Injuries

The first time I was injured as a runner was five months before my first marathon. It was November 2001. Two months earlier I had run my first road race, the Alsterlauf in Hamburg, one of the biggest 10k road races in Germany. I finished strong in 47:11 and was quite pleased with this result. My next scheduled race, the International Airport Race in Hamburg, didn’t take place because of the terrorist attacks on September 11th.

So my second road race was a 25k, a beautiful run through the countryside, which took place on a particularly cold and wet November Sunday. I had never run 25 km before. My training runs were usually 10-12 km, and had run 16 km two times in training. Not enough, as it turned out.

The first 20 km of the race went well. Then my problems began. My leg (I don’t remember which one) ached on the outer side, especially when I ran downwards. It hurted so much that I was forced to walk at one underground crossing. After the race I could hardly walk. It was well after Christmas that I could start running again.

The funny thing with past injuries is that you forget them soon. On the other hand, positive experience seems to be kept in memory forever. I remember perfectly my first 10k-race, the finishing time and how I felt afterwards. My leg injury, which I acquired 2 months after that race, is almost wiped out from my memory. I even don’t remember if it was the left or the right leg. I think it was ITBS, but I’m not sure. Isn’t that curious? It was an injury which threatened my first marathon! And I don’t remember it?

The same happened with other injuries I had in the course of time. When they are present, they dominate my conscience. When they have gone, I soon don’t remember them. Normally when I’m without injury, I can’t say when I had my last injury.

Currently I do not run due to an injury. A few days after running the Dublin Marathon I realized a pain in my achilles tendon. It didn’t bother me that much then, but on my first run a week after the marathon it ached more and more. I went to a doctor, who prescribed physical therapy. The therapist advised me not to start running before the end of the treatment, and so I have tried to keep myself in shape with cycling and hiking for the last weeks.

Once a fellow runner said to me: “You know you’re a runner when you are injured and do not ask yourself ‘Will I ever be able to run again?’, but you ask ‘When will I be able to run again?’”. You can’t run without getting injured sometimes. At least I can’t. The trick is (a) to prevent injuries, which is easy if you follow a few rules (I haven’t followed anyof them) and (b) to accept injuries and use them to give your whole body a rest.

These are my top 3 rules for avoiding injuries:

1. Stretch before and after every run.
2. Do not increase your weekly milage unreasonably (for example by more than 10 km).
3. Be cautious with tempo training. Increase the intensity gradually week by week.

And here my top 4 for curing injuries:

1. If the pain worsens during a run, stop running for at least a week. Then try again.
2. If the pain won’t go away, see a doctor.
3. Try applying ice and heat to the injured area. Figure out what works best to relieve the pain.
4. Don’t start running too early after an injury break.

My 2007 Dublin Marathon

When I had returned from Dublin last Thursday I updated my podcasts and first listened to Steve’s account of his Bay State Marathon, where he set a new PR. I was horrified ;-) to hear him featuring this so-called blog as his “blog of the week”. I really never expected anyone to read what I write here, but now that I know that I have at least one reader I must go on ;-). So here is the race report of my 2007 Dublin Marathon.

Instead of the “Full Irish” breakfast I had only some cereals, a few slices of toast and a cup of tea. Our b&b was about 500m from the start area, so we (my wife accompanied me) walked towards the city at about 8am. The temperature was low, about 8 Celsius and by 9am, after having spent an hour standing on the streets of Dublin, I was shivering a bit.

The gun went off at 9:15, on the first mile I had no chance to run my own pace, the rather narrow streets were so crowded with runners that I had to go with the crowd. I didn’t see a mile marker until mile 3, where I checked my watch: I was rather fast, especially if I took the slow first mile into account. From that point I would watch my pace carefully.

By the time we had crossed the Liffey and ran north towards Phibsborough a fellow runner asked me about my t-shirt. I was wearing a finisher shirt from my Munich Marathon 2004. He told me that he also ran this race as his 2nd marathon. One year earlier his weight had been 110 kg, and he had lost about 30 kg since. Then he wished me luck and ran away.

I didn’t really have a plan for my marathon. My PR was 3:39:36, run in Hamburg in April this year. My dream is to run a sub 3:30. And I knew from my recently run half marathons I was in good shape, though I didn’t get in as many long runs as I wanted, due to illness (and poor planning).

When I had reached Phoenix Park (4 miles), I saw that I was running 7:50 per mile. I ran this pace constantly through the next 5 miles, it didn’t feel too fast. From mile 11 to 13 the course is a steady ascent and I slowed down a bit, but my HM time was 1:45. My by far fastest half of a full marathon ever. If I could roughly hold that pace, I would set a PR, if I could repeat the time of the first half, I could reach my dream time of 3:30.

But then came the hills.

I hadn’t expected Dublin was so hilly. Not that there were very steep and high hills, but the course went up and down all the time. Around mile 20 there was, after a long smooth ascent, a ramp of about 100 m length which seemed to be almost vertical. O.k., I may have had this impression only because I had ran 20 miles at that time, but it was really brutal.
So I slowed down considerably. Some miles were well over 9 minutes, but I still managed to run the flat parts of the course at a 8:30 pace.

That was my first race that was measured in miles (instead of kilometers). I noticed that this, in a marathon, makes really a difference. The critical phase in a marathon begins around mile 20 (or km 32). In km-measured marathons you have to run the 8 km until km 40, and then you have still 2 km to go. In Dublin I was better off: there were only 6 miles left. That sounds ridiculous, but it is really a psychological advantage. And the last part of a marathon is all about psychology.

Speaking of psychology, what really helped were the people along the streets. The Irish are generally helpful and friendly and there were thousands of people who cheered for the runners. Should anyone who was there read this, thank you so much for your support!

So I made my way into the city center. One mile to go, my body surprised me one more time: for the first time of my running “carreer” I had a leg cramp. I had to stop and stretch. As I resumed running, I saw that just 30 meters behind the place I stopped stood my wife, with a worried face ;-). She cheered me up, and so I made it to the finish.

Having to deal with the tricks of my body I hadn’t cared about times and pace during the last miles, so I was very pleased to notice I had set a new PR: 3:38:31, more than a minute faster as in Hamburg. So we had a good reason to celebrate the run with a pint of Guinness (or two) in the evening!

2nd Annual Worldwide Half Marathon

On the weekend October 13/14 the 2nd Annual Phedippidations Worldwide Half Marathon took place, all over the world. Here is a report of my Worldwide Half:

Since there was no official HM race in my area at this weekend, I figured out my HM race course on buckeyeoutdoors.com (click here to view the route). In fact, this HM course is to a large extent identical with my usual 30 k long jog course.

Currently I’m training for the Dublin City Marathon on Oct 29th. I wanted to do a last long run this weekend. But a HM and a long run (30 k) seemed too much for one weekend. So I decided to run a real hard HM on Saturday (My World Wide Half), and a comfortable 15 k on Sunday.

So this morning after breakfast I put on my running shoes and headed out, without a real race tactic.

There are traffic lights 800 meters from my home where I always check my pace. Normally it takes me 4:15 to 4:30 to reach that place. Today I was there after 3:45. Too fast, I thought. But the funny thing with races is that you run always faster than in training. I always thought that is because of the other runners in a race, but today I was alone. It must have something to do with “race feeling”.

I kept this pace anyway. It’s worth trying, I thought. Perhaps I would regret it in the second half of my race, but after all, no one was watching me. If I slowed down at the end, nobody could see it.

12 k into the run, there is a relatively steep hill of 3 k length. I tried to keep my pace, but of course I slowed down a little. But I still felt good.

On the last 6 k I began to feel a little bit weak, I had resumed the fast pace I ran before the hill, and now it was really hard. But I was heading home, and that is another miracle in running: heading home is always easier than running away from home.

I deliberately didn’t look on my watch. I had a feeling that I was fast, that was enough. Besides, even if my watch had told me I wasn’t as fast as I thought, I couldn’t have run faster. I was at my limit.

I reached my town, then reached my street, then my home. Stopped my watch. 1:43:45. Two minutes faster than 2 weeks ago at an official half marathon. Great race, great run!

I wouldn’t have thought before I could run alone and consider that run as a race. Yesterday evening I listened to the “Cheers”-episode of Phedippidations, and it became clear to me: this IS a real race! Thanks Mal, Terry, Ben, John, Steve and all others who helped setting up this race!

Road to Dublin

Why have I titled this blog "The Rocky Road to Dublin"? At least for three reasons.

First, you can take it almost literally. I have registered for the Dublin City Marathon, which takes place on October 29th this year, 2007. And with this blog I want to document my preparation for this event. Since I expect the marathon training during summer (in case the summer arrives eventually, by now it looks like spring is fading to fall, omitting summer) to be hard, the blog title refers directly to my marathon preparation.

Second, in a more long-term sense and more metaphorically, the title refers to a life goal of mine, to become more Irish and to spend more time in Ireland, perhaps even living there. Becoming more Irish means to me: living my life more relaxed, being open and friendly towards other people, not allowing myself to be discouraged by disappointment and failure.

Third, of course, "The Rocky Road to Dublin" is a famous Irish folk song, one of my favorites. It serves me as kind of a hymn. 

The Rocky Road To Dublin

In the merry month of May, From my home I started,
Left the girls of Tuam, Nearly broken hearted,
Saluted father dear, Kissed my darlin' mother,
Drank a pint of beer, My grief and tears to smother,
Then off to reap the corn, And leave where I was born,
I cut a stout blackthorn, To banish ghost and goblin,
In a brand new pair of brogues, I rattled o'er the bogs,
And frightened all the dogs,On the rocky road to Dublin.

One, two, three, four five,
Hunt the hare and turn her
Down the rocky road
And all the ways to Dublin,
Whack-fol-lol-de-ra.

In Mullingar that night, I rested limbs so weary,
Started by daylight, Next mornin' light and airy,
Took a drop of the pure, To keep my heart from sinkin',
That's an Irishman's cure, Whene'er he's on for drinking.
To see the lasses smile, Laughing all the while,
At my curious style, 'Twould set your heart a-bubblin'.
They ax'd if I was hired, The wages I required,
Till I was almost tired, Of the rocky road to Dublin.

In Dublin next arrived, I thought it such a pity,
To be so soon deprived, A view of that fine city.
Then I took a stroll, All among the quality,
My bundle it was stole, In a neat locality;
Something crossed my mind, Then I looked behind;
No bundle could I find, Upon my stick a wobblin'.
Enquirin' for the rogue, They said my Connacht brogue,
Wasn't much in vogue, On the rocky road to Dublin.

From there I got away, My spirits never failin'
Landed on the quay As the ship was sailin';
Captain at me roared, Said that no room had he,
When I jumped aboard, A cabin found for Paddy,
Down among the pigs I played some funny rigs,
Danced some hearty jigs, The water round me bubblin',
When off Holyhead, I wished myself was dead,
Or better far instead, On the rocky road to Dublin.

The boys of Liverpool, When we safely landed,
Called myself a fool; I could no longer stand it;
Blood began to boil, Temper I was losin',
Poor ould Erin's isle They began abusin',
"Hurrah my soul," sez I, My shillelagh I let fly;
Some Galway boys were by, Saw I was a hobble in,
Then with a loud hurray, They joined in the affray.
We quickly cleared the way, For the rocky road to Dublin.