Boston Marathon Training - Week 5
Monday
After an excellent long run on Sunday, I was grateful of a slow recovery run this morning. An early 3 miles at 9:41 mm pace. Legs were definitely feeling tired and not especially looking forward to the prospect of a double day.
After work, John and I ran up to our running club for our monthly committee meeting. I am the vice-chair of Great Western Runners and I'm really enjoying becoming more active and involved with the club. After the meeting, we ran home again making our second run of the day 6 miles.
I'd been struggling a little with a cough for a couple of days now and today I really was starting to feel under the weather.
Tuesday
Tuesday always calls for a speed work session, which I prefer to do in the evenings, so I was grateful of an extra half hour in bed.
After work, the plan was to use the Bristol to Bath cycle path to do 10 miles with 4 at Half Marathon Pace (HMP). I really like using the cycle path because it is free of cars, well lit and relatively flat. Woody and I used it lots last summer when training for Cardiff and Bristol half marathons. The first 3 miles are uphill but I enjoy the benefits of the downhill on the way back.
Fantastically, the cycle path is only about 1.5 miles from home. John and I headed off - he was keen to start at a good pace but, despite trying, I couldn't keep up - this was a worrying start. As our HMPs aren't the same (not yet anyway - I've still got a bit of work to do to catch him!) the plan was for him to run at his pace, then stop at half way and I would catch up.
My HMP is in the region of 6:30 - 6:50 mm so I wanted to try and keep in that region for the first 2 miles at pace. From the word go, I knew I was in for a tough session. Only just managing to keep the pace less than 7 min miles I wasn't happy. However, I was running uphill and, due to being anemic, I do find hills especially difficult as my lungs and muscles simply aren't getting the oxygen they need. When I checked my watch (after what seemed like at least a mile) and it read 0.2, I knew I needed to sort myself out! I am sure any runner will agree, that half of the battle is mental. I decided that if I just kept these first two miles under 7 min miles that would be enough for now. I kept telling myself that I only had to do 2 miles and I pushed on. 2 miles felt like an age. My heart-rate was elevated and my breathing was even louder than usual. Although I wasn't supposed to stop until after a recovery mile, (where John would be waiting) the second my watch clicked over the 2 mile mark I stopped - desperate to catch my breath. Considering I'm capable of running 3 miles at 6 min mile pace, 7 min miles shouldn't be this hard. I couldn't kid myself any longer - I was ill.
I pushed on slowly to the halfway point. I was overjoyed to see John in the distance waiting for me (probably having to wait considerably longer than he'd expected!). I stopped and tried once again to catch my breath. I couldn't speak and was overcome with an intense coughing fit. Eventually, my coughing stopped and I decided we might as well finish the workout off and get it over with. I took the next mile steady before preparing myself for 2 more miles at HMP. Grateful for the downhill, I tried to just relax and lean forward -allowing gravity to do as much of the work as possible. I decided to try and get these last 2 miles of effort closer to HMP and dug deep. The first mile came out at 6:43 and the second at 6:36.
Feeling happier with those efforts I was ready to stop and have a breather but John suggested we pushed on as we still needed two more miles to get us to our total of 10 for the day. I had clearly put everything left in me into those last two miles and I was done. My breathing got heavier and heavier and I began to cough again. Despite my trying to keep up with John, I just couldn't manage anything faster than 9:30 mm. Taking pity on me, John called it a day after just over 9 miles. Normally I'd be eager to meet the target but I just didn't care; all I wanted to do was stop.
Wednesday
I woke up on Wednesday, hoping to feel better - no such luck. I hadn't slept well and spent the day coughing and feeling very short of breath. The plan asked for 15 miles today. We had arranged to meet Marcus at the club for an extra 5 miles before running 10 with GWR as usual.
After only a few minutes of running, Marcus had commented on my breathing and I was starting to think that 15 miles wasn't such a good idea. 4 miles in and Dad sent me home. Usually, I'd protest but actually I was grateful at having my mind made up for me. I walked slowly back to club; stopping every few steps- overcome by waves of coughing fits. At one point I'd stopped and was leaning over a road sign thinking I might be sick, when I saw something out of the corner of my eye. A fox! A beautiful, ginger, very tame fox with a lovely bushy tail came right up to me, cocked it's head and looked at me as if to say 'Don't worry - you'll be ok!' We both stood there for a couple of minutes looking at each other before he turned and continued off on his journey. A lovely moment which cheered me up a little.
As soon as I returned to my car, I jumped straight in, went home and went straight to bed.
I knew that the next few days were only recovery runs - nothing major. I thought that I could afford to miss a day or two to recover. Sunday though was 18 miles with 10 at marathon pace; these sessions are really important as marathon pace runs are the best preparation for race day. I really wanted to be better by Sunday.
Thursday
After being up most of the night coughing and getting very little sleep once again, I felt dreadful. I had lots going on today at work so I dragged myself in with the aim of 'powering through.' This was unsuccessful. As well as coughing, I now had a headache and was feeling run down and achy. After a full on day comprising of teaching, courses and meetings I couldn't wait to get home and go to bed.
No running today.
Friday
I love my job and I like to think I'm pretty dedicated. I guess that's the reason that, until today, I'd never taken a day off sick in 6 1/2 years. Today was the first time for years that I just couldn't face getting out of bed and going in to school.
No running today.
Saturday
After some time with Dr Google I diagnosed myself with a chest infection - great. Dr Google says that chest infections caused by viruses which cannot be helped with antibiotics. The only way to get over this: rest, lots of water and cough up the mucus. And how long do chest infections last...any time from a few days to 3 weeks! 3 WEEKS! I could not afford to take 3 weeks off training. Realistically, any time longer than 1 week off and you start to lose fitness. Mission - drug up and tackle this sharpish!
Thankfully, John went into full doctor mode and bought every medicine relating to coughing and mucus that he could find - legend.
Time to dose up and sort myself out.
No running today...again...
Sunday
I desperately wanted to feel better today and get a few miles in as lack-of-running-depression was starting to hit me hard. However, after waking up, I was hit with a coughing fit that lasted an hour and a half. I knew I wasn't better and wasn't ready to run.
So I am playing a waiting game. I'm being sensible, trying to eat (although I've really lost my appetite this week) and taking a concoction of medicines. Trying not to look at strava as seeing the tragic dip in my graph actually brings tears to my eyes!
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