Good news: (at the time of writing) I have absolutely f**k-all desire to run. At all or ever again.
According to my coach, this is more of a positive outcome than my brain has lead me to believe.
Shows I worked hard enough, she says…
Monday 2nd Dec and the penultimate week before the big day started with a double run. 2 boring, sluggish plods. KMN. I either took Tuesday off or ran, I honestly don’t remember or even particularly care at this point. Wednesday was a 75 minute continuous run around Westbury trading estate. Holly joined me on the 20 minute ride over to run her own session, whilst I made fairly light work of 10 minutes at MRP (although averaged a bit faster at 3:57) + 5 mins easy repeated for an hour and fifteen minutes. I made the brain-glucose-deprived decision to not take any gels. During the final 15 mins, I felt lightheaded. Silly, really. Made up for by stopping at Rye Bakery on the way home for a Pain au Raisin and a shared Egg Custard Tart (God, is this as boring to read as it is to write?) I wish I had a flare for story telling. The fact is, marathon training is really goddamn boring and I’m no Phily Bowden or Bromka, but I love it. I need it. Training keeps me sane to a degree that I wouldn’t be if I didn’t run and I write because I like to document the process, in order that I can scroll back to any week between June 2023 and now to remind myself of, not the monotony, but the highs and lows of doing what it takes to be a better, faster marathoner.
Back to the story…
Feeling on the verge of overtrained. I decided to forget banking miles and back off training quite substantially from now until race day, barring the MRP stuff (of which there’s one more ‘real’ one and a 3x1k during race week). The breaking point came after banking 8 tedious miles on the dreadmill on Thursday morning. The plan was 10, but the plan was swiftly dumped in the bin.
Friday off.
Saturday was supposed to be 4.5 miles with the Lemon Puff but my body was subtly telling me not to do anything. This is such a rare occurrence (I don’t struggle for motivation to get out of the door, ever) that I’m just going with it. I don’t feel ill or injured, just knackered.
The final session of the week was 12k easy/8k at MRP. I wore the AF3’s, which I wasn’t especially taken with at first. Today, however, I think I discovered how to run in them. They’re an aggressive shoe, no doubt. The easy 12k was an avg 4:47 at 142bpm, right in the heart of ‘Storm Darragh’. The 8k at MRP was 4 seconds faster (3:57) with an avg HR of 154bpm. The MRP pace was completed on a treadmill since the wind was getting ridiculous. Honestly, it all felt pretty good.
So there you have it. The build is done, I survived. I’m typing this on the Monday morning of race week and I feel much more recovered.
No excuses then.
The weather for Pisa looks near perfect and I’m in good shape. Good enough for 2:49? Who knows. What will be will be.
6 days until race day. Let’s see what this old meathead carcass can put down in Pisa.