It's wet, cold and dark outside. November rain can really drain your motivation. It feels like I'm stuck under a heavy blanket when I think about getting out running. But that's not all. I've had a setback in fitness as well. After overstretching myself twice. First I cranked up distance volume way too quickly during summer. Then I participated in a trail marathon way too early considering my fitness level. The result? I got myself back to square one. So what should I do? Cry and give up?
Nope. Well, maybe cry a little bit over the lost fitness - but then it's time to get back on track. After the trail marathon I cut myself some slack. I really needed it to recover. My knees were painful for more than a week afterwards. So I actually couldn't have been training although I did want to. Slowly I got myself together and started cautious jogging only to find out I had lost a lot of fitness. It felt devastating - but what can you do? All that work had been wasted. Or that's what I thought back then.
Now I've logged 30-40 km/week consistently for the last three weeks. Most of the "lost" fitness came back very quickly. The windy, cold, dark November rain is still an issue though. How do I deal with it? I try to plan my running as a way to commute to work. I decide on which days I will run there, and on which days I will run home. Then I set up the logistics so that I have to follow my plan or suffer. If I don't stick with it I'm either without proper shoes at work, or I have to borrow money for the bus home or I have to wear wrinkly shirts, sometimes all at the same day. It gets me over the psychological barrier of demotivation. When I do get out, I actually don't care about the icy rain stabbing my face and the slippery mud sucking at my feet. I actually feel proud of myself for sticking with it. I feel strong for following through even if it costs me some.
When it comes to the bottom line it's all about some basic facts of life. The days pass and never come back. If I want to make my dreams reality I can't afford to waste my time coming up with excuses. But whats even more important is to try to really enjoy the moment and keep an open heart, because destiny can change even the most well thought out plans. That's all I have to say for November. Take care people, of yourselves and of each other.
Friday, November 25, 2011
Monday, October 10, 2011
Race report: Vaarojen Maraton (Marathon of Dangers)
43 kilometers of tough technical trails. 1160 meters of total elevation gain. 500 runners. Seven hours and seven minutes of pain, pleasure and perseverance.
Last weekend I participated in the marathon of dangers. It's a 43 km long trail run through the national park Koli, in Finland. Alltogether some 30:ish kilometers are made up of technical trails. Roots, rocks, slippery cliffs, mud, marsh, steep ascents and steep descents combined with 1160 meters of total elevation gain makes the course a challenge for any runner. This was the scene for my marathon debute. Intended to give me a better understanding of what the Transalpine would demand.
The previous month, September, didn't go well training wise. I overtrained in late August, had some regression in running times, cought a flu once, and cought a flu twice. At least I got to taper a lot! Lying at home battling the flu only a few days before the event wasn't fun though. Getting out of bed straight to the woods felt a bit scary. I was nervous at the start - would I hold together and finish - or would I break and bust out. Time to find out!
Off we go. Jogging slowly into the forest. I'm monitoring my heart rate with some anxiety. It's way above where I think it ought to be. So we are holding back. It's probably mostly adrenaline, but I don't want to risk it at this point. The field passes by during the first kilometers and I'm sure I'll be dead last. After roughly three kilometers we hit a gravel road. Smooth surface for two kilometers. Then we head back into the woods for the next ten kilometers. I take my first sips of sport drink at around 40 minutes. We are passed by more people on the next uphill. I prefer to walk the uphills. But foolishly I run the downhills. Running the downhills will get me into trouble later. But at the moment it feels just great to get up to some speed in between the slow uphills.
The hills are puny compared to the Alps, yet they feel quite high and quite tough. The Jauholanvaara hill is the first longer climb, some 200 meters of altitude gain. Power walking up the hill. I pop the first energy pills. Our tail is growing, so we let some runners pass by. Soon after the 10 km mark the trail starts to slope downwards. After the descent we encounter a mudmarsh. It's wet and it's slippery like hell. We slow down even more, not to face plant in the gray grease. More than two hours has passed when we reach the lake crossing at roughly 16 km. We realise we won't make our unofficial target time of six hours. It doesn't matter much. Time flies by and it's (still) mostly a pleasure to be outside this crisp autumn day, with the nature cloured beutifullty in green, yellow and red.
After the lake crossing we hit the first service point. Loading up my water bladder takes forever. I fill my consumed 0,5l energy drink bottle with water and rehydration pills. Finally we are off again. I eat some pickles and sugar pills. Running feels great. But Gothoni, my running buddy, is getting more and more silent. I ask him how his doing. Mostly well apparently, but he is experiencing a slight low. Anyway he assures me all is good and we keep pounding the trail. Suddenly I realise he has been very quiet for a while now. When I turn around I see a girl trailing me. Gothoni is nowhere to be seen. Maybe he went to take a leak, I think to myself, and keep going. He'll catch up.
By now I'm waiting for the next distance mark. I pass the 20 km mark and am now closing in on the dreaded Ryläys hill. The climb is not very steep, but boy is it long. The mildly ascending terrain offers some spectacular lake views. My hand left hand looks wierd. It's swollen. I have to make a mental reminder to eat and drink. I don't think about much for the next five kilometers. Remember to fuel and where the hell is that 25 km mark. I encounter some really swampy and wet terrain and have to sacrifice my left foot. Now it's all soked and I'm expecting blisters. And it starts to rain.
I pass the 25 km mark knowing I'm now soon going to encounter the highest point of the run at 323 meters on top of Ryläys hill. The elevation gain isn't that bad, but the trail gets even more complicated with big boulders and sloping slippery cliffs. The view is well worth the climb. But I'm more interested in encountering the 30 km mark. I'm passed by the leader of the ultra distance. He looked so much stronger than I feel. I'm also passed by the guy chasing the leader. I cheer them on. Those guys deserve respect, covering the 43 km trail twice in less than ten hours. The descent from Ryläys hill is a nightmare. It kills my quadriceps. I jitter forward and downward on shaky legs. Fearing a fall on those sharp rocks.
Last weekend I participated in the marathon of dangers. It's a 43 km long trail run through the national park Koli, in Finland. Alltogether some 30:ish kilometers are made up of technical trails. Roots, rocks, slippery cliffs, mud, marsh, steep ascents and steep descents combined with 1160 meters of total elevation gain makes the course a challenge for any runner. This was the scene for my marathon debute. Intended to give me a better understanding of what the Transalpine would demand.
 | |
| Waiting for my turn at the starting area. |
The previous month, September, didn't go well training wise. I overtrained in late August, had some regression in running times, cought a flu once, and cought a flu twice. At least I got to taper a lot! Lying at home battling the flu only a few days before the event wasn't fun though. Getting out of bed straight to the woods felt a bit scary. I was nervous at the start - would I hold together and finish - or would I break and bust out. Time to find out!
Off we go. Jogging slowly into the forest. I'm monitoring my heart rate with some anxiety. It's way above where I think it ought to be. So we are holding back. It's probably mostly adrenaline, but I don't want to risk it at this point. The field passes by during the first kilometers and I'm sure I'll be dead last. After roughly three kilometers we hit a gravel road. Smooth surface for two kilometers. Then we head back into the woods for the next ten kilometers. I take my first sips of sport drink at around 40 minutes. We are passed by more people on the next uphill. I prefer to walk the uphills. But foolishly I run the downhills. Running the downhills will get me into trouble later. But at the moment it feels just great to get up to some speed in between the slow uphills.
 |
| Climbing the Jauholanvaara hill, tailed by happy trail runners. |
The hills are puny compared to the Alps, yet they feel quite high and quite tough. The Jauholanvaara hill is the first longer climb, some 200 meters of altitude gain. Power walking up the hill. I pop the first energy pills. Our tail is growing, so we let some runners pass by. Soon after the 10 km mark the trail starts to slope downwards. After the descent we encounter a mudmarsh. It's wet and it's slippery like hell. We slow down even more, not to face plant in the gray grease. More than two hours has passed when we reach the lake crossing at roughly 16 km. We realise we won't make our unofficial target time of six hours. It doesn't matter much. Time flies by and it's (still) mostly a pleasure to be outside this crisp autumn day, with the nature cloured beutifullty in green, yellow and red.
 |
| My running buddy Gothoni enjoying the boat ride in the sun. |
After the lake crossing we hit the first service point. Loading up my water bladder takes forever. I fill my consumed 0,5l energy drink bottle with water and rehydration pills. Finally we are off again. I eat some pickles and sugar pills. Running feels great. But Gothoni, my running buddy, is getting more and more silent. I ask him how his doing. Mostly well apparently, but he is experiencing a slight low. Anyway he assures me all is good and we keep pounding the trail. Suddenly I realise he has been very quiet for a while now. When I turn around I see a girl trailing me. Gothoni is nowhere to be seen. Maybe he went to take a leak, I think to myself, and keep going. He'll catch up.
 |
| Pictures don't do steep technical trails justice. |
I climb the second hill Kolinvaara, this time I walk the entire bit even though it isn't that steep. I'm starting to feel the first 17 kms in my legs. I take som pictures from the hill top and decide to wait for Gothoni, again being passed by some runners. I wait for what feels like several minutes but he is still nowhere in sight. I should call him, but I can't be bothered to haul out the phone from my pack. I decide to call him at the 30 km mark if he hasn't showed up by then.
 |
| The route offers some beutiful scenery from hill tops. |
By now I'm waiting for the next distance mark. I pass the 20 km mark and am now closing in on the dreaded Ryläys hill. The climb is not very steep, but boy is it long. The mildly ascending terrain offers some spectacular lake views. My hand left hand looks wierd. It's swollen. I have to make a mental reminder to eat and drink. I don't think about much for the next five kilometers. Remember to fuel and where the hell is that 25 km mark. I encounter some really swampy and wet terrain and have to sacrifice my left foot. Now it's all soked and I'm expecting blisters. And it starts to rain.
 |
| At times the pools of muddy water are unavoidable. |
I pass the 25 km mark knowing I'm now soon going to encounter the highest point of the run at 323 meters on top of Ryläys hill. The elevation gain isn't that bad, but the trail gets even more complicated with big boulders and sloping slippery cliffs. The view is well worth the climb. But I'm more interested in encountering the 30 km mark. I'm passed by the leader of the ultra distance. He looked so much stronger than I feel. I'm also passed by the guy chasing the leader. I cheer them on. Those guys deserve respect, covering the 43 km trail twice in less than ten hours. The descent from Ryläys hill is a nightmare. It kills my quadriceps. I jitter forward and downward on shaky legs. Fearing a fall on those sharp rocks.
 |
| I pass a girl on the descent down the Ryläys hill. |
When I finally reach the 30 km mark I feel great, even though I really start to feel the fatigue. I know I have the strength left to finish the last 13 kms. Time to dig out that cell phone from my pack. I call Risberg, who couldn't participate because of illness, and give hime a report. I call Gothoni to ask him where the hell he is. He has DNF:d. His stomach stopped cooperating and just wouldn't get him any energy from what he drank and ate. This gets my mood down a bit, I had believed he would be right behind me and that I could wait for him to cath up at the service point at 31 kms. I call my wife. She cheers me on and starts to tell me about what our puppy did. I can't focus on that right now, so I carry on with the run - I actually run the flats.
 |
| Anticipating that sweet choclate bar in my pack. |
I run past the service point as I have plenty of drink left and they don't serve any snacks anyways. Now follows a good six kilometers on a rather smooth surfaced gravel road. Sweet. My feet already hurt so much it doesn't make a big difference anyway. But I'm grateful I don't have to look down in front of me all the time. The road is boring though and I'm starting to feel pain in my right knee. At this point I would rather stop than carry on, it isn't fun anymore. But it's a part of the deal. You have to take the pain with the pleasure. I have to limp down the downhills. But on the flats I can still run. And I do.
I have to dig deep down within to find the motivation to run. I meet the force deep inside. And there I find the strength of my will. So I use it. I run. I run along the lakeside road. Totatally focused on running. I zone out. Then I look up. I look into those two blue eyes I used to love. My ex girlfriend is there on the shore of lake Pielinen. Following the race. Standing less than two meters from where I pass by. I flinch. She flinches. And the moment has passed. I pass by, shaken out of focus. She is staring down the road in the other direction. Wierd. 500 kilometers from home, and I haven't seen her in six years. Life offers a suprise every now and then. I carry on.
The route turns back into technical terrain. I mistakenly believe this is the last ascent and start to press on hard. I pass a couple of runners on the uphill. WTF? After a good climb of 100 elevation meters the trail starts to bend downhill. And my knee is killing me. I have to ask a runner coming up from behind if this really is the right path, he assures me it is. So I limp down the hill - painfully slowly. Every step couses sharpish pain in my knee. But I know there is less than 5 kms left, so I press on.
 |
| The devilish race director planned this torturous last climb before the real last climb. This guy should be arrested. |
I get down to the harbor and now I can see the starting point of the last ascent. It's a 3 km long uphill, a good 200 meters of elevation gain ending in a really steep 50 meter uphill. I collect myself once again and powerwalk the uphill. I pass by the runners who passed me on the downhill limp. I run a flatter portion of the uphill. On the last steep bit there are some people cheering. Some guys tell me I look strong, yeah right. Salt striped face and no posture left to mention. But I run the last portion of the uphill. And cross the finish line. I've just finished my first marathon. And not the easiest one there is. My time: 7:07. Nothing to brag about. But I learned a few important lessons.
Take it easy on the downhills. Train strength. Train hills. Train technical trails. Postpone the Transalpine with at least one year. Enjoy the ride.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Race report: Helsinki Midnight Run
Yesterday 6000 runners gathered at the senate square in the heart of Helsinki. The race is a 10k in the dark, filled with torch light, musical events and entertainment. Since I have been feeling a bit off since last week I arrived with a very conservative race strategy.
Two weeks ago I finished my second 30k long run. It felt great. Two days later I went for an 8k recovery run, which was one of my fastest MAF-runs so far. The day after I followed up with a 14k MAF-run. That run was a disaster. I felt really crappy and took a day off. Morning heart rate was elevated by 5-10 bpm. The MAF-test showed some regression. In frustration I aborted the MAF-test after 2 miles with a 7 minute mile. By then I knew something was wrong with me. I went to Berlin with some friends last week and taught I would flush out my system with a lot of booze. Hehhe. Not the best strategy. It backfired with flu and stomach symptomes for the entire week. My troath still felt sore at the dawn of race day. In retrospect I probably overtrained with two 30k runs in 8 days.
I chose a heart rate based strategy. Stay under 170 bpm for the first 3 km, under 180 bpm until 6,5 km, under 190 bpm until 8 km, under 196 bpm for 9,5 km and an all out sprint.
Arriving at the scene after a brisk 20 minute warm up walk. The square is filled with people in bright orange shirts, tents and loud music. A lot of anticipation in the air. There are two long queues in front of the university building where the clothes storage facilities are located. I wait in the line for maybe 15 minutes before I stash away my clothes. The queue to the toilets is even longer. I warm up while waiting for some 20 minutes. Emptying the tank just in time for the start,. Seven minutes to spare actually. I line up in the 50-55 minutes grid. The hot group starts five minutes ahead of us. The music is bursting out form the loudspeakers. Runners all around are twicthing and jumping in pre race agitation. Off we go.
A quick glance at the hrm, 150 bpm. We run downhill in the dimly lit streets of downtown Helsinki. I have to conciously keep my speed in check, not wanting to go out too fast. Arriving at the 2 km mark we have passed som uphill sections and already my heart rate has been drifting towards 175 bpm. I slow down on the next uphill, looking at my hrm showing 169 bpm. A lot of runners pass me on the uphill. We arrive at the first water station. I speed into the mid section, grab a cup and take som quick gulps of water. Choking and coughing. I'm not very good at running and drinking simultaneously - hey, I'm a man. At 3 km I have already passed 170 bpm, but still staying below 180. We run through a park over a hill. The pathway is beautifully lit with torches lined up along both sides. Down to the farmers market, where there is a samba procession. The course is lined with people high fiving runners passing by. I'm feeling strong and really enjoying the run.
We pass the half way mark at 5 km. I take look at my watch. 30 minutes has passed. S**t, that's slow. Ok, I'm going for a negative split to finish in less than 60 minutes. I speed up. My heart rate occassionally drifts past 190 bpm well before my pre set benchmark of 6,5 km. F**k it. Just go for it! Running faster feels comfortable and easy enough. I pass by a lot of runners. Some well dressed mid life women watching the race shout out to the girls behind me. "Girls! Catch that man, and you are all winners!" As we approach the second rehydration post I hear some girls on my left anticipating the liquids. A giant running beer bottle ahead of us turns around and tells them, that yes, there is beer there ahead of them. Chuckles.
I fly by a lot of runners, one or two speeding by me. It's so much fun passing people. We run along the beach side, people are cheering at the lines. At 7 km I change into higher gear again. My heart rate is well above 190 bpm by now. But the legs are drumming away and it doesn't feel like they are getting too much lactic acid. So I keep going. Speeding up once again at the 8 km mark. I'm giving it pretty much all I have by now. We curve in between the buildings. There are still some uphill bits before the finish. I bite my jaws together and work those legs up the hill. Passing a lot of runners. Those legs are starting to feel heavier for every step. Volounteers are running along the last uphill shouting to the runners to keep it up. "You are almost there! Keep going! Looking strong!" The last uphill is a struggle. I know we are soon done, but the last bend suprises me anyway. Suddenly there is a sharp turn to the left and a steep short downhill before the finish at the left. I really let go and fly down the hill. Passing som runners and racing those ahead. A sharp turn to left and I'm pumping my legs as hard as I can over the finishing mats trough the gate. Feels great! Sweating like a pig and out of breath. I stop my watch at 56:20. A new Personal Record! First I'm feeling disappointed, then I remember the flu symptomes and my weird stomach. Race well done. After all I'm pleased with the negative split. 29:56 and 26:24. The second split only three seconds slower than my previous best 5k.
Today, my troath is still a little bit sore but I'll try to get back to normal training regimen now. Time to polish up that form until a 43km trail run coming up in five weeks.
Two weeks ago I finished my second 30k long run. It felt great. Two days later I went for an 8k recovery run, which was one of my fastest MAF-runs so far. The day after I followed up with a 14k MAF-run. That run was a disaster. I felt really crappy and took a day off. Morning heart rate was elevated by 5-10 bpm. The MAF-test showed some regression. In frustration I aborted the MAF-test after 2 miles with a 7 minute mile. By then I knew something was wrong with me. I went to Berlin with some friends last week and taught I would flush out my system with a lot of booze. Hehhe. Not the best strategy. It backfired with flu and stomach symptomes for the entire week. My troath still felt sore at the dawn of race day. In retrospect I probably overtrained with two 30k runs in 8 days.
I chose a heart rate based strategy. Stay under 170 bpm for the first 3 km, under 180 bpm until 6,5 km, under 190 bpm until 8 km, under 196 bpm for 9,5 km and an all out sprint.
Arriving at the scene after a brisk 20 minute warm up walk. The square is filled with people in bright orange shirts, tents and loud music. A lot of anticipation in the air. There are two long queues in front of the university building where the clothes storage facilities are located. I wait in the line for maybe 15 minutes before I stash away my clothes. The queue to the toilets is even longer. I warm up while waiting for some 20 minutes. Emptying the tank just in time for the start,. Seven minutes to spare actually. I line up in the 50-55 minutes grid. The hot group starts five minutes ahead of us. The music is bursting out form the loudspeakers. Runners all around are twicthing and jumping in pre race agitation. Off we go.
A quick glance at the hrm, 150 bpm. We run downhill in the dimly lit streets of downtown Helsinki. I have to conciously keep my speed in check, not wanting to go out too fast. Arriving at the 2 km mark we have passed som uphill sections and already my heart rate has been drifting towards 175 bpm. I slow down on the next uphill, looking at my hrm showing 169 bpm. A lot of runners pass me on the uphill. We arrive at the first water station. I speed into the mid section, grab a cup and take som quick gulps of water. Choking and coughing. I'm not very good at running and drinking simultaneously - hey, I'm a man. At 3 km I have already passed 170 bpm, but still staying below 180. We run through a park over a hill. The pathway is beautifully lit with torches lined up along both sides. Down to the farmers market, where there is a samba procession. The course is lined with people high fiving runners passing by. I'm feeling strong and really enjoying the run.
We pass the half way mark at 5 km. I take look at my watch. 30 minutes has passed. S**t, that's slow. Ok, I'm going for a negative split to finish in less than 60 minutes. I speed up. My heart rate occassionally drifts past 190 bpm well before my pre set benchmark of 6,5 km. F**k it. Just go for it! Running faster feels comfortable and easy enough. I pass by a lot of runners. Some well dressed mid life women watching the race shout out to the girls behind me. "Girls! Catch that man, and you are all winners!" As we approach the second rehydration post I hear some girls on my left anticipating the liquids. A giant running beer bottle ahead of us turns around and tells them, that yes, there is beer there ahead of them. Chuckles.
I fly by a lot of runners, one or two speeding by me. It's so much fun passing people. We run along the beach side, people are cheering at the lines. At 7 km I change into higher gear again. My heart rate is well above 190 bpm by now. But the legs are drumming away and it doesn't feel like they are getting too much lactic acid. So I keep going. Speeding up once again at the 8 km mark. I'm giving it pretty much all I have by now. We curve in between the buildings. There are still some uphill bits before the finish. I bite my jaws together and work those legs up the hill. Passing a lot of runners. Those legs are starting to feel heavier for every step. Volounteers are running along the last uphill shouting to the runners to keep it up. "You are almost there! Keep going! Looking strong!" The last uphill is a struggle. I know we are soon done, but the last bend suprises me anyway. Suddenly there is a sharp turn to the left and a steep short downhill before the finish at the left. I really let go and fly down the hill. Passing som runners and racing those ahead. A sharp turn to left and I'm pumping my legs as hard as I can over the finishing mats trough the gate. Feels great! Sweating like a pig and out of breath. I stop my watch at 56:20. A new Personal Record! First I'm feeling disappointed, then I remember the flu symptomes and my weird stomach. Race well done. After all I'm pleased with the negative split. 29:56 and 26:24. The second split only three seconds slower than my previous best 5k.
Today, my troath is still a little bit sore but I'll try to get back to normal training regimen now. Time to polish up that form until a 43km trail run coming up in five weeks.
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