The Qwer Old Fella's Marathon Method

6.30 am – 6 undulating miles in the Kerries. 50 mins – 8.20 pace.

Enjoyed this morning’s run. It felt more like a sub threshold 10 – back in my day. Yesterday, the running guru – Sean - suggested the route. ‘The rolling hills and the scenery will do you the world of good,’ he said. ‘Instead of taking a right out onto the Fat mile, take a left and head out on the Fenit road and take a left up into the Kerries. The boreen will bring you back onto the Fenit – Tralee road. You’ll do a 5.6 km loop. The run’s tough enough, but it's a beautiful 6 miles.’

Then he pulled out a strange contraption that looked like a piece of dead bark.

‘What’s that?’ I said

‘This lad,’ he said, holding it up. ‘Is my hobbledeegook. It’s worth millions and one day, it might just be yours.’

‘Go on then,' I said, humo[u]ring him. 'What’s it all about?’

He pointed his hobbledeegook at the floor and then it happened. Now, this might surprise you: I’m prone to a bit of exaggeration, but the veracity of what I’m about to tell you is unquestionable – Zeus strike me down where I sit typing, if I spin a yarn.

'Japers and jaspers, I'm always one for afters,' he said. 'Sean, Sean, the all singing, all dancing, leaping leprechaun wants home.

And then, a portal appeared, hovering in the middle of the room.

‘Step in with me,’ he said, showing his toothless mouth and pointing to the portal. ‘There’s nothing to be afeard of.’

‘Where will it take us?’ I said.

‘My home. The secret valley of leprechauns, where I reside, alone,' he said. His green eyes glowed and wispy hairs dangled from his nose. 'You will hear the shifting susurrations of a thousand mountain springs sluicing pebbled beds. Like a mother’s whispered hushes and shushes in a once upon a time lullaby, words of wisdom will come to you. You will drink from a special spring and cleanse your palette. By sipping from the spring of truth, you’ll be ready to begin your journey,' he continued and stood. 'A journey you must undertake if you are to save my life and bring back the magic to the Emerald Isle. Furthermore, if you run the sub 2.23 at the 2013 Cork marathon and therefore save my life, I will give you my hobbledeegook and all its secrets. The hobbledeegook will offer you riches beyond those found at the end of rainbows.’

‘You're full of it, kidda.' I said. 'Anyway, the wife'll be home soon and she'll have a savage hunger on her; she'll need a powerful feeding. But just so that I know, will I find out about your revolutionary 10 by 10 marathon training thingymabob?’

'For sure,' he said, winking. 'Come on and I'll show you your training group and many more things that will bedazzle you.'

I stood and for a moment tried to think of an excuse. You see, the wife's always giving out to me for going walkabout.

'Okay, but we better not be long; she's mighty fierce if she's not fed,' I said.

Tomorrow, I'll tell you what I saw...

RHR 58

5.30 a.m. – 3.6 miles including the Fat mile. 28 mins – call it 8 min pace.

Wicked wind blustering in off the Atlantic. I dropped in two thirty[ish] second efforts in the last half mile, which is slightly uphill (less worries about injuries working on the uphill sections when carrying copious amounts of lard). The idea was to stretch the legs a bit and to open the lungs. Yep, I felt the burn and remembered the agony on proper VO2 max workouts. Mind you, I was probably only running 7.50 pace during this morning’s brief efforts.

I have to say, it wasn’t really much of an effort stepping into the portal the other day. Intrigue got the better of me. There wasn’t any fancy-dancy, swirling-burling, jiggery-pokery, razzamatazz flummery; we just stepped through and there we were, slap bang in the middle of leprechaun land. And what a land.

We sauntered through a meadow fringed with myriad saplings until we arrived at a pool surrounded by huge mountains. Thousands of silver streams slithered down the mountain sides, each with a unique tone, blending to orchestrate a mellifluous composition. I heard harps and violins as the streams merged with the pool. We sat on a grass bank, canopied from the sun’s glare by a weeping willow. The ends of the willow's branches tickled the pool’s surface and about the water’s edge, a fuss of gnats skirred. Birdsong trilled.

‘So,’ he said softly, like how a butterfly might sound if it were able to speak. 'What do you think?'

‘Beautiful,’ I said. ‘Beautiful. It’s paradise.’

‘Ah,’ he said with tears in his eyes. ‘Now you can see why, after all these years, I don’t want to leave this world. For when I leave it, this place will vanish with me.’

I looked at him carefully. His lips quivered. More wrinkles seemed to have crept onto his face and, for sure, he’d lost some of his sprightliness.

‘If you were to do it lad,’ he said, looking through me. ‘You could open this world up to others. Imagine that. Dare you dream of that?’

We sat in silence for a moment. I tried to take everything in. Why me? What’s all this got to do with running? Unfathomable, I thought.  Then the strangest creature I’ve ever seen waded out of the water…

RHR 56

Starting to double up the runs, but keeping them short so that I’m not on my feet too long in one go – less chance of getting injured, especially carrying the extra poundage. 4 miles planned for tonight – might be a touch ambitious.

3:45 p.m. – 3.5 miles. Out and back. Bailed out. Turned back after 1.75 miles of gentle climbing. Legs were shot. Even jogging back was hard work. Where was the running guru when I needed him? Reality check. Hope I’ll be okay for the morning…

5.00 a.m. – 5 miles, including the Fat mile loop, plus an extra 1.4-1.5 miles. 42 mins – call it 8.20 something pace.

After yesterday’s catastrophe, I wasn’t looking forward to this morning’s run. I had penciled in a 5 miler but wasn’t averse to calling it a day at 3.6, if struggling. Although I felt tired, it wasn’t like going ten rounds with Tyson in his prime – more like having the occasional clout off him - so I pushed on and ‘knocked-out’ a cheeky little 5.

I invested in one of those bizarre, green, Adidas Climaproof, all weather jackets and yesterday afternoon, when I was about to try it out, my eldest daughter (9) went skits.

‘You look mad,’ she said. ‘What if my friends recognise you? You’re so embarrassing; you think you’re a teenager, well you’re not – you’re a silly old man. Mum, will you ever have a word with him?’

‘Sure, couldn’t you just, you know. You do look a bit odd,’ the wife said. ‘And don’t be out too long, I’m kinda hungry.’

‘He looks like a monster covered in snotters,’ my daughter said.

Off I went, without my green jacket. But I wore it this morning, when they were all sleeping. Like a monster covered in snotters, I thought as I chugged up the road. That’s exactly what the creature looked like as ‘it’ waded out of the pool, the other day in Leprechaun land.

‘Here’s Finn,’ Sean the running guru had said. ‘Be sure and to take a care now. He may well be wrecked.’

‘Wrecked?’ I said. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Look at the barrel of poteen he’s carrying,’ Sean said. ‘If that’s half empty, he’ll be full of the wind and be right for some blackguarding. If, however, it’s nearly empty, then we’re done for.’

‘Top of it to you, Finn,’ Sean said. ‘Will you not tip your hat to your new running partner, this young rapscallion next to me.’

He gave a grimace that would've set Tyson on his toes.

Running partner, I thought. What’s this all about?

Stood at the water’s edge, with all sorts of vegetation dangling from him, Finn let out a belch that made the very earth we sat on quake.

‘Mind and to take a care,’ Sean whispered. ‘Finn can go a bit in a tear-up. I’ve seen him wipe out an army in seconds. He has the temper of a red haired woman in the mornings.’

Finn plonked himself down on the bank and took a swig from his barrel. For sure, he was the biggest man I’d ever seen. A genuine giant of man. He wiped his mouth and put his barrel down and then turned and stared at me. I think he was trying to suss me out.’

‘Hello.’ I said in a high pitch voice that sounded like a frightened prepubescent boy. I felt the shame burning on my cheeks. ‘How’s things,’ I said in my deepest gravelly voice, trying to rectify the situation.

Finn gave a grin, showing his crumbled black teeth, and pulled a headband out of his trouser pocket and to my amazement it was as pink as the socks the man is wearing in Jake K’s picture of the Long Beach Half. He put the headband on and fixed his hair over the band and shook his locks.

‘When do we get started,’ he said with a eunuch’s pitch…

RHR 56

Nightmare! Terrible night's sleep. Woke in agony. The right side of my mouth felt like a thousand bees were having a tear-up. High-tailed it to hospital. Doctor plied me with pain killers (solpadol) which might as well have been honey. Useless. Mixing it up with NSAID's. Doctor gave me a stash of antibiotics and I'm hoping they're going to kick in soon. Excrutiating pain - worse than childbirth, I reckon. Funny thing is, all the aches and niggles have vanished from my legs. Hope to be out on the roads tomorrow. For now, I'm off to the scratcher - better make the old lady's breakfast first.

Toodles 'til tomorrow...

Woke at 1 a.m. in pain - popped a few pills and nodded off. Up again at 4 a.m. in pain - popped a few pills and got up. With the nippers and the old lady in snooze-land (she eats chocolates in her sleep), I decided to have a serious and realistic look at my goals and training - no leprechauns or nonsense.

Managed to plot out a tentative plan up until October 2013. I'm still tweaking it and hope to have it sorted soon. Needless to say, so I'll say it, the short term goal (up until the end of December) is to get the weight down to 142lbs.

Pills seem to be doing their job, but I think it'll be a few days before I get back out on the road.

Mouth's still giving me gyp and the pill popping's spacing me. Dentist on Monday (lovely - I don't think so) and I'm hoping to start training again on Sunday - if , and only if, the antibiotics have rooted out this nasty infection.

6.30 a.m. - 3.6 mile jog.

8 hours pain free sleep, so I decided to take myself out for a little turn.

Jogged the loop without a watch and felt fine. I could tell I'd missed a few days. I knew that my nemesis was awake and eager for my return. And, of course, I was right. The scales gave me the truth I expected. 170lbs. A two pound increase. Oh well.

RHR 60