The Cold War

As I wrote last week’s blog I had no idea what a horrible week I was about to endure. I mentioned, in the blog, I felt I had maybe been affected in the previous Saturday’s race and Sunday’s training by a cold coming on. At the time I wrote the blog it felt like something that would soon pass over, how wrong I was. I managed to run some fast quality reps on Tuesday night and I was looking forward to gradually increasing the pace as I try to make my mark on the 2014 road racing scene. But I was wrong, I awoke on Wednesday and my body had been taken over by this horrible virus. I was weak, I was coldy and I was struggling for breath.

I’m a great believer that getting out in the fresh air is of more benefit to you than sitting at home watching TV, dosing up on lemsips and feeling sorry for yourself, so I attempted an easy run. The attempt failed, it wasn’t easy in fact it was hard work running slow. Still hopeful that it was a temporary situation I attempted another go at an easy run on Thursday. It was no easier, in fact it was harder, so hard I think I might have enjoyed a run around Boggarts Hole Clough more, though it’s a close call. This time I abandoned the run early. I then made the decision to take a break from training.

With the pseudo mother-in-law visiting for the weekend this would give me a great opportunity to spend time with her, taking her for walks in the Cheshire countryside. Friday was a couple of hours up the river Weaver to Vale Royal Abbey and back, the fresh air did make me feel better but I was still struggling with a bunged up nose that evening. On Saturday I was working whilst Carole looked after her mum, so it was only little peeks at fresh air, but I was beginning to notice recovery was on the way.

Sunday we did a round trip to Shropshire, visiting places of historical note that I’d not visited before. It was a great opportunity to get some fresh air as we were restricted to how far we could walk by my cold and my pseudo m-i-l’s age.

The first place we aimed for was Telford, named after Thomas Telford, of iron bridge fame, or better known by me for having had some of the country’s finest road runners. We skirted around Telford as the bridge is actually in Ironbridge, now there’s a coincidence.    

It may look like just another bridge to you, but this one's famous.

I was pleasantly surprised with the place, I expected it to be an interesting bridge across the river, but the village is very attractive and houses lots of museums featuring the various industries that occupied the gorge the village is situated in. Sadly none of them appeared to be open on Sunday. We had a wander along the river and up the valley side a little and then it was off to the next place.

I wanted to go to Shrewsbury as I’d been told it was a nice place, but Much Wenlock is not far away from Ironbridge and, as the home of the Olympian Games, surely worth a visit from a modern day Olympic games watcher. I hadn’t actually expected there to be much in Wenlock but, again, I was surprised, another attractive village with a part Norman church and ruinous abbey, plus it had a museum, which had a good display about the Olympian Games.

Then onto Shrewsbury, birthplace of Charles Darwin and T’Pau. I even have a running friend in Shrewsbury, but I try not to impose my family on my running friends, nor my running friends on my family. A wander around the town revealed an attractive place, but it was a bit difficult finding your way in first time round, I could have used sat nav but that’s got me lost more times than Carole.

It's an evolutionary place is Shrewsbury

Yes Shrewsbury was nice but I’m glad we made a round trip of it instead of just a day trip to Shrewsbury, we’d seen everything in a couple of hours, but I will go back, given enough inducement.

With the weekend over and the pseudo m-i-l on her way back to an independence vote it was back to the running on Monday. Still suffering with the cold it was slow and steady. I’m improving daily but any ambitions for a good road race time will have to be put on hold for a while as I build up my fitness and my confidence.

Ah I hear you say, I thought this was a fitness blog, not a travel blog, and so it is. The message is clear, if you have a cold, get some fresh air, but don’t push yourself in training. I’ve run with a cold before and strained my heart doing so, it’s not worth it, this time I was sensible and put my ambition on hold, the cold won’t last but my ambition will. I’m playing the long game, what I can’t win this year I will have another shot at another year.

Written by Roger Alsop

www.rogeralsop.co.uk

Nightmare on Boggarts Hole Clough – Part 2

Some sequels are better than the original, many are not. Nightmare on Boggarts Hole Clough – part 2 falls into the latter category. For starters there was a delay in it’s production, the sequel should have taken place around this time last year, but then I screwed up my achilles and the ongoing saga of that has been blogged about enough. After last year’s experience in the Manchester cross country league, I couldn’t find any positive reason for wanting to race cross country at Boggarts Hole Clough, but I do have this unendearing characteristic that makes me decide to take the hardest route towards my goal. Sometimes I despair of myself, and I feel sorry for Carole.

I’ve not had a great cross country season, in fact I’ve not even had a good one, I’d say it was fair to middling. That’s understandable considering all the problems I’ve had this last year. But I still have this desire to compete at cross country events. Mind you, my cross country background comes from mostly well drained 5 mile courses in the Surrey League. The Scottish East District League was also about 5 miles and the ground was relatively firm too. Here in the North West, with the exception of Heaton Park, all the courses seem to be waterlogged, slushy and muddy with lots of tight corners, plus they’re all 6 miles – that extra mile does make a difference if you’re not fit.

But, for reasons that are completely unclear, I turned up at Boggarts Hole Clough on Saturday, ready to race. Clearly everyone knows my feelings about running in mud, and at Boggarts Hole Clough in particular, as just about every Salford Harrier I talked to seemed surprised by my presence. Despite the mud, the cold, the damp, I was actually keyed up for the race, I’ve struggled with my race starts since buggering up my achilles, but I was determined to get away at the front of the field this time. In fact I was so much in my own little world, of fantasy race starts, that I completely missed Bev Simons winning the ladies race, only realising it was done when I saw three Salford ladies at the finish, with only four ladies having finished this was a great team result, particularly as there were only four Salford ladies competing today. Not only did they win the team event but they won the overall league title and Tania Hernandez won the individual title for first lady of the series. Well done ladies.

Then it was our time, disappointedly there were only three of us running for Salford, Stan Owen, myself and Albert Castile. This meant we wouldn’t finish a team in the senior event, four runners required, but, with an average age of over 50, we would have a masters team. After the obligatory starter’s chat we were off and I made a determined start, but it didn’t seem to matter, I was still swamped by youngsters. Despite the waterlogged conditions I wasn’t actually finding it tough to run on the top field, I just didn’t seem to have any pace to get up to the leaders. Still they were within sight and I was confident that I’d pull through the field as the race progressed. By the 2^nd lap of the top field I did feel I was in my stride, I’d pulled in some people but I seemed to be breathing a lot harder than I would have expected, for the pace I was running. I put it down to having to work harder to pull my feet though the mud. The 2^nd lap of the top field marked the 1^st big lap, that incorporated the bit that went through the woods. That was the bit I struggled on last year, but I was keen to do myself justice. The first bit through the woods didn’t seem as bad as last year, more runny than glutinous but then we arrived at a steep downhill and I started slithering all over the place. Wary of my lack of grip and deciding I didn’t really want to go A over T I slowed right down and virtually walked down the hill. This created a big gap ahead of me and allowed others to catch me up. As I set off again, nearly falling over on numerous occasions on my way back through the woods to the top field, I briefly had the desire to pull out, but a little Rog inside my head told me not to be a wimp, run slowly if need be, don’t worry about where you finish, but don’t pull out. Logic said I was already covered in mud so I might as well earn a position for my time and washing machine. I carried on, with team mate Albert Castile harrying me to the start of the last lap.

Stan Owen, usually a very quick starter, had got away from me at the start. The same thing happened at the last league race and I was only able to catch him in the final 300m, this time I had no chance of catching him, I couldn’t even see him. He ran another good race to finish in 20^th position and win the overall M60 title. But I didn’t have time to worry about Stan as Albert strode confidently past me just as we started the last lap. If we’d finished in those positions I would have been the last Salford Harrier, I wasn’t about to let that happen, without a fight. Albert had pulled up on me during the tricky wooded part of the course so I knew I had to build up a gap on the top field. I tried to concentrate on relaxing and getting my legs to turn over better, it worked a bit, though I was still finding my breathing heavier than I should. Back into the woods I’d built up a bit of a gap on Albert. This time I found it easier to navigate my way through the muddy wood, only half walking down the hill. It was enough, though only just, as I finished in 28^th, one place and 21 seconds ahead of Albert.

The whole race had been another nightmare for me, I really struggled and at the end I was exhausted, even though I didn’t feel like I deserved to be, at no point had I felt like I was really running competitively. It had been my worst position, ever, in the South East Lancs league, 28^th and 4^th M45 (despite the only M45s to have beaten me in the series not being present, nor the one who finished just behind me on both occasions). In fact, on my previous excursion to BHC I had finished 27^th in a much tougher field of the Manchester League. Despite my disastrous run, we still ended up coming overall 2^nd M40 team and, overall, I finished 14^th Senior man and 2^nd M45.

At night my mate Rob Tudor invited me to join him for a training run the following morning, I was a bit unsure, thinking I’d be stiff and slow after my race, but in the end he persuaded me. I was stiff and slow and I was also struggling with my breathing again, I put it down to not being relaxed because of all the aches. However waking up this (Monday) morning it is clear all is not well in the Alsop body. A number of my clients have been going down with colds over the last two weeks and I finally came down with my version of it. I was sneezing and wheezing when I got up, felt a bit better after breakfast but when I tried running I struggled with fatigue, my breathing wasn’t right and I nearly threw up after only 4 minutes of easy running. At least I had the good sense to cut my run short. Maybe that explains why I was breathing heavier than I should have been in the race. That’s it for me, as far as cross country is concerned, for this season. I’m keen to start running in road races, where I’m sure I’ll fare much better. But for those who’s season continues, good luck in the National, next weekend.

Written by Roger Alsop

www.rogeralsop.co.uk

Running in Vietnam

I’ve just come back from two weeks in Vietnam and I’ve had a fantastic holiday, but why Vietnam? My knowledge of the country is pretty scant, based mainly on what I’ve read and watched with respect to the wars with France and America, but I was aware that it has started to become a popular destination and it does have some pretty good beaches. One of my ex-bosses went a few years ago and she was pretty enthusiastic about the place, so it was one of those places I fancied trying, it was just a case of whether it was the right place for Carole and I to visit, and when. So when Carole said she wanted to take me away for my birthday present, Vietnam sprang to mind. We considered it, alongside other places; Thailand, the Caribbean and Florida, but eventually, thanks to the glowing review from one of Carole’s colleagues, we plumped for Vietnam, and I’m so glad we did.

Before we went I did a bit of research, the place we stayed at when we went to India, last year, was not a suitable venue for outdoor running, so it was a good place to be with an achilles injury, that restricted walking, let alone running. This year, despite ongoing niggles, I was hoping to run. My research told me that Ho Chi Minh City, where we were going to spend the first two nights, was not a great place to run, though it was possible. No problem, I’d already decided I was going to take a three day break from running, to try to help my niggles to go away. The second resort, Hoi An, appeared to be flat and, on google maps, it looked like there was a long straight road by the hotel, perfect for doing reps along, I thought. So setting off I was confident I’d be able to get in some good training during my holiday, not forgetting that it was actually a holiday.

25 January was the date of departure, I was looking forward to arriving, though the fact our flight was overnight meant I wasn’t looking forward to the journey itself. I had options for the morning, I could do the inaugural Warrington parkrun, I was tempted, but, frankly, I couldn’t be bothered, the niggles told me it would just be another disappointing run, and getting up that bit earlier would have made a long day, with the overnight flight. So I did my own fartlek course in Kingsmead instead and managed a pretty decent session, to set me up for a nice break.

It was a long flight from Manchester to Ho Chi Minh City, via Dubai, we left on Saturday evening and arrived on Sunday evening (day 1 of my rest period taken care of). I was so stiff, all over, the first flight had been ok but the second one felt so much more cramped. Day 1 in HCMC and we did a walk around the city, quite an interesting city, especially with all the decorations being set up for Tet, but very scary crossing the wide roads, with mopeds coming at you from all angles, it seems in this part of the world it doesn’t matter which side of the road you drive on, you aren’t required to stop for pedestrian crossings or traffic lights, perhaps a little exaggeration but a large percentage drive that way. Surprisingly, over 14 days we only saw one road traffic accident. Long walk over it was back to the hotel for dinner and packing ready for our trip to Hoi An, the next day.

Get away from the traffic and enjoy some nice architecture in HCMC

Day 3 of the holiday and the last day of my self-induced rest, a long trip to Hoi An, due to flight delays, and when we got there it was a bit overcast and a little chilly. Mind you it was now evening so we got changed and took a bus into the town proper, about 5k away. What a buzz, the town was full of life and colour for the Tet celebrations, Tet wasn’t until the weekend but it’s celebrated for up to two weeks, the two weeks we were there. We ventured into the town briefly on a number of days and every evening for dinner, it was a great place with some interesting buildings, but over the four days around the New Year it was a bit unbearable due to the sheer volume of people. Still it was worth venturing in for the quality of the restaurants.

Tranquility: view of the pool and sea from our room.

And the beach isn't bad either

Day 4 and it was time to resume running, three days rest and I was still a little stiff, as I set off my left glute was pulling (it had been my right one in the USA). It eased out before 6 minutes and I set off on my standard holiday 1,2,3 run. Not having travelled down the pavements before (roads were just a bit too full of mopeds) I took it a little steadier than I normally would, watching out for uneven slabs, people, holes in the ground, dogs, cattle and mopeds (yes they had a habit of coming onto the pavement just in front of you and I had to take rapid avoidance measures on more than one occasion). The previous night I’d met an American couple, he had been running and got bitten by a dog, that had ruined a part of their holiday as he sought treatment to prevent rabies, so I was intent on keeping well clear of all the dogs, there were a lot but they were of the yappy sort, still a nip would have still meant being treated for possible rabies, an unpleasant prospect compared to lounging by the hotel pool.

The next day my achilles was sore and with the heat starting to get to you after 20 minutes of running I decided to keep it short, 16 x 1 min with 30 secs recovery. I found it pretty hard work and my achilles was really sore at the end. With this in mind I decided to skip the run the next day and instead did one of my 45 minute PT sessions. Meanwhile, on the beach, Carole had reignited her passion for running and was running for longer than I was, I’ve entered her for a 10k so it’s time she pulled her running socks up. She had found the beach more to her liking than the busy roadside, you still had to avoid dogs and cattle but there were no mopeds.

Back to the 1,2,3 and the 16 x 1 minute for me over the next two days, but I’d taken a leaf out of Carole’s book and did it on the beach. On the second day we hired bikes, they weren’t very comfortable and there was something wrong with the setup on mine, I should have given it a once over but I was keen to get into the countryside. By that evening I could hardly walk, my left knee, the cause of many breaks in training over the years, was aching. I’m not sure if it was the bike, the beach or a combination of the two, but I was worried that was the end of any holiday running. The next day I treated myself to a 30 minute PT session.

Having the day off running seemed to help and the following day I was back into it, though I’d decided to just run out and back at a nice easy pace. I avoided the beach and when we did go out cycling I made sure the bike was set up better.

I started to take age and body issues into consideration now, knowing I’m no longer the youthful 47 year old who could do back to back sessions I decided I’d alternate between steady runs and reps. It was getting hotter every day and the 3 minute reps were feeling quite tough, so I decided to stick to the 1 minute reps. After all I was on holiday, the hard work can wait.

Finally, something older and more of a ruin than me - My Son

On the penultimate day I did my longest run, still only 40 minutes, less than Carole’s longest run, she’s a machine when she gets on a beach, and then, on the last day, I felt I was beginning to motor on my 1 minute reps, just in time to go home and start to ratchet the training up.

Long flight home, we were on the cramped plane to Dubai, by the time I got off in Dubai I was limping again, I was thinking I’d probably need to take more time off when I got home, however, arriving in Manchester, in a roomier plane, I didn’t feel so bad and could walk with barely a limp.

Over the next few days I was stiff, I decided to just run long runs, 8.5-10 miles and run reps with clients. However a couple of days of that and I realised I was just constantly stiff, so I booked in with Mike for some bioresonance. Luckily Mike was available at short notice, the next day I felt much freer when I was running, I was flowing again and I ran the 8.5 mile run two minutes quicker than two days previously, despite the stiff wind. I still have a few aches but I feel so much better, I’m off to see Mike again next week for a further booster.

So what did I think of Vietnam, lovely country, very affordable, fantastic food, friendly people (on the whole), extreme road crossing capability required and not the best place to run fast, though if you want to you can. We didn’t pick up any illnesses, despite eating salads and having ice in our drinks, no dog bites, though one almost got me, and no random attacks by cattle feeding off the plants growing on the roadsides. All in all a great trip, I’d go back.

Written by Roger Alsop

www.rogeralsop.co.uk