Two Chases, Two Days, Two Season's Bests

A promising start to the season, as reported in my last post, was followed by a Division 3 record for the 2,000m steeplechase at the first UK Women's League Match. I then ran some training PBs around Metchley during a session in Birmingham. I couldn't have been more optimistic about what the season ahead would hold.

Nothing ever goes to plan though, and since then I have missed some training through adjusting to life in London, pulled stomach muscles, a dead leg from running into a bollard, and a bruised knee cap from walking into the shower door. Additionally, blood tests revealed that while my haemoglobin levels have returned to normal, my ferritin levels (iron stores) are still very low. It was with considerable apprehension, therefore, that I went into one of the most challenging racing weekends of my life. I'm not averse to doing a few events in the same day, nor am I scared of racing two days in a row, but normally I can't walk for two days after doing a steeplechase. Last weekend I was attempting to do two in two days!

I left my house in East London at 5:30 on Saturday morning to fly to Dublin for the Irish Championships. There was four of us entered in the 3,000m steeplechase, and I was determined not to be the first person to do this race at the Irish Championships and not win a medal. I won bronze in 2008 and 2010, but on both occasions I was also last in the race.

I went out conservatively, and was sitting at the back of the field for the first few laps. At about halfway I realised that the gap between second and myself wasn't getting any bigger, and I soon realised that silver could be mine. I felt really strong for the last kilometre, and had a massive smile on my face as I raced down the home straight, knowing that this time round I actually deserved my national medal.

Last year as I stood on the podium I was close to tears. I knew that that I'd thrown away a national title. This time round I couldn't have been happier with my silver medal. It wasn't just atonement for last year, it made up for all the frustrations that I've experienced over the last seven years. I've had lots of highs and lows around Morton Stadium, but I don't think I've ever felt so satisfied on a warm down at this venue.

And then I saw the time! I knew that I'd ran faster than last year, but I couldn't believe that I'd ran 11:02.39. Not only is that the fastest time I've ran since 26th June 2004, but it's the 4th quickest time I'd ever done. My seven year old PB is now only 12 seconds away.

I quickly gathered my belongings, and made for the airport, and a short time later I was on my way to Liverpool. Sunday was going to be a whole new day, and two more races lay ahead of me.

With a pair of very heavy legs, I laboured around the 400m hurdles, and gratefully gathered the 3 points on offer. This was going to be a very long day!

At the previous two matches I had easily won the 2,000m steeplechase, and my current league record stood at 7:22.3, which, as I calculated at 7am that morning, isn't even as fast as 2k of my 3k chase from yesterday. If my legs would only just hold up, I could be on for something special here. Just before the race, I really got up for it, and though a little scared that my legs may let me down, was ready to try and break the record again.

I quickly got a bit of a lead, but 2 laps in realised that it wasn't getting any bigger. With just over two laps to go, somebody came past. Though I knew we were both well on schedule to smash the record, I knew that I would have to win the race to take the record into 2012. I tried as hard as I could to hold on, and did some of the best waterjumps that I've ever done, but alas it was not to be. My time of 7:14.3 would have knocked eight seconds from the record, and again it was the fastest time I've ran for the distance in seven years, but unfortunately on the day it just wasn't good enough. Cathy Ansell ran 7:12.1, to add to the 1500m, and 3000m wins that she had collected earlier in the day.

Despite the slightly bittersweet end to the weekend, I can't but be happy. For seven years I've struggled to find any sort of form, or get any sort of consistency in training. At times, I felt a little self conscious calling myself an athlete. But those times are behind me now, and someday soon I'm sure that I'll be able to say that I am faster in my thirties than I was in my twenties.

Now I just need the muscle sorness to die down a bit, so that I can crack on with training for the next challenge.

Belgrade Bliss

My most recent posts have been somewhat disappointing from a running perspective, so it is with some considerable relief that I am able to report something positive on that front.

Seven weeks ago I was contacted by Ferrybank AC in Waterford to guest in the steeplechase for them at the European Champion Clubs Cup.  As Irish League champions they would be representing Ireland in the B tier of the competition in Belgrade.  At that stage I was just recovering from my 'bought' of anemia, and I happily said I would, knowing that a competition abroad was exactly the motivation that I needed. 

Little did I know then that I would be completely sidelined for 2 weeks due to a dog bite and subsequent infection.  Anyone that does sport knows that two weeks off, just five weeks before the start of the season is disastrous preparation.  There were times, when the infection didn't look to be clearing up and I wasn't managing to get any track sessions in, that I thought I wouldn't be able to travel at all.

You can imagine my delight then when race day finally arrived on Saturday, that I was able to put in a half decent performance. The time I ran (11:28), is not going to get Ireland's top chasers worried, and the chances of me achieving the qualifying time for next year's Olympics haven't increased any, but I am very happy with my fastest season opener in seven years.  Given the far from ideal buildup, this for me is a very positive result.  My hurdling and waterjumping was the best I've ever done, and given that I've only managed 1.3 track sessions so far this year, I'm pretty optimistic that come August my personal best, which stretches back to 2004, stands danger.

The team finished second overall and have earned promotion for Ireland to the top tier of the competition next year.  Most of the athletes are in their late teens and early twenties (I was the oldest by almost 9 years), and they show great promise for the future.  It was really nice to be part of such a great team performance.

We didn't get to see much of Belgrade, though we did endure the long straight road between Budapest and Belgrade twice in the past few days.  The hotel, and the food they provided, didn't give us the best impression of the city, but even if all that the Serbian capital gave me was a reminder of the sheer joy of racing over barriers then that's enough for me.  Finding a bakery that serves the nicest pastries in the world was merely the 'icing on the cake'.

The weekend also reminded me of the challenges that face the travelling athlete.  Long journeys, far from ideal food and dealing with hot weather, are just some of the challenges that athletes face as they travel the world in search of that perfect performance.  Good planning, and taking control of situations as they arise can help overcome these minor barriers, and at the end of the day, spending a few hours at border control is a small price to pay for getting to do what we love on a daily basis. 

Five weeks ago I had 3 holes in my right calf.  There was nothing that I could have done to prevent that dog from biting me.  I can't help but think that I was lucky though, and that it could have been so much worse.  Had that dog actually liked the taste of my calf, I might have had a lot more that a few holes to worry about.  The pure pleasure of running could have been taken away from me in an instant.  Most people don't realise what they've got until it's gone.  I was lucky.  I got that wake-up call before it was too late.

In other news, I've recently landed myself a job in London.  While that means the altitude adventures will be put on hold for a while, it also means that some day I'll actually have enough money to continue with the research for the book.  The thought of living and working in London has always scared me, but now it's just another little challenge that I have to face.  From Monday next, I will be working as High Performance Sport Manager at the University of East London.  With it will come a number of challenges, but it's up to me to make the most of the situation.  The chance to live close to the Olympic Stadium in the build up to, and during, the Games will be a once in a lifetime experience.  Once I have found somewhere to live, I will be taking bids for floor space for the last week of July, and the first week of August 2012.

Some Facts about 1968 Mexico City Olympics

Now that the website is fully up-and-running, and given that I’m not training at the moment, I’m using the opportunity to catch up with writing on the book.  I’m doing a bit of background reading about the Mexico City Games, as the high altitude at which the Games were held (2,400m) resulted in the emergence of Kenya as the distance-running superpower that it is today. 

The 1968 Games were, however, memorable and significant for a number of other reasons:

• Bob Beamon added 55 centimetres to the Long Jump world record; a record which was only eventually broken in 1991.
• During the 200 metre medal ceremony Tommie Smith and John Carlos, who won gold and bronze respectively, raised their black-gloved fists as a symbol of ‘Black Power’.  They were later banned from the Games for life as punishment.
• Dick Fosbury won gold in the high jump utilising a technique which became known as the Fosbury flop, and quickly became the dominant technique utilised in the event.
• John Stephen Akhwari of Tanzania, infamously finished the marathon, in last place, despite a dislocated knee.
• The 1968 Games was the first to use fully automatic timing, and the first to use a Tartan track.  Drug testing also made its first appearance at these Olympics, though these initial searches were primarily for narcotics and stimulants.  Having drunk several beers just prior to competition Swedish pentathlete Hans-Gunnar Liljunwall became the first Olympian to be disqualified because of doping.

Dog Bite Update

All the optimism in the world hasn’t helped to heal my leg as quickly as I had hoped.  After almost a week of not being able to put any weight on my right leg, I was overjoyed just to be able to walk again.  The joy was short-lived however, as I realised that three of the four wounds had become infected.  I’m currently on my last day of antibiotics, and though there is no discomfort in the leg and I can run on it, a small bit of the infection remains.  With the track season kicking into action, and my season opener less than 4 weeks away, I wouldn’t mind being able to train again sometime soon! 

I don’t mean to disgust anybody out there, but this photo is purely a reminder to dog owners to keep their beasts under control.

A tattoo that I just didn't ask for

I had hoped that my next blog would be a happy one, and that I could report on some positive progress on the running front.  I guess there has been much progress, and as the iron levels return to normal, I'm definitely feeling stronger.  Alas, however, a split-second encounter with a big stupid dog yesterday evening brought all that progress to a grinding halt.

As always in these situations I was running along, minding my own business, deciding which session I was about to do.  I was thinking about how strong I was feeling, and how well things were going.  I was calculating that despite the haemoglobin setback, I could actually run quite fast on the track this season - thoughts which were solely based on 3x300m efforts that I did on the track two weeks ago, and a few good gym sessions - and thoughts of personal bests even crept into my mind.  And then, from the corner of my eye I saw the beast sprinting towards me.  I suspected I may get some hassle, but before I could react she had sunk her teeth deep into my calf.  That knocked the smug look right off my face.

I stood there half screaming, half crying, and not quite believing what had just happened.  Without having provoked the dog in the slightest, and without having time to think about what to do, my lovely calf muscle was torn to bits.  Three massive gashes right through to the muscle, and one smaller gash, all in the middle of my right calf, will surely lead to a life-long reminder of the incident.

When the doctor told me last night that I would have to take a week off from training, it didn't come as too much of a blow - I thought, 'ya right, that's what you think, I'll be back running in a few days'.  It was only this morning, as I hobbled out of my bed, that I realised she may be right.  I can't walk right now, so running may well be out of the question for a bit.

In fairness to the dog-owner, he was quite apologetic about the whole thing, and I think a bit embarrassed.  He has even offered to cover any medical expenses.  But unfortunately all the money in the world doesn't give me back the training that I'll miss, and won't take away the scars that I'll have permanently tattooed on my leg.

I've always thought that the people that get bitten by dogs were the ones that show fear.  The ones that curl up in a ball when they see a dog.  The ones that almost say, 'come on bite me so that I can hate dogs a little bit more'.  It seems that's not actually the case.  I've had several dogs snap at my heels before, but none that actually bit me.  I guess I had just been lucky, and yesterday that luck ran out.

And so, this is a plea to all dog-owners everywhere.  Please, please, please keep your dog secured.  All dogs have the potential to bite, even if they have never done so before.  My calf will recover (hopefully), but if I had been a two year old child, I could have been severely damaged for life.  Please, for the sake of runners everywhere, and for your own conscience, keep your dogs under control.

The next dog-owner that laughs when her scraggy little terrier chases me down the beach snapping at my heels may well get a piece of my mind.  Be sure that it's not you!

Haemoglobin is our Friend

As I sit here with a slightly sore bum, I feel I owe it to those whom I have been cranky with over the past months, to explain my behaviour, and to warn all the runners out there of the perils of low iron levels.

The reason for my tender gluteus is that I’ve just received the third of a course of 10 iron injections. After some shocking race results, including my worst ever finish at the Northern Cross Country Championships in January, I had a feeling something wasn’t quite right.   Apart from slightly heavy breathing every time I ran up a hill, and a general lack of progression in training, there was nothing at that stage to suggest that I was ill. Oh there was the extreme coldness all the time, but I had just put that down to loosing weight and not being acclimatised to sub-zero temperatures. Things got worse from there on though, and slowly, one-by-one, most of the common symptoms of anaemia started to rear their ugly heads – general malice (ok, so I’m not sure what exactly malice means, but it’s one of those words you see in the medical text books relating to just about every medical condition known to man), slow recovery from training, muscle soreness and heaviness, mild chest pains, paleness, viral-like symptoms, severe headaches, crying, a mildly depressed mood, crankiness, oh and some more crying. The one symptom that I didn’t really experience was tiredness.

A blood test revealed a haemoglobin level of 10.0, and a haemotcrit level of 30%. Add to that serum ferritin levels of just 7, and it’s a wonder that I could run at all. Altitude training is supposed to increase red blood cells, but after spending 5 of the past 11 months at altitude, I’m in a worse position that I was to begin with. Not only have I wasted all that training, but the pale complexion is ruining the tan that I worked so hard to get!!!

Almost 6 years ago my progression as an athlete was completely ruined by the same problem. I went from the shape of my life, to the shape of a Joe-jogger in the space of 12 months. Now, just as I was finally getting fit again, the cycle repeats itself. I knew I had to be careful, and I knew what to look out for, and so, I have to ask myself what went so badly wrong.

I had been getting my haemoglobin levels checked every time I was ‘back-in-town’, but these failed to highlight that my ferritin levels were dangerously low. I suspect that two weeks in Ethiopia, on a diet practically devoid of any animal products, may have been the cause of the decreased iron stores. Almost 1 month, equivalent to the life-cycle of a red blood cell, after returning from Ethiopia, things started to go pear-shaped. If I had gotten a full blood screen at that point, I may have avoided the situation.

Now that things are starting to return to normal, I realise just how much my low iron levels were affecting me. I was experiencing severe muscle soreness for 4 to 5 days after each weights session that I did; now I’m back to the more normal 2 days of soreness. I don’t feel so cold all the time. And when I look in the mirror, I’m starting to see myself looking back, not some ghost-like caricature of myself.

Six years ago, my anaemia was accompanied by burnout, and because of the symptoms I was experiencing I was convinced that I had a virus which three separate doctors couldn’t diagnose. I took a month off training completely, wallowed in my own self pity, and never returned to the shape I had been in the previous year. This time round I’m far more in control of the situation. I’m running most days. While that was just 15 to 20 minutes to begin with, now I’m managing an enjoyable 40 minutes regularly. Sometimes I don’t even wear a watch, and am learning (after 16 years) to ‘run how I feel’. While I know I can’t push things, I’m determined to maintain as much fitness as I can, and, unlike before, am motivated to return to my very best.

Normal red blood cell levels are vital, not just for endurance, but for life in general. Be sure that you get your levels checked at least twice per year, and have them even more closely monitored if you are training at altitude. Beware of the symptoms, but don’t expect them to be the same in all cases. Don’t necessarily expect to feel tired.

If you want to find out more, a factsheet on iron, haemoglobin and red blood cells will be uploaded onto the website in the next few days.

If haemoglobin is our friend, mine has deserted me.  But, hopefully, not for long.

One Year a Nomad

This time twelve months ago, I was somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean aboard a rather cramped Continental Airlines flight to Newark, on route to St Louis Potosi in Mexico.  I'd had 20 minutes sleep (as I just finished work, and had my leaving do the previous night), had packed my bag in a massive hurry, and had not yet worked out where I was going to spend the next night.  Looking back on it all now, I can only conclude that I am indeed mad, and setting out on this adventure, as unprepared as I was, is probably the maddest thing that I have ever done.

Twelve months on, however, I realise that setting out to follow my dreams, even if I have not fully achieved them yet, is the best thing I could ever have done.  And what a twelve months they've been!  I've learned a lot about myself, though I'm not quite sure I could say that I've 'found' myself; that was never my intention.  I had hoped to have finished my travels by now, and to have the book in it's final stages, but nothing ever goes according to plan!  The fact that I'm only about 6 months behind schedule, must surely be seen as progress?  Well either way, I've had a ball so far, and just wanted to share some of the highlights:

5. That moment, about 2 minutes after finishing the Great Ethiopian Run, when I wished I could do it all over again.

4. Spotting a bear in Mammoth Lakes.

3. Surviving Mexico.  I couldn't possibly have been more unprepared!  Anything that could have gone wrong, did, and I had to put up with pretty much my own company for 2 weeks...and survived!

2. The best week of training I've had in 7 years, in Flagstaff.  It had been a long time since I last just couldn't get enough of running.  The Grand Canyon was an added bonus.

1. Though nothing to do with the Altitude Training, the 48 hours that I spent in Russia at my brother's wedding are probably the best of my life, not just of the year!  It reminded me of how lucky I am to have the family I do.

And because I haven't put any photos on here in a while, here are my 5 favourite shots from the travels so far.

To celebrate the first year of Egan's Altitude Adventures, the sister website: AltitudeTrainingCamps.com has just been launched.  It will contain additional information, news and advice about altitude and the forthcoming book.  Please save the link to your favourites, check back regularly, and circulate to all your running crazy friends.

I had a dream, and I followed it.  I have no regrets. 

If you have a dream, follow it today!

Da Feckers

Unless you've recently rocketed in from another planet, you'll be aware of the current state of financial and economic crisis in which Ireland finds itself. For the past two years all we've heard is 'credit crunch this', 'credit crunch that'. Then there was the whole banking crisis, the government stepping in to guarantee depositors, and the nationalisation of Anglo Irish Bank. Back in November the Irish bailout was the hot topic across the world (it seemed to be all that I heard about in Ethiopia), and the EU/IMF deal is still making news headlines. With taxes and unemployment on the rise, everyone's complaining about having to emigrate to find employment (last I checked going to Oz to work was the cool thing to do). Then, the government fell, and for the past 4 weeks all we've heard about is the election, and how Fine Gael are going to put things right again. As if Ireland isn't enough of an international laughing stock, Jedward have been selected to represent us at the Eurovision. But today, as Fine Gael and Labour are deep in coalition talks, the main headlines drastically changed. News from Bangalore of a certain shock sporting result has got the nation talking, in only a way that Ireland's participation in a World Cup can.

I'm too young to remember Ireland's qualification for Euro'88, but I do know that their defeat of England at those championships was one of the great moments in Irish History. And I do remember learning shortly before Italia'90 that soccer was played with a round ball, which the players couldn't handle. The following year, during the 1991 Rugby World Cup I was finally able to distinguish it from rugby, the game that was played with the oval ball. Over the course of the Italian World Cup I, like the vast majority of Ireland, learned about throw-ins, corners, penalty shoot-outs, and the sheer heart-racing excitement of following a national team.

In a book entitled Feckers: 50 People who Fecked up Ireland, John Waters examines 50 influiental Irish people and details how they have each contributed to Ireland's perceived downfall. From DeVelara, to Bono and from Charles J Haughey to Louis Walsh, the rich and famous are each tried for their part in Ireland's demise. Bertie Ahern and Brian Cowen are implicated in the dying stages, and the final culprit is not an Irish man, but a French one. As the Hand of God II ended Ireland's hopes of another World Cup trip, so too it killed any sense of moral and pride left in this country of 'jump on the Ireland-success-at-a-world-cup bandwaggon' sportsfans.

While understanding the off-side rule in football gives me a great headstart over most females in a football conversation, any knowledge of cricket whatsoever marks me as a near expert among the Irish. And so, while everyone is excited about Ireland's dramatic and historic win over England in the Cricket World Cup today, it is the fact that we got one over on the old enemy, rather than the greatness of the achievement itself, that has the nation talking. Wickets, overs and innings mean very little, not only to the general Irish population, but to most of the sporting media too. In turth, had I not been living in England during the last World Cup, I would be as lost as the rest of them. Latith Malinga's historic 4 wickets from 4 balls in the West Indies made me want to understand this game, and 2,000 questions later I think Chris, my former landlord and housemate, has just about thought me the basics. In sport, knowledge truly does feel like power. In her excellent book, Get Her off the Pitch, Lynne Truss talks about the joy she felt when she was first able to decipher Match of the Day chat and determine who was playing who and where from club nicknames, grounds and managers. Today I got that same buzz from being one of the few to understand what 'Ireland 329-7 (49.1) bt England 327-8 (50 ovs) by three wickets' actually means!

Not only is the win over England a significant result, but the manner in which it was achieved and the never-say-die attitude of the Irish suggests that, while Thierry Henry put the final nail in Ireland's coffin, this beast may well have been burried alive. After the wicket of captain Will Porterfield was taken on the very first ball of the innings, and given that nobody has ever successfully chased a target of 328, an Irish win didn't look bleak; it looked impossible. During play, bookies were offering 400:1* for Ireland to win (of course, Ireland being the betting nation that it is, someone had €25 on at that rate), but with Ireland's Kevin O'Brien achieving the quickest century in World Cup history (50 balls), and a determined display by the rest of the team, Ireland were in with a shout. With 5 balls remaining, Ireland achieved their target, and sent Irish sports journalists, news reporters and radio deejays running straight to wikipedia to try and workout what it all means. Thank goodness Duckworth-Lewis didn't have to come into play! 

When asked, many have proposed Stuttgart, June 12th 1988, as the birth date of the Celtic Tiger. If that be so, mark Bangalore, today, March 2nd 2011, as the day that the ageing feline gave birth to cubs. I have no idea whether or not they should burn the bondholders, or even what that means, but I do know that today the Irish public found a new bandwaggon to jump on!

The 6p Challenge

As everyone knows, I'm a little strapped for cash at the moment. But I have been gifted with some great friends. And one of those friends gifted me with 6p on Monday last. Now 6p doesn't sound like much, but it has come with a challenge. And there's nothing I like better than a good old challenge!

The condition of receiving the 6p, was that, in a 'One Red Paperclip' fashion, I would try to turn it into something of considerable value. The idea is to go through a series of swaps, whereby I always come off with a slightly better deal, until I have earned myself something valuable. The original suggestion was to gamble the money, but I'm not quite sure I would even get much of a kick out of 6p, so I'm going for the slightly less risky option.

If you have something that you want to get rid of and which you would be willing to accept 6p for, or indeed if you are in dire need of 6p and have something that I might want, then don't be shy. Drop me an e-mail, post a comment on here, or message me on twitter, and we'll see if we can do a deal. All suggestions are welcome.

You can follow my progress on here, and who knows, maybe someday I'll be a rich woman!

Winter Solstice

I was woken this morning by a text from my brother. It read ‘Get up, get up…Best day of the year! Uphill from here :-)’. The funniest thing about this message is that if I had woken first lil bro would have been receiving a similar text from me.

And why is this day so special? Well, in a sort of glass half full optimism, the shortest day of the year offers hope and motivation to us poor athletes who have to contend with dark evenings when it comes to planning training for the winter months. If we can make it to 21st December, well everything gets better from there on. Training in the city means that the roads are the only option on the dark evenings, but in the country it’s even worse. Come 5pm if you haven’t got your training done, you aren’t going to get it done, well not outdoors anyway! We don’t have the luxury of streetlights where I live, and while the dark starry sky has a certain degree of romance about it, it’s not the best for training.

And so, from Midsummer’s day each year we dread the onset of the long nights, and once we’ve made it to 21st December we know that we’ve survived another winter. Of course I’ve cheated somewhat this year given that I was in Africa until 22nd November, but maybe I can find somewhere to get to in February to balance things up again.

Last year 21st December held a special significance to me, as it was on that day that I decided to pack it all in and set out on this wonderful adventure. This year things were somewhat quieter. It did snow though, and I made another attempt at perfecting the faceplant. Slipping on some snow and ice I banged my knee pretty badly on the way down, and scratched my leg similar to what I did in Mammoth Lakes earlier in the year. I even managed to get the marks running parallel to the scars from the last time. I guess if you’re going to do something, you might as well do it right. I’m pretty sure the scratches will heal, but I’m not so sure about the third knee that I’ve developed.

Concluding the December 21st chat, lets spare a thought for the poor sods that waited years for their turn to witness the sun shine into the chamber at Newgrange, only to be disappointed by the grey snowy skies. Not only did they have to endure the cold, but they didn’t even get a flicker of light into the ancient time-machine to make it worth either the wait or the journey. Better luck next time!