So three weeks in to the winter's training, and I have to endure all the FB postings of my Master Friends as they jet off to the World Championships in Porto Alegro, Brazil. I wasn't up to going this time, mostly due to the season full of injuries, but also down to being crap this year. I wished them mall well whilst smiling through gritted teeth. But seriously, I would really like to go to the next indoor champs in Budapest, now there's a goal.
Talking of goals, that's coaching talk. I finally succumbed to my club nagging me to get qualified as a proper coach. I slotted the first 2 day course into my schedule thinking it would make a nice rest - 3 days off. However, Welsh Athletics is not so flush that they could afford proper demonstration athletes, so as the course progressed we found we were demonstrating our own sessions and they quickly caught on to the fact I could run. Two days rest my foot - more like two days boot camp. Day 1 Sprint Starts, Drive and Acceleration, hurdles, I of course could not resist demonstrating block starts and acceleration and drive phase. Oh yes I can hurdle too, no-one else was daft enough to stick their hands up to that. What was I thinking? Thankfully I wasn't too tired when I got home, but my legs knew this wasn't like any rest I've done previously.
Day 2, and yes everyone remembered I could sprint, so when we did the endurance bit (3x200m indoors) I lost it, we had to run at an even pace, which I managed for the first two, but half way round the 3rd one, the chap doing the coaching yells "fast relaxed!" and I kicked it in, so did the Swansea lad behind me and the race was on, a 40 second easy run ended up 32 seconds having sprinted the last 100m - bloody show off but there was no way I was letting a Swansea Jack beat me. The next session was speed walking, got carried away racing in that too, but that was far more hilarious than effort. Then we did shot, and I wasn't going to be the only one not hitting the wall - not that I'm competitive or anything you understand. Later in the afternoon's proceedings we covered long jump, so in my element again, being coached by two lovely young ladies who were courteous enough not to pick my rather shaky technique apart too much. However, that right arm does need to be higher so we did a drill using the rake being held above the pit and it worked so I'm trying that again, just need someone to hold the rake. By the end of the day I was too tired to do the evenings run so I settled down to a wee glass of 12 year of Balvenie (Double Cask) to take my mind off my now seized hamstirngs.
Tuesday, only one day's recovery later, and it was back to the reality of 400m, and the realisation that I'm nowhere near good enough to run three of them, so why the heck did I do four. At least I discovered that the blue line marking the 4x400m relay box at the finish, has been painted to a high standard and passed inspection closely 4 times. I put the temptation of single malt to one side on returning home, in favour of pain killers and an early night.
Wednesday dawned and the damage was clearly apparent, breakfast was only achieved by traversing the stairs sideways to cries of: Oh! not again! Thankfully a day at my desk, a cold bath and two massages later, and things had improved enough by Thursday to do it all over again. This time the torture took the form of 3x200m twice with 60 seconds recovery. I got through the first set relatively unscathed and no sign of my friend the fridge bearer - yet. Did two of the next set and the world went into reverse, fridge arrived intact during the 3rd rep, I must find out what's inside it. My new interest of "line studying" progressed with the inspection of the markings at the 200m start, nice white they've used. I did make it home in one piece, but I can't remember how.
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