunday. And sure enough, 19 miles to Richmond Park and back felt like 900 miles up Everest. The climb up Richmond Hill to the park nearly finished me off before I'd even managed 6 miles, and the undulations of the park itself were a massive effort. At one point, my pace was so slow, I swear a stationary rubbish bin overtook me. But I regained a bit of oxygen on the descent down Richmond Hill on the way home and managed to cover the last four miles with some dignity.
The advantages to running more slowly are that the wheezing and puffing noises I made were not quite as severe but the major disadvantage was that my legs were no longer my own. I think it's safe to say that is the most I've hurt after a training run. While I could still manage to get up or down stairs, my post-run stretch & foam roller session indicated that I'd used some calf muscles that have never been used before. 'Not to worry', I thought, 'at least I've booked in a sports massage for Tuesday morning'.
This morning, as I laid face down on a bed, screaming with pain while my physio tortured my calves, I wasn't entirely sure of the value of the massage bit anymore. On balance, I think I'd rather walk down the stairs of the Eiffel Tower the day after a marathon than go through that again. (NB Paris marathoners - this is a very bad idea, trust me).
Apparently my whojamaflit and my perimebob are a bit knackered after the weekend's efforts, so I am now k-taped up for a few days to get me through my next couple of training runs. Hopefully this monochrome concoction will help ease the soreness and keep my training on track, ready for a nice combo of 10 miles + 20 miles at the end of this week!
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