From Borea

00:44:29

It's been a physically challenging autumn what with the op, subsequent infection, allergic reaction to anitbiotics and continued heavy smoking.

So I was astounded to have run my best time over 10k last Sunday. Admittedly by the time I got to the start line I hadn't smoked for three days, was off medication and had completely healed. In that respect I felt like I had hit my target for recovery but in other ways I felt unprepared. The weeks leading up to the race had been poor in terms of weather and although I'd managed a 00:48:30 time in training and knew better was possible, I had struggled to train enough. Add to all this I'm now carrying an extra 2kilos, a result of sitting around and too much eating of comfort food while I healed.

Saturday's weather was aweful, but Sunday morning was much better. The skies were clear for the race itself and only a stiff westerley wind had to be contended with. Ant encouraged me to line up with the sub 40minute runners which isn't really on but meant we got a really good start. I kept up with this pack for the first 3k but did so by stretching myself early on a race which is never wise. After this I settled back into my normal stride and let myself be passed until the turn at 6k.

Making this turn brought the wind behind me and I expected a huge surge, it didn't come. I'd burnt everything up on the way out and the explosive start and had nothing left to make the last 4km anything other than painful and arduous. Added to the my useful piece-of-shit mobile phone mp3 player cut out and so all I had was the sound of my laboured bretahing to accompany me home.

By the Palace Pier I had very little left and felt finished. But after a few more yards the clock came in site and read 00:44:05. At that moment I knew Id make it to the line under 45mins, knew I didn't have to increase my pace to do it even. So I jogged lamely but smiling the last few yards.

The buzz from these little achievements just seems to grow each time. I think I finally get what it's about, the competitive urge drives a huge amount but there is only one person to compete against in each race and that's me. Everyone else on the course is a friendly fellow traveller and those extra few minutes we always seem to get on a race day comes as much from the feeling of a collective spirit as it does from competition.

I know one year, maybe soon, injury or age will mean I know longer get better and faster and the challenges will become more subtle. But to have found in my mid to late thirties that I can compete against my younger self year-on-year and wipe the floors with his times, is very satisfying.

The valley was shrouded in fog for most of the morning and I simply didn't feel up to pitting my weak lungs against the cold moist air. Even when the thermometer reads 4.5 degree here on the hill it can easy by close to freezing at the bottom of the hill by the river where I choose to run. Cold air sinks.

An hour of inhaling freezing water vapour....no thanks.

So instead I worked all morning and ventured out for a lunchtime run. By 1pm the sun had burned off most of the mist but it was still cold and damp. The river-side path was still soaking wet from the weekend rains and so for most of the run I had to constantly adjust my pace, pigeon-stepping the short gaps between puddles before launching into big strides over the larger pools. A weekend feeling the effects of my allergic reaction last Thursday left me feeling less than strong, and the constantly changing stride was wearing. But still I managed to get in under my 50 minute target for the 10k which means that, on the day, I should be able to a minute off that too.

The op, the recovery and complications has put a strange spin on the beginning of autumn. All flow seems interrupted and basic, fundamental things like healing have come to the fore. The year has been so busy, taken so much energy out of me, that a bit of enforced contemplation and reflection hasn't been so bad.

Here is an interesting experiment. Take a 37 year old man, who is still black and blue from a vasectomy. Who has eaten a weeks worth of high-carb comfort food while he lay immobile and sore on his sofa. And who seems to have smoked his way through several Virginia plantations to help manage the pain.

Then in three weeks time enter him into a 10k race, the first stage in training for a marathon next April.

10k generally for me these days is nothing. I fit a 10k run in when I don't have time to run properly and have been averaging times between 44 and 50 mins over 10k for the past three years.

But right now it seems suddenly a long way to run. I'm still sore and I can't believe how out of condition I've got with just a week off. It seems at my age, that training has to be a year round thing and that fitness can be achieved with effort but won't last unless you keep putting that effort in on a daily basis.

The priority is to kick the smoking. If I can get that cracked without munching out on carby food. I'll be half-way there.

The second thing is when to risk my first run. I'm considering a little run just to test the water on weds but this is earlier than the docs recommend. By taking it easy and wearing some supporting underwear I might just get away with it.

Back from the first genuinely winter run of the season. Temperatures hovering around freezing as the sun came up over the sea and only thin running gear between the artic air and my skin. It's absolutely pointless wrapping yourself up against the cold, within five minutes of running your body temperature soars and getting rid of sweat becomes more important than trapping heat. But for the first few minutes of exposure to the air you feel very under-dressed and exposed before the elements.

But thankfully intense cold is usually accompained by clear blue skies and the sea between Brighton and Saltdean looked equally crystaline, under such conditions its impossible to feel anything other than completely alive and energised. We are really lucky to have the Brighton coast, with its flat, wide, pedestrianised promenades. In all weather conditions but a full-on gale it provides a safe, clean training ground with measured distances, beautiful views and lots of human interest. Actually even a gale can be energising, you come back covered in salt spray but the water tends to be warm.

My brother and myself are training for our first 10k race of the season, which is in two weeks. Last year I completed it in 49minutes having not trained much and smoked. This year I hope to beat that, with 45mins a possible, if not highly probable, target. Our latest training plan is 20mins at a strong pace, 20 minutes at a full-on 5km pace and then 20 minutes back at a measured pace. The middle section is tough and by the end you fell completely spent, but amazingly after only a couple of minutes of slowing back down your body catches up and you find yourself needing to sprint again to the finish.

Between now and February's half marathon there will be many morning like this: cold, increasingly dark and distances increasingly long. But there is something defiant about getting out and embracing the dark mornings when every instinct is to turn over and snooze a little longer.