Send in the Clowns - BAC 10K Challenge

blockic

Krusty_Clown wrote: »

I found a park less than a mile from the hotel, perfectly designed for runner's needs. Great open pastures and tree covered avenues made for great views and welcome shade. The running was still occasionally broken by the odd railway track or road passing through the park, but otherwise it was a very nice introduction to Germany...

Things I learnt from my run: Germans love parks. Germans only cross the road, when the green man is showing.
Summary: 10 miles in 76 mins, @7:37/mile

Who needs lonely planet when you have Krusty's log! Sounds incredible. The Germans sure do love their parks. In Berlin they converted the old airport land in the middle of the city into an absolutely massive park! Would love to explore it but the last time I was there, alcohol was a bit of a debilitating factor and I didn't make the gates!

Who cares about the training, keep the holiday reports coming!

SeanPuddin

Been to Schiltach myself, you're right it's incredible. Stayed in a crazy inn, with at least 12 deer heads above the bed. Really wish I ran there now!

Krusty_Clown

Well, it's been almost four weeks since I participated in the Davos Alpine marathon, and the memory is finally beginning to fade. I'm not sure if that is a good thing or a bad thing, but I figure I'd better get my thoughts on the race down on paper (electrons) as it's holding me back from updating my training log and with every beer, my recollection of the event is fading rapidly.

So how did I end up in Davos on that fateful morning? The wimmen-folk in the house had decided that a holiday in German and/or Italy would be nice. We decided on a suitable date, and I immediately set out to see if there were any interesting races, that lay along a route connecting the two countries. A quick search in MarathonGuide threw up a number of city marathons in Germany, which I had no interest in (next big city marathon will be another PB attempt) and a race in Switzerland that seemed to tick all the boxes. They had both a full and half marathon option (which would suit the better half), it wasn't flat, it was very scenic and different enough to anything I've done before that it should prove a different and memorable experience. As an added bonus, unlike most of the other places we would visit on our holiday, because of its altitude and position, Davos is quite cool in July (10'C) and it is also their wettest month of the year, so not unlike Irish Autumn conditions.

When I signed up for the race, I had set no expectations other than to enjoy myself. I had no plans to do any specific training as my goal was to jog the route. I'd be satisfied with any time that allowed me to enjoy the sights and finish with a bit of dignity (vanity kicking in!). Reading the periodical newsletters from the organizers, I began to realize that in order to enjoy myself, I was going to have to do a little preparatory training, as this was beginning to look a lot less like a race you could do for sh1ts and giggles and more like an actual challenge.

• Firstly they were recommending altitude acclimatisation for a few days before the race. I assumed this was more about boosting tourism than a real race need. Besides, we'd be in the Black Forest at 330m for a few days before the race (falling well shy of Davos' 1,530m).
• Secondly, the race featured a hell of a lot of 'up'. I did take a look at the elevation profile before I parted with my hard-earned beer tokens, but didn't realize exactly how much 'up' there was, until I attempted a few long uphill runs in the Dublin mountains and came to realize that there weren't any uphills in the area that came within an asses’ roar of the Alpine race.
• Thirdly, there was snow at the top. Not a big deal, but snow tends to be cold and slippy.
• Finally... Trail... I had expected nice forgiving tarmac roads that would lead one gracefully to the top, but there was talk of trail. Didn't matter. I wasn't bringing trail shoes, so running shoes would just have to do.

That's the risk of doing something like this on your holidays. Because it's a flight of fancy, rather than a goal, there's a very real risk that you (or more specifically I) will not give it due consideration and the respect it deserves. And that's pretty much the way it panned out.

Davos:
We arrived in Davos the afternoon before the race, for registration and last-minute acclimatisation (Yes, I know it doesn’t quite work like that!). I had expected to find Heidi-style hamlets, goats and chocolate cuckoo clocks with swiss-army blades for hands, but instead, Davos was a beautiful valley, in which someone had dumped a sh1tty city, where Gucci competed alongside McDonalds and a plate of pasta will set you back more than €20. Registration was a pretty sh1tty affair too. The Swiss may be leaders in the field of precise engineering and squirreling away ill-gotten bags of cash, but when it comes to sign-posting and marathon expos, they have a thing or two to learn. After an unfeasibly expensive dinner, we walked around the town and located the train station and hit the hay for an early night. One breakfast later, Emer walked me down to the Train Station where I awaited the train bound for Bergün.

Race goals:
1) Enjoy myself
2) Run all of the way
3) Finish in under 4 hours
4) Finish in the top 50 / 100 (wasn’t sure which was possible/feasible)
5) But mostly the ‘enjoy myself’ thing. I was, after all, on holidays.

In the days leading up to the event, we had been warned of very unseasonal conditions, where we could expect temperatures of 30’C - 32’C in Bergün, Klosters (where Emer would start) and Davos. As a result, we spent many days humming and hawing about doing the race at all. I’ve run marathons in similar temperatures before, but never at altitude (almost a mile above sea level), never on trails, and never with a mile of ascent. Added together, it just sounded dangerous for a freckled Irish lad, but as soon as I set foot on the train that morning, I was committed. Everyone else on the train that morning seemed to be sporting hydration packs, shiny Salomon trail shoes and every hi-tech piece of gear you could imagine. I felt a little naked in my old runners, shorts, singlet and sun-glasses, with just a couple of gels stuffed into a pocket. In the hour before the race started, I drank as much as I could and I clung to every bit of shade available in the beating sunshine, cheering on those leading brave souls who ran through Bergün on the road to completing their torturous 78km ultra journey.

The Start:
We lined up at the start and after a few minutes of waiting in the baking sunshine, we were off. I knew starting as slowly as I could was the order of the day, but getting passed by half of the entire body of runners was a little frustrating. Within the first mile, I reckon I had dropped down to around 400-500th place, as we wound our way on a short loop of the village, that frustratingly had us climb 100m, just to drop us back down to the village again, which seemed a little unnecessary, given the climbs that lay ahead. By mile 2, some of those runners who had passed me had already started walking as the heat and slight inclines were already taking their toll. I couldn’t imagine how these runners hoped to face what lay ahead. Arriving back in the village we hit the first water stop and though only two miles had passed, I was determined to get some water into the system, to cope with the heat. I grabbed a cup and moved on, only to look into the cup to see a large number of floating particles. I gave it a quick sniff to discover that I’d inadvertently picked up a cup of hot soup. Foiled! No way I could drink soup on an uphill climb in 30’C heat, so I dumped it in frustration and moved on to the start of the climb.

The Climb:
Despite the growing heat, the uphill climb leaving the village was magic. The competitors had thinned out and we were off the roads and onto trails not dissimilar to the kind of fire-roads you’d hit on the Wicklow Way trails. The views were terrific, and I was feeling great. So good in fact, that I was passing runners in droves, feeling like I was out for a jog. We hit a forest section, which meant a brief respite from the sun and I was beaming from ear to ear. Eventually, we left the forest and emerged briefly on a road, before we hit a sudden 100m single track technical drop. Like me, many others didn’t expect to find a really challenging downhill terrain this early in the race, and with no room to pass, a large number of competitors found themselves holding up more practiced downhill runners. I’d class myself in the former group, but ran like the latter, throwing caution to the wind and flailing madly down the twisty uneven surface, concentrating hard to avoid tripping on a tree root, branch or cleft of rock. The sudden switch between uphill muscles and down-hill muscles was tough, but was only a taste of what lay ahead.

Finally we surfaced back out on a road, and the real climb began, strangely, on a concrete road. At this stage, with the heat reflecting off of the concrete and the unrelenting climb, runners were dropping like flies, slowing to a walk. I still felt good, and though the pace had dropped, I was still running. I was however sweating profusely, with salt running into my stinging eyes, making it difficult to see where I was going. After a few more miles and a couple of water stations, we were off the road and onto the trail. Now those running were very much in the minority, with perhaps one in five still technically running. At this point, I was still feeling pretty good. I was still moving well and passing competitors by the dozen. I was beginning to get faux feelings of grandeur; that I was immune to hills and the heat; that I was actually a much better mountain runner than I thought I was; that I was feckin’ deadly. The climb was tough, but if I could keep running until 13 miles, then it was all downhill; plain sailing to the finish line. Whoop!

The Crash:
You know that movie Titanic, where a young feisty DiCaprio stands on the railings and declares that he is ‘The King of the World!’, but soon afterwards loses his wordly belongings, his buxom sweetheart, and ultimately his life? Well I reckon I faced a similarly dramatic change in fortunes and also felt that same sense of loss. After 8 miles (I really must study those elevation graphs) the climb got very steep, and the trail got very rough. If you’re familiar with the stony section of the climb up to the SugarLoaf in Wicklow, then you have a good idea what this terrain was like, but unlike the SugarLoaf, this climb continued for miles. I shortened my stride even further, and continued my run. Less than 1 out of every 10 people were now still running and it was easy to see why. With the steep climb and heat, moving fast came at a significant energy cost. I kept it up through mile 9, and looked at my watch to mark the occasion when I slowed to a walk after 9.25 miles. Over the course of a single mile, I’d shifted from feeling euphoric, to feeling beaten. Still, I had only to get to the 13 mile mark and then it was plain sailing to the finish. Right?

Hands on knees, we forged our way up the hill, occasionally breaking into a trot when the ground levelled out a little, or when an opportunity arose to pass another runner. However, before long, these bursts of speed came less and less frequently. The organizers to their credit had water stations placed every 3 or 4 miles along the route, however on this tough uphill climb, 4 miles meant 45-60 minutes between water stops. As we climbed, the temperature dropped by a couple of degrees and the vista changed, with patches of snow scattered around our route. Eventually, there was snow within reach and I grabbed a handful and held it to the back of my neck. We crossed the occasion alpine stream, which brought the melting snow down the mountain, carrying with it a haze of cool, refreshing air. Some of the larger streams had bridge crossings, while for others you chose to tip-toe across the stepping stones, or throw caution to wind and run through them.

The patches of green disappeared and were replaced with bare rock. The views opened up. We were getting closer to the top. Up ahead we saw an aid station where crowds had gathered, which lifted our spirits, as we broke into a run once more. Lots of cheering crowds, tents, a rescue helicopter as we arrived at the top of the climb. I looked at my watch, relieved that the worst was over, and saw that it had taken my 2:10 to get to this point. That gave me an easy 1:50 to make my way back to Davos. I don’t know if I have ever been as wrong, in my life. A doctor asked me how I was feeling, and I mumbled something to reassure him that I was ok, before grabbing some Isotonic tea and hitting the descent. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I hit the peak (altitude of 2,600m, after having started at 1,300m) in 34th place, out of the 1,200 finishers.

The Way Down:
Whatever hope I’d built up on reaching Kesch (the peak), was burst immediately as we hit the downhill. In my naivety, I had pictured a nice soft, bouncy, grassy trail, all the way to the finish. Instead we faced the rocky Sugarloaf-like trail once more, only this time, we were heading downhill and the risks were far greater. Soon afterwards we hit the first snow-crossing and I figured out why all the other runners were wearing shiny new Salomon trail shoes. My ageing Mizuno Precisions had absolutely no grip on the icy surface and with a precarious drop on one side, I could only gingerly step across the icy expanse. Snow was followed once more by loose rock, and then snow, and more rock. This pattern continued for about a mile, until we started climbing again. But, but, but… Where are the meadows and lazy, rolling down-hills? I cursed myself as I took in the expanse of the next few miles, and the climb that led us even higher than the peak we had just left. Why hadn’t I spent more time looking at the elevation profile? I cursed myself some more. Plenty more…

The Way Back Up Again:
I was following in the footsteps of another runner, when all of a sudden, he dropped to the ground, as though he had been shot. Great… Now on top of everything, we have to deal with snipers.. As I arrived at his position, he lay prone on the ground, clutching his calf muscles. I was glad of the break, as I offered to help him stretch to relieve the cramps. I pushed his feet forward, as I’d seen it done in many a football match, as he thanked me in a flurry of rapidly-spoken Italian. After a couple of minutes, he thanked me again and urged me onwards. I started climbing again as best I could, my uphill muscles having gotten a brief respite on the tricky downhill. I made it a further ½ mile, before my own legs muscles seized up with cramps. I hobbled out of the way of the approaching runners, as an Italian spectator made his way towards me to provide some aid. He took over the job of kneading my cramped quads (and if I’m being honest there was a bit of willy action there as well), while I stuffed down a gel to try to ease the cramps. We both thanked each other (each having gotten something out of the arrangement), before I hobbled onwards. As the route steepened, my will to continue drained away. With every step, I slowed. The terrain was very tough (icy streams, loose rock) and I felt pretty spent. I trudged my way to the top of the second climb (2,733m) this time with little enthusiasm for what lay ahead, again mumbling to the medical staff, wishing I had the courage to just give up.

The Real Way Down:
I was growing increasingly used to disappointment, so when I crested the second peak I wasn’t surprised that the terrain did not match the mental picture I had built up in my mind before the race. On a mountain bike with a full set of crash pads, the descent would have been bliss. Loose grit, steep drops, sweeping curves and large rocks would have been a thrill, but with 16 tough miles in the legs, cramping muscles and nothing left in the tank, I felt only despair. For the first time in my brief running ‘career’, I wanted out. I didn’t want to play any more. I still had 10 miles to go and my will to keep going had left me. But there was nowhere to go but down.

I stepped aside as runners with grippy shoes pushed into the corners, using the momentum of each twist and turn to launch themselves in another direction. By contrast, I had to brake into each corner, as my shoes gained little traction on the fine dusty surface. After a very tough mile of descent, we hit a mountain ridge and the terrain softened a bit, and for a couple of miles, I could run without breaking on the painful cramped quads.

The Last bit:
When the watch announced that I’d reached the 20 mile mark, I could only grunt. Normally this signalled the final 10k and a shift in mind-set to prepare for the tough struggle ahead. However, on this occasion, I had already succumbed, and the prospect of another six miles brought only further despair. My stomach was suffering and I could no longer contemplate the ISO sports drinks at the water-stations dotted around the landscape. I was so thirsty, but drinking water merely brought on a bloated feeling and never seemed to quench my thirst. As we lost altitude, the temperatures rose, and again, we were in the 30’s. I felt like I was being passed my hundreds of runners, but at this stage, didn’t give a damn. On downhill sections I could still run, but as soon as we hit the slightest of climbs, I was reduced to a slow walk.

After 24 miles, we entered a forest once more and the shelter from the sun was welcome, but like me, everyone around me was spent. Single track trails were the order of the day again, but this time I didn't have the energy to tackle the twisty downhills. I stumbled my way through the forest, stopping to massage cramped muscles or trudge up a climb. At one point, I crossed a rope bridge over a ravine, but looking down, I was hit by a wave of nausea inducing vertigo. I have never suffered from anything like this before, so think it may have been down to my depleted state. I had to avoid looking down the steep fall-offs for the next couple of miles, because of the resulting waves of dizziness.

Eventually I broke out of the forest and back onto the roads towards Davos. A group of three runners caught me, which briefly resulted in some enthusiasm, as I pushed on, on the flat or downhill sections, only to have them catch me on the climbs. There were more downhills left than climbs, and I pushed on over the last mile, little realizing that I had been running with the great Lizzie Hawker, who has won or finished in second place in the K78 event for the last number of years. Arriving back into Davos, I finally mustered some enthusiasm (more because I could see an end to this nightmare, rather than trying to derive any sense of dignity), and crossed the finish line after 4 hours and 56 minutes (in 54th place out of the 1200 runners).

Looking back, it’s hard to muster any sense of achievement or accomplishment from the race. In fact, apart from the endurance element, I’m not sure if I got anything from the race at all, which goes some way towards explaining why it has taken me so long to write this race report. I’m used to having the occasional mental failure, or physical failure, but rarely both at the same time. I planned for the race really badly and executed it really badly. Had the weather been different, had I carried salt tablets and worn trail shoes, had I spent some time analyzing the elevation profile and researching the course, I think I might have enjoyed an entirely different outcome. But the weather was hot and I was ill-prepared and suffered the consequences. If I had known that it would be a five hour pain-filled trudge, would I do it again? Like hell I would. Still, there’s a seed planted. Now I know what the course is like and what to expect, I can't help but wonder if I could break four hours in favourable weather conditions. I don’t think I’ll ever get to find out.

Race Achievements:
1) Enjoy myself
2) Run all of the way
3) Finish in under 4 hours
4) Finish in the top 50 / 100
5) But mostly the ‘enjoy myself’ thing. I was, after all, on holidays.

Summary: 26.x miles in 4:56.

Gavlor

Great report....

You do realise that's what most normal feel like during regular marathons??!

menoscemo

Great report KC.
Any chance you could set your garmin account to 'Public' so i can have a good look at the race profile?

Krusty_Clown

menoscemo wrote: »

Great report KC.
Any chance you could set your garmin account to 'Public' so i can have a good look at the race profile?

Should be public now. Here's the official race altitude profile (that I should have spent more time interpreting!).

menoscemo

Krusty_Clown wrote: »

Should be public now. Here's the official race altitude profile (that I should have spent more time interpreting!).

:eek:

nerraw1111

Great report. Course sounds amazing.

54th is an excellent result.

RayCun

Still 54th out of 1200, even with everything that went wrong. Bravo
Do you think, with the right shoes, better weather, better knowledge of the terrain and profile...?
... but it sounds like you wouldn't enjoy the race enough, even in the best of circumstances, to make it worth returning.

pistol_75

Sounds like a savage race. A fella from our club did an Ultra over in that region I think a week or 2 after your race 141K from Samedan to Davos. He finished 21st in a little under 36 hours.

To put it in context of a marathon he ran sub 3 in Dublin last year.

Marthastew

Krusty_Clown wrote: »

Well, it's been almost four weeks since I participated in the Davos Alpine marathon, and the memory is finally beginning to fade. I'm not sure if that is a good thing or a bad thing, but I figure I'd better get my thoughts on the race down on paper (electrons) as it's holding me back from updating my training log and with every beer, my recollection of the event is fading rapidly.

So how did I end up in Davos on that fateful morning? The wimmen-folk in the house had decided that a holiday in German and/or Italy would be nice. We decided on a suitable date, and I immediately set out to see if there were any interesting races, that lay along a route connecting the two countries. A quick search in MarathonGuide threw up a number of city marathons in Germany, which I had no interest in (next big city marathon will be another PB attempt) and a race in Switzerland that seemed to tick all the boxes. They had both a full and half marathon option (which would suit the better half), it wasn't flat, it was very scenic and different enough to anything I've done before that it should prove a different and memorable experience. As an added bonus, unlike most of the other places we would visit on our holiday, because of its altitude and position, Davos is quite cool in July (10'C) and it is also their wettest month of the year, so not unlike Irish Autumn conditions.

When I signed up for the race, I had set no expectations other than to enjoy myself. I had no plans to do any specific training as my goal was to jog the route. I'd be satisfied with any time that allowed me to enjoy the sights and finish with a bit of dignity (vanity kicking in!). Reading the periodical newsletters from the organizers, I began to realize that in order to enjoy myself, I was going to have to do a little preparatory training, as this was beginning to look a lot less like a race you could do for sh1ts and giggles and more like an actual challenge.

• Firstly they were recommending altitude acclimatisation for a few days before the race. I assumed this was more about boosting tourism than a real race need. Besides, we'd be in the Black Forest at 330m for a few days before the race (falling well shy of Davos' 1,530m).
• Secondly, the race featured a hell of a lot of 'up'. I did take a look at the elevation profile before I parted with my hard-earned beer tokens, but didn't realize exactly how much 'up' there was, until I attempted a few long uphill runs in the Dublin mountains and came to realize that there weren't any uphills in the area that came within an asses’ roar of the Alpine race.
• Thirdly, there was snow at the top. Not a big deal, but snow tends to be cold and slippy.
• Finally... Trail... I had expected nice forgiving tarmac roads that would lead one gracefully to the top, but there was talk of trail. Didn't matter. I wasn't bringing trail shoes, so running shoes would just have to do.

That's the risk of doing something like this on your holidays. Because it's a flight of fancy, rather than a goal, there's a very real risk that you (or more specifically I) will not give it due consideration and the respect it deserves. And that's pretty much the way it panned out.

Davos:
We arrived in Davos the afternoon before the race, for registration and last-minute acclimatisation (Yes, I know it doesn’t quite work like that!). I had expected to find Heidi-style hamlets, goats and chocolate cuckoo clocks with swiss-army blades for hands, but instead, Davos was a beautiful valley, in which someone had dumped a sh1tty city, where Gucci competed alongside McDonalds and a plate of pasta will set you back more than €20. Registration was a pretty sh1tty affair too. The Swiss may be leaders in the field of precise engineering and squirreling away ill-gotten bags of cash, but when it comes to sign-posting and marathon expos, they have a thing or two to learn. After an unfeasibly expensive dinner, we walked around the town and located the train station and hit the hay for an early night. One breakfast later, Emer walked me down to the Train Station where I awaited the train bound for Bergün.

Race goals:
1) Enjoy myself
2) Run all of the way
3) Finish in under 4 hours
4) Finish in the top 50 / 100 (wasn’t sure which was possible/feasible)
5) But mostly the ‘enjoy myself’ thing. I was, after all, on holidays.

In the days leading up to the event, we had been warned of very unseasonal conditions, where we could expect temperatures of 30’C - 32’C in Bergün, Klosters (where Emer would start) and Davos. As a result, we spent many days humming and hawing about doing the race at all. I’ve run marathons in similar temperatures before, but never at altitude (almost a mile above sea level), never on trails, and never with a mile of ascent. Added together, it just sounded dangerous for a freckled Irish lad, but as soon as I set foot on the train that morning, I was committed. Everyone else on the train that morning seemed to be sporting hydration packs, shiny Salomon trail shoes and every hi-tech piece of gear you could imagine. I felt a little naked in my old runners, shorts, singlet and sun-glasses, with just a couple of gels stuffed into a pocket. In the hour before the race started, I drank as much as I could and I clung to every bit of shade available in the beating sunshine, cheering on those leading brave souls who ran through Bergün on the road to completing their torturous 78km ultra journey.

The Start:
We lined up at the start and after a few minutes of waiting in the baking sunshine, we were off. I knew starting as slowly as I could was the order of the day, but getting passed by half of the entire body of runners was a little frustrating. Within the first mile, I reckon I had dropped down to around 400-500th place, as we wound our way on a short loop of the village, that frustratingly had us climb 100m, just to drop us back down to the village again, which seemed a little unnecessary, given the climbs that lay ahead. By mile 2, some of those runners who had passed me had already started walking as the heat and slight inclines were already taking their toll. I couldn’t imagine how these runners hoped to face what lay ahead. Arriving back in the village we hit the first water stop and though only two miles had passed, I was determined to get some water into the system, to cope with the heat. I grabbed a cup and moved on, only to look into the cup to see a large number of floating particles. I gave it a quick sniff to discover that I’d inadvertently picked up a cup of hot soup. Foiled! No way I could drink soup on an uphill climb in 30’C heat, so I dumped it in frustration and moved on to the start of the climb.

The Climb:
Despite the growing heat, the uphill climb leaving the village was magic. The competitors had thinned out and we were off the roads and onto trails not dissimilar to the kind of fire-roads you’d hit on the Wicklow Way trails. The views were terrific, and I was feeling great. So good in fact, that I was passing runners in droves, feeling like I was out for a jog. We hit a forest section, which meant a brief respite from the sun and I was beaming from ear to ear. Eventually, we left the forest and emerged briefly on a road, before we hit a sudden 100m single track technical drop. Like me, many others didn’t expect to find a really challenging downhill terrain this early in the race, and with no room to pass, a large number of competitors found themselves holding up more practiced downhill runners. I’d class myself in the former group, but ran like the latter, throwing caution to the wind and flailing madly down the twisty uneven surface, concentrating hard to avoid tripping on a tree root, branch or cleft of rock. The sudden switch between uphill muscles and down-hill muscles was tough, but was only a taste of what lay ahead.

Finally we surfaced back out on a road, and the real climb began, strangely, on a concrete road. At this stage, with the heat reflecting off of the concrete and the unrelenting climb, runners were dropping like flies, slowing to a walk. I still felt good, and though the pace had dropped, I was still running. I was however sweating profusely, with salt running into my stinging eyes, making it difficult to see where I was going. After a few more miles and a couple of water stations, we were off the road and onto the trail. Now those running were very much in the minority, with perhaps one in five still technically running. At this point, I was still feeling pretty good. I was still moving well and passing competitors by the dozen. I was beginning to get faux feelings of grandeur; that I was immune to hills and the heat; that I was actually a much better mountain runner than I thought I was; that I was feckin’ deadly. The climb was tough, but if I could keep running until 13 miles, then it was all downhill; plain sailing to the finish line. Whoop!

The Crash:
You know that movie Titanic, where a young feisty DiCaprio stands on the railings and declares that he is ‘The King of the World!’, but soon afterwards loses his wordly belongings, his buxom sweetheart, and ultimately his life? Well I reckon I faced a similarly dramatic change in fortunes and also felt that same sense of loss. After 8 miles (I really must study those elevation graphs) the climb got very steep, and the trail got very rough. If you’re familiar with the stony section of the climb up to the SugarLoaf in Wicklow, then you have a good idea what this terrain was like, but unlike the SugarLoaf, this climb continued for miles. I shortened my stride even further, and continued my run. Less than 1 out of every 10 people were now still running and it was easy to see why. With the steep climb and heat, moving fast came at a significant energy cost. I kept it up through mile 9, and looked at my watch to mark the occasion when I slowed to a walk after 9.25 miles. Over the course of a single mile, I’d shifted from feeling euphoric, to feeling beaten. Still, I had only to get to the 13 mile mark and then it was plain sailing to the finish. Right?

Hands on knees, we forged our way up the hill, occasionally breaking into a trot when the ground levelled out a little, or when an opportunity arose to pass another runner. However, before long, these bursts of speed came less and less frequently. The organizers to their credit had water stations placed every 3 or 4 miles along the route, however on this tough uphill climb, 4 miles meant 45-60 minutes between water stops. As we climbed, the temperature dropped by a couple of degrees and the vista changed, with patches of snow scattered around our route. Eventually, there was snow within reach and I grabbed a handful and held it to the back of my neck. We crossed the occasion alpine stream, which brought the melting snow down the mountain, carrying with it a haze of cool, refreshing air. Some of the larger streams had bridge crossings, while for others you chose to tip-toe across the stepping stones, or throw caution to wind and run through them.

The patches of green disappeared and were replaced with bare rock. The views opened up. We were getting closer to the top. Up ahead we saw an aid station where crowds had gathered, which lifted our spirits, as we broke into a run once more. Lots of cheering crowds, tents, a rescue helicopter as we arrived at the top of the climb. I looked at my watch, relieved that the worst was over, and saw that it had taken my 2:10 to get to this point. That gave me an easy 1:50 to make my way back to Davos. I don’t know if I have ever been as wrong, in my life. A doctor asked me how I was feeling, and I mumbled something to reassure him that I was ok, before grabbing some Isotonic tea and hitting the descent. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I hit the peak (altitude of 2,600m, after having started at 1,300m) in 34th place, out of the 1,200 finishers.

The Way Down:
Whatever hope I’d built up on reaching Kesch (the peak), was burst immediately as we hit the downhill. In my naivety, I had pictured a nice soft, bouncy, grassy trail, all the way to the finish. Instead we faced the rocky Sugarloaf-like trail once more, only this time, we were heading downhill and the risks were far greater. Soon afterwards we hit the first snow-crossing and I figured out why all the other runners were wearing shiny new Salomon trail shoes. My ageing Mizuno Precisions had absolutely no grip on the icy surface and with a precarious drop on one side, I could only gingerly step across the icy expanse. Snow was followed once more by loose rock, and then snow, and more rock. This pattern continued for about a mile, until we started climbing again. But, but, but… Where are the meadows and lazy, rolling down-hills? I cursed myself as I took in the expanse of the next few miles, and the climb that led us even higher than the peak we had just left. Why hadn’t I spent more time looking at the elevation profile? I cursed myself some more. Plenty more…

The Way Back Up Again:
I was following in the footsteps of another runner, when all of a sudden, he dropped to the ground, as though he had been shot. Great… Now on top of everything, we have to deal with snipers.. As I arrived at his position, he lay prone on the ground, clutching his calf muscles. I was glad of the break, as I offered to help him stretch to relieve the cramps. I pushed his feet forward, as I’d seen it done in many a football match, as he thanked me in a flurry of rapidly-spoken Italian. After a couple of minutes, he thanked me again and urged me onwards. I started climbing again as best I could, my uphill muscles having gotten a brief respite on the tricky downhill. I made it a further ½ mile, before my own legs muscles seized up with cramps. I hobbled out of the way of the approaching runners, as an Italian spectator made his way towards me to provide some aid. He took over the job of kneading my cramped quads (and if I’m being honest there was a bit of willy action there as well), while I stuffed down a gel to try to ease the cramps. We both thanked each other (each having gotten something out of the arrangement), before I hobbled onwards. As the route steepened, my will to continue drained away. With every step, I slowed. The terrain was very tough (icy streams, loose rock) and I felt pretty spent. I trudged my way to the top of the second climb (2,733m) this time with little enthusiasm for what lay ahead, again mumbling to the medical staff, wishing I had the courage to just give up.

The Real Way Down:
I was growing increasingly used to disappointment, so when I crested the second peak I wasn’t surprised that the terrain did not match the mental picture I had built up in my mind before the race. On a mountain bike with a full set of crash pads, the descent would have been bliss. Loose grit, steep drops, sweeping curves and large rocks would have been a thrill, but with 16 tough miles in the legs, cramping muscles and nothing left in the tank, I felt only despair. For the first time in my brief running ‘career’, I wanted out. I didn’t want to play any more. I still had 10 miles to go and my will to keep going had left me. But there was nowhere to go but down.

I stepped aside as runners with grippy shoes pushed into the corners, using the momentum of each twist and turn to launch themselves in another direction. By contrast, I had to brake into each corner, as my shoes gained little traction on the fine dusty surface. After a very tough mile of descent, we hit a mountain ridge and the terrain softened a bit, and for a couple of miles, I could run without breaking on the painful cramped quads.

The Last bit:
When the watch announced that I’d reached the 20 mile mark, I could only grunt. Normally this signalled the final 10k and a shift in mind-set to prepare for the tough struggle ahead. However, on this occasion, I had already succumbed, and the prospect of another six miles brought only further despair. My stomach was suffering and I could no longer contemplate the ISO sports drinks at the water-stations dotted around the landscape. I was so thirsty, but drinking water merely brought on a bloated feeling and never seemed to quench my thirst. As we lost altitude, the temperatures rose, and again, we were in the 30’s. I felt like I was being passed my hundreds of runners, but at this stage, didn’t give a damn. On downhill sections I could still run, but as soon as we hit the slightest of climbs, I was reduced to a slow walk.

After 24 miles, we entered a forest once more and the shelter from the sun was welcome, but like me, everyone around me was spent. Single track trails were the order of the day again, but this time I didn't have the energy to tackle the twisty downhills. I stumbled my way through the forest, stopping to massage cramped muscles or trudge up a climb. At one point, I crossed a rope bridge over a ravine, but looking down, I was hit by a wave of nausea inducing vertigo. I have never suffered from anything like this before, so think it may have been down to my depleted state. I had to avoid looking down the steep fall-offs for the next couple of miles, because of the resulting waves of dizziness.

Eventually I broke out of the forest and back onto the roads towards Davos. A group of three runners caught me, which briefly resulted in some enthusiasm, as I pushed on, on the flat or downhill sections, only to have them catch me on the climbs. There were more downhills left than climbs, and I pushed on over the last mile, little realizing that I had been running with the great Lizzie Hawker, who has won or finished in second place in the K78 event for the last number of years. Arriving back into Davos, I finally mustered some enthusiasm (more because I could see an end to this nightmare, rather than trying to derive any sense of dignity), and crossed the finish line after 4 hours and 56 minutes (in 54th place out of the 1200 runners).

Looking back, it’s hard to muster any sense of achievement or accomplishment from the race. In fact, apart from the endurance element, I’m not sure if I got anything from the race at all, which goes some way towards explaining why it has taken me so long to write this race report. I’m used to having the occasional mental failure, or physical failure, but rarely both at the same time. I planned for the race really badly and executed it really badly. Had the weather been different, had I carried salt tablets and worn trail shoes, had I spent some time analyzing the elevation profile and researching the course, I think I might have enjoyed an entirely different outcome. But the weather was hot and I was ill-prepared and suffered the consequences. If I had known that it would be a five hour pain-filled trudge, would I do it again? Like hell I would. Still, there’s a seed planted. Now I know what the course is like and what to expect, I can't help but wonder if I could break four hours in favourable weather conditions. I don’t think I’ll ever get to find out.

Race Achievements:
1) Enjoy myself
2) Run all of the way
3) Finish in under 4 hours
4) Finish in the top 50 / 100
5) But mostly the ‘enjoy myself’ thing. I was, after all, on holidays.

Summary: 26.x miles in 4:56.

:D:D

Loved the report, if only there was photographic evidence of you running in the snow;)
(you have to attach that photo, it's so good it looks fake)

Krusty_Clown

Marthastew wrote: »

:D:D

Loved the report, if only there was photographic evidence of you running in the snow;)
(you have to attach that photo, it's so good it looks fake)

What you mean like this fake photo-shopped evidence?! Love that photograph. The fact that it looks entirely fake just makes it even better! This one is a little more convincing.

Krusty_Clown

24th July: 7 mile early morning run along the Black Forest Valley
Stomach a bit dodge from too much fine German bier, my time was divided between finding a quiet spot to go to the loo, and enjoying the peace and solitude of the valley. Legged it back to the hotel in the end, as the potential guilt over despoiling the beautiful valley was greater than the pain of holding it in for a few fast miles.
Summary: 7 miles in 54 mins, @7:43/mile

25th July: Lots of cycling and running
We drove to Oberwolfach, where we rented some bikes and then cycled the 6 miles along the river to Hausach, where we got the train (with bikes) up to Triberg. The Germans really have it sussed when it comes to looking after those who partake in outdoor activities. Whether you're a runner, cyclist, swimmer, or general thrill-seeker, whatever takes your fancy, you are completely looked after. Every town has interconnected cycling and running paths, every train accommodates a horde of cyclists, everyone is actively encouraged to use their fantastic public transport facilities and everything just works. Before this trip, I had my doubts about visiting Germany as a holiday destination (having skipped through a number of times for work), but not any more. I'd love to go back and spend some more time.
But back to Triberg. After a 30 minute train ride, we had climbed around 500m, and another 100m of climb took us up to the Triberg waterfalls. We walked around the waterfalls for around an hour, before we got bored and headed back to pick up our bikes, which was where the fun really started. 10 miles of downhill cycling, around sweeping bends in the road, with fantastic views of the valley ahead, which took us on fleeting trips through various lumberyards, past Europe's largest cuckoo clock. If you have to cycle, this is the way to do it. 45 Minutes of sweeping downhill. Eventually, we arrived at an all-weather luge, and had to have a go, before mounting the bikes again and returning to Oberwolfach. So not a huge amount of training involved, but with a marathon just a couple of days later, a great way to spend an afternoon.

Evening: After arriving back at the hotel, I felt the need to get a few miles under the belt, so headed out to find some more hills. I came across a 'Bible Trail' where every couple of hundred metres, some incomprehensible icon had been placed alongside one of the valley's many scenic viewing points. Despite the lateness of the evening, it was a stiff climb (250m gain) in 30'C heat, that instead of calming my nerves created a sense of unease, with regard to what lay ahead in Davos. More Doubting Thomas than blind faith. So much for the biblical trail.
Summary: 4.5 hot hilly miles in 39 minutes.

26th July: Travel/Rest day

27th July: Davos Alpine Marathon

28th July: Travel/Rest day

29th July: The day after the race, we packed our bags, and painfully climbed into the car, and headed down through Switzerland into Italy and finally onwards to our destination: the small town of Sirmione a peninsula on Lake Garda. We spent a day sight-seeing and eating ice-cream, and by the next morning I felt I was ready for a short run. Nothing fancy, just a very slow 5k, around the castle and ancient shopping streets of Sirmione. At this hour just before 9am) the streets and beaches are deserted; a far cry from the crazy hustle and bustle of the afternoon and evening. The slow easy run was just what I needed to keep the crazies at bay.
Summary: 5k in 27 mins.

30th July: Easy four mile run in Austria
No rest for the wicked, we had uprooted and headed to Austria, where the plan was an overnight stop on the road to Ludwig of Bavaria's Neuschwanstein Castle, but I couldn't turn up the opportunity to go for a four mile run, while stopping off in a different country. We were staying in a B&B in a tiny remote town on the Austrian/German border, where clearly they weren't used to seeing strangers. The town lay in a valley overlooked by two incredible castle ruins, which had historically (at different times) lorded over the Salt Road. I'd love to have visited the castes on my run, but they lay greater than four tough uphill miles from our place of lodging, and my post-marathon legs were not in any kind of shape for a tough uphill or downhill climb. So I ran along the valley and enjoyed the views from afar.
Summary: 4 recovery miles in 34 mins

31st July: 7 Easy miles in Munich
After an incredible stop off at the Swan King's castle, we moved onwards to our final destination: Munich. No sooner than we had arrived, I threw on the running gear and set off to find the Olympic Park. Another scorching run, but I was taking it handy and getting pretty used to running in the heat. The needle in the Olympic Park was like a beacon, drawing me from the suburbs of the city. Fantastic to run around such a historic landmark, even though many of the Olympic stadia and facilities were locked off and out of bounds. Like Phoenix Park, the Olympiapark drew runners, cyclists and skaters from miles around, and was a thriving hub of activity. My legs were gradually recovering and day by day, my easy pace was picking up by small degrees.
Summary: 6.43 miles in 48 mins.

1st August: Drinking day. No running!

2nd August: 7 easy miles along the Isar river
Headed in the opposite direction this time, through the centre of the city, passing the Hofbräuhaus (where the previous day I had enjoyed beer in litre sized glass mugs), through the English Garden (where I had also enjoyed beer in Litre sized glass mugs (which goes some way to explaining why I didn't manage to run the previous day) until I hit the Isar river. Some fantastic paths and trails alongside the river, and I was struck by the fact that this was perhaps another city I could live in. Good runs, good times.
Summary: 7.32 miles in 57 mins

Afternoon: Munich cycle tour
Not really sure that this counts as training or exercise, but we rented bikes and joined an entertaining tour around Munich. the closest we got to exercise, was jumping in the fast flowing river in the English garden, and trying to climb out along the banks that dotted the river. Then we all went back to the English garden, for more beer in litre sized glass mugs.
Summary: Around 6 miles in around 2 hours (there was drink involved).

Krusty_Clown

3rd August: 10k easy
Back home (boo!). So just an easy 6.3 miles to get over the travel and stretch the legs. Summary: 6.36 miles in 46 mins.

4th August: 10k easy
Legs were feeling back to normal. For some foolish reason I'd signed up for the Dun Laoghaire Bay 10k, just a week after the Davos marathon, so I headed down to DunL to pick up my number. Met up with BeepBeep and had a chat and was in and out in 5 minutes. Top notch organization. Summary: 6.4 miles in 46:39. Followed up with three hours of top-rope rock climbing, just to work on the German beer-gut.

5th August: Dun Laoghaire Bay 10k
Took advantage of some handy parking outside Marthastew's house, and joined herself and Mr Stew for an easy mile before joining the 'elite' pen (basically anyone who could run under 40 minutes). A few familiar faces before the start of the race (mostly from Wicklow clubs as many of the faster runners had opted for the Rock N Roll HM), but still a few lads faster than me and another few who'd be of a similar standard. Weather was good, but with a slight Northerly wind, the first and last miles could be tough.

As the gun went, I found myself in around 20th place but was easing myself into the race. I pushed past some runners in order to get into a group that I could use to shelter from the wind. Pretty soon afterwards, we had fanned out into a line and I made up a few spots as the football-shorts brigade dropped off the pace (mile 1: 5:41). There was a leading group of 4 runners around 150m ahead, and a second group 40-50m ahead, so I worked my way up to them, before we hit the first of the hills. I was happy enough to let them drag me up the hills, but was feeling good, so made up a few more spots before we hit Monkstown Road (Mile 2: 5:49). I was feeling way too comfortable on the hills at this stage (the benefits of the previous week's 5 hour mountain expedition!) so without consciously doing so, I pushed on past the group, with one lad from Donore taking up the pursuit.

I glanced back occasionally, to see the chasing group falling behind, so just maintained the pace, with just Donore in my shadow. He accidentally clipped my heel a couple of times, and the second time I let out a bit of a grunt, and he widened the gap a little. Hitting the mid-point (and the top of the hill) I was still feeling good (mile 3: 5:43), so picked up the pace a little and gradually, the Donore runner fell behind. Then I was on my own for the rest of the race, winding my way through the twists and turns, trying to make up time lost on the hills. Mile 4: 5:32 (some uphill). Mile 5 is a twisty turny affair, but comfortably donwhill (5:16). Mile 6 was back to the flat and into the wind, so I suffered a little, but knowing that I was closing on the finishing line helped. The closing .2 miles weren't elegant, but enough to cross the finish line in a moderately respectable 35:19, for fifth place (and first M40).

Taking place just 9 days after Davos, I had no expectations about how I'd perform, or what time I could run, so I was happy enough with the outcome. I wasn't within touching distance of the four lads ahead of me, and didn't have the beating of them, so finished as far up the field as I could have on that particular day. Followed up the race with a very pleasant dip down at the 40 foot with the Stews, and learned a wealth of information about jellyfish from junior-stew, before Stew senior bought us all an ice-cream. Result!
Summary: 10k in 35:19 for 5th place.

RunningKing

This is like a mini-series or a reality tv show "living with Krusty" - still 2 more weeks of updates to go.

- What'll KC get up to next ? A 5k vertical climb or a 10k in a mankini......tune in later today to find out.

Great updates!

Killerz

Grear report, KC, really enjoyed reading it, and glad I wasn't doing it. That 'specialised' aid station/ massage area along the way sounds like an interesting addition to the race scene - I wonder is it something that could be rolled out to a wider racing audience at more races?

Abhainn

Really enjoyed reading that epic report KC.
That 2nd peak was at 9000ft! That must have been a big factor too
But I don't think you'll ever go into a sufferfest event like that again as green as you did.

Fine achievement considering foot wear choice etc +

theboyblunder

great running KC - its basically a 26.2 ultra with a 30C temp gradient. Great report too

Krusty_Clown

RunningKing wrote: »

This is like a mini-series or a reality tv show "living with Krusty" - still 2 more weeks of updates to go.

It's ok. I'm back home, so it'll all be less Eldorado, and more Coronation Street from now on.

theboyblunder wrote:

Its basically a 26.2 ultra with a 30C temp gradient. Great report too

You kind of have to think about it in those terms. It's about as far removed from running a flat marathon, as running a 5k on a track; I just didn't appreciate that at the time. I was really confused when I crossed the finish line and there was nobody around. I figured I was somewhere around 300-400th position, as I reckoned I'd literally been passed by hundreds and hundreds of runners, where in fact I lost 20 spots between the first peak and the finish line. Everyone went through the same conditions. Man, the more I think about it the more I want to go back.

opus

Krusty_Clown wrote: »

Well, it's been almost four weeks since I participated in the Davos Alpine marathon, and the memory is finally beginning to fade. I'm not sure if that is a good thing or a bad thing, but I figure I'd better get my thoughts on the race down on paper (electrons) as it's holding me back from updating my training log and with every beer, my recollection of the event is fading rapidly.

Great report (& run!) almost felt like I was there. You know Comrades could offer you more of that 'hills & heat' action, tempted at all

Krusty_Clown

opus wrote: »

Great report (& run!) almost felt like I was there. You know Comrades could offer you more of that 'hills & heat' action, tempted at all

Oh, most definitely. It's been top of my bucket-list for years, but life continues to get in the way. I can only imagine I'll get one shot at it, and as such, I'd rather do an uphill year than a downhill year. I couldn't do it this year, as it coincided with my son's leaving cert. In two years time, it will coincide with my daughter's junior cert. In four years time, it will coincide with my daughter's leaving certificate. By 2019, I fully expect to be focussing my attentions on rock-climbing, having ruptured and torn every muscle and ligament in my legs.

RayCun

Persuade your daughter to do a transition year

Krusty_Clown

5th August (evening): 8 miles easy.
I convinced myself that I could step back into the Jack Daniels plan, and 'lo and behold found myself in a 100 mile week. Nothing for it but an 8 mile recovery run the evening after the 10k. ...and this is why I need to get my training log back up to date. So people can remind me that I'm being a gob-sh1te, before it's too late. Anyway, I plodded around the local park for a further 8 miles in 62 mins, @7:46/mile

6th August: 7.5 + 7.5 miles easy
Continuing the high mileage trend, with an easy run in the park at lunch-time, followed by an easy run home, taking the hill rout via Stepaside

7th August: Jack Daniels Plan A: 4 x 2 miles at tempo w/2 mins rest
Continuing the stupidity trend, I hit the cinder track for 4 x 2 miles at tempo (around 5:48/mile) just two days after the 10k. It was understandably tough, but I managed to hit the right notes for all of the sections.
Intervals: 11:28 / 11:33 / 11:34 / 11:39
The 3 mile run back to work was criminally tough, but nothing compared to the Alpine suffer-fest, so if nothing else, the Alpine experience ingrained a little toughness.
Summary: 14.67 miles in 1:43

8th August: 5.5 + 5 + 5.5 miles
Easy run to work, recovery run at lunch-time with Keith and an easy run home.

9th August: 5 recovery + 6 easy miles
An early morning recovery run was a stiff and painful arthritic affair. The kind of run that makes you question why the hell you bother at all. Thankfully, by lunch-time I had loosened up, and managed a more comfortable 6 miles in 43 minutes, feeling good again.

10th August: 22 miles steady
Met up with Pronator and Pre in Greystones, and we headed out on an undulating route, that took in hilly Greystones and out the N11 to Newtown Mount Kennedy. It was pretty humid, so I ditched the shirt after around 5 miles (note to self: must go back for it!). Despite the pace, I found the hills comfortable enough, but towards the end of the run I reckon we were all suffering a little. Over the final mile I noticed that my form had gone a little, and my left leg was landing a little strangely. I didn't think too much about it at the time, as I was just keen to get back to the car for some much needed water. It was a really solid run and great to have the company for a change, but it was probably just a little too hard, given the week I had been through and the wear and tear from the recent marathon. Later that night, as I walked with a friend between pubs, I noticed that I'd developed pain at the top of my left quad. didn't think too much about it, as pains after a quality long run are to be expected, right?
Summary: 22 miles in 2:28, @6:44/mile

11th August: Easy/limpy 6.3 mile run
No pain the following morning, I headed off to pick up the car in Blackrock, from outside the pub, where I'd left it the previous night. After three miles the pain in the quad was back. I'd no option but to continue on to get the car, but it was a pretty painful affair, with the pain getting worse the further I ran. Wrapped up my hundred mile week, but at what cost?

12th August: 7.5 miles easy + 2.5 miles limpy
Pain gone again, I headed to Dundrum on an errand, but with 5 miles in the legs, the pain returned. Hobbled back to the office. I wasn't sure if I had filled my quota of stupidity for the day, so that evening, I headed out for a second run, but only managed 1.5 miles before the pain reduced me to a hobble. Walked home. Made an appointment with the physio.

13th August: 5 Easy/limpy miles
Have an appointment for a sports massage, sure what harm can a 5 mile run do beforehand? Four pain-free miles, followed by a limpy mile. Sports Massage did a great job. No serious damage, just take it easy for a few days.

14th August: 5 easy/limpy miles
Getting sick of limpy miles, I finally abandoned the marathon plan/mileage. I still hoped to complete a session at the weekend, so something had to give, so I just focussed on easy grass miles, until I could run pain free.

15th August: Easy miles with 4 x 1k
Joined up with the club in Shangannagh Park and headed off with one of the sharper lads for some 1k reps. He had a 5k race planned for the weekend, so I was happy to take it easy and run 4 x 1k at tempo pace, which didn't pose too much risk on the delicate quad muscle. Still, it got a little sore on the warm-down back to the entrance to the park.

16th August: 4 easy grass miles
Stopped as soon as the pain started.

17th August: 2 + 3 miles
Put off the session for another day as figured I needed another day of easy running. Ran down to the local swimming with my daughter, and played around in the water for 45 minutes, before running back on my own (she nabbed a lift). Legs were feeling much better for the soft/easy miles and 'swim', so the pace picked up on the way back, for some sub-7 minute mile lovin'.

18th August: Jack Daniels Plan A: 4 x 1 mile @tempo + 1 hour easy + 5k @Tempo
Was quite worried about this one, as I really wasn't sure if the pain in the quad would return, and signal a premature end to this session. It's a tough session at the best of times (with a total of 7 miles at tempo as part of a 20 mile run) but with a dodgy quad I gave myself 50/50.

2.5 mile easy run took me down to the cinder track (7:45/mile)
4 x 1 mile/1 min rest in: 5:26 / 5:36 / 5:41 / 5:42
1 hour easy (7.9 miles @ 7:37)
5k in 17:55, @5:46/mile
1.7 mile easy run home

Got through the mile reps without any issues, and in fact, they felt easier, largely down to the low-mileage/easy week. Took the 1 hour of easy running very handy, as I fully expected the quad to flare up at any stage. I was quite surprised to make it back to the cinder track, having covered 15 miles without any leg pain. The 5k at tempo pace was understandably tough, but managed to survive, and surprised myself by finishing a few seconds ahead of plan. Over the last mile, the quad started to flare up again. I ran part of the warm-down towards home, but after 18.5 miles, the pain was back to normal. Once I hit 20 miles, I walked home, well-happy to have mustered a session out of a bad week. Followed it up with four hours of lead-rope rock climbing/training.
Summary: 20 miles with 7 miles @Tempo

Krusty_Clown

RayCun wrote: »

Persuade your daughter to do a transition year

2017 it is then!

Krusty_Clown

Monday: 6 easy miles
Lunch-run to the shops to get some healthy snacks. Some quad pain in the final mile. Lots of foam rolling and massage.

Tuesday: 7 + 5 miles cycling, 5 + 5 miles easy running
Results are showing that active recovery is working, so I cycled the 7 miles to work, ran 5 easy grassy miles at lunch-time, cycled home, and ran an additional 5 miles on the grass. No quad pain so I ave myself the all-clear for the following day's session.

Wednesday: JD Plan A: 2 x 5k @ tempo + 2 miles @Tempo
Another tough session and one that I seem to have skipped in the past in favour of races (and I can see why).
Three miles down to the track in 22:49, @7:36/mile
5k in 18:04, @5:49/mile
3 minutes rest
5k in 18:00, @5:48/mile
3 minutes rest
2 miles (3.2k) in 11:39, @5:51/mile
2.9 mile warm-down back to work, in 23:43.

First tempo section was surprisingly manageable, but largely down to the fact that I slowed down every time I noticed I was getting ahead of the lap splits. Second one was certainly tougher, but again, got through it relatively comfortably. Final two mile tempo was hard. After six laps of the cinder, I was bang on track, but my attention must have wandered, as I seem to have lost a few seconds over the final two laps. Not to worry. A damn fine session, and most important of all, no quad pain. Well happy with that result.

Visited Gravity Climbing Centre in Inchicore for 90 minutes of bouldering afterwards. Top-notch setup, and really enjoyed making the top half of my body as painfully sore and tired as the bottom half, after the earlier session.
Summary: 15 miles in 1:41, with 8 miles @tempo

...and I'm back up to date.... Phew...

Peckham

That took up my entire lunchtime, but well worth it.

Krusty_Clown wrote: »

this is why I need to get my training log back up to date. So people can remind me that I'm being a gob-sh1te, before it's too late.

And to remind us what consistency looks like!

opus

Krusty_Clown wrote: »

Oh, most definitely. It's been top of my bucket-list for years, but life continues to get in the way. I can only imagine I'll get one shot at it, and as such, I'd rather do an uphill year than a downhill year. I couldn't do it this year, as it coincided with my son's leaving cert. In two years time, it will coincide with my daughter's junior cert. In four years time, it will coincide with my daughter's leaving certificate. By 2019, I fully expect to be focussing my attentions on rock-climbing, having ruptured and torn every muscle and ligament in my legs.

Apparently '15 is the must do year in the near future!

9 - Comrades 2015(Yes you better plan ahead).

This is the 90th Running of Comrades, and will be a major celebration, and all things being equal it will be on either the 31st May 2015 or the 7th June 2015 and it will be an up run, so please keep this in mind.

The CMA are likely to increase the field cap from 18,000 to 25,000(as they did for the 75th Comrades in 2000), and here is the problem, and that is finding a finish complex in PMB which can cope with a 33% increase in runners and supporters, so its quite possible, that it could be another 'Double Down', but we will know by May 2014 whether it is up, or whether it is down, but who cares, its the 90th Comrades Marathon, which will be celebrating the 100th Anniversary of the commencement of WW1, which itself lead to Vic Clapham starting the Comrades Marathon as a race in 1921, and I don't care whether they run it on the Moon, as I will be there, and I hope you will be there with me, and it would also be great if we could draw out some of those Comrades Veterans who might not have made the trip to Comrades for a few years, as most of them still have 1 more Comrades left in their legs.

Above from an email list I'm on...

antomagoo

Bloody hell Krusty never mind not doing your homework on the Alpine marathon, I think you should have looked up summer holidays in the dictionary before you went.

Your summer holidays are a period of time in the summer during which you relax and enjoy yourself away from home.

Is that cinder track a free for all?

Any recommendations on a flat 9 mile route near Bray, working there tomorrow & need to get tempo run done too

Krusty_Clown

antomagoo wrote: »

Bloody hell Krusty never mind not doing your homework on the Alpine marathon, I think you should have looked up summer holidays in the dictionary before you went.

Haha! What's more relaxing than a nice easy 8 mile run in the sunshine, followed by a goblet of finest German beer?!

antomagoo wrote: »

Is that cinder track a free for all?
Any recommendations on a flat 9 mile route near Bray, working there tomorrow & need to get tempo run done too

Yep, the cinder track (or beer mile stadium, as it is also known) is open to all (and in fact impossible to close off). It's pretty rare that I'd end up sharing the track with anyone at all, though there is a soccer pitch in the middle, and if there's a match on (as there was last weekend), you might get some strange looks (particularly if you whip the shirt off, and run around in shorts and sunglasses). The surface isn't great (picture loose gravel) but is perfect if you need an accurately measured distance. For a 9 mile tempo, I'd recommend Kilbogget park (where the cinder track is located). You could do a variation of this loop, which is nice and flat, with equal amounts of headwind. Failing that, Shangannagh Park is flat and has a pretty forgiving tarmac surface (though at weekend you have to watch out for dogs and kids in equal measure!).

pgmcpq

Gavlor wrote: »

Great report....

You do realise that's what most normal feel like during regular marathons??!

+1 .... this is exactly what I started thinking when reading the report . Brialliant report, Krusty. 54th off a half assed effort is (again) impressive.