So much for a post a day, but I'm not going to beat myself up over it (although I imagine all of you avid readers out there are devastated...), it turns out that finding stuff to write about without sounding like an opinionated moron is pretty difficult. Particularly when you're an opinionated moron. So sporadic posts it is until I have something interesting(ish) to say.
Anyway, yesterday I took part in the Ballybunion Half Marathon. This was to be my first half marathon, and I can't say that I was the most prepared, both with regard to training and nutrition and time management, so basically did the whole thing like a complete cowboy. Minus the spurs, hat and yeehaws.
Training-wise, I had been doing alright up until a few weeks ago, when I was trying to get out running at least two or three times a week. One fine day at the end of March, I decided that instead of running around one of my usual loops in the town - ranging from 6-12km - I would run TO somewhere. So I set my sights on Beal Strand, just outside Asdee, and, according to Google Maps, 13km from Listowel, where it was arranged that I'd meet up with Anne-Sophie and her visiting friend who would drive me back home. I hadn't taken into account the fact that I would be using back roads I didn't really know, so the 13km turned out to be 18.9km (very nearly longer as I wavered at a junction unsure of which direction to take - thankfully I chose right). I also hadn't realised quite how big Cnoc an Oir, the hill, or as I like to call it - mountain, between Listowel and Asdee is, or that it's another 6km or so from the peak to the shore (all downhill though). It was a tough climb.
A quick dip in the sea was as good as any plunge pool, although a young German Shepherd stood watching me warily as I splashed around, barking furiously as I started wading back in. I thought he wasn't going to let me back on dry land, but soon realised he didn't know what the hell this thing coming out of the water was. While still at a safe distance I splashed water everywhere an lurched towards him and he took off down the beach like a scalded cat.
Anyway, long story short, I took a few days to let a few little blisters heal up and didn't get out again since.
On the nutrition side of things I finally got my list of food intolerances back from the nutritionist, basically a list of foods that I shouldn't eat for three months while my system heals up, including wheat, corn and potatoes, which meant that loading up on carbs the night before was a bit tricky. I made a huge helping of Thai Red Chicken Curry for dinner and had half before work on Friday, putting the rest aside for the following day, but in the end deciding I'd be better served eating it at 1am Saturday morning when I got home from work and just before bed. Breakfast on the day consisted of a couple of bananas and bits of chicken that I had cooked up for my post race dinner of curried fried rice, which I threw together before hand, because a) my intollerances would prevent me from eatingh any of the food that they had prepared for the runners at the event and b) because I would be hard pressed to get ready for work for 6 after the run.
I signed up for the race last minute, and, truth be told, I probably wouldn't have done it if a friend hadn't been driving from Tralee for it, and tore the house apart looking for running gear.
I set out at a decent pace, and kept it up until just after the four mile mark, where I started to feel the onset of blisters on the heel and toes my left foot. I don't know if it was because I hadn't tightened the shoe properly or if that foot is the softer of the two, but I felt that if I stopped to straighten things out I would have difficulty getting going again. So I decided to motor on and see how I went. At that stage, with another nine miles ahead of me I just hoped I'd be able to finish.
The weather was gorgeous, although a lot of people grumbled about the heat, I always like running in the sunshine, especially with the fabulous views of the Atlantic and Shannon Estuary for the first seven miles. A cool breeze blew in our faces for the seven miles out of Ballybunion, one consoling aspect of this being that it would be a comforting tail-wind on our way back, but by means of some bizarre meteorological phenomenon we found ourselves running against the wind on our return as well.
As I went further my pace dropped gradually as the blisters got worse and more developed on my right foot. Having passed people pretty consistently for the first quarter of the race I was now only being passed. Counting down the miles helped me through it, and once I got to mile eight I felt sure I'd make it. The downhill stretch for the last mile was fantastic, and it felt great to pass the finish line in 57th place at 1:48:11, considering my estimate, based on the long run to Asdee, had been around 2 hours. Plenty of room for improvement there I think.
I limped around looking for a first aid person to dress my aching left foot, afraid to remove my shoe until I did, for fear of what I would find. When I finally did, the foot was significantly less impressive than I had imagined - the sorest parts being neither bloody or even showing any evidence to the casual observer (or, apparently, trained medic) of being blistered at all. Disappointing.
I got him to dress it anyway, before gingerly sitting into the car, driving back to Listowel, showering, changing, wolfing down as much fried rice as I could, drinking a mug of coffee, sitting out and sleeping in the sun for fifteen minutes, and tearing off to work for a 10 hour shift at the counter (nipping home on my break for the rest of the rice). Phew.
Most active day thus far, I think.
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