Tuesday 1 January 2008

New Year. New Plan - My Race Jan 2008

Go on…try something new this year

One definition of insanity is continuing to do the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. That could basically sum up my approach to running throughout 2007. I didn’t have a structured training plan. I ran the same sessions, on the same nights at the same consistent pace. Ironically I had the cheek to sulk when I didn’t improve my race times. After only hitting one PB in 2007 - and that was only by one second in a 10K - I vowed to make 2008 my running year.

Armed with a new training plan and new found motivation, I pledged to vary my training. Knuckling down with some speed work and trying new things is a novel concept to someone who’ss club nickname is One-pace Debs.

Even though I’ve been a member of a running club for a few years, I’ve managed to wiggle my way out of anything too tough. Namely road relays (too fast), cross country (too mucky) and hill running (my calves whimper at the thought of it). A mix of idleness, training for a spring marathon and intimidation have forced me to spend the winter months pounding the pavements at the weekend on my own.

Road relay

OK, first things first. I signed up for my debut road relay: the George Cumming. I went along feeling quite nervous, as I always associated these races with the elite. When I arrived at the cosy wee church hall in Houston, my intimidation was heightened when my mate shouted across the room: “Oi, Martin! You cannae run this at your usual marathon race pace”. Witch. As I scuttled over, I apologised to my team mates in advance. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not exactly a donkey, but I’d hardly be the first picked in gym class.

The girls’ teams were made up of three members. I don’t know whether it was the luck of the draw or vain attempt to spare the club any necessary embarrassment, but I was the middle runner. Phew! The thought of being left behind at the start or trampled on at the end scared me.

Sauntering on down to the starting line, towards the sea of whippet-thin runners limbering up, I desperately scanned the crowd looking for someone I could beat. This category was a bit thin on the ground, as I could only see the familiar fast faces from the race circuit.

The horn went and runners zoomed off in a flurry of branded vests. It was a fiercely competitive game. Faces were stern and elbows were out, as runners tried to break free from the crowd.

As I hung around waiting for my turn, I noticed that one home-owner had posted signs on his house wall stating “no spitting”, which would suggest the villagers weren’t impressed with the vulgarities of athletes. There was also a wedding taking place in the local church. Can you imagine the confetti scene, as hoards of sweating, panting runners paraded past?

The legs were only 2.7miles. I prefer to call myself an endurance runner (something to do with the distinct lack of speed), so I thought this stint was hardly worth getting out of bed for. The first home was an Inverclyde runner in an impressive 12:50. I’m sure I couldn’t even drive the route that fast. My first team mate Ailsa came back in just short of 18 minutes. A quick signal from the marshal and it was my turn. So off I went - along the road, round the first bend and finally out of sight and on my own. I passed one runner on the downhill, so at least I made up one place. The bendy course follows road, trail, town and rural with a few a cheeky wee hills thrown in. I felt quite invigorated, as I nipped up the inclines. I was amazed at how competitive you feel when you’re part of a team - especially when I heard the pitter-patter of my nearest rival behind me. I managed to lose her on the last hill. It’s a long downhill, so nice for a fast finish – with the opportunity to look quite spritely.

Most runners came in and slumped over. Or the still-vertical staggered about with rolling eyes and foaming mouths. I crossed in 20 minutes and cheerfully said: “Wow that was great. I loved it”. Now there’s a tell-tale sign that suggests I probably wasn’t working hard enough.

The race was a fabulous introduction to road relays. It was a really nice, well-organised, sociable, local event. The main thing is that it has made me want to be faster. I’ll definitely be back next year. And I’ll definitely be much faster. Hope my teammates don’t quote me on that though. So, one road relay down. Big tick.

Hill running

Next on the agenda was a hill run. Ideally I would have signed up for a hill race, but we’re out of season now. So then any normal person would have headed up their local hills for an hour or two. Oh no, not I. No stranger to a long slow run, I opted for 24 miles across the seven Munros of the South Glen Shiel Ridge. As you do.I've been a keen hill-walker for a couple years and have bagged close to 100 Munros. I could safely say that my two great loves are now hill-walking and running. So, why have I never combined them both?

In a quest to find the answer, I headed out on a crisp winter’s morning. Armed with my trusty Salomon hydration pack, far too many layers and my equally unhinged side-kick, I started on the epic route with a gentle six mile along the base of the ridge. Most of the walkers out that day were using two cars to save this part of the journey. Already slightly puffed, we started the ascent. It was mostly walking/stomping/a laughable attempt at jogging on the way up, but I was definitely moving faster. Probably down to the footwear and light load. Up to the first cairn we ran down and over to Munro number two and then on to number three. Slight navigational error and we were on our way to number four. I started to slow and wilt with the exhausting gradient. My side-kick hit the nail on the head when he said: "It's like hill-walking, but with less clothes, less food and less grip". Trail shoes aren't really the best for rocky hills. And we packed extra light with just some biscuits and oatcakes for fuel. A few hours in and it was a game of peaks and troughs. And by Munro number five it was mostly troughs and troughs. We were out there, practically naked, exposed to the elements. When the cold rain started, my mojo hitched a lift on the wind. Even the power of the oatcake (I should be an ambassador of oats) couldn't save the day. After the last Munro I had enough energy to run all the way off the hill and then down the four mile military road back to the car.So, back to my original question: Why haven't I combined running with hillwalking? Because they don't bloody well belong together that's way. They are both glorious pastimes that deserve there own special attention. I missed my sack full of protective gear, nice lunches and comfy waterproof boots. So, will I do it again? Damn tooting. Seven Munros in nine hours is not a bad day out.I came. I saw. I conquered. I'm broken.

Cross-Country.

To be honest, I only signed up for this because it involved pre-race shoe shopping. And to a girlie girl as shallow as me, that was incentive enough. One purchase of a pair of bright yellow and black Saucony and I was raring to go. I may have looked like a walking bumble bee, but I felt like the bee’s knees.

I was duly informed that this was going to make me a “stronger runner”. Apparently the benefits of cross-country are both mental and physical. The experience makes the runner more robust, more versatile and less likely to be thrown by sudden changes in the unpredictable Scottish weather. The terrain forces different stride length, leg action and foot strike from road and track running. The ups and downs, unevenness, the turns all use different muscles. I was hoping that this would improve my speed, dexterity, balance and general confidence.

Unlike road relays and hill running, I’ve always wanted to try a cross-country race. I adore trail running and love muddy terrain and was really looking forward to a new challenge and breaking free from the monotony of the same old, same old. Unfortunately, cross-country running is a glorious and invigorating activity that is in urgent need of a branding overhaul. Mention the dreaded CC words and people cower, whilst recalling humiliating images of school races. There’s even a published school textbook that refers to cross-country as “a form of child abuse that breaches human rights” and suggest it is as “damaging as bullying”. How’s that for a bad name? Now what do you think would happen if the events were rebranded as adventure racing? I bet the organisers would be turning entrants away. It even sounds more intriguing, more reckless and daring, and much more this century.

Anyway, I digress. There’s no point harking on when I haven’t even got my new shoes (I think I’m supposed to call them spikes) dirty.

Well, I think I was broken in gently when I signed up for the Dumbartonshire AAA Cross Country Relays. The ground was quite hard as the weather had behaved that week. You must remember that one dry day last year?

I ran for my club’s Senior Women’s B Team. Coincidently (or maybe not) I was the second runner or middle leg. As my first team buddy, Laura, went off, I tried a warm up. Lord those shoes (OK spikes) take a bit of getting use to. I am used to nice spongy road shoes. Those plimsolls with laces and nails were anything but comfortable.

Down by the start the second runners were waiting for their mates to appear. A while after the fast boys came in, through the trees came the red-faced Laura. One high-five cross over and it was my turn. I slid, jerked and almost hobbled round the playing fields and along the side of the river. The course then crossed a foot bridge. The blood-crawling crunching of spikes sounded like a herd of excited golfers. Back on the turf, we crossed a green, hopped a wall and then headed along a trail. I ducked trees, whilst following bits a sticky tape attached to branches. Shoes still clean, so far so good. Up and over hills, more turf and more trails. Autumn had striped the trees of their leaves, so the ground was mushy and slippy. Onwards and upwards, a marshal directed me across a road and passed a car-park. This is the bit I was warned about. Trying to run on a road whilst wearing spikes, is a certifiable offense. Thankfully this section was short lived, as I was redirected back on the trail and down some leaf-clad steps.

I could hear the distant sounds of chatter and cheering, so I knew I was close. I had abandoned my trusty Garmin for the day, so had no idea how long I was out or how far I’d gone. Just when I thought I had come home squeaky clean, the course took in a long stretch of very deep mud. I squelched, slurped and slid my way to the fence, rounded the corner and was homeward bound. I do love the terrain and the limited pressure on time. I was more focused on my feet and surroundings than I was on time and splits. Plus I can to stomp about in the mud like a big kid. It’s just unfortunate that my club vest is white. It would make the perfect example for the Daz Doorstep Challenge.

Will I be back? Auch well, now that my shoes are dirty, I may as well give cross-country another bash.


Go on, try something new today. For a full list of events across Scotland, visit www.scottishathletics.org.uk. If anything you can add to your shoe collection.



Why not compile a list of goals and aims for 2008? Write them down and post them somewhere where you can see them everyday.

Draw up your three main goals for each distance: Your achievable goal over the next three months; what you want to achieve this year; and your ultimate goal.

If you’re all out of personal bests, try a new distance. There are lots of unusual distances out there like 5miles, 10 miles and 8Ks.

Create your own blog. Monitoring and sharing your achievements and thoughts, is a fabulous motivator. Log on to www.blogspot.com and join the running revolution.

Abandon your trusty ensemble and dress up for the occasion. Still harbouring fantasies of being a superhero or your favourite cartoon character? Then 2008 could be your year.

Encourage someone to sign up for their first race. Everyone’s got a 5K fundraiser in them. They’ll thank you for it afterwards. I promise. Bring one more person to the running family.

Take a break from your usual races. And more importantly take a break from your usual race rivals. Try a race away from home. You could combine it with an overseas holiday. Or even just a break in another part of the country. It’s a great way to include your family too.

Treat yourself. Introduce a point system to your training regime. Say, one point for each mile. 20 points could be a slice of your favourite cake. 200 points could be a new running top or a sports massage.