I'm now deep into what runners lovingly refer to as the peak training block.
"Peak" sounds quite positive, doesn't it? It conjures images of fitness, strength, confidence and being at the top of your game.
The reality is rather less glamorous.
Essentially, it's the four-week period where the mileage ramps up, the hours on your feet increase significantly and your social life quietly disappears. It's the point in training where you're supposedly building the fitness required to tackle your target event.
Is it enjoyable? Not really.
A Month of Running and Repeating
I'm approaching the end of the block now, and looking back, it's been a fairly relentless cycle. To the non-running world, running four times a week probably doesn't sound particularly excessive. In fact, it sounds quite sensible. The devil, of course, is in the detail.
A typical fortnight has looked something like this:
Week One
- Tuesday: 7.5 miles at 4:30am
- Thursday: 7.5 miles at 4:30am
- Saturday: Marathon-distance trail run
- Sunday: 10-mile "recovery" run
Week Two
- Tuesday: 7.5 miles at 4:30am
- Thursday: 7.5 miles at 4:30am
- Saturday: 31-mile ultra run
- Sunday: 10k recovery run
Then repeat. Over and over.
The alarm clock goes off in darkness. You stumble out of bed questioning your life choices. You run. You recover. You run again. Then you spend your spare time trying to eat enough food to support the whole ridiculous process.
It's less a training plan and more a carefully managed exercise in fatigue.
Managing Pain and Boredom
The challenge isn't just physical. It's pain and boredom in roughly equal measure.
The pain arrived during the first block when I picked up a strange sharp ache in my right ankle. Naturally, I did what all sensible runners do and immediately tried to identify the cause rather than accepting that my body might simply need a rest.
My prime suspect is a decision that, in hindsight, wasn't one of my finest.
I'd switched to a completely new brand of trainers—Brooks—with the intention of wearing them for Rose of the Shires.
The timing wasn't ideal.
I suspect I've developed a touch of tendonitis. What it probably needs is rest. What it's going to get is considerably less than that.
The Great Fruit Cake Disaster
If the ankle was mistake number one, mistake number two involved nutrition.
For the first ultra distance run of the block I discovered I'd run out of Tailwind, the magical carbohydrate drink that seems capable of turning tired runners back into functioning human beings.
Rather than buying more beforehand, I decided I'd be perfectly fine running an ultra on water and fruit cake.
Reader, I was not perfectly fine.
The first twenty miles were manageable. The final ten-plus miles were horrendous. I completely crashed.
No energy.
No strength.
No enthusiasm.
Just a slow and increasingly miserable shuffle towards Worcester.
The only thing keeping me moving was the knowledge that my girls were waiting to pick me up—and that I could swing by Copper Beech Taproom before heading home.
Priorities.
Copper Beech Saves The Day
This was actually my second visit to Copper Beech's new taproom. The first involved running there as well, which probably tells you something about my personality.
It's a cracking little venue. Great atmosphere, excellent beers and genuinely welcoming. On this occasion the rugby was on the big screen, the place was busy, and despite my thoroughly miserable run, it immediately lifted my mood.
The dog joined us and, given how dog-friendly the place is, we ended up sitting outside where it was a little cooler than the packed main bar.
The beer tasted magnificent.
Whether that's because the beer genuinely was magnificent or because I'd spent six hours suffering beforehand is impossible to determine scientifically.
Probably a bit of both.
Either way, it was exactly what I needed after one of the least enjoyable runs I've had in a long time.
Needless to say, when I got home I immediately ordered more Tailwind.
Lesson learned.
The Problem With Running For Six Hours
Something dawned on me during this training block. I think I'm reaching my limit with endless solo long-distance running. That doesn't mean I've fallen out of love with running.
Far from it.
I still genuinely enjoy it. But there's a significant difference between enjoying a challenging run and spending six hours alone revisiting roads and paths you've already covered thousands of times.
This Saturday's run brought it home. The conditions were almost perfect.
Blue skies.
No wind.
Dry trails.
Temperatures eventually climbing to around 17°C.
Objectively, it should have been a fantastic day to be out. Yet around 18 miles in, I suddenly realised I still had roughly a half marathon left to run. I was already beginning to run low on fluids.
And for the first time in a long while, I simply thought:
"I've had enough."
Nothing dramatic.
No injury.
No crisis.
Just boredom.
For the remainder of the run I couldn't switch my brain off. Instead of enjoying being outdoors, I became obsessed with distance remaining.
I checked my watch constantly.
Every third of a mile.
Then again.
Then again.
Any experienced runner will recognise that's not a healthy headspace to be in.
Rose of the Shires Doubts
The reality is that I think much of this stems from the race itself.
Unlike the Wye Valley Ultra last year, where I never doubted I'd finish, I currently have the opposite mindset regarding Rose of the Shires. If I'm being brutally honest, I don't think I'll complete it.
Not because of fitness.
Not because of determination.
But because of my ankle.
At around 22 to 25 miles, it starts becoming increasingly painful.
If it's complaining at 25 miles, what exactly is it going to feel like at 54.5?
The answer probably isn't "better."
A Sudden Reality Check
Something else struck me this week as I started thinking through race day logistics.
I've always run these silly distances for two reasons:
- The challenge.
- The enjoyment.
Ideally both.
What motivates me is knowing there's something waiting at the end. A beer. A meal. Good company. A sense of celebration. When I sat down and did some rough calculations, however, reality kicked in.
The race starts at 8am.
If everything went perfectly and I matched my Wye Valley pace, I'd be running for around eleven and a half hours.
A mate who has actually run 50-plus milers laughed at that estimate and told me to expect more like thirteen to fourteen hours. Especially for a first attempt. Which means I'd almost certainly be finishing in darkness.
Then there would be the inevitable post-race faffing. Then a drive to the hotel.
The more I calculated, the more likely it seemed that I'd be arriving at the hotel around 11pm.
Exhausted.
Broken.
Potentially unable to enjoy a beer.
Unable to enjoy dinner.
Unable to properly celebrate.
And that's when I realised:
What exactly is the point?
Perhaps this is what happens when you enter events while slightly drunk nearly a year in advance.
A New Plan
So I've come to a conclusion. A sensible conclusion, which feels unusual for me. The current plan is to ask my mate to collect me around the 31-mile mark. At that point I'll still have completed a genuine ultra. I'll have experienced a significant chunk of the route. I'll have participated. I'll have challenged myself.
Then I'll head back to race HQ, officially record the DNF, and move swiftly onto the important business of beers, food and a good weekend away.
That sounds considerably more appealing.
More importantly, it reduces the chances of turning a manageable ankle issue into a full-blown injury that ruins the entire summer. After all, I'd hate to spend months grinding through cold winter mornings only to wreck myself in April.
Looking Beyond April
I've also decided that once Rose of the Shires is behind me, my running will return to something much closer to what I actually enjoy.
Something like:
- Two 7.5-mile morning runs each week
- A solid 15-16 mile Saturday run
- An easy Sunday 10k
More than enough to stay fit. More than enough to satisfy the running addiction. And crucially, enough to remain enjoyable.
Because if running stops being fun, what's the point?
And Finally...
I appreciate this update has been unusually light on beer.
Don't worry.
No one is more surprised by this than me.
Despite the mileage, the early alarms and the endless fuelling experiments, I've still been diligently conducting beer-related research.
There's plenty to report on that front.
But that'll have to wait for the next update.
For now, the focus remains on surviving the final weeks of peak training with my ankle, sanity and enthusiasm still largely intact. The ankle is questionable. The sanity even more so. The beer, thankfully, is in excellent condition.
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