E2NB again 22/08/10
Best not to examine the prospect of a long marathon training run too much. Just get out there and do it. With Moray marathon in 2 weeks (how the flip did that happen?) and little more than a couple of long runs 6 weeks ago in the tank, I have a feeling the best chance of doing sub three there will involve a fistful of painkillers and stimulants for the last 6 miles. Its not going to be easy or graceful. (If it wasn't for Mary feeling we should do at least one road marathon per year I almost certainly wouldn't have signed up.) They, in my experience, involve 1 hour of running fast followed by 2 hours of pain and grinding to an ugly jog. Who needs that? Especially when you could be galloping across green hills with soft peaty paths underfoot; or through sun dappled woods; or next to golden crops blowing in a light breeze; or running along an isolated beach watching the breakers roll in.
No, I'd like to swap all that for a grim faced sore hipped 3hr dance with the tar devils that tear your legs down no matter how cushiony your shoes start out.
Anyway these thoughts are grumbling around my head as I struggle to raise the pace in the first mile or 2 of today's pain-fest. I hadn't really appreciated the amount of damage done on Friday's escapade and the remaining tiredness still in my legs. Jill Morrow, biking to Porty Beach with the kids, passed me on the links. “You're looking relaxed,” says she, which may well have been a euphemism for slow and sluglike. I had the mp3 on loud to drown out my self pity so probably shouted to the whole of Leith that I felt knackered and we were on our way to North Berwick. The “we” may have surprised Jill as I was on my own and you would have needed a time machine to identify Mary coming past 15 minutes earlier.
The other rubbish going on in my head was trying to work out when (if?) “we” would all meet. I run 1/6th faster than Mary I think – if we are doing laps I tend to catch her on the 6th lap. Since I gave her 15 minutes head start, all things being equal I should catch her after 90 minutes. Also to put into the equation, Amanda was setting off from Musselburgh a little later with the intention of running a similar route but more coastal – ducking down onto the beach paths and grassy sections while we were doing ROAD specific training - and that we may all meet up and come home on the train together. It seemed unlikely but we were all carrying phones so could probably get in touch in NB.
Jill and kids biked past again on the prom – I wasn't sure if they had been for a Big Mac at the one opposite the sewage works – surely the least likely siting of any “restaurant” in the history of turd farming. I was feeling a bit better and tried to 6 minute mile while chatting in order to keep up which was never going to last. Jill politely suggested she leave me to it, probably not wishing to inflict the sight of an old geezer having a cardiac on the children.
I passed the Bowling Club on the prom (3 miles) in 22 something despite the briefly raised pace. Considering we were floating along on a stiff breeze this was mildly disgraceful and I swithered between giving myself a hard time and blaming the back pack. The back pack is a Raidlight thingy something, as recommended in Runners World a few months back. Its very good and if you have to carry a litre of water or more then this is one of the more comfortable ways to do it. Also a camera, a phone, a change of clothes (can't sit on a train wet and cold) (or can you?) 2 sports bars, money, mp3 and ahem... a mini mag light. Ok the torch probably wasn't essential today but it fits in the pocket on the arm strap so convincingly (lighting the ground 2 steps ahead) that it has to stay. I may have to go a night run to justify it.
By 5 miles (the Quayside) and 40.08 (more shame, more disgrace) I was considering the items from the backpack I could throw in the harbour. Strangely the torch wasn't first on the list.
I think I have blanked the painful miles from there to the Pans from my memory. In the Pans a youth crossed the road to run ahead of me as a mickey take. He was surprisingly brisk for a wee shit but I took pleasure in switching to terminator mode and giving him the evils while he looked over his shoulder. I have yet to meet the (non-club-running) teenager who can outrun me (even if I have been going for 10 miles) and sure enough I ran him down in no time, though without delivering the slap I felt he had earned, as I didn't have time for a jail sentence.
I had been out for about 1hr15 and was now watching out for Mary's yellow/orange top. I reckoned I'd see it on the long stretch of road by the power station and sure enough there it was towards the end of the road and possibly Amanda ahead and just turning the corner. I stopped to take a long range photo which foreshortens the distance and suggests Mary was just behind Amanda whereas Mary wasn't able to determine if the runner ahead was definitely AGH who had just appeared from the grassy knolls of the Power Station.
Mary was going sufficiently strongly to run another 10 minutes before I overtook at Port Seton's finest caravan and leisure park. Looking well, but she wasn't for chatting and sent me on to catch up with the possibility of Amanda. All this gives the run a focus and a reason to push the pace. With the sun beating down you need a reason other than just “I will have an embarrassing marathon.” I've had bad marathons and one of the worst things about them is you have to do another to get past the shame and prove you still can. So quitting can only be done while you are ahead. I am currently ahead. I am potentially in a lose / lose situation. How many times should you say never again?
Although I could see the green top of maybe-Amanda at the end of the caravan drag I could see she was going to be harder to catch up to than Mary. In fact she seemed to be moving in tandem with me and so I'd have to raise my game if I wanted to catch her distant self. That was the last I saw of her till nearly Gosford House where I followed her onto the grassy sandy paths that run parallel to the road but are far harder work. I stumbled and bumbled for a long way while Amanda steadily kept a hundred yards in front. Eventually I was running just 10 yards behind but was so exhausted it was a time before I had the breath to announce my arrival. Amanda hadn't been expecting anyone to show up from behind, perhaps thinking we were out ahead and I hadn't wanted to suddenly sneak up out the bushes dishevelled and sweating and startle her.
We ran together to Gullane. At which point I had to take a time out. A near death experience narrowly avoided by a sit down on a bench and a protein bar. Amanda bought a litre of fridge water which we drank copious amounts of and she poured over her head. I felt weary rather than overheated and only realised intermittently that AGH, starting at Musselburgh, had run around 5 miles less. All the same I was, as I.M would have it, being waxed. 7 minute break and we were off and feeling not much worse than at the start. In fact by the Archerfields trail turn-off I began to feel quite chatty and by Dirleton tried to “embrace the pain” and push the pace for the last couple of rooty pavement miles down to the beach. Disappointingly Amanda seemed easily able to match this.
We sploshed about in the sea a bit, AGH getting well in about it, me feeling it was unnecessary to ice any higher than the running mechanisms. Experience has taught me to change out of wet kit otherwise a very rigid corpse gets off the train at Waverley. So worth the extra weight in the back pack. As we walked up the road towards the station a cheery Isobel Pollard and fellow cyclist went past for the second time.
As if planned Mary came running into town and we jumped on the 4.20 which was waiting on the platform. Unchanged Damp-manda sat/dripped on Mystic Megs page (which is about the best use possible,) getting off at Musselburgh.
Meanwhile out the window this was going on.The least good part of the day was walking home through the herds of festival zombies. Can they not re-locate the Edinburgh Festival each year? Like the world cup or the olympics. And just once every four years wouldn't be a bad idea either. I don't know how rich or drunk I'd have to be before I thought it was a boon, but I'm nowhere near as yet.
The sustaining thought that got us home was quorn-burgers and fried eggs which not only tasted like heaven but looked a little like a blessed Jesus-egg. Hallelujah!
Report and photos pb
Approx 22.5 miles in 3.03 incl. 7 min break. (Must do better.)
The day from Mary's perspective here
