Championship performance

The previous week's training had ended on the Thursday night with some soggy sixties that left my Achilles tendon feeling more like a piece of rusty barbed wire, and me wondering if it will ever stop raining. I wasn't planning on training over the weekend anyway as the indoor track at NIAC was being used for the Welsh Senior Championships, so I restricted myself to the exercise machines, this was despite their poor state of repair. At great risk, I added the wife's stepper machine to the sessions with the promise of not breaking it, resulting in me being barely able to walk by the end. Good session then.

I took Monday off to recover, which was more through hope than anything else, but I enjoyed the TV for once and contemplated Tuesday's sprint session, despite the predictable forecast of rain.

 I duly went to the stadium, and for once the rain seemed to to be holding off, so the sprint work could be done in comparative dry. HA! I should know the Welsh weather by know you fool! I parked the bike up in the car park in the dry, went in and changed. When I walked out onto track - it was raining. Well I did the session, 4x30m , 4x40m followed by 4x40m block (without blocks as they don't fit on the bike). There was little sign of much speed, but the starts were OK at least. So I changed and went back to the bike, where I found it had stopped raining. So its only raining on the track - great.

Wednesday I worked later and Thursday was booked for physio. As always this is where the body has its monthly discussion with the head. Josie, my physio, as always finds additional problems to add to the ones I already knew about. I'm not sure if physios get paid by the injury, if so mine is a millionaire off my back (well legs anyway). She was less than impressed by my plans to run on the Sunday too.

The Achilles problem seems to run in the family unfortunately, I was attending with my daughter who had the same problem, this meant I had to suffer the agony with a smile on my face much to my daughter's amusement. So the debate between head and body came to the conclusion that we'll carry on with the indoors and have a break in March, after the BMAF Champs.

Friday was recovery day, so as many may have anticipated, I broke open a single malt. This time  just a Glen Livet 15year old miniature, went down a treat, smokey bliss. Maybe more on the weekend if it goes well.

That brings me to the weekend. Got a call early Saturday morning informing us that our youngest was sick. We ended up spending the day in various hospital waiting rooms around South Wales, we spent so much time waiting that she got better and we just came home. Not sure that's how the NHS is supposed to work, but she's still a bit grotty so no school Monday. Not the best preparation.

Sunday was the Welsh Masters Indoor Championships part 2. I was down for the 60m, 400m  and High Jump and the Achilles felt fine for now. The 60msaw me up against an old friend, Paul Guest of relay fame with me in Jyvaskyla two years ago. Sadly I had to give second best to Paul again, and ran a really poor time whilst Paul ducked under 8, I barely made 8.49. As luck would have it, the 400m was time tabled next so no chance of stiffening up then, straight back onto the track. The result was a customary visit from my grizzly friend and his cooling equipment plus the opportunity to study the surface of the NIAC indoor track after clocking 68.98 in 3rd. 

Thankfully I did get an hour and a half rest before the high jump, but I have to say, I was pretty much spent by then. I can't say I enjoyed sorting put my run up with the rest of  the competitors warming up over 2.0m and me at 1.20m. The gulf was duly noted, and I struggled over 1.30m to finish the day with a win.

By Monday walking without a limp was impossible, so back in the bucket with my foot. Recovered by Tuesday, sort of, well not at all really, but I trained anyway. The weather helped as well, 80 mile per hour gales had me moving like Usain Bolt down wind but more like a rusty bolt in the strangled walk back into  the freezing horizontal rain. Its at time like this, as all feeling leave my hands and forehead, I contemplate the deep philosophical question that all Master Athletes discuss at some point: "Why the F*CK am I doing this"