The Running Hour. Repeat.

A new quest to challenge the backyard ultra process.

This is my beginning. Starting with a sprained ankle and 8 months to get right.

I've had a running history but no documentation so I'll briefly catch up in the next installment.

This is some accountability. I don't want to turn up and fail early and be convinced I did OK. I want to win. Not win the race exactly but I'd take that. But win as in be content. Not stop at a milestop. Not die on my chair and not give up my mind.

This is a mental challenge. The physical stuff is easy. The nutritional is tangible. The prep is all doable.

Discipline is mandatory. Turning up is mandatory. Giving up is not allowed.

Updates and basic training and the journey to follow.

Time to fucking focus.

Comments

Visualising Failure

I'm that person that gives out, bitches and moans about training but always always fears not having enough done. But doesn't everyone? I'm hoping so. Then there's the guilt. It irks away at you. Why are you not training? You don't deserve to relax. You haven't earned it. You can't enjoy food. You haven't earned it. You can't watch a series on Netflix unless your on the turbo. You must suffer. I'm not sure where the guilt comes from or the purpose but it's tough mentally and probably not proactive. I know that. I should probably just train more. That would teach the guilt. After a 2 week break from the pool, one for illness, the second more logistical I returned this week and was looking forward to it. It had only been 2 weeks. Hardly enough time to lose any swimming fitness. Swimming fitness I'd really only gained over the previous 3 weeks so possibly a bit niave on my part. Monday night's session was grim but I powered throu

70.3 Race Report: How to feel horrific

I'm sitting here at11.25pm eating a banana and a dry pancake, the left overs of my meticulously planned breakfast I forced down 18 hours ago. 2 hours ago I could barely hold onto the day any more with a deep wave of tiredness I've rarely felt before. Now I'm jolted awake with strange feelings all over my body and bouncing sore legs. I'm not sure why they are bouncing but they cannot stay still. Today I competed an Ironman 70.3 Dun Laoghaire. At the time of finishing it felt ok. Only ok. I'm not sure why or what I expected but I didn't get it. Possibly deflated. The day started at 5am with the aforementioned breakfast and porridge forced down with what turned out to be too strong coffee resulting (along with the nerves) four bouts of what I only wanted one of. So much for being worried about that. The first decision of the day; choosing the portaloos with the shortest queues. Nailed it, with still time to strap my nutrition, don the wetsuit and stroll yo the

Refocus

I find it hard to keep up a blog and as with most things it down to mindset. When things are fantastic I've no time to write and when things are bad or tough well, I'm just too embarrassed or guilty. What's the point. It's sounds stupid but it's honest. The last few weeks have been tough. Life and work have been busy. The snow arrived and time was lost and excuses made. That's all normal I assume. Getting into a solid training streak is so important. And I did have one good week. But to be honest I've fallen out of love with swimming, unable to muster the energy and time to cycle and generally regretting all things triathlon. I find myself wishing I should have stuck with running and wondering what I could have achieved if I'd stuck it out. But I've made my decision and for now at least until August and the Half I'm going to have to stick to it. I've gotten a coach to make my training sessions have more purpose and direction. Also I want t

The Quest for M dot

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