The illustrious four

Even outside of running circles the sub four minute mile is widely revered. Those who have no idea about what might be a ‘good’ time in running know that if you can cover a mile in less than four minutes, then you must be a proper runner. Ever since I began running for the first time, almost eleven years ago now, a sub four minute mile has been a dream of mine. No matter how many hundreds of people have already achieved it (approximately 1400 people at last count), the four minute barrier still possesses a certain aura, a sense of magic. Therefore, imagine my excitement when, three weeks ago, I found out that I would have my chance to race over the mile distance.

For some reason, I have always believed that I can run three minutes something for the mile. There has never been any doubt in my mind that I could. As time ticked onwards however, I started to question if ever I would. When I first started training as a somewhat cocky seventeen year old, I remember telling my Abbey club teammates that a sub-four minute mile was not difficult. ‘Sure it’s only four laps of sixty seconds. Easy.’ The older members laughed at my naivety and looking back now, so do I. However, while it may not be easy, I have always and still do believe that, for me, it is definitely possible. Every year a list detailing every four minute miler in history is released. Every year one of my same old Abbey teammates emails it to me. ‘Where is your name?’ they ask jokingly. The response has always been the same: ‘Next year mate, next year’. Maybe with the indoor mile race coming up, this year would finally by ‘The year’.

Before the race last week I had only competed in two mile races before. One was close to ten years ago, known as the Mizuno Mile. I remember texting my brother from the finish line, ‘I just ran 3.54 for the mile!’. I conveniently left out the fact that nearly a kilometre of the race was down the steep hill at Stormont in Belfast. The other race was my one and only outdoor track mile race. I have no recollection of ever running it but judging from the poor result (4.28) I am glad it was so forgettable. These days I sometimes do several mile reps quicker in the middle of sessions.

And so it was that I found myself standing on the startline at a small meet in North London last week. After a great start to my indoor season, running a 3000m European indoor qualifying time, I was eager to do just as well in my second race. Training had been going as best as I could have hoped. Everything was geared towards the Tuesday afternoon sessions. I would travel the ninety minutes up in the car to the indoor track with John, my training partner. It would always be quiet going up, knowing the pain that lay in the immediate hours ahead. The return journey was usually a very different story, filled with euphoria in the knowledge that there was a full week until we had to make ourselves hurt as much again. Andy Hobdell, our coach, would come down to watch and advise. The week before the race we had three sets of 2km with 400m jog recovery. Finishing the last rep with a 2.30 kilometre and 55 second last 400m I was hitting speeds that I have never even come close to before. Not bad for a marathon runner! The rest of the week blended into what was essentially a long six day recovery period, interspersed with a six mile tempo run on the Thursday and short hills on the Saturday. Given the training that I had been doing there was no doubt in my mind that I was ready to run a mile in under four minutes.

And the gun went off. The pacemaker went off hard. It felt quick so I hung a few metres back behind the pacemaker in second. The laps passed, sixty seconds followed by a second sixty seconds. I hit 800m in two minutes dead. I was one or two seconds off target pace but still on for a sub four clocking. Now was not the time to panic. I knew the training I had done and the strength and speed that I had. However, as the laps went by I started to slow. The pacemaker had dropped out and I was on my own. From 2.30 at the kilometre mark, I drifted to 3.02, and then to 3.34. I crossed the line in a disappointing 4.06, taking small consolation only in the fact that I had won the race. There are many reasons why I believe I did not break four minutes. Was it the long drive up to the race, or had I not warmed up effectively. Had the strength and conditioning I had done two days previously taken the speed out of my legs. Or had I put myself under so much stress to break four minutes that when it came to the crucial point in the race my mind told myself it was not possible.

Running is a funny sport sometimes. Breaking the four minute barrier has been one of my dreams for so long that I hope I get another chance to go for it this season. Preferably in a competitive race, with other athletes pushing me to do my best. Hopefully by the time the list of milers is published this year, there will be at least one more addition, me. Following the mile race I was disappointed. But as always in athletics, there is another race around the corner to refocus my mind. For me, it is the UK trials this weekend in Sheffield. The startlist has been announced and contains some of the best runners the UK currently has to offer. I am not a sub four minute miler yet but I am fit, injury free and hopefully, have a European Indoor Championships to get ready for at the start of March. While I did not achieve my goal in the race last week, I have no doubt that there will be more opportunities in the months that lie ahead. So until then, it is simply a matter of staying healthy, training hard and continuing to dream.

For anyone who is interested below is a link to a video of the mile race:

http://www.tacdistancerunners.com/lee-valley-open-meeting-wednesday-4th-february.html

Not much has changed, But they lived underwater

Usually in the past six months, as I sit down to write this blog, I find it difficult to pick a subject on which to write. After months of injury with little running, my blog seemed to document only MRI scans, injections and countless physio appointments. This month, however, things are a little bit different. Rarely, have I had a four week period in which so much has happened in my athletic life. The European Cross country feels like a distant memory and even the Christmas holidays feel like a long time ago. You know you are training hard when you forget what sessions you had only a week ago. Each run blends into a forgotten void and all you concentrate on is the next ‘big’ session coming around the next corner.

In hindsight, I was never ready to challenge at the Euro Cross. Bulgaria was my fifth Euro Cross and at each of the previous four, I had performed poorly. I had always gone out hard and soon after, had inevitably begun to suffer and drift backwards. With this at the forefront of my mind on the startline, I decided that I was not going to make the same mistake again. However, there is going off easy, and there is going off easy! After 200m I was one of the few athletes at the back of the field, already giving everyone else a significant advantage. I quickly got into my running and with each lap I was passing runners and making up ground. With about three kilometres to go however, the gaps started becoming wider. It was taking much longer to close down those in front and tiredness began to kick in. Finishing in 23^rd position, I was not happy but it would do. This was my best result yet at a Euro Cross and considering two months previously, I had been told that I may never be able to run competitively again, just being in Bulgaria was a bonus.

I returned home, fit and healthy having had a good experience at racing against some of the best in Europe. With Christmas coming up, I based myself back in Belfast for two weeks. Having missed out on being carded (Irish funding), and with rent still needing to be paid, I returned to work in the Royal Hospital, Belfast. The buzz and team atmosphere of working in an A+E department is one that I have missed while pursuing my running career. However, fitting in training around work is something that I have definitely not missed. Running took a backseat for a few weeks, while I concentrated on my medical work. That said, I was still getting it done, be it on a treadmill or in the dark and wet, at some hour when any normal person should be in bed. I decided to break up the monotony of training on my own by doing the Greencastle 5 mile road race on Boxing Day.

The Greencastle race holds fond memories for me. Back when I was young and running with Abbey AC, this race became a tradition for most members over the Christmas period. On a typical Boxing Day, there would normally be a convoy of four or so packed cars going down from Belfast for the race. Unfortunately, after Bobby (founder and coach of Abbey AC) passed away, the tradition stopped too. Even the drive down bought back memories, passing by places that I had not been past since when Bobby was around.

Like most people, I imagine, I had eaten way too much the previous couple of days. The race was to give me company and save me from doing a tempo run on my own. There was no stress or pre race nerves that morning. On the warm up, I passed by Martin Fagan, a well known Irish athlete with a sub 61min half marathon to his name. So much for an easy run, I knew I would have to work hard for the win. In a blizzard of horizontally blowing snow, the gun went off and as expected Fagan led it out. Without knowing what kind of shape he was in, I sat in. The first mile flew by in 4.27, quickly followed by another 4.28. I doubted I’d be able to sustain this pace. Thankfully, as we came into the third mile I could tell Fagan was hurting too and the pace slowed. Greencastle’s fourth mile is infamous among running circles in Northern Ireland. I imagine it is similar to what running a mile up the side of Everest might feel like, and even that does not do it full justice. Fagan cracked halfway up the mountain and from there it was a case of me against the clock. I sprinted across the line in 24.08, with my face frozen into a caricature of pain. I had knocked six seconds off Gareth Turnbull’s previous record. After so much disrupted training, the race was a great confidence boost, a reminder that I was still getting fitter.

And so, after having spent New Years in a cottage with friends, in the middle of nowhere, with nowhere to run, I returned to London, ready to knuckle down to hard training. The plan for the Spring was to at least make the European Indoor 3k final. My coach wanted me to race in Sheffield at the start of January, the first BMC indoor meet of the year. I was dubious about the benefits or smartness behind racing so soon. I had done no speedwork and the last time I had stepped onto an indoor track was when I had had a disappointing race in the UK trials last March. ‘Just see how you get on’ was his answer. 

I travelled up from London the morning of the race by train on my own. It was an eight hour round journey up north, all to do an eight or nine minute race. I felt terrible. My legs were heavy, my stomach felt bloated and my eyes were tired. I phoned my coach half an hour before the race. Why am I doing this again? I knew I wasn’t ready. ‘I don’t expect you to break eight minutes today’ was his answer. ‘Don’t be disappointed if you don’t even break 8.15. This is just a marker of where you’re at. We still have a lot of work to do. All you have to do is sit in and follow the leader’. And so I sat in. The first kilometre went by in 2.42, as I sat in fourth. The pacemaker dropped out as the laps ticked by. We went through two kilometres in 5.26 (2.42, 2.44), six seconds off eight minute pace. The pain and dry throat that indoor stadia usually induce had still not kicked in. For once I felt good, I felt strong, I felt comfortable. I had moved up into second place with 800m to go. I was concentrating now and feeling awake. Eight minutes might be on after all. There was no clock trackside so I was listening intently to the commentator, trying to work out the maths in my head. We hit 400m to go at 6.59. Eight minutes was most definitely on. Up until this point I had only ran one 63 second lap in a session and no quicker all season. I crossed the finish line in first place but more importantly, I had no idea if I had broken the eight minute barrier. It was a nervous wait. I had already far exceeded my expectations. I finished in a 2.33 last kilometre to run 7.59 and dip under the Irish European Indoors qualifying standard of eight minutes. 

That was three days ago, and I have still not come to terms with how quick I ran. So my message for January 2015 is quite simple. No matter how unfit you think you are, no matter how much you have told yourself that you’re not ready or that you’re not good enough, there is only one way to find out. If you do not try, you will never know. If you don’t force yourself out of your comfort zone, you will never know. I could so very easily have said to Andy, my coach, no let’s skip this race and get some training done instead. If I had, I would not be sitting here now, with my confidence high, looking forward to faster, better races. Perhaps more importantly, I would not have the European Indoor qualifying time. So don’t be afraid of putting yourself on the startline, or of taking up that challenge that scares you, because once, just that once, you might not only surprise others, but also yourself!

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!