Decided it was time to look at joining a new running club. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with my current club … except their training times. They’re friendly, helpful and into their running but I just can’t get to training as I simply can’t schedule things to get there on time.
Also, my little sister has
taken up running and I can’t have her getting quicker than me so I need to get
some proper training done.
Apparently playing the
‘Zombies Run’ game doesn’t really count as Proper Training. (Sulk)
Managed to find the club
house and there weren’t any scary-looking athletes doing obscene stretches or
wearing those elite bikini-style running clothes which was a relief. Everyone
looked nice and normal. Apart from all that tight lycra and day-glo colours but
among us runners that’s practically compulsory.
Grabbed a passing runner and
he pointed out the lady I’d emailed and she gave me a group to run with. They
all looked friendly enough. After all, I’m here to run not to chat so even if
they looked a bit scary, it wasn’t as if I needed to get a blood sample from
them or anything. All I needed to do was to keep up.
Did a 2.5 mile warm up
around the streets at about a 9:30 minute mile and had a chatter with the rest
of the group. A varied lot, ranging from an older gent who’d just completed his
first triathlon to some race-mad guys who were racing practically every
weekend.
Got back to the base and I
expected 30 – 45 minutes of intervals of some description as was usual at my
old club but apparently everyone was off on a run of a varying length. My group
were doing a 7 – 8 mile run. Eek.
This was my test. I’ve got a
marathon in exactly 10 days and I should be in taper. Especially after I did a run
this morning … but I failed the test. “Yes, no problem” I squeaked trying to
keep the fear out of my voice at trying to keep up with a group of runners of
whose speed I had no idea. Great. Well done me. Cowardice score 10/10.
Turned out they were running
at about 1 – 1.5 minutes per mile faster than my usual run of the same
distance. I could do the pace over this distance. But I wasn’t sure I wanted
to, being sandwiched between my half marathon last weekend and the marathon
next weekend. Sigh.
At least on the plus side I
would definitely get some speed training in. I didn’t know this area at all, so
if I got left behind I would never find my car or the running clubhouse again.
My body would be found the next day having it’s pockets picked over by some white
tracksuited chav with fake gold chains and sovereign rings. So … a 7:30 minute
mile it was then.
They were a friendly group
and it was actually really good running at a faster speed with other people.
When I run with Wolf Runner and Insurance Expert it’s at a nice gentle speed so
we can chat and spot ice creams vans from a distance. There was no track at
this club so the running was all done over the city streets.
This was careering across
roads in breaks in the city traffic and flying around corners and seeing
whether you could make the opposite pavement before the car coming up to the
same intersection. This was betting your body against the traffic and wondering
whether you could beat your group mates to the central reservation. This wasn’t
just running. This was S&M running.
I had made a rookie error
though. It was a cool Autumn evening so I had worn a warm running jacket over
my vest top expecting a few gentle intervals. However, with a higher speed and
a good warmup I was heating up pretty quickly. Unfortunately, the combination
of a close fitting jacket and a Garmin pinning the sleeve to my wrist meant
that trying to take it off while running wasn’t very easy and I got it stuck
getting it over my head. I missed running into the back of a parked transit van
and leaving a body print in the metal by inches.
We ran through a lot of
streets that looked the same, orange sodium lights and houses tightly locked up
and gangs of youths roaming the streets. None of the groups really took much
notice of us except for one group who shouted something. It might have been
threatening but their Coventry accents were so thick I couldn’t understand what
they were saying so I chose to interpret it as “You go girl!” and “Looking
good!” I didn’t slow down to ask for more compliments though. Or slow down at
all.
I was flagging by the end of
the run. Somehow I can run for 13 miles at a 7:30 minute mile in a race, but
ask me to do a sub 8 minute mile in a training run of over 6 miles and my legs
threaten to fall off. Probably the cowardice kicking in again.
Made it back to the
clubhouse without falling over or being caught by one of the suicidal drivers
in one of the pan-dual carriageway dashes and found out that the front runners
of our group were about a minute in front of us and the rear runners a couple
of minutes behind. I decided that next time I went I was keeping up with the
front runners and the week after that I was going to beat them home.
Sounds like I’m going back
then.
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