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Quiet time

July is the a quiet running time for an ultimate Comrades runner.

So I if I get out to run now it’s mostly for the joy of running, to maintain the aerobic capacity I built and to get my legs muscles to recover, deeply properly and bouncingly.

I am also working on a solution to my ultra-flaw: the one where I just can’t drink anymore. Swallow fatigue. Gulp stop.

I mean I can drink 700 ml per hour, electrolyte right. I can squeeze in, force in more. But if, as in the heat and wind of  Comrades 2013  I need 900 or more ml per hour, I dehydrate. Over 11 hours I can be a good few litres short.

I don’t worry about it too much.  I’ll find an answer. I’m sure. And if I don’t, it’s okay too.

I’ll just get close as I can to the end and then procrastinate – put off bailing until I cross the grin-ish line in time as I did this 2013 year.

chat

Family down with coughs and sneezes. I fight off the creepy-crawlies, don’t run much because of the rain.

It’s okay.

I’m enjoying the Comrades recovery. I like walking around in my everyday world, with the fingers and ankles still tingling and sparkling with the got-the-medal fizz.

How much poorer my life would be without it.

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Recovery running

Recovery Running

In the logic of endurance running recovery runs help recover from harder runs. It’s also there in the recovery runs and the times that we don’t run, that we adapt to the worker and so get stronger.

I glad that now here in March with the run less than 3 months away that I’ve found my recovery pace.

Actutally I found my harder running pace of 5:30 min/km and have to focus, but not much, to do some of the runs I do at just over 6 min/km.

Recovery and Race Paces

This March recovery pace is likely to be my race pace on the big day. Plus the walking and the stops. If I get stronger it will help me walk less. And while I might shave off a second or two of this pace, essentially its set now.

 

 

 

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An ordinary recovery day

Just a little at best recovery workout today. Ran down to the gym, all 1.147 km on sore legs.

Mainly so I could check my weight. Great. Starting to get under 88 kg.

Hopped on a gym bike for 16 min to get my heart-rate up, my blood pumping without more muscle damage.

Back up home was quite easy. Didn’t use my carefully tempered hill-running muscles on that Peninsula Marathon.

Burned 545 Kcal according to mapmyrun … should be able to eat an extra carrot today. And finish off a child’s unfinished chocolate donut.

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A running week

Friday cold wind howling, rest day

Saturday, just feel tired, cold wind howling, wimp the run

Sunday, still tired, cold wind howling, not normally a running day

Monday, I understand that my recovery from Comrades is not yet complete, though my legs are getting perky. Wind cold still howling.

Tuesday, no wind and a perfect light, lusty 8 km, filled with numbers of running. A maths complicated to symbolise but easy to do: 4 with overlays of 4 and 2 deliver 8, 20, 1 like this : 4 days no running, no moon, empty streets; 4 days wind chill, warm bed, fuller dreams; 2 days bouncy legs, glinty eyes, itchy feet. Morning coffee always rich. This a.m.’s 8k stirred up my running residue, polished it in the moon. Then 20 min to delight in its starlit glitter; puffing it up again with sips of coffee. 1 perfect run, you see.

Wednesday, habit recovery day after a run, an indulgence and rememberance day.

Thursday: Yes! Rain on roof. Rummage for technical gear. Not wimping this one. Like a surfer into storm-big waves. Fetch in the last of the kids toys and visitors’ walking shoes Run, winter is come. And gone. Sweat-wet isn’t rain-soak. Even Venus looked through a gap in the clouds. Yet nicely, back at the gate, thumb hesitated over the remote. Maybe another 8k loop? Yes! Not really.

And still there’s Friday to come

 

 

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Recovery blues

The only problem about recovering from Comrades; from a big near 12-hour challenge, also from monnths of training almost as hard as I can.

I can’t run.

Otherwise its great. Lazy easy runs, time to enjoy them. Feeling strength return. Run-health fizzing through me. Good memories on my pillow, medal under it. Why not?

But I want more.

Outside the moon is full, the winter warm, my legs itch.

Not only is this a rest day, it’s also a Robyn gym day.

So I pause. Too soon 14-month old Emily wakes.

She calms out in the still-bright, still-rich, still morning moonlight.

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Recovery, recovering

The medal still warm in my pocket, my mind turns to next year’s run.

Still another 4 weeks of recovery running before I start my secret plan improve my time:

  • 1 min because its a down run, further sure but easier in a way and it ends at sea level, Toll Gate hill just isn’t Polly’s although that steep little from under the bridge up to the freeway is a real challenge
  • 1.25 minute through training more
  • 1.5 min through training better
  • 1.75 min through losing weight
  • 2 min through less Merlot during training
  • 2.25 min because I got through 2011 in time

Phew, at this rate I’ll get there before the sun goes down. One day I want to finish the Comrades Marathon AND get home again before the sun goes down.

My dreams are cocky. They want more running, faster running, bouncy running.

My legs are wary. They want a massage, arnica oil, ice, rest, Cabernet Savignon.

My mind is happy, my soul, whole.

aside

Jogged this weird-warm winter morning;

a shirtless ode to summer

Eyes filled with stars.

Legs a little stiff.

Saturday’s morning’s 13 k:

Too much fast, too much fun.

No training burden, you see.

Just running playfully. 

 

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Moon high, Venus bright in a clear sky, city still; mountain quiet under its cloud; silence of a crisp morning before the first bird. Three joys of winter. Focus: car backs from garage at me padding the middle road, bright headlights rush at us. Three beings at the same place and time. Eyes brighten, breathing deepens, the road softens.