Underground, overground, wombling free

How did it get to be that time of year again? It seems like it was only yesterday that I was eagerly anticipating the European cross country in Belgrade. Now, twelve months on, and the stabbing cold and deep snow of a ski resort in Bulgaria awaits. Last year, I finished a distant 26^th, well behind the leaders and below the standard at which I had hoped to compete. This year though, the dreaming of a medal has returned.

Less than ten weeks ago I was unable to jog never mind compete.  I was being destroyed in sessions and I was being dropped consistently in every rep. But at the end of every session, as I was doubled over, coughing up my lungs, there was my coach. ‘Good job. It’ll come. Be patient.’ I’m glad at least one of us had faith. It is said that coaching a fit athlete is not difficult. It is only whenever you encounter hurdles, be that injury or a poor performance that the coaching really begins. Sometimes, it takes that voice in your ear just to remind you that there is no need to panic. I’ve been fit before and, if I train right, I’ll get fit again. And so, as jogs turned into runs, and runs into sessions, it was only inevitable that at some stage I would again need to throw my hat into the ring and race.

Before the Irish cross country trials, I was strangely calm. The pre-race nerves that normally kick in were nowhere to be found. I had convinced myself that I was still recovering from injury. Getting to the startline itself was a big enough result. I had placed no expectation on myself and neither had my coach. His instructions were to sit in for as long as I could. I always find it somewhat cheeky sitting on other runners. To me, winning a race, having kicked past someone who has been at the front for 9.9k, makes the victory feel hollow.  It is a style of racing that I have never really enjoyed, although, as everyone knows, it normally produces the best results. And so I sat. There were the usual early attacks by other runners but the gap never grew large enough to get worried. And coming into the final lap, when it was down to Mick Clohissey and Mark Hanrahan and myself, I still felt confident. I had already far exceeded my expectations and, with the top three guaranteed selection for the European Cross, I had bought myself a further three weeks in which to get fitter. Having raced Mark and Mick several times before, I knew that I was not strong enough to be able to pull away from them both. So I sat and sat, and then sat a bit more. And thankfully, coming into the final turn, I managed to get a few metres and hold on for an unexpected win. After several months of various scans, injections and physio appointments, broken only by sparse days of training, it was nice to finally race again. It was even more enjoyable to win.

The day after the trials I flew back to London, ready for some more hard training, in the build up to this Sunday’s race. And for once, things have gone well. There has been no injury pain and no days missed. With everyone I know having appeared to have simultaneously contracted a cold, I have been overdosing on vitamin C and continuously wearing a scarf. Thankfully, my paranoia must have worked so far, as I have not even had a snuffle. I am so much stronger than what I was three weeks ago. My last hard session was two days ago in Bushy Park. On a horrible, dark, wet and windy evening, for once I had no company, no one to share the workload with. The plan was for two miles in ten minutes. A generous ninety second break followed by four one mile reps. The plan had been to hit 4.55, 4.42, 4.55, 4.38. I stood at the end of the two miles in ten minutes, soaked to the skin and freezing. Breaking a five minute mile seemed unlikely never mind under 4.40. The first mile felt like I was going all out. It took all my energy to hit 4.55. This was definitely a night for mental training, in addition to the physical benefits. Fifteen minutes later, I stood exhausted but happy. The last three miles were 4.39, 4.37, 4.35. Not superfast times by any means but it was the confidence boost I needed. I am fit, no doubt about it, I am definitely fit. I am starting to believe that I am fit enough to win this Sunday, now it is all about having the correct race. The European Cross Country is a notoriously hard race from gun to tape and the snow creates a new challenge. But after missing Zurich and not being able to run for weeks on end, there is no place I would rather be come Sunday. Whatever happens, I know I fly back to London next week ready for Christmas, which for others might mean partying. For me and my training group, Christmas, however, means a different thing. It means it is time to start training hard and running fast. The indoors are just around the corner.

The senior men’s race is at 11.58 Northern Irish time this Sunday and (as far as I know) is live on RTE and BBC red button for anyone interested.

 

The most wonderful time of the year

With Halloween well and truly over, the festivities of Christmas are already kicking into gear which can mean only one thing. The cross country season is upon us. With darkness in the sky and frost on the ground, training is more of a chore than a fun way to spend the day. As if the piercing wind was not warning enough, with each breath comes a cloud of personal fog to remind you that you should not be enjoying this. And yet we continue to do it, year after year. For cross country is what creates strength, mentally and physically. And cross country races is where the strongest always wins. There is no easy way to get around it and no shortcuts to be had. This is where the training starts in order to fulfil the summer plans for next year.

This weekend is the Irish trials for the European Cross Country Championships, a must-do fixture in every Irish runner’s calendar. This is the day when everyone lays their cards on the table and there is no holding back. You find out who is in shape and training seriously and who has enjoyed their Halloween break that little bit too much. You hear rumblings amongst friends of certain people who are flying in training or about others who are injured. Once you get to the race however, everyone looks fit and fast and everyone looks ready to win. Last year I won at a relative canter, a just reward for the heavy block of training I had done in the lead up. I doubt it will be so easy this year.

For some reason the date still sticks in my head: the 6^th of October. That was the day I moved from being on the injury list to being a runner again. It was not the smashing of a session or a hard long run that proved it to me. No, the plan for the day was nothing more than simply running two miles in under fifteen minutes, a relatively pedestrian pace. From being able to run five minute miles with hardly raising my heart rate in August, I finished the two miles exhausted, sprawled on the ground in 15.06. I had clearly fallen further than what I thought and enjoyed one too many takeaways. I was, however, painfree for the first time in months. After running every other day for two weeks, the fitness was coming back frustratingly slowly. However, by the end of October I was up to running ten miles in close to a steady sixty minutes and it was time to introduce sessions again.   

For two weeks I struggled, well and truly struggled. The combination of the fitness of my training partners and the seemingly double lung removal that I must have had whilst injured, meant that for every rep of every session I was being dropped within fifty metres. In one particular grass session (3 sets of 5/3/2 minutes) I was losing hundreds of metres in each rep. It is demoralising and you do start to question whether the fitness you had will ever come back. You just have to trust in yourself and believe that with the training you will get stronger. I stuck through those sessions to the end, pushing as hard as my unfit body would allow. And just like that, everything started falling into place. The running was becoming smoother and the times were dropping quicker than I imagined. Two weeks ago, I entered a local cross country race where some of the best runners in the UK were competing. It was to be a test of where I was and my coach had given me instructions that he wanted me to finish at least within a minute of the winner. Again, it was a struggle and tough effort but I managed to come second, four seconds behind the winner. A great placing given that I had only been running for four weeks. And from there my confidence has rocketed and training has steadily improved. Last week, I did another grass session (5 sets of 3/2/1 minutes) with the same training partners. Instead of being dropped this time I was pushing the pace, eager to get fitter and faster. I am nowhere near as fit as I was three months ago but I am fit and each day I am getting stronger. Whether I will be fit enough to retain my title this Sunday remains to be seen, but at least I will be there and I will, hopefully, be ready to contend. And that is what excites me.

Today I don’t feel like doing anything

I remember there was a time when I used to look forward to having a day off. It would be a break for my body to recover from the daily pounding that I intentionally inflict upon it. After countless weeks of injury however, my attitude has changed. The special nature attributed to having a day off has worn thin, just as it always does when you have too much of a good thing. Each day off is a day wasted, a day when everyone else is getting fitter, while I’m just getting older. You may grumble about running, you may complain about how tired you feel, how you had to get up early and how cold it was out, but when you unable to run anymore, that is when you really realise how beneficial running truly is.

Injuries are inevitable in running. It only stands to reason that, sometimes, you will only know the limit of your body once you’ve gone past it. It is a very lucky and rare athlete that manages to go a career without ever missing a degree of training through injury. And so, with that mindset in place, with the knowledge that everyone else has been training hard, I have tried to be as professional as possible in the past month. When things are going well, it is very easy to go to the gym, to stretch, to do all those little things that just might make a difference. Running is simple, training is relatively straightforward. So often, however, once injury hits, everything stops. The diet goes out the window, the normal temptations of daily life creep back in and you forget for a moment that you are trying to attain the peak physical potential that your body possesses. For several weeks or so after the disappointment of Zurich, that is where I found myself.

Three weeks in and slightly bloated, while working back in A+E in Belfast, I reached a stage where a decision needed to be made. I was out of shape but not unfit. However, with the likelihood of another six weeks out with injury, it was going to be a long and slow road back. I had enjoyed the luxuries of a normal life for a few weeks, and while it was fun, part of me knew that it had to stop. It is how we respond to these setbacks that really define how good an athlete we are.  This is the time to be professional, perhaps even more so than the few weeks leading into a championship race. After three weeks, the sharp pain in my hip had subsided and I was able to start walking again. I restarted my conditioning work and decided that while Zurich was a missed opportunity, there will be bigger races to come.

I had a repeat MRI scan ten days ago. It revealed that the labral (with an r) tear in my hip is still present. However, having been relatively painfree for a month, I was given the go ahead to start running again. Having returned back to my base in London, I’ve been intermixing short, slow runs with sessions on the crosstrainer. There is a reassurance to be felt from being surrounded by other athletes, who are all trying to recover from their own tough summer seasons. I’m currently up to thirty minutes running painfree, which, from where I was, is a massive step. The enjoyment is coming back, not due to the speed or distance of my runs, but in the mere motion itself. With six weeks until the Irish intercounties trials, and only nine until the European cross country championships, my mindset has now changed. No longer is it a question of will I be running but rather, can I get fit enough in time to win. I don’t know but first things first, I’m running again and compared to where I was a month ago, that’s a very happy thought.

Sometimes you have to go through darkness to appreciate the light

There are certain moments in life that will dictate your path. Moments that have the potential to irreversibly change your future. The 17^th of August 2014 should have been one of those moments for me. Everything was perfect, the course, the weather. My friends and family had arrived and were enjoying the sights of Zurich. My three teammates on the marathon team were fit and healthy and we were going in with the realistic possibility of picking up a team medal. I knew everything to know about the course. I had visualised every hill and turn a thousand times and more. And yet, it wasn’t to be. It’s been said many times before but never have I been so acutely aware that running truly is a cruel sport.

My troubles started on the 27^th July, a week before the Commonwealths. After missing most of the months of May and June with injury, it was always going to be an uphill task to be ready in time for the marathon. When I finally got over the injury at the end of June, I sat down with my coach, Andy, and we decided that we would still keep trying for the marathon. However, with limited time, there was no option but to increase the milage and training dramatically. It was a risk that we were both willing to take and we knew that the risk of subsequent injury was high. Fitness was coming back quicker than we both imagined and the belief of winning the Zurich marathon was returning.

I woke up on Sunday morning, five days before the Commonwealths, feeling fresh and ready to tackle the hard, hilly twenty miles that lay ahead. With my ex training partner Ben Whitby screaming at me on the bike, I tore up Richmond Park. The first ten was a leisurely 55mins followed by the next ten in 50mins. I finished strong, comfortable and happy. I was back to a standard of fitness where I could potentially perform well in races. After some grub I crawled into bed, glad to be finished for the day. An hour later, while I was getting up from my sleepy haze, as I put my foot down, I felt pain. Not muscular tiredness, not a niggling pain but real pain. As much as I stretched that evening the pain in my hip didn’t ease. However, with the Commonwealths only a few days away I tried to put it to the back of my mind.

Warming up at the Glasgow track I knew things still weren’t right but training had gone decent enough during the week and I knew that I could run through the pain. With the adrenaline pumping and the crowds cheering I completed the twenty-five laps of the track, an experience that I will never forget. I would like to have been competitive but my focus was the marathon and due to the injuries, the fitness quite simply wasn’t there. On the two mile jog after I knew something was seriously up, it was painful to put any amount of pressure through my right leg. Not ideal sixteen days prior to a marathon.

The following day an ultrasound and MRI both revealed nothing major of note. With the thinking that it was simply an inflamed tendon, I was told that I could keep training through and while it would be painful, I wouldn’t do any further damage. So that’s what I did. You don’t have to tell a runner twice that he can train if he wants to. I ran, I did sessions, but the pain was constantly there. With seven days to go to the marathon I had my last hard session, three by 5k with 2min break. I started with a 15.40 to ease me into things, a slightly quicker 14.50 for the second one, followed by a 15.30 third one, by which time I was curled up in agony. There would be no warm down that day as I hobbled back home. The pain had become excruciating, the sort of pain that makes you want to scream out loudly. The next day I got in for another ultrasound and steroid injection into the hip. I was advised to stay off my feet for as long as possible. And so, that’s how I spent my week leading up to the marathon, lying on my living room floor, stretching and alternating between icing and hot water bottles. Needless to say, it was not ideal preparation but I knew I was fit, if only my hip would allow me to run.

When I got to Zurich, the excitement was building around the marathon, this was my opportunity to do something special. But my hip still had other ideas. Two days out, I tried to jog for the first time since the injection. Following two miles at 5.20s I was doubled over with pain. As I got back to the team hotel, I texted my coach asking what should I do, is there much point even starting. I think that once you begin to ask those questions, then you already know the answer. I tried to jog the next day and after about 800m I knew it wasn’t to be. I walked back to the hotel and tried to come to terms with the reality that I wouldn’t be competing. With Kevin Seaward, Sean Hehir and Thomas Frazer still having to compete the next day I made myself scarce, the last thing anyone wants before a marathon is someone injured hanging around. And so with my family and friends having flown over that morning to watch the race, I went and had dinner with them.

The following morning, I was on the athlete bus to the startline. It was such a surreal experience. I was surrounded by tension and yet I was completely relaxed. The temptation was so great just to throw on a pair of shorts and try to run but I knew it would have been pointless. Instead of running to victory and a new pb, I was handing out the water bottles to the team. They all had great runs and solid performances but for me, it will always be a day of what might have been. I got a second MRI the day I got back from Zurich. It revealed a labral tear in my hip. With conservative management being the mainstay of treatment I haven’t been able to do any training since the marathon.

And that’s where I am now, back in Belfast, working in A+E again. Medicine is something that I have grown to love and the work is both interesting and enjoyable. But part of me will always wish to be out there training, pushing myself to the limit. Rehab is coming along slowly and with an injury such as a labral tear, being patient is the key. Hopefully, however, with a bit of luck, I might soon be able to get back to doing the thing I love, running and racing. The past month hasn’t been great in terms of running but one thing that has come out of it, I am hungry. It will take me a few months to get back to where I want to be but when I do, I’m ready to fight, I’m ready to run hard, and hopefully with a bit of luck, I’ll finally be ready to win.

Turned away from it all like a blind man

Six days to go. Six days until I have the opportunity to produce something special at a major championships. The Zurich marathon, part of the European Championships, has been my main goal for the last twelve months and now it is nearly here. The nerves are already starting to build. The startlist has been analysed and the map of the course examined. As with most championship marathons, I imagine that the race will be a tactical affair. Sunday is not about fast times or setting personal bests, it is about one thing only...who will win the medals.

The European Championships marathon has the additional excitement of doubling up as a team event. The country with the three fastest finishers, based on cumulative times, will be crowned the marathon team of Europe. For the first time in history, Ireland has entered a team of four runners and as an athlete from Northern Ireland, it is great to see that three of the team come from Belfast. Kevin Seaward and Thomas Frazer are established, respected athletes amongst the NI community and with the useful addition of Sean Hehir, winner of last year’s Dublin marathon, we are going in with a strong, competitive team.  

In terms of my own build up to the marathon, after a solid first nine months to the year, things have recently been far from ideal. After recovering from my peroneal tendonitis at the end of June, I was quietly optimistic that I was getting back to a level of fitness where I could potentially contend in Zurich. Two weeks ago, I had finished four weeks of solid, consistent training and decent sessions. With the time lost to injury, certain key sessions had to be dropped. The Commonwealth Games 10,000m were looming in a week’s time. Without having run a mile quicker than 4.45 pace since the middle of May, the coach was quite clear in his opinion, the Commonwealth Games were to come off the table and training should focus solely on the marathon. However, opportunities to pull on the vest of Northern Ireland, my country, come rarely. This was a race that I could not pass up, especially considering it was so close to home. I sat down with my coach and we discussed the possible options. We agreed that I would do the 10k provided that I didn’t wear spikes (which were the likely cause of my peroneal tendonitis in the first place), that I would start the race no quicker than 70sec laps and that we didn’t ease down into the race. I doubt many racers that night would have ran a hilly 20miler in 1.45 (55min first 10, 50min second 10) six days earlier. Combine that with an 8k track session two days before the race, it’s safe to say I was not going into the race ‘fresh’. The atmosphere in Hampden Park was amazing and something that will stay with me all my life. The sound really was deafening and constant for the whole 25 laps. Finishing in 29.11 (70sec laps would give a time of 29.10) I came away from Glasgow with an unbelievable experience and a solid result. Considering where I was in June, it was a great confidence boost to run six 4.40 miles back to back and set me up nicely for the lead in for the marathon.

Unfortunately, things started to go awry again. In the hilly 20miler before Glasgow I had picked up a niggle in my hip. I was running through it but the pain was always there. On the warm up before the 10,000m it was more painful than previous but with the adrenaline flowing, I had other things on my mind. The next day however, I was a hobbling mess. Thanks to the NI team physio, Phil Glasgow and his team, he helped ease things out but the pain remained. An MRI the next day revealed little but a clinical diagnosis of psoas tendinosis was made. A few days rest and little progress was being made. With the marathon now ten days away, the decision was made to train through the pain as the likelihood of long term damage was slim and the pain should resolve itself, albeit slowly. However, with my last hard run done yesterday, I had a steroid injection today to try and calm things down in time for start day. And so, with plenty of rehab exercises and rest, I have a long, nervous couple of days ahead of me. I know that I am fit and ready to run well in Zurich, I now just need to make sure I get to the startline ready to go. Running will always present challenges, especially training for an event such as the marathon. Sometimes it is how we deal with these challenges in the build up to our goal, more than the race itself, that is the hard bit. Recent problems aside, I have an opportunity this Sunday to produce something special. I know that on my day I can win, that our team can win and that is something that excites me. So many things can go wrong in a marathon but who knows, this weekend everything might, just might, go right. Tune in to BBC2 at 07.45 Sunday 17^th to find out how we get on. If everything holds together you will hopefully start to see me around the 22mile mark, we shall see!

Cometh the hour, cometh the man

Eleven and half months ago I walked out of hospital, free to embark upon my life as a full time athlete. The past year has been filled with highs and low, as might be expected. After finding a house to live in Teddington, with three wonderful girls, all that lay before me was a lot of hard work and miles on the road. The sport of running, which once was simply a hobby, has become my way of life and my job. People often say I am ‘Living the dream’ and that they would love to do what I do. I am eternally grateful that I have this opportunity, to wake up every morning knowing that my only plan for the day is to become stronger, fitter and more prepared for the races which lie ahead.

I began the year, and the start of my athletic career, with a decent run in the World Championships Marathon, placing 21^st at Moscow. Finishing the race strongly, I was starting the winter training full of confidence and optimistic expectation. In November, I won the Irish cross country title in perhaps my best race of the year. My only regret that day was that I didn’t push myself harder and really show off the level of fitness and winter base that I had gained. Two days after the race, I got knocked back with a flu from which I never recovered my cross season. After an extremely disappointing run at the European Cross, it was time for an easier few weeks before hitting the indoor track.

Having never trained on an indoor track before, I found the Lee Valley centre in Northern London to be an amazing facility. I would look forward to each Saturday morning and the lactic producing sessions that it bought. While I really enjoy and believe my strength lies in the marathon distance, there is no comparable feeling in the world than that when you are running fast. And inside, on an indoor track, those senses are heightened to another level. After running a 2.24 kilometre time trial in training, in which I hit my 800m pb, I knew things were going well. The aim was to run 7.54 for the 3k to gain selection for the World Indoors team. However, after a disappointing placing at the UK indoor championships, it was decided that there was no more benefit to be gained by doing additional indoor races. It was time to move on.

As a backup to missing out on the World Indoors, I decided to compete at the World half marathon championships two weeks later. This was to be another great day of running for me. I remember laughing at my coach when he told me that he wanted me to run at 4.42 per mile pace. Clearly he was more aware of my body than I was, as I went on to run 62.09 for the half and one of the fastest times ever posted by an Irishman. It was a great start to my outdoor season and with five weeks of altitude training ahead I felt like I was ready to make the next step. However, things began to falter. Training was going steady but not exceptional. I raced 28.32 at the Stanford 10k followed up by 14.07 at the Oxy 5k. Both decent times but well slower than what I was capable of producing, especially considering the level of fitness I had reached. I returned home from altitude on the 18^th May and the next six weeks were hampered by debilitating sciatica type pains and peroneal tendonitis in my ankle. Days turned into weeks and training was being missed. It was near the end of June before an MRI finally revealed the degree of the problem and after a steroid injection into the tendon, combined with more rest, it was time to build the miles back up slowly. From having too much time to prepare for the European championships marathon, it would now be a race against time to be fit for the big day.

And that’s where I am now. This is my second week back running at full mileage and I am starting to feel like a runner again. With the Commonwealth 10k in sixteen days it will be a big ask to produce something special but I am determined and judging by my previous experiences, I have the ability to get fit quickly. A further seventeen days later and it’s time to race the European championships marathon in Zurich, my main goal for the year. Before altitude training, I was confident, perhaps overly so, that I would win this race. I still believe it is possible but it is not going to be easy. On Sunday I did my first 20miler since getting injured. I finished in 1.47, a decent time given that it was a progressive tempo starting out slow. This Saturday I have a 32mile day. With so much time missed, the luxury of having easy days has gone out the window. As my coach, Andy Hobdell, says, this five week training block is straight out of the Big Book of Unorthodox Marathon Training! If it was anyone else I would be starting to get worried, but by now I have come to realise that Andy Hobdell has a funny knack of getting these sort of things right. We both know what the goal is and what needs to be done to get there. I have a long 30 days ahead of me. The Commonwealths might prove to be a bit too soon for me to be dreaming of a medal this time round but at the Europeans I have a chance, definitely a chance. Either way, on reflection, I would describe this year as having been average, a solid 6 out of 10. I am starting to learn what works, or perhaps, more importantly, doesn’t work for me. I am starting to believe that I belong and will be able to mix it amongst top class competition. I am not a world class runner yet but then again with the Olympics two years away, I still have time. Citius. Altius. Fortius. Believe.

Back, Crack and ... not much track

Arghhh, followed by multiple, repeated expletives. That pretty much sums up my thoughts over the past month. Running can, and recently for me, has been, a very frustrating sport. Having been injury free for the last twelve months, it was only inevitable that at some point my body would succumb to the challenges of 100+ mile weeks.

I finished last month’s blog looking forward optimistically to the Oxy 5k meet in Los Angeles, which would mark the end of my altitude camp in California. Again, like in Stanford, the startlist was a high quality field of distance runners from across the globe. Due to a heatwave, the race was postponed until 11 at night when the organisers hoped that it might cool down. It did not. After nearly 800m, and with my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, I knew that it wasn’t going to be my night. I finished in a disappointing 14.07, slower than what I had gone through 5k in at the Stanford 10k, three weeks previous. Nevertheless, I had gained what I had wanted from the camp and I was returning to London feeling strong and ready to push on towards the summer competitions.

Sadly, my ankle had other ideas. When I got off the plane in London and looked down at my right foot it could easily have belonged to the elephant man. It turns out that racing twice in the same spikes caused blisters to grow on top of blisters, which subsequently got infected. However, with an easier recovery week after Oxy already planned, I wasn’t too disappointed when I was told to rest until the antibiotic course was finished. The main trouble started as I tried to get back into the running again. I was constantly getting pain in what I thought was my IT band. After more rest and several sore massages the pain was still there, and now it was extending into my calf. Normally, through running, you become accustomed to dealing with a high degree of pain but this was something else. There was no way I was able to run through this. I consulted my brother, a sport’s doctor, who narrowed the differential diagnosis down to either a spinal nerve problem or a femoral stress fracture. At his advice, a few hours later I found myself at the Waldegrave Clinic, a nearby chiropractor’s clinic. After cracking what appeared to be most of the joints in my body, I left feeling a lot bouncier than when I went in but still unsure if I could run.

There is sometimes a perception within the medical profession that chiropractors don’t provide any real major benefit to patients and any positive results are due to chance or some other factor. However, following my recent experience, in my eyes, they are amazing professionals. I would highly recommend anyone with back or nerve problems to find their nearest chiropractor. On Saturday morning, I literally could not walk half a mile without unbearable crippling pain. I saw Tom Greenway and Catherine Hughes of the Waldegrave Clinic on the Saturday afternoon. Twenty four hours later and I was running five miles completely painfree for the first time in weeks. If only all injuries could be fixed as easily! It’s thought that the cellulitis altered my ankle mechanics causing further stress throughout my leg and into my back. This then caused my back to seize up, trapping a nerve resulting in the pain. Over the next few days I was back doing steady five miles. The pain crept back in but after a follow up appointment at the Clinic I’m back training and building the mileage again.

And so, that is where I am at now. Nine weeks today I get the chance to become the marathon champion of Europe. In seven weeks, I get the chance to race in Glasgow against the best 10k runners in the Commonwealth. Having had three weeks off training with injury, doubts were starting to creep into my mind of whether I would be ready in time. Hopefully with four weeks solid training next month’s blog will be a lot more positive and all this talk of injuries will be nothing but a distant memory. So I’ve a lot of hard work and catch up to do but I’m sure that, with the help of coach Andy Hobdell and the team, we’ll get there, eventually!! So until next time, happy racing and hopefully you’ve all been doing a lot more running than me recently!

Live in the sky and with time you might just become a star

In my experience, the word ‘Stanford’ is always said in hushed tones amongst athletes. This race adopts a mystical quality where athletes are almost certain to run times faster than they are capable of running elsewhere. And so it was, late, last Sunday evening that I found myself standing on the startline of the iconic Stanford track. Twenty five laps and a whole lot of pain lay before me.

My April blog finished with me rushing out the door to get to the airport in time for my flight to California. Since then, I’ve been based at altitude, in a mountain range just outside San Diego. To say there are no distractions would be something of an understatement. The nearest supermarket and resemblance of civilisation is over a forty minute drive away from our wooden lodges. There are no Jelly Babies to be found up here, no ice cream nor any cake. The runs are tough, tougher than what I had imagined. The surface is uneven and riddled with rocks which makes every run a game of ‘Am I going to roll my ankle today?’. I imagine it being akin to running through a quarry or building site. And though I know it’s impossible, every single step seems to be going uphill. Believe me, this is not an easy place to train and any niggles will become a major problem very quickly. In terms of getting fit however, it’s ideal.

Coincidence is by its very nature a funny thing. For those who read last month’s blog, I mentioned a Swedish guy who I shared the pacing work with during the World Half Marathon. Imagine my surprise then when, while I was waiting to board my flight to California, who should walk up but the same Swedish runner, Mike. It turns out he was part of the group I was coming out to train with. The majority of the group are runners that are part of the famous Melbourne Track Club, a collection of world class runners from 800m up to 10k. I remember looking around the dinner table one evening and counting at least six sub 4 minute milers sitting there – needless to say this is not a bad group to train with!

The three week build up to Stanford was near perfect. The sessions were hard, the recovery runs were necessarily slow. I was nearly down at race weight and with no distractions I was getting all the rest I needed. I was heading to Stanford stronger and fitter than I’ve ever been in my life. This was to be my first 10k track race and at the very least I needed to hit the Commonwealth qualifying time in order to make sure my summer plans worked out. The race was at ten in the evening to ensure that the wind had died down and the heat of the day had cooled. Waking up nervous on the Sunday morning, I knew I had a long day of waiting in front of me. Time ticked on as it tends to do and a number of hours and many stops to the toilet later I was warmed up and ready to go on the startline.

The plan was to do steady 67s per lap (13.58 for 5k) and then try and pick it up the last few laps if I had anything left. Given the training I had been doing I was confident that I was at least in sub 28minute. After sitting in for the first lap in a slow 70s, I tried to get back on pace. As each lap went by however, I wasn’t gaining ground. The plan had been to sit in until 5k in 13.55/14minute pace which should have felt reasonably comfortable. I went through in 14.03, not disastrous but having been bumped around and surging here and there I had wasted a lot more energy than was necessary. I was getting tired and the negative thoughts started to creep in. Each lap was getting tougher and I was starting to panic. I had just ran 5k faster than I ever had before and I didn’t want to embarrass myself by coming last in my first big race. Any thoughts of a quick time had evaporated by this stage, it was pure survival mode. I started looking at the clock, trying to work out was I inside the qualifying standard. Simple addition was beyond me however and at one stage I was convinced that I’d be lucky to break 30minutes. I struggled through the last 10 laps, mostly by myself, and finished in 28.32.18 (I’m adding the hundredths as I finished 0.03s slower than the Northern Irish record – if only I had dipped for the line!)

Maybe it was Stanford’s reputation as a fast meet that lured me into a false sense of security about how easy the race would be. Whatever the reason, I’ve come away from my first experience at Stanford all the better for it. Yes, the time was disappointing but I know I’m much fitter. I now know what a 10k on the track feels like and next time I’m hoping for much better. On the upside, I managed to get inside both the Commonwealth and European Championship qualifying standards and so can start planning my summer accordingly. Provided I regain the use of my legs after last weekend, next up is a 5000m track race next Thursday in Oxy, LA before flying back to London. After that is the European Cup 10k at the start of June, following which it might be nice to go for a third win at the Lisburn Half Marathon back home! In the meantime however, it’s time I put down my iced drink, put on some more suncream and went out for another run in the sun! Until next time, happy training!

Sometimes you can't make it on your own

The past month has been something of a whirlwind for me. At the end of last month’s blog I had just ran the Bath half marathon thirty seconds quicker than I had ever covered the distance before and the time had qualified me to race against the world’s best in Copenhagen three weeks later. While I was happy with the time, I knew I had a lot more left to give and the time didn’t truly reflect the degree of effort I had been putting into training. With that in mind, I was determined that I would go to Copenhagen in the best shape possible.

Sitting down with the coach before the race, he wanted me to go out in 29.30 pace for the first 10k. Bearing in mind that I had never broken 30minutes for 10k I was sceptical that 4.42per mile pace was realistic or sustainable for the 13miles. In the weekly tempos I had never been going quicker than 4.50 pace and even then, it was normally alternating 5.10 / 4.50 pace for the six miles. How did Andy, my coach, think it was possible for me to run so much quicker. Granted the track sessions had been going well and I was well used to 68sec per lap pace but even still, I doubted I could hold 70/71sec pace for an hour.

In line with my coach’s optimistic outlook, my confidence was high going into the race. I had spent the previous two weeks with an Irish squad in the Algarve, Portugal. A change of scenery can sometimes do wonders for that extra boost you need in training. Unfortunately, with the race coming up, I was at a different stage of my training cycle than most of the guys and so I had to do the track sessions on my own. Again, in the past I’ve found that track sessions by yourself, while tough at the time, make you that much stronger in the mind. The first session was 10 x 1k in 2.50 off 100m jog. You know you’re feeling fit when you finish the session, bang on the times and realise that you averaged out at 35seconds recovery. Yes, I was getting into good shape and with the race just around the corner I was getting excited.

Copenhagen was being marketed as a flat, fast course and with the weather forecast to be mild with a minimal breeze, it really was the perfect setting for a half marathon route. Combine that with the company of the best runners in the world and I knew there was a decent time there if I ran the right race. On the start line, a Swedish runner tapped me on the shoulder and in European English asked me what time I was going for. Hopefully low 62 something I replied optimistically. I’m aiming to get to 10k in 29.30, whatabout you? Oh I’d be happy with 63, he replied. It was left like that.

A half marathon is quite a long way, especially when you hit the 6mile mark and realise you haven’t even reached halfway yet. The race went out relatively slowly at 4.48 pace. The next 2 miles were the same and having gone through 5k in 14.54 I realised that I needed to start shifting. I’ve come to realise that there’s nothing to be gained by surging in half marathons and so I steadily tried to pick up the pace. I looked around for company and on my shoulder was the same Swedish guy. We didn’t say anything to each other but instinctively we knew we both wanted the same thing. At the next km marker, he took over the pace. We were down at 4.42 pace now. For the next 8km or so, we kept like this, swapping every km but still not saying a word. For someone who wanted 63mins he was going well above pace. We caught a large group around the 8mile mark and he decided to sit in. Feeling good, I decided that I wasn’t going to hang around. I went straight to the front pushing on again. This time a Japanese and Spanish guy went with me. We were down at 4.37 pace and starting to roll now, although everything still felt strangely comfortable, controlled. The two guys were able to hold on for the next mile or so then drifted back. My last 3miles were spent just picking off people averaging 4.38 pace. I finished in a new NI record of 62.09. With my first 10k split at 29.47, followed up by a second 10k of 29.15, and a ten mile split of 47.12 I had smashed my previous pbs. Undoubtedly, I was happy with the result. It’s a massive pb for me and a more respectable time for a full time runner. That said, I finished strong with plenty more running in my legs. I doubt I could have held the pace for another 13miles but if you had told me to keep going till 20miles I’m confident that I would have been able to do so. It all bodes well for the marathon in Zurich. Oh and the Swedish runner finished in a new Swedish record just outside 63minutes. I sadly didn’t get an opportunity to talk to him after the race but there is no way I would have ran as fast as I did without his help, and I hope he feels the same.

The next 5 weeks I’ll be in Mount Laguna, California training with a world class Australian training group all gearing towards the 10k race in Stanford at the start of May. My plane actually leaves in two hours so I’d better get a move on! So until next time, keep the head down, train hard and hopefully come the races in the summer you’ll be ready. Also, good luck to all competing in the various marathons this weekend, both English and Irish athletes. Hopefully I’ll see a good few of you on the roads around Zurich!!

The undulating course

There is no question that life is full of ups and downs. However, in running I have found that the gulf between the two extremes seems to become much wider. One good race and you’re on a high, ready to take on the world. Run slower than what you expected and you start to doubt your ability and question whether the time and effort you put in is worth it. After a disappointing performance at my first indoor 3k race last month, that is where I found myself.

I am not an expert on dealing with failure, far from it. I have always had belief in my abilities and would consider myself on the whole to be an optimistic, ambitious, albeit realistic person. But, here I was, running 8.09 for 3000m, 40 seconds slower than the best in the world, a vast chunk of time over such a short distance. Needless to say, after the race I was not happy and this was reflected in my training.

The week after the race, training was slightly easier to ensure that I recovered well. On the Thursday, was a standard 8 x 1k session, 200m jog recovery, this time on the track at 2.50 pace – a relatively comfortable session on paper, given my fitness and how indoor training had gone. However, while I hit the times, it was tough, much tougher than it should have been. Ok, everyone has a poor session from time to time, and I still managed to hit the times, so no real harm done. The next session was a 6mile tempo, fluctuating 5.10 / 4.50 pace every mile. Again, given the fact that I was comfortable running 4.16mile reps indoors, the run should not have been difficult. While I convinced myself afterwards that it was windy, I was nowhere near the 4.50 mile pace that had been set. Once more, the head dropped and I started to question what I was doing. Usually when training isn’t going to plan it’s due to under-training, over-training or quite simply the head not being in the game. For me, I believe it was the latter.

For two weeks after the race, each run was a struggle. I was getting the training done, going through the motions but feeling like I wasn’t getting anywhere. It is hard to explain but running didn’t feel natural, it didn’t feel fluid. I clearly had some anger or frustration to get rid of and with the long Sunday run the next day, it was the ideal opportunity to do just that. Eighteen miles and 93 minutes later and I definitely did feel better. However, I’ve learnt from the past, running on anger is rarely a good idea and only offers up a short term solution. The following week, training still wasn’t improving and the frustration crept back in.

I sat down with the coach and decided to take a different approach. It is probably not the most professional approach, and I openly admit that, but with the Ireland-England rugby game on the Saturday, it presented itself perfectly as an opportunity to let off some (read: a lot of) steam. Stumbling round an eight mile plod in Bushy Park the next day, my head, while still spinning from the night before, was clearer than it had been for the previous few weeks. This is what I want to do and the life that I want to lead. I was ready for the next block of training.  Sometimes it takes remembering and experiencing what you have sacrificed, to remind you of where you want to go.

Since that Sunday jog, training has been perfect. My head is back in the game, the sessions are feeling easier and yesterday I ran a 30 second personal best and World Half championships qualifying time (63.52) in the Bath Half marathon. The race was extremely well organised, the officials did everything with a smile on their face and despite the poor weather, the support around the course was fantastic. I would highly recommend anyone to do the race next year if you get the chance.

The plan for the next four weeks is all geared towards the World Half marathon championships in Copenhagen on the 29^th March, having been selected by Athletics Ireland today. The greyness and windy and wet conditions of February are hopefully behind us all and here’s hoping the month of March will bring the start of a glorious summer, both in terms of the weather and our running.

It's getting hot in here

The month of February means only one thing, it’s time for indoor competition. It is a time for the sprinters to show off the benefits of their winter gym work and a time for middle distance runners to get in out of the cold and wet for a change. Last Saturday was my first indoor race in seven years, my first track race as a full time athlete and my first time racing in a proper indoor stadium.


After my last cross country race in Antrim at the start of January, I was glad the many distractions of Christmas were over and I could get back into proper training at my base in Teddington. Knowing that I have a busy six months coming up, I had eased back over the Christmas period. I was still putting in hundred plus mile weeks but I also fell victim to my mum’s home baking. Anyone who knows me well knows that I have no self-control when it comes to junk food, if it’s in the house I’ll find it and eat it. So after returning to Teddington I knew I would have a tough four weeks ahead of me, getting back to fitness. The plan was to slowly get down towards my ideal racing weight whilst getting speed into my legs for the first time in a number of years.


The main focus of each week became the Saturday morning session where I would travel up to the Lee Valley indoor track to meet with Andy, my coach and a few other athletes. The Sunday morning runs were cut back to 15miles at a steady pace (usually 90mins), a big change from the relatively fast 20milers (1hr 45mins) I’m used to. The Tuesday sessions and Thursday tempos became more about recovery and maintenance rather than trying to improve. By the end of January I was amazed at how far I had come. On the 1^st February a 1km time trial was on the cards, a session I doubt you would see on many marathon training schedules. Five laps later, I had a new 1km pb (2.24.1) and had gone through 800m half a second slower than my pb, a time I had set 9 years ago when I was 18. I was hitting times that I never thought I could and was looking forward to my first indoor race – a 3km at the UK national championships.


The world indoors 3km qualifying time is 7.52. Given the times I was hitting in training, I was confident that I was more than able to hit sub 7.50 given the right race. Looking at the start list to the UK championships 3km, it was clear that the field was stacked. The top middle distance runners in the UK would be in the race and with the stadium sold out there would be plenty of people watching. With the race scheduled to start at six in the evening, I had all day to try and control the nerves. After a manic start with elbows flying and a few spikes in the shin, the race settled down. However, it settled down too much and after going through 800m in 2.12 we were well off 7.52 pace. At 2km we were still down, at around 5.26. If I wanted to get the time I needed a 2.26 last km, an unlikely proposition given I had already been surging throughout the race and was starting to hurt. But if you never try, then you will never know. I pushed on taking the lead. Two laps later I wasn’t making any ground on the time and I knew that sub 7.52 wasn’t happening. The head went down, I realised how dry my throat was, how painful my legs were and that’s when others made their move. I finished 6^th in 8.09.  While this was twelve seconds faster than I have ever ran 3km before I was still extremely disappointed. I know, my coach knows and anyone who has seen me training in the past few weeks knows that I am capable of so much more. I don’t know if I will get the chance for another 3km race before this indoor season is over which is disappointing.


This morning I ran with an athlete who has been to multiple world cross country championships and he said something that has stuck in my mind – ‘In order to move mountains a man must first carry small stones’. Sometimes after a disappointment, like last weekend, it is easy to lose sight of the bigger picture. It is easy to get distracted, lose the head and lose a few weeks of training feeling sorry for oneself. My mountain is the Olympic marathon, that has always been and still is the end goal. The 3km last weekend is quite simply a small stone, a hurdle I need to encounter in order to improve my marathon time. Granted the race was slower than what I wanted, but I came 6^th against the best middle distance athletes in the UK at a much shorter distance than what I’m used to, in my first indoor race, in which I executed extremely poor race tactics. In 12 weeks, I’ll be racing my first track 10km in Stanford, California. While I may not have hit the time I wanted in a 3km race yet, I am fit, injury free and improving every week. So until next time, keep working hard, race well and continue to prepare for the summer races that are coming.

A time for reflection

The new year is upon us and despite being only two weeks in I wonder how many have already broken our resolutions. On the 1^st January, your intentions were good and your resolve was strong but now, when work has started back and the holidays are long over, have you drifted back into your old lifestyle? No-one said it would be easy. Making lifestyle changes is tough.

This year I did not make any resolutions. I was at an athletics talk roughly ten years ago as a junior and the guest speaker was talking about success, about how to get to where you want in life. I don’t remember the speaker’s name but I remember clearly two things he said; ‘Dead fish go with the flow’ and ‘If you know what you want, why wait? Go, get it now.’ I made my resolution last April when I decided that I wanted to be a full time athlete. That I was ready to commit everything, my very being,  to see how far I could get in this sport. I have a plan to get to where I want. I was tired of waiting around, going to work every day, with the intrinsic belief that I had the potential to be successful in running, if only I had the opportunity. It was then that I realised that opportunities in this life very rarely present themselves. If you want something, you usually have to go out and take it. You have to make the opportunity. No-one else can, it’s up to you. Otherwise you might wake up tomorrow and realise that the opportunities of today have already gone. And so, with that in mind, I put the steps in place that come August I would be able to take a career break from the medicine and follow my athletics dream.

 

Recently, one of my teacher friends asked me to give a talk to a group of her 6^th form pupils in school. With medicine you become quite comfortable giving presentations to large groups of people but this would be quite different. In work, as long as you impart the subject matter to the audience, your presentation will, at least, be of some benefit. But talking to teenagers, to attempt to motivate and inspire others is a skill in itself. And as I was standing there telling them the steps I believe are required to be successful in this life (working hard, sacrifice, being ready to accept failure and challenging yourself, in case you’re wondering) I found myself reflecting back upon my five months so far as a professional athlete. This is my life, my job and maybe it was my recent poor performance in the European Cross Country but I started questioning the training I’d be doing. And what I realised is that while I was getting the miles done, being relatively healthy with my diet and going to the gym I wasn’t committing myself 100% to the job. Maybe the poor run was the bad flu I had had the previous week or maybe that’s just an excuse I’m trying to convince myself with. Either way, we are here now in the middle of January, the distractions of the Christmas period are over and I am ready for the seven months of hard work ahead to achieve my goals for the year. I’m a fitter, faster, more rounded athlete than I’ve ever been before and despite having only started indoor training, already I’m looking forward to my first race.

 

So my advice for this month is that while you may have already slipped off your New Year’s plan, don’t worry. Failing is natural in this life. Accept that it’s happened, ask yourself why and then start again. Sometimes to achieve what you want in life you have to strike out on your own, you have to forge your own path, you have to break free from all the dead fish. Good luck and may 2014 bring you all the happiness and success that you desire.