Half Training – Week Eleven: A 5K Race

Alright. It is safe to say that I know diddly squat about running and how to work towards anything. Last week I was feeling somewhat sorry for myself in my blog and then this week I pull off something unexpected.

(Sorry, I know that I’m writing this on the following Wednesday, because I’m a slacker, but by ‘last week’ I mean the week finishing August 10^th, and ‘this week’ finished on August 17^th).

It did feel like it came out of nowhere, but as King Lear said, ‘nothing will come of nothing’. My best official 5K race time (I’ve inched ahead a couple of times during Parkrun) came on Wednesday night, and I really did not expect it.

The previous night I’d got back to the club for their regular Tuesday six miles ish run. I’m always pulled along at these sessions, if Gordon’s leading it, as most of the group traipse along at between nine and ten minute-miles, which tends to be the top end of my abilities. Luckily, they stop and regroup which means I can get a tiny breather every now and then before they push on. There are slower runs available, but I have decided that these Tuesday night runs should be counted as long intervals and will benefit me in the long run.

According to most running experts, including our chair Nigel, who gave a training talk on Monday night, you’re supposed to follow the eighty/twenty rule. Whereby eighty percent of your running should be at a snail’s pace (otherwise known as zone 2) and the twenty percent should be at a hard pace. It didn’t work out like that this week because I only did twenty miles, and if you take about four of the Tuesday miles as hard, and then add on the race the following day, then I am creeping up to doing nearly half of my weekly mileage at a hard effort. I think though that the key to all of this is how well you recover, and how consistent you can be, so as a one off week I think it’s okay, and maybe I need to up my mileage.

The funny thing about the Wednesday evening was that although I was quite a lot faster during my race, my heart rate was a bit lower than Tuesday night’s effort. Both evenings were very warm, but Tuesday night was muggier, so I guess that was why. I had been surprisingly nervous about the race. It wasn’t something I’d specifically trained for, and it wasn’t a race where I could hide. There were 384 runners on the start line, and over two hundred of those completed the race in twenty minutes or less. 

It was a different type of nervousness to my longer runs because for a 5K, you must almost set your stall from the start. It’s not a sprint but it’s a short distance run.  They say that your threshold pace should be something that you can keep up for an hour, if have been training long enough, so this has to be faster than your threshold pace. Or not. You may decide to keep it steady and just enjoy it. But I haven’t had that many 5K races, so I wanted to see what I could do.

Before picking up John, I had a shot of coffee. I don’t drink coffee regularly, so I think these occasional doses seem to give me a little extra. It’s legal, costs less than a fancy pair of go faster shoes, and if it moves nothing else, it moves my bowels in good time. We thought we’d be super early, but there were plenty of people there, once we’d adjusted for the sat nav going wrong. We got there early so I could do a good warm up. I was thinking about doing two miles, but the temperature was such that I couldn’t get past one mile. I threw a couple of very short strides on to the end and then, after a final bit of faffing, walked down with the crowd to the start. Just before that though, I remember that John and I had a gel each as they were giving out free ones at the club house. 

So perhaps it was the coffee and the gel that ignited the burners. Or maybe Tuesday night’s long intervals acclimatised me to the heat. It was still hard to gauge at the beginning. For the first few yards I ran with my usual cohorts. Then, within a few yards, I thought about my form. I tried to lift my knees up more and kick my leg back so that my stride was longer than my usual shuffle. I pulled away, despite my breathing being a bit less than comfortable. 

I had to think, in that first mile, whether I could keep it going. I just tried to concentrate on my form and breathing as deeply as I could, so I didn’t start to panic. (Looking at photos after I don’t look any different, but my Garmin tells me that my stride length, cadence and ‘ground contact time’ all improved, so I’ll take that).

Half a mile in I saw an older (than me) runner who was walking in a very wobbly manner, and I stopped to check on him. He said that this always happened, and he’d was now alright. He ran off, and I, feeling a tad miffed, set off again too. I passed him fairly quickly and he looked like he was okay. Apparently, this was the man’s MO. He runs, then he wobbles and looks dizzy, then he runs again. I’m not entirely sure whether that is a good thing for his health, and also for the number of seconds I wasted on checking up on him.

In my second mile, I noticed that my breathing was a little more comfortable, and I wondered if I was slacking off the pace. I glanced down at my watch and noticed that I’d well passed two miles and was still in the teens (that’s all I can give you because it was a glance and my eyesight is a bit pants), so I started to think that if I did start to slow down, I would comfortably get the 28 minutes something that I had been hoping for.

In the third mile it was getting harder but because the route was virtually pancake flat, there just didn’t seem to be any let up. By this I mean that if there were a hill, I’d want (and need) to slow down, and although my breathing would have been just as hard, my legs would have had a little respite. But there was nothing, and I was getting to the stage of wondering if I could get under 28 minutes if I could just keep pushing. Having never done this race before though, I had no idea if that was feasible. My legs were burning, and my breathing was shallow and slightly panicky.

A marshal shouted that we were near the end, and suddenly the elevation was ever so slightly downhill. I really couldn’t slack off now. With the line just ahead, I attempted to sprint, there wasn’t much more to give than I was giving, but I did see that I crossed the line in a time of 27 something. I didn’t pay attention to the seconds as I knew I hadn’t crossed the starting line when the gun went off.

A raffle ticket was placed into my hand to give to the van for my free ice cream. My club mate Jim who I’d managed to keep in sight almost all the way around was much closer to the front of the queue, so I gave him my ticket to get a sneaky jump on the other runners patiently waiting. A Mr Whippy 99 was mine quite quickly as I sat down on a bank exhausted and somewhat elated.

Where had that come from? As one of my blog readers did tell me when I was bemoaning my lack of miles in London, I’d put in quite a lot over the course of several week in a consistent manner, and for the most part had been getting two weight sessions in a week. I’ve now decided to drop it to one weight session for the final few weeks, so I can get the longer runs in that I need. 

My official time in the end was 27:11, which I am still buzzing about. A very pleasing confidence boost.

Week Eleven

Mon	Nothing other than listen to Nigel give a very interesting general talk on training
Tue	Club run – A six-miler along the beach and through some interesting trails
Wed	Ellesmere Port 5K race – with a mile ish of warm up.
Thu	Weights
Fri	A zone-two attempt – but legs still tired from Wednesday so a plodding 5 miles
Sat	Another zone-two 5 miles that felt more comfortable
Sun
	20.7 miles total