Paranoia; or You're only as good as your last run

I had a bit of a crisis of confidence, as is my wont, after the Fling recce.  Too many miles at double digit per mile pace had me convinced I'd never run another mile at sub-8 minute pace. 

I have a bit of negative personality you see.  Often not so much Mr Glass-is-half-empty, but rather Mr Glass-has-been-knocked-off-the-table-and-is-smashed-on-the-floor.  Which is an unlikely Roger Hargreaves character, I'll admit.

I've been worrying that I've been putting on weight, and might be losing speed/sharpness as I try to build my endurance for longer runs.

So this week's club nights have been a tremendous reassurance.  I was tickled to hear that Mr and Mrs Hay had had a chat about whether I would be down on Tuesday after a pretty full weekend (Mrs Hay won apparently - "of course Nick'll be down").  The truth (obvious to others as well it seems) is that I get so much out of the club nights.

I joined Dunbar Running Club in the summer of 2013, having dabbled in 10Ks for a couple of years.  I'd do a couple in the spring and then return to fat again by winter.  So much so that my uncle/godfather patted me on the stomach on Boxing Day 2012 and said, "I'm glad to see that you're getting like the rest of us". That was a bit of a wake up call.  And to be fair, he was right. I was at least 2 stone overweight.  But with a bit of effort I got the weight down enough, with the help of the great guys at East Lothian A.B.C., so that I could feel better about running.

I did the Dunbar 10K in April 2013 and got a PB of 42:27, and was really chuffed.  And was over the moon when I got under 40 for the first time at Haddington in June. Which gave me the confidence to join a club. Because I've never been much of a club person.  I have too many memories of going along to things as the kid that no-one knew (running, football, hockey, golf, etc) and not feeling particularly welcomed. I remember vividly being asked at a football club what position I played.  Centre half. "But Andrew's our centre half, and he's REALLY good." Ok, message received.

But Dunbar has converted me to clubs.  It's not elitist, but there are some cracking runners. And they are very generous with their time and advice to newbies like me.  At the start I watched in awe and with no little jealousy how Stuart, Grant and "the Ians" could do a 10 mile run at sub-7 pace while holding a conversation, and I'd be floundering off the back, trying to keep them in sight, and using every bit of breath for breathing.  And each week I'd try to stay with them a little longer so that eventually I got round the whole thing with them, and could (once in a while) chip in to the conversation.

That, and the Thursday night track interval sessions, have combined to send my times tumbling.  At Musselburgh last July I managed a 36:44, which I'd never have believed possible before Dunbar RC.  But more than that I enjoy the friendship, the laughs, the interesting routes, and the genuine pleasure taken in each other's successes.

So yes, I get a lot out of club nights.

Tuesday's run was a case in point.  The changing rooms at Hallhill saw a discussion on the route for the night - our first of the year after the clocks had gone forward, so a welcome opportunity to branch out from the "Town Run" (our regular winter 10k route around Dunbar under streetlights) and go further afield.  The only problem being the fierce westerly wind.  Stuart presented 3 options: Doon Hill (no, too exposed); everyone chipping in £3 for a taxi to Haddington so that the wind would be at our back the whole way (very tempting); or the Chicken Run.

We elected for the Chicken Run, which sets out from Hallhill, goes through Belhaven Bay, out along John Muir Way towards Tyninghame, cuts up at Tynefield, over the A1 towards Biel estate, but bears left past the chicken farm (hence the name), before heading back to Hallhill via Thistlycross and the top end of West Barns. A decent 9 miles, with the first 4 or so likely to be tough as they'd be into the wind. Indeed, Stuart and I employed a bit of slipstreaming to give each other a little respite.  We saw Rhona, Mary et al near our furthest out point, but doing their slightly different run, and Rhona admitted later that she was frozen.

We were very surprised then to see that, in spite of the wind, we were managing (just) sub-7 pace.  Which made the return with the wind behind all the sweeter, having already taken our medicine.  I was trying to deliberately bounce higher into the air so that I got maximum value out of the push in the back.  That made me think of when my kids were little and we'd do "super-running" which involved me holding their hands and running so fast (relatively) that they were on the point of falling over, or would have been had I not been holding them up.  And with sun still out, it was great to roll back into Hallhill, having averaged 6:52 for the lot.

Tonight's 5K handicap saw us set off amongst a huge crowd of vocal supporters. That was there to see the rugby match between Dunbar and Haddington. Personally my run was a little below par, but I was happy enough to just get under 18 minutes (sub-6 minute miles! :)), and that with a bit of a wheezy chest.  Jamie had a great result - winning for the first time, in a PB time. He is in great shape ahead of London, and I really hope that he converts.

Which, after a fashion, brings me back to the start of my train of thought.  A lot of runners know the truisms of running, but find it much easier to apply them to others than to themselves. I had fallen into the trap of thinking that every run had to be a fast one, whereas  in reality that mindset just leads to fatigue, injury and general running misery.  Slow runs are *good* for you.  As Stuart says, if you run both club nights hard, and do something decent at the weekend, then you'll be fine.

Now I just need to start listening to the "above/below the neck" rule about colds...

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In Fling prep news, I was on Sportsshoes.com last night and have ordered my final bits of kit for the race - a pair of gaiters and a new hydration bladder.  Last weekend I found that even microscopic pebbles can really start to worry away at your feet after enough miles, and I'm fed up with a perished mouthpiece that constantly drips down my leg!