Ditto with jeans, shirts, flat caps and stuff. Indeed, it
was on the civvy side that running cost me a few bob: having started putting
one foot in front of another at a slightly accelerated pace to avoid having to
buy bigger jeans than the 36s and 38s I was squeezing into, I ended up having
to buy 32s. And I could only invoice my Nonna, who’d made a comment about me
needing to lose a few pounds (OK, kilos), for so many suits. But hey: that’s an
excuse for me to post the photo below again, and one I’ll seize with both
hands:
 |
| Because you can never have too many before/after shots of middle-aged runners on the Internet. |
. . .
So: we’ve dealt with the basics. The kit,
the gear and the optional race entries. I tell folk that I actually don’t race
that much, “relatively speaking”: and I believe that’s a fair assessment. So
far this year, for every mile I’ve raced I’ve run eight in training, and that’s
my lowest ratio ever, having been over 20 for the past two years. And that’s
not because I’m entering more races, rather because the races I’ve entered have
been getting longer…
…just bear that in mind in September and
October, which are set to feature two half marathons, three marathons and a
40-mi ultra – i.e. six races when the rest of 2015 is set to feature seven in
total! And yes, most of my races come with associated travel and accommodation
costs. I don’t track mine, but I could come up with a pretty good estimate
quickly enough. I choose not to, and make do with the knowledge that they don’t
stop me from paying the mortgage, the bills, the family holidays and the
takeaways for Family Movie Nights. And I know that the friendships I’ve built
and strengthened along the roads and trails are worth every penny, without even
bringing into the equation the small detail of the fitness benefits. Which,
sure, you could get from non-competitive training runs, although having a focus
helps with those training runs, be it by kicking me out of bed on dark and wet
winter mornings or up the backside when I start to relax on warm summer
runches. I’ve long maintained you get more than a medal for racing: you get all
the motivation and expectation in the build-up. It’s money well spent. Trust
me, Sweetie. And just like some folk drinks, watch movies or share meals when
spending time with their friends, I just happen to run ‘with’ them – but it’s
still socialising with mates! As was the case in a field in Staffordshire over
the weekend, where hundreds of runners shared the experience of Thunder Run. What would otherwise
be just another 10k trail course is home to epic feats by those running 24-hr
solo (top job Martin!), trying to
clock as many laps as possible, and to great efforts and fun by those who are
part of a team, sharing the laps. It’s trail, it’s England and it’s July, so obviously
for most of the weekend it chucked it down… but that didn’t stop my friends
there are having fun! Even the injured one… after all, there are bars.
So where do we draw the line? As committed
amateur runners, how much should we be spending on gear? How many gadgets do we
need? How many stats should we be tracking? How well should we know our own
body?
. . .
This offers me a chance to share my views
on Richard Askwith’s latest offering, “Running Free”.
Askwith’s first book, “Feet In The
Clouds”, is rightly revered by anyone who’s read it: an engaging
recollection of his pursuit of a successful Bob Graham Round, the ultimate fell
running test this island of ours has to offer. So I began reading “Running
Free” with expectations of a height comparable to Scafell Pike. Alas, it
somewhat disappointed.
The tales of Askwith’s wild and innocent
runs are as enchanting as ever. And, when he criticises some of running’s
commercial excesses, be they unnecessary kit or organisations sanitising one of
man’s most basic activities, I run firmly alongside him. But, when he states
that “signing up for a Park Run [sic] without repeated exposure to the
sponsors’ messages requires considerably more digital ingenuity” than he
possesses, he is doing himself a disservice. Or at least he is not doing
justice to his ability to ignore commercial messages, as I assume that he does
not succumb to every instance of advertising pointed his way. Least I hope so,
given we’re exposed to an average 3,500
marketing messages per day… granted, Londoners are probably exposed to
three times that amount, and in rural Northamptonshire where Askwith lives and
runs it will be a tiny fraction – but still a meaningful one. Anyway: parkrun…
…parkrun has got a lot of people off the
couch and into running at least 5k a week. As I’ve said before, it’s probably
this country’s strongest weapon against its mammoth
obesity problem. It’s free, relying on sponsors (as do commercial media
organisations) and an army of volunteers in hi-vis jackets. I’ve run forty-four
parkruns, and owe them two very important thanks:
1. Free, timed 5k runs have helped me
improve my speed. Counter-intuitive as this may sound, I need speedwork to
improve my long-run pace: and parkrun has helped a great deal.
2. A regular, social run is a great way of
meeting like-minded people. As well as the running between 09:00 and
(hopefully) 09:19, I look forward to my Saturday mornings for the banter in the
car with Tim and Simon from 08:10 to around 08:40 and for the chats with the
likes of Bob, Ciaran, David, Dom, Emma, Graham, Michael (yes, in alphabetical
order!) either side of the run. And, of course, to any flapjack and cakes with
which landmark runs (someone’s 50th or 100th, say) are
celebrated!
As is the case with other events up and down the country, Little Stoke parkrun truly is a community, one that routinely serves the local area as well as runners from further afield such as me. And I’ve not spent a single pence with its sponsors… not as a result of their support for parkrun, anyway. I bought from Sweatshop before they replaced Adidas, whom I generally avoid because in my mind they still represent Teutonic order and conformism… the power of marketing on an impressionable child’s mind, eh?!
As is the case with other events up and down the country, Little Stoke parkrun truly is a community, one that routinely serves the local area as well as runners from further afield such as me. And I’ve not spent a single pence with its sponsors… not as a result of their support for parkrun, anyway. I bought from Sweatshop before they replaced Adidas, whom I generally avoid because in my mind they still represent Teutonic order and conformism… the power of marketing on an impressionable child’s mind, eh?!
So: I’ve defended parkrun… I won’t jump to Tough Mudder’s defence purely out of
personal preference, but have no issue with people choosing to fork out on such
events if they so please. I just prefer to run on drier terrains. On the whole,
I found Askwith’s praise of running in its most natural, basic form somewhat
naïve and unbalanced. For, whilst he outlines his theory about the “Seven Ages
of Running” and acknowledges that he went through the first six before reaching
the climax of the seventh, he doesn’t appear to state clearly enough that no
age is superior to any other, as he sat seemingly smugly on top of the pyramid.
He dismisses roadies’ PB-chasing as a failure to enjoy running alone with
nature: which is fine for a runner who, by his own admission, is beyond those
PB days, having set some pretty darn impressive ones. But hey: let us enjoy the
occasional thrill of the race, eh? Just the way I enjoy trail runs, both
training ones and races where time really isn’t of the essence. All runners,
aren’t we?
Right – I’ve got that off my chest. It had
been there for a while. And I’m actually still glad I read it: there are plenty
of good bits! Back to… where was I?
Ah yes – how much should we spend on
running gear…
. . .
I’ve not bought running clothing for ages,
if we exclude the green and black West
Highland Way top I bought ahead of the race – and wore for it. Prior to
that, ahead of the last winter I spent less than £20 on a pair of decent
glow-yellow shirts for my pre-dawn runs: otherwise, old shirts and finishers’
shirts do me just fine. I’m OK for shorts, have just got my parents to buy me a
few new pairs of Kalenji
socks as the holes were getting more frequent… just as well I had about
half a dozen identical pairs, so I can match the survivors!
Watch… the Garmin
Forerunner 410 I bought with Christmas 2012 gift money is still my
companion of choice. I was tempted by a second-hand Suunto
Ambit Sapphire 2 a clubmate was selling: ‘tempted’ as in “I bought it”, but
have resold since, passing back to its original owner the difference between
“eBay price” and “clubmate price”. It just… wasn’t for me. I may upgrade at
some point, but for now the 410 I bought for £143 on Christmas Day 2012 and via
which I’ve logged 8,246 miles (£0.017/mile) has served me perfectly well and is
safe. I’m a roadie, not an explorer.
Watch accessories… the 410 came with a
chest-strap HRM, which I replaced earlier this year with a Mio
wristband… cost me £70 and I’ve yet to drive maximum value from it, but I’m
getting there… and I bought a cadence
sensor a year ago which hasn’t been monitoring since Littl’Un knocked it
over and which I’ve not felt the need to replace… In terms of technology,
that’s it. No headphones, for sure: that’s a no-go area for me. I run to get
away from noise, not to take it with me. But that’s another story…
Nutrition… yep, I buy gels for (some) long
runs and for marathons… Shot
Bloks, Clif Bars… But do I spend
any more than I do on snacks when we come out of the swimming pool? Definitely
not. I probably eat on average one Clif Bar/week: it’s not an expense that’s
going to throw me into the red… it may seem exorbitant when I take delivery of
two dozen at a time, but that’s because it only happens twice a year! Man’s
gotta snack: I just happen to snack on stuff that you don’t find in
supermarkets! (Although I almost took a photo when I saw Clif Bars in an aisle
of one in Boston, Mass.)
Liquids… I just turn on the tap! When
running over 50k I may take SIS electrolytes with
me, but that again is a rare treat. Both the 50ks and the tablets.
Other stuff… yes, my Salomon
SkinLab Hydro 12L was a treat, and doesn’t look like something that should
cost just shy of a hundred quid! But it’s been my companion on three official
ultras, a social one and as many times over training runs. It was there for me
on my landmark run to date. Was it worth investing a pound per mile of the West Highland Way Race to have it on
my shoulders, containing my phone, my emergency £10, foil blanket, waterproofs,
food and water? You bet.
My Salomon is the nearest thing to an
extravagance. These things being subjective, I could sit here and justify all
sorts of purchases. But I won’t. I think the amount I spend on running is
commensurate to the miles I cover and the pleasure and fitness I get out of it,
and don’t regret any of it.
Now then… what about… beyond the gear? The
intangible stuff?
I ask this question having only last week
undertaken VO2
Max, lactate threshold and skinfolds tests at Bath University. They came in
at just under £140. How can I justify spending that much to know how much
oxygen I use, at which point my body starts to generate lactate that
accumulates in my blood streams and weighs down my legs and how much fat I’m
carrying (something my scales already estimate for me)?
Firstly, let’s suggest this costs me a
little under £3/week, and that I’ll be able to rely on those test results for a
year. Which, based on the nature of my running and what Jonathan Robinson, who
ran the tests at the University of Bath’s
Sports Village, is reasonable…
Every month, I spend about two days
running. That’s right: around 48 hours. During that time, I generally cover
around 250 miles. Some months I run further, others faster or maybe steeper. It
depends on the goal: few of my training runs for the West Highland Way Race were fast,
but some were looong…
Regardless, on average every day I dedicate
a little over an hour and a half to running. How would I spend those 96 minutes
if I didn’t run? Probably an even split between sleeping and watching TV. So
yep, I’m #winning.
There you have the quantity of my training.
Because every run, in some shape or form, is a training run, be it a slow,
anonymous three-mile recovery run, a longer slog that generally precedes it or
the speedwork session that generally follows it over the course of any given
week. As Julian Goater repeatedly stated in “The
Art of Running Faster”, the only training book you’ll ever need (least I
hope, as it’s the only one I’ve ever read!), every run should have a purpose.
But training… for what?
That’s a challenge for a runner like me.
I’m not exclusive about what I run, covering the entire spectrum from parkruns
to ultras. I’m not a specialist speedster, half-marathoner, marathoner or an
ultrarunner: I’m a Gia of all trades. And that’s how I like it: each distance
presents me with different challenges and rewards me in different ways. But it
does make training that little less straightforward than if I were more limited
in my goals, with clearer priorities. And priorities change.
For 2015, my priority was the West Highland
Way Race. It was all about getting from Milngavie to Fort William. I revised my
(loose) time goal downwards and would have hit it but for a navigational error
ninety-four miles into the ninety-five mile race: and that’s fine. I’m still
delighted with the result and how
I felt throughout the day. Would I swap all those smiles and how well my
body felt (swollen knee aside) at the end for seven minutes? Nope. Nor would I
for fourteen seconds on top of that. I aimed to complete the race and I did…
…my training plan worked. It came down to
running a lot, to running up hills, to running at unusual times of day, to
running back-to-back marathon and ultramarathon distances. It took some
planning, but it was planning I could manage on my own. With a little help from
my friends, but without any great deal of blinding science.
2015: ticked. 2016?
. . .
I want to focus on shorter stuff next year.
There’ll still be some ultras: three, I suspect. A return to Green Man and High Peak 40, and a maiden voyage to
Lizard’s Point to run the coast path to Land’s End for The Classic Quarter.
Green Man, in March, is on my doorstep; HP40, in September, makes for a weekend
in Sheffield; and Cornwall’s not that far away, with Classic Quarter neatly
sandwiched between the other two ultras in June. Plus I’ll get to see Cornwall
properly, if only forty-five miles of it. But, as per the final paragraph of an
earlier post, I won’t be heading up to Scotland. Anything after this year’s
Triple Crown (assuming I complete it on Saturday) would be a step down.
Anything other than significantly faster times, that is: and I don’t want to
focus on those. Because it would have to be a single-minded focus for which I
don’t have the mental energy, or least I don’t want to have to find it. I’d
much rather focus…
…on half marathons and marathons. Where the
margins between success and failure are so much more clearly defined. And, when
you cross that line, you know which side of that divide you’re on.
For the West Highland Way Race, my gold
time was sub-24, my silver time (and gold time upon signing up) was 24-26 and
my bronze goal was just finishing. My silver time was a two-hour window, pretty
much the time between Paul Giblin
reaching the Leisure Centre and Neil McNicol claiming second place. Over 26.2
miles, my silver time window would be no greater than ten minutes: a marathon’s
27.5% the length of the WHW, but the window’s only 8% the size. With margins of
error so fine, I’ll need all the help I can get. And I accept some of that help
will cost me a few quid.
That’s why I was looking forward to the
pain of the tests at Bath Uni. Because I expect them to help shape my marathon
training, if not define it completely. Because they should help me get a
realistic feel as to what my goals should be and over what timeframe I should
aim to hit them. I’ve some figures in mind, but they are not worth the brain
cells storing them. Hence my desire to rely on professional knowledge and
scientific data to establish what times are realistic for me in 2016 over 13.1
and 26.2 miles. And change (well, ‘tweak’) them to what I want them to be if
required. Because I’m in Marketing, and that’s my prerogative.
Did the tests disappoint?
. . .
Not at all!
I now know my body fat index is 13.4% -
which is good. Yes, I measure that every week with simple scales: but they’re
so simple they’re two percentage points out, so at least now I know I can
adjust that value downwards or that, at least, a bad value is probably not that
bad. Or try and find a set like the ones that broke last year, as they were far
more reliable…
I now know that my relative (54.9
ml/kg/min) and absolute VO2 (3.984/min) peak values are “of an excellent
level”. I know that because the report I got says so. Apparently 55 ml/kg/min
is what an elite tennis male pro should expect. Which is greatly flattering, so
I’ll go with that… the average for a 35-45 year-old is 35-38, so I’ll take
54.9, which would be above-average for a
man of any age, not least one who’s knock, knock, knocking on forty’s door.
As I’ll take a peak blood lactate concentration of 7.0 mmol – that’s good, too.
Jonathan says so and I believe him!
Is this knowledge?
Nope. It’s not knowledge. It’s data.
The suggestions I’ve been given to improve
my performance represent the knowledge. Equally, I hope my own experiences as I
look to tweak my training will inform the subsequent steps, thus creating a
virtuous circle. But… one step at a time, eh? One in front of the other…
. . .
So, back to the £140. Sure, instinctively
it does stand out as a bit steep. Instinctively you’ll have come up with
alternative ways of spending such a sum, and trust me, so did I – and I even
added more rational thoughts thereafter! But, in a society where most purchases
are moving to a subscription model (trust me, not only am I in Marketing but in IT, too),
viewing that as £3/week is not unfair. It just so happens the weekly
subscription is paid in advance – but that works with Private Eye…
…£3/wk for tests I do not need?
Hey, I realise £3 means different things to
different people. I don’t know your financial situation, you don’t know mine.
But if we view three quid as a pint of beer and a packet of crisps…
…yup, that’s affordable. It’s just a shame
I never drank more. Because I think I’ve already allocated said theoretical
beer savings to funding some of the items I listed earlier. But hey – we can
pretend I drank more than I did, right? And I’m genuinely not sure whether I’ll
make this an annual item in my calendar or a one-off. To some extent, I’ve left
it too late, as the margins for improvement are not what they were a year or
two ago. We’ll see: hopefully I can glean sufficient intel from my Mio and my
Garmin. But… never say never, eh? Especially in running…
. . .
Running can never be free, but it can be
pretty close to it. But, depending on what your goals are, the sense of
achievement, of self-improvement and self-worth that hitting them can bring…
well, sometimes you need a little help along the way. I went to Bath for some.
Some of it came by running for three minutes on a treadmill wearing a face mask
before pausing for thirty seconds before starting again at a faster pace until
I couldn’t take it anymore some ninety seconds into my 17km/hr session. But
some of it came from just being in such an impressive facility and seeing
fellow, better sportspeople perform. And that bit…
…yeah, that bit was free.
Of course, this is not just about the running:
it never is. None of us know what lies around the corner, but all of us have a
duty to take care of this mortal coil that’s been handed over to us. As much as
we can, anyway. I seem to be doing an OK job of that. So thanks, running and
running friends, for enabling me to do so. Here’s hoping I’ll still be running
marathons at 70…
. . .
Allow me to sign off with one final stat:
and no, this one is not about me.
Let’s see if I can put the achievements of
elite long-distance runners into a perspective that TV images just can’t
deliver. In running you don’t see the moment of magic that ball sports produce,
and over long-distances it’s harder to appreciate the difference between the
good and the great that a sprint may offer. So – get your head round this:
Yesterday I ran three-minute sessions at
progressively-increasing speeds (with 30" rest in between) on a treadmill,
jumping off (safely) when I couldn't take it any more (or felt I might soon go
flying). I maxed out 90” into the 17km/hr session.
In setting the current marathon world
record, Dennis Kimetto
ran 42.195km in 2:02'57" - an average of 21km/hr. He sustained for over
two hours a pace greater than one I could not sustain for ninety seconds.
Let me know when that’s sunk in. Oh, and
how long till the first sub-2hr mara? I say September 2017. Berlin, baby.
* in total: five ultras (the West Highland Way trio,
Green Man and High Peak 40), four marathons (Manchester, Chester, York and
Bristol-Bath), two halves (Chippenham and Bristol) and two 10ks (Clevedon -DNF-
and Weston-super-Mare). I know folk who’ve run thirteen races by the end of
February.
Oh, and I am really serious about not running WHW in 2016. Family wedding that weekend.
Oh, and I am really serious about not running WHW in 2016. Family wedding that weekend.
A fantastic read as always :) See you at Green Man next year :)
ReplyDelete(...and possibly the Classic Quarter... but don't tell Emma... SsHh..)