Where have the past twelve months
gone? It feels like only yesterday that I was writing last year’s April blog.
Having just completed the World half marathon championships, I was in a manic
rush to get out the door to catch a plane to America. Heading to Mount Laguna
in sunny California, I was filled with dreams of medalling at the Glasgow
Commonwealth Games and European Championships. Unfortunately, my dodgey hip saw
to it that neither medal materialised, nor in fact did much running occur at
all. Another missed opportunity to perform something special in my country’s
vest. Such is the sport of running. I am coming to realise that setbacks are
inevitable and rarely does a training plan go as smoothly as desired.
The past month has been an
unusual one for me. Having arrived home from a good, albeit below par, experience
at the European indoor championships, I was ready for a break. With the Reading
half marathon a fortnight after Prague however, it was time to continue pushing
forward with training. The luxury of a week or two of easy training was one
that I could not afford. I went into Reading fit but mentally tired. It had
been a long nine weeks of indoor training. The shock of thirteen miles of heavy
pounding, along concrete roads, was one my legs were not accustomed to. Finding
myself stranded in no man’s land by the five mile mark, it became more of a
mental endurance challenge than a physical race. I staggered across the finish line
just outside sixty four minutes, two minutes shy of my personal best time. Slightly
disappointing but not a bad starting point in which to begin the longer
distance training block.
And so began a manic week. The
day after Reading I returned home to Holywood. I had already committed to work
a number of shifts in Belfast’s Royal Hospital emergency department. After my
second long shift in work, I contested the local Queen’s 5k race, Northern
Ireland’s 5k road championships. The many hours on my feet took their toll as I
crossed the line first in 14.45, much slower than what I was expecting. The following
morning, I awoke with the cold, probably more due to exhaustion than any actual
infection. But back to work I returned once more. Two days later, and it was
the Omagh half marathon this time. By now, I was coughing green phlegm and
wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed. However, having committed myself to
the race organisers, I was reluctant to pull out at the last moment. I managed
to make it to mile seven before I succumbed. One minute I was cruising at
leisurely pace, the next I was wiped out. The last six miles of a marathon were
never this bad. It was a complete blow out. Looking at my watch, I had dropped
to 5.20 and then 5.30 minute miles. With all the power gone from my legs, I was
fortunate that the last mile was downhill. I crossed the line in a distant
second place, in a pace slower than some of my Sunday runs. I could have taken
my pick from the take home messages: Don’t do two half marathons and a 5k
within the space of seven days. Don’t run with a cold. Don’t try to work and
race at the same time. All very obvious statements you might think. Sometimes
however, you have to experience it for yourself in order to learn from it. I
had no option the following week but to rest. I took four days off, most of
which I spent in bed surrounded by snotty tissues.
There are so many negatives in
running that sometimes it is easy to forget the positives. I always try to be
thankful for what I achieve in athletics, as I know how much others would give
to simply win a race. There is no doubt about it, my schedule for that week was
idiotic and not very professional. It was no wonder that I fell ill. That said,
I came away from it as British half marathon champion and Northern Irish 5k
road champion, and all this just two weeks after the European indoors. It is
only when I take a step back and remind myself of how far I have come, of what
achievements I have already made, can I really refocus my mind.
The niggles that I had collected
throughout the racing week began to settle and my body returned to its normal
state. Two weeks of solid training has occurred since then and my strength and
speed is quickly returning. With the thought of returning to Stanford at the
forefront of my mind, I am eager to get back into hard training to be in the
best shape possible. Time is ticking on, and with only three weeks until race
day, I want to give myself the best opportunity to run well. Last year, it was
my first 10k track race ever, and I just missed out on the Northern Irish
record by less than half a second. This year Stanford will be my third 10k
track race and I am determined to run quicker and perform better than last year.
I am fitter and through the help of my strength and conditioning coach Rich
Blagrove, I am stronger than I ever have been.
I am nowhere near ready to race a
marathon just yet. My training has been geared towards the shorter distances
and different goals. I have, however, not taken my eye off the end goal for
this year. Patience is a difficult virtue in athletics, with many people
wanting instant success and doing too much too soon. Before Christmas, a friend
of mine sent me a countdown timer to the start of the Berlin marathon. I still
have the tab saved on my phone and will do until race day (only 169 days now,
if you must know). When training has been going tough or I am feeling exhausted,
I occasionally open up the tab. It serves as a simple reminder of what my real
goal is. That all this build up, all this track work, while necessary, is just
a bit of fun. A warm up for the main event. July, August and September is when
the real work begins, when I will try and make the step up from solid national
athlete to world class marathon runner. Until then, it is just a question of
keeping fit, grinding out the training and getting the base work done. That
said, I still wouldn’t say no to a personal best and Northern Irish record at
Stanford.
