Down in the slumps

Summary: I really want to run the Yorkshire Marathon in sub 4 hours. I really am not sure I can knock 16 minutes off my marathon time to do this. However, my training started well, with a significantly improved pace from last year’s training for the ill-fated New York marathon. Running approximately a minute per mile faster on my long slow runs, and hitting race pace easily on some of the middle distance runs, I felt like I was doing all the right things and getting the results I needed.

My plan said to do a half marathon 2 weeks ago, so I signed up to run Burnham Beeches half marathon. It’s not a flat course, so didn’t expect a PB, but did expect to run well and give myself some sort of indicator for York.

The night before was sleepless. Not because of pre-race nerves but because of a persistent cough. And the nagging doubt that maybe I shouldn’t run it if I was coughing. I decided to go ahead anyway, as the race was two laps, and I could drop out halfway if I needed to. I made sure I had a couple of inhaler puffs before I dropped my bag off and headed to the start.

I think it’s safe to say it was the hardest half I’ve ever run. Even more testing than my debut half, with its torrential rain and a foot injury. It felt as long as a marathon, and every time I took a drink I had a massive coughing fit. I basically took it as easy as was comfortable, not pushing for a time, and finished bang on 2 hours, nearly 3 minutes slower than my PB.

On reflection, I realise that this was a great prep race. I ran 13.1 miles at marathon race pace and hit it perfectly. At the time, though, I was thinking what a nightmare it was and wondered why I was even bothering to look at sub 4 targets. And I couldn’t shake off the nagging feeling of failure. Mad I know, but let’s put it down to the salbutamol, shall we?

With bank holiday travels looming, and the training plan requiring 19 miles, I took the Friday morning off to run long. I headed to Richmond Park, a tried and tested route for me, trying not to push too hard as my cough was receding but still there. I went round Richmond Park in the opposite direction from normal, which I will now describe as the ‘uphill way’. All of RP is undulating but for some reason this day (probably the cough - I know, I know) it was like climbing Everest. I had to stop and walk at one point, accompanied by a coughing fit. I never take walk breaks and only stop for toilets, so for me this felt like abject failure. My sub 4 dreams were shattered. About 12 miles in, near Pembroke House on my exit route, I had a total meltdown – I stopped, turning round and round in circles arguing with myself (possibly aloud, like a real park nutter).

My logical self said ‘you’re not 100% fit, you probably shouldn’t even be running’

My stressed marathoner self said ‘you’re quitting. If you quit now, you’ll quit on marathon day. You need to push through this’

My logical self said ‘you might do yourself some damage, maybe we should head out of the park and get the bus home’
My stressed marathoner self shouted ‘Quitter! Failure’

You get the picture. And this went on for a while...
 

My logical self then pointed out I had to catch the 14.06 from Euston to Liverpool, so I realised I couldn’t really stay in the park arguing with myself any longer. I had to get home somehow, get showered and get out. So I ran to the bottom of Kew Gardens, another 2 or so miles downhill, and caught the bus. Garmin said 15.5 miles run. A good distance, I know, but not 19 miles. I had failed. I had quit. I was miserable.

I took the whole of the bank holiday weekend off. We couldn’t go on like this, me and running - we needed some distance from each other. I had a high mileage week ahead of me, which would be the real test – if I could get through that, I would be ok. It was my birthday as well, so didn’t want to be miserable because of running on my birthday. So I ignored my trainers, laid off dairy entirely and hoped the cough would subside by the Tuesday.

Tuesday, post work, I went for a 10 mile run. It was slow. It was punctuated by 3 toilet stops (NB: birthday squid ink risotto = unsuitable pre run food). I heard my first Christmas tune in a pub on one toilet stop. But I made it round. I ran 10 miles without any arguments between my logical and marathoner selves (well, the logical self may have made a sarcastic comment about the squid ink risotto) and felt a little bit happier about running. On Thursday night, I went to club intervals. I didn’t feel particularly fit, but I did the workout, and I survived.

This weekend was the high mileage bit. Hal Higdon’s advanced programme requires you to run 10mile at race pace on the Saturday, followed by 20 miles long slow run the following day. The 10 miles were knocked out at 8:57 min pace, bringing me safely under 4 hours in a marathon. Whether I could hold it for another 16.2 miles is another question but I did it. The 20 miles were a 9:47 min pace, possibly a little too fast, but I felt good. I felt strong. I even ran the bit of Richmond Park where I had my meltdown the week before, so I could shake off the bad memories.

When I look back at the same weekend pre VLM, I was 25 minutes faster over the 20 miles. My confidence is back. I feel like I can do this. Sub 4 hours may be a bit of an ambitious target, but I’m back in a position to give it my very best shot. I was this close to giving up entirely, but so glad I didn’t.

At least, not this week…