The last year running has been the main focus of my need to exercise, primarily because it doesn't require as much time as cycling to get a good workout. Of course the desire to compete is just as strong as usual and so the 27km Wolfgangsee Lauf was the final goal for the season.
Training has been fun. The company's current photography intern is an ultra-marathon runner from Mexico, Marcos Ferra, and we have been out for plenty of lunch break jogs. The guy is awesome, he can just keep going and going and apparently spends much of his weekends on four hour training jaunts around the local hills.
So I had some confidence going into the Wolfgangsee Lauf. The course is interesting: 3km after the start in St. Wolfgang, there is a sharp incline over the Falkenstein. It rises 250m vertically and the descent afterwards is equally steep. From there it is an essentially flat half marathon back to St. Wolfgang.
Marcos took off like a rabbit after the starting gun, not to seen again until the finish. I forced myself to take it easy until at least the Falkenstein. Getting over it wasn't a problem, and I adopted Marcos' downhill technique to good effect, overtaking a lot of runners on the way down. But back at lake level things didn't go totally as I planned. My heart-rate was soaring and I just couldn't get it back to what I was comfortable with.
By St. Gilgen at the 10km mark my pulse was still banging away at 176-179bpm, about 10bpm over what I wanted. I realised this wasn't going to change, so just tried to get in the best rhythm possible and slog it out to the finish.
With 10km to go, I actually felt pretty good. I was able to stick 4min 40sec kilometres and despite the cold and rain, my legs weren't too sore. However, something happened over the next 20 minutes and I gradually got slower and slower. More runners were coming past and my kilometre time was down to 5min.
Mentally I was nearing breaking point. Why was I doing this stupid race? I'm a cyclist, not a runner. Suffering on bikes seems so much more agreeable than on foot.
Through Strobl with five clicks remaining and I just had to take a break, walking for 20 seconds before starting up running again. I saw my work colleague on a corner taking photos which motivated me to pick up the pace a little bit.
The final kilometres were difficult to say the least but emotionally satisfying. At the 500m mark, Red Bull X-Alps athlete Christian Amon - who had finished almost 20 minutes earlier - gave me a shout, and then it was a short descent into the town with hundreds of people cheering. What a boost that was!
I crossed the line in 2hr 13min 6sec, nearly two minutes up on my target of 2hr 15min, and a placing of 228 from 1100 starters. Marcos killed it with 2hr 3min 46sec and 131st position. We didn't hang around, jumping in the car and heading home for a shower and a magnificent shepherd's pie cooked by Katie.
One day later and my legs are wrecked and my knees incredibly stiff. I'm sure the jolting on asphalt combined with belting down a steep hill has contributed to the feeling, but whatever the cause, it's ten times worse than after any bike race. The idea of doing a marathon next year is now on hold after this run. It will hurt, and I will wish I was cycling instead.
Meanwhile, less than 24hours after we finished, Marcos, the crazy fool, went for a run, jogging 12km round Fuschlsee.
1 comment:
Well done Nick. Looks like there was a lot of pain but you made all us folks in Ireland proud. Zooom! L, I M, G
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