I have a weekend of positive, productive running behind me. Admittedly, it has taken me all day to stop coughing since I finished my race this morning but nevertheless I feel great
Yesterday my training plan set out a short run of 3 miles, on grass, as prep for today's 10k.We've had so much rain recently we don't actually have any grass left, just mud, so I knew I'd have to just pound the pavements as normal. I also needed to get a birthday gift for a friend who was having her birthday dinner last night. The thought of going out in the rain for a run, then coming home and getting washed and changed to go out to the shops was just too depressing, so instead I ran to the nearest shop that did gift vouchers and bought those, putting them in two plastic bags in my waterproof jacket pocket, and ran the rest of my mileage home. Multitasking marathon style...
Today was the Harrow Hill 6 mile race - so not quite 10k but close enough. Hills count extra, you know.
I'd been experiencing pre-race nerves this week, as I just don't live in a hilly area anymore and don't get the practice. Readers of this blog this time last year would know that I did a fine job in lapping several people up the hill, raising the smugness levels to orange. This year I would be happy just to get up the hill both times.
And I did! And I did lap people - I never cease to be amazed by the number of people who sign up for a race with the word 'Hill' in the title and then proceed to whinge about having to run up them. What do they expect?
The best bit about very steep hills is the descent, because you know you've got plenty of time to recover and get your breath back. You can even pick up a good pace on the downhill as well, so I managed to knock a minute off last year's time too.
I'd started off very slowly as the first few hundred yards are all uphill but actually I think this served me quite well. The hill really splits all the runners up, so you don't actually feel like you're in a race for a while - everyone is too spread out and you just end up running on your own. So I decided to track a Pink Lady in front of me for a while, as she seemed to be putting in a nice steady pace. After about 2 miles though, I realised she was going too slow for me, so I set off past her and tried to find someone else to track.
I lapped two young men who didn't event attempt to run up Harrow Hill (quitters) and then just had Harrow to myself for another mile before I hit the 5 mile mark and got into view of some other runners.
I 'chicked' a guy in the last mile, who sounded like he was dying from TB for the rest of the race, and headed off into the final strait with a happy heart and protesting lungs.I did feel like I had plenty left in the tank though, so I think my pacing was spot on.
I'm feeling a lot more confident about my ability to get round 13 miles in a few weeks time now.
The only disappointment of the day was the goody bag - no KitKat! Instead we got a banana (boring - had brought my own), a bag of salt & vinegar crisps and a plastic keyring in the shape of a football (!?)
I don't even like KitKats that much but really, a plastic keyring in the shape of a football - what kind of a freebie is that?
You don't get that sort of tat in NYC - roll on March 20...
LON
Sunday 27 February 2011
Thursday 24 February 2011
Autopilot
I had one of those autopilot runs this morning, one where you find yourself dressed in lycra and a mile from home before you've even woken up and realised you're running. I'm taking this as a positive step in the move away from complacency, but it could just be that I was actually in a dream-like state and hadn't realised I was doing it.
I'm getting a bit of cold feet about my 6 mile race on Sunday. It's a race I did last year, a Harrow Hill 6miler. The singular use of Hill is somewhat misleading as you have to do the Hill twice as part of the route, not including the fairly hefty incline to get out of the car park start in the first place. Last year I did really well - I set a good time, lapped people going up the hill both times and was given a KitKat for my efforts at the finish. But this year I am not feeling so positive.
Partly it's because my training has taken a dent because of germs but also partly because, since I moved, my training doesn't include quite so many hills as before. Where I lived before, it was impossible to run in any direction without taking in a hill. Now I have to travel quite some distance to get to a hill, unless you include railway bridges and staircases (in which case I am getting quite a lot of practice). I'm therefore a little nervous that Harrow's long steep hill, combined with my slightly defective lungs, might prove a much bigger test this year.
Still I've got to test myself in a race environment before March 20 and this is a nice friendly club environment in which to do it. I should at least get a guide to how badly I might actually perform in Manhattan.
I just hope you still get the KitKat at the end
LON
I'm getting a bit of cold feet about my 6 mile race on Sunday. It's a race I did last year, a Harrow Hill 6miler. The singular use of Hill is somewhat misleading as you have to do the Hill twice as part of the route, not including the fairly hefty incline to get out of the car park start in the first place. Last year I did really well - I set a good time, lapped people going up the hill both times and was given a KitKat for my efforts at the finish. But this year I am not feeling so positive.
Partly it's because my training has taken a dent because of germs but also partly because, since I moved, my training doesn't include quite so many hills as before. Where I lived before, it was impossible to run in any direction without taking in a hill. Now I have to travel quite some distance to get to a hill, unless you include railway bridges and staircases (in which case I am getting quite a lot of practice). I'm therefore a little nervous that Harrow's long steep hill, combined with my slightly defective lungs, might prove a much bigger test this year.
Still I've got to test myself in a race environment before March 20 and this is a nice friendly club environment in which to do it. I should at least get a guide to how badly I might actually perform in Manhattan.
I just hope you still get the KitKat at the end
LON
Wednesday 23 February 2011
All you need is dedication
The mist and the rain really test an amateur runner's desire, don't they? It's been unremittingly grey and damp here in London for several days (yes I know, it's living up to its global reputation) and it's now starting to become a real downer on my runs.
It has made me think a lot about the worst possible weather scenario for a run. My top 5 worst running conditions, after much reflection over lunch yesterday, would be:
1 Heavy rain combined with wind
2 Heavy rain combined with low temperatures
3 Strong wind in every single direction, even when you run in a grid fashion
4 Icy pavements
5 Non-rain rain
Non-rain rain is my new term for London's current weather - it's rain, Jim, but not as we know it. How it manages to be permanently wet without actually raining I don't know, but you've got to give London's weather kudos for creating a whole new weather condition. It's not actually raining, so not wet enough for a waterproof, but yet when you arrive home you are soaked all over. Bizarre.
On a plus side, the mornings are now much lighter so it's becoming easier to rouse myself for a pre-work run. However, the non-rain rain is accompanied by a grey blanket. It's not fog, or even really mist, more just a general 'dirtiness' of landscape. You know it should be daylight but instead you have run through a grey haze. It's like a TV with a broken brightness function.
The murky weather has made me realise that I am actually complacent about my ability to finish a half marathon. It's not really an issue of speed anymore, (although I would dearly love to knock some more minutes off my finishing time) but when I have had training setbacks (such as a hacking cough a 40-a-day smoker would envy), I have been consoling myself with the thought that I can make it round on patchy training. I just won't make it round in a good time.
Complacency is a terrible state to be in but at the moment I just feel I need to survive my runs. Life outside of running is just so complicated, and work is making it increasingly difficult to schedule in midweek runs, that it takes all my energy just to get out there, let alone really test myself.
The thing is, it's not just about the New York Half, is it? I've got to remember that the ultimate goal for this year is the Berlin Marathon in September - and there is no way I can just wing that one on just the long runs.
Somehow I have to recover that marathon fear and awe, and regain that dedication from 2009.
Somehow.
LON
It has made me think a lot about the worst possible weather scenario for a run. My top 5 worst running conditions, after much reflection over lunch yesterday, would be:
1 Heavy rain combined with wind
2 Heavy rain combined with low temperatures
3 Strong wind in every single direction, even when you run in a grid fashion
4 Icy pavements
5 Non-rain rain
Non-rain rain is my new term for London's current weather - it's rain, Jim, but not as we know it. How it manages to be permanently wet without actually raining I don't know, but you've got to give London's weather kudos for creating a whole new weather condition. It's not actually raining, so not wet enough for a waterproof, but yet when you arrive home you are soaked all over. Bizarre.
On a plus side, the mornings are now much lighter so it's becoming easier to rouse myself for a pre-work run. However, the non-rain rain is accompanied by a grey blanket. It's not fog, or even really mist, more just a general 'dirtiness' of landscape. You know it should be daylight but instead you have run through a grey haze. It's like a TV with a broken brightness function.
The murky weather has made me realise that I am actually complacent about my ability to finish a half marathon. It's not really an issue of speed anymore, (although I would dearly love to knock some more minutes off my finishing time) but when I have had training setbacks (such as a hacking cough a 40-a-day smoker would envy), I have been consoling myself with the thought that I can make it round on patchy training. I just won't make it round in a good time.
Complacency is a terrible state to be in but at the moment I just feel I need to survive my runs. Life outside of running is just so complicated, and work is making it increasingly difficult to schedule in midweek runs, that it takes all my energy just to get out there, let alone really test myself.
The thing is, it's not just about the New York Half, is it? I've got to remember that the ultimate goal for this year is the Berlin Marathon in September - and there is no way I can just wing that one on just the long runs.
Somehow I have to recover that marathon fear and awe, and regain that dedication from 2009.
Somehow.
LON
Monday 21 February 2011
A weekend of two halves
Apologies for dropping off the blogosphere recently, but it's very hard to write a blog about running when you're not running. The day after my last post, I developed another heavy cold and a hacking chesty cough, which kept me from pounding the pavements in my usual frequency. While I can run with a cold, coughs are difficult. After a week of coughs and sniffles, I attempted to head out for a mid length easy run as it was a beautiful sunny winters day. I ended up having two massive coughing fits (including one over Kew Bridge that, for a moment, genuinely risked a lung coming up and out of my mouth) and called it short at 7 miles, deciding to leave it a few more days before I risked the streets again.
Two weeks is too long to take easy with a half marathon on the horizon though, so thought I would take my defective lungs out for training again this weekend. Saturday was intended to be a short 4-miler, just to test the waters. This included testing the waters that came out of the sky, as I had to plod round in mist and dank rain for the full route.
But as I approached Ealing Common, I was given a real lift by my Endomondo app. My American virtual coach told me I had completed the preceding mile in 7.5 minutes. I was ecstatic and skipped my way through the rain for the rest of the route, convinced that my enforced rest had actually done me the world of good and, like many a good racehorse, 'I go well fresh'.
So you can imagine my disappointment when I got home and checked the app on my phone, realising that my GPS had somehow 'flown' me over the first half of my route, giving me a false time for the first two miles of the run. Frowny face.
Yesterday, I decided to pick up my training as if I had never left off, and give the GPS a second chance. So I headed out for a nice slow 9 miles, in the mist and the rain, crossing my fingers that I would make it round without losing a lung. It was particularly grim weather for running and it got greyer and greyer as my run went on. I'd decided that I would attempt Kew again, after the previous week's early finish, but somehow Kew is not so pretty and leafy when it's drizzling and thick of fog. I'd also not really thought through fully the geography of the run. I'd allowed for the river, obviously, and planned in the requisite crossing points. What I had forgotten about was the train line, which meant that I had to insert a railway bridge into my run too. Stairs are good training for half marathons, right?
I did have a couple of amusing moments en route though. My American virtual coach, or the Pocket Shouting Lady as I like to call her, caused quite a stir on the homeward stretch. A couple of Sunday afternoon drinkers, who'd clearly been at it since the pub opened 3 hours previously, were outside having a cigarette. Obviously the sight of someone doing exercise when they could be having a pint and a fag was interesting enough, so I'd already caught their attention.
As I approached them, and got ready to cross the road away from them and their cigarette smoke, Pocket Lady decided to shout '6 miles, 1 hour 3 minutes' at top volume. Transatlantic ventroquilism is obviously the sort of thing you don't come across every day in shady pubs in Brentford, and the watching drinkers were positively slackjawed in wonder at my trick. I like to think I may have saved them from further liver damage, by convincing them that they had clearly had enough to drink at that point if they thought that a passing runner's lycra outfit could talk.
The next stage of my route home brought me up against a new runners hazard - girl learning to use roller blades. This is surprisingly hazardous if you are trying to cross a busy road with the roller blade newbie crossing the other way. It's impossible to predict which way her legs are going to go next - a dog on a lead is easier to avoid! As I moved left, her right leg slid towards me. As I switched right, her left leg moved towards me. With every inch of movement, she became more and more hysterical, and so did I. Just for very different reasons.
After spending the next mile laughing at the roller blade performance, I managed to fit in dodging two crazed dogs in the park before heading home to check out the accuracy of technology for the day. Thankfully, GPS is back on track and seemingly, so am I.
This week is race week, with a hilly 10k race planned for Sunday morning, to really test my fitness (and my lungs). I hope the stair training at Kew Station pays off!
Two weeks is too long to take easy with a half marathon on the horizon though, so thought I would take my defective lungs out for training again this weekend. Saturday was intended to be a short 4-miler, just to test the waters. This included testing the waters that came out of the sky, as I had to plod round in mist and dank rain for the full route.
But as I approached Ealing Common, I was given a real lift by my Endomondo app. My American virtual coach told me I had completed the preceding mile in 7.5 minutes. I was ecstatic and skipped my way through the rain for the rest of the route, convinced that my enforced rest had actually done me the world of good and, like many a good racehorse, 'I go well fresh'.
So you can imagine my disappointment when I got home and checked the app on my phone, realising that my GPS had somehow 'flown' me over the first half of my route, giving me a false time for the first two miles of the run. Frowny face.
Yesterday, I decided to pick up my training as if I had never left off, and give the GPS a second chance. So I headed out for a nice slow 9 miles, in the mist and the rain, crossing my fingers that I would make it round without losing a lung. It was particularly grim weather for running and it got greyer and greyer as my run went on. I'd decided that I would attempt Kew again, after the previous week's early finish, but somehow Kew is not so pretty and leafy when it's drizzling and thick of fog. I'd also not really thought through fully the geography of the run. I'd allowed for the river, obviously, and planned in the requisite crossing points. What I had forgotten about was the train line, which meant that I had to insert a railway bridge into my run too. Stairs are good training for half marathons, right?
I did have a couple of amusing moments en route though. My American virtual coach, or the Pocket Shouting Lady as I like to call her, caused quite a stir on the homeward stretch. A couple of Sunday afternoon drinkers, who'd clearly been at it since the pub opened 3 hours previously, were outside having a cigarette. Obviously the sight of someone doing exercise when they could be having a pint and a fag was interesting enough, so I'd already caught their attention.
As I approached them, and got ready to cross the road away from them and their cigarette smoke, Pocket Lady decided to shout '6 miles, 1 hour 3 minutes' at top volume. Transatlantic ventroquilism is obviously the sort of thing you don't come across every day in shady pubs in Brentford, and the watching drinkers were positively slackjawed in wonder at my trick. I like to think I may have saved them from further liver damage, by convincing them that they had clearly had enough to drink at that point if they thought that a passing runner's lycra outfit could talk.
The next stage of my route home brought me up against a new runners hazard - girl learning to use roller blades. This is surprisingly hazardous if you are trying to cross a busy road with the roller blade newbie crossing the other way. It's impossible to predict which way her legs are going to go next - a dog on a lead is easier to avoid! As I moved left, her right leg slid towards me. As I switched right, her left leg moved towards me. With every inch of movement, she became more and more hysterical, and so did I. Just for very different reasons.
After spending the next mile laughing at the roller blade performance, I managed to fit in dodging two crazed dogs in the park before heading home to check out the accuracy of technology for the day. Thankfully, GPS is back on track and seemingly, so am I.
This week is race week, with a hilly 10k race planned for Sunday morning, to really test my fitness (and my lungs). I hope the stair training at Kew Station pays off!
Friday 4 February 2011
My left foot
I have now finished the course of antibiotics and unfortunately don't seem to have made much progress with the toe rot.
Admittedly this time last week it was bright red and throbbing. Now it's bright green and achy. This might actually be progress for a more medically minded person, but for me it's just moving from one unpleasant state to another.
The most worrying thing about it is how my toe seems to have aged, leaving the rest of my body behind. The skin looks old and withered, the nail looks - well, I won't go into too much detail, in case you're reading this while eating. I now admit to a slightly irrational fear that my whole toe might just drop off through old age, leaving me permanently unbalanced. As if runners' feet weren't disgusting enough, I have to go and catch something which turns my toe into the Picture of Dorian Gray.
There may however be a major upside to the toe infection though - speed! Still smugly triumphant after Tuesday's speedfest, I managed to knock another 30 seconds off my mile time yesterday morning, bringing my mile average down by 42 secs overall. The house is just not big enough for my ego right now.
I can't decide whether it's the lush new Brooks trainers, the pre-run Powerbar shots or the green pus in my toe. Perhaps green pus is my superpower, a bit like when Spiderman gets bitten by the exotic spider? I have not yet been able to shoot a web of green pus out of my big toe, so this would appear to be a limited superpower, but increasingly fast mile times are a huge bonus. If nothing else, it means I get home for breakfast a lot quicker!
I can only hope that this is a permanent positive curve I'm on and not just a freak week. At this rate, I'll be able to shave at least a minute or two off my half marathon time in Manhattan next month. And maybe, just maybe, even shave some minutes off that marathon time in September.
A girl can dream
LON
Admittedly this time last week it was bright red and throbbing. Now it's bright green and achy. This might actually be progress for a more medically minded person, but for me it's just moving from one unpleasant state to another.
The most worrying thing about it is how my toe seems to have aged, leaving the rest of my body behind. The skin looks old and withered, the nail looks - well, I won't go into too much detail, in case you're reading this while eating. I now admit to a slightly irrational fear that my whole toe might just drop off through old age, leaving me permanently unbalanced. As if runners' feet weren't disgusting enough, I have to go and catch something which turns my toe into the Picture of Dorian Gray.
There may however be a major upside to the toe infection though - speed! Still smugly triumphant after Tuesday's speedfest, I managed to knock another 30 seconds off my mile time yesterday morning, bringing my mile average down by 42 secs overall. The house is just not big enough for my ego right now.
I can't decide whether it's the lush new Brooks trainers, the pre-run Powerbar shots or the green pus in my toe. Perhaps green pus is my superpower, a bit like when Spiderman gets bitten by the exotic spider? I have not yet been able to shoot a web of green pus out of my big toe, so this would appear to be a limited superpower, but increasingly fast mile times are a huge bonus. If nothing else, it means I get home for breakfast a lot quicker!
I can only hope that this is a permanent positive curve I'm on and not just a freak week. At this rate, I'll be able to shave at least a minute or two off my half marathon time in Manhattan next month. And maybe, just maybe, even shave some minutes off that marathon time in September.
A girl can dream
LON
Wednesday 2 February 2011
From the sublime to the ridiculous
(Or 'how I went from running bliss to muscle soreness in 15 hours')
Despite my persistent demotivation over the last few weeks, I'm still managing to drag my new shoes out for training runs. The dark evenings remain a challenge, so I'm directing my efforts into running in the mornings before work.
Gradually my runs have been getting faster - admittedly in small degrees - but it's safe to say I'm slowly getting fitter. My Endomondo app on the iphone is proving really useful for measuring my progress, and mapping my routes, and I've become very comfortable with being shouted at several times every run by an American lady. Yesterday morning though, it all seemed to start to come together properly
The mornings are definitely getting lighter, which a huge plus for my darkness-demotived self. I also remembered to take on board some PowerBar ride shots before I left the house, as opposed to just heading out on a glass of water. So I don't whether the psychological boost of sunshine was key, or whether it was simple sugar rush that helped me produce my PB for 2011.
I managed to knock 62 seconds off my best mile for this year so far and reproduce it over a second mile too. The moment my US friend shouted out my mile, I even did a little fist pump to myself. I was elated - I'm now remembering what it is like to get fitter and progress, rather than just thud round like a fat plodder.
I'm obviously still weeks away from the NYC half and will no doubt experience some running lows over the rest of the training period but nevertheless I'm now starting to feel positive about my abilities again. I've got my running mojo back.
Unfortunately, I had to spoil my running high by completely overdoing things for the rest of they day. As if running 4.5 miles before breakfast was not enough for my grudgingly unfit body, I then decided that the best way to move around London in between 3 separate meetings and a night out at a music gig was on foot. First I walked from Victoria to Westminster (not so far), then from Westminster to Trafalgar Square (little bit further but not too far) then from Trafalgar Square to Oxford Circus (further than I thought).
With a seated break for dinner, I then proceeded to stand for 2 and half hours at the music gig, with a throbbing infected toe and a gradually increasing hip ache. My aches and pains weren't helped by the world's most preposterous support act, a man in a suit with a stuffed cat and a tiny electronic organ singing children's songs.
On leaving the gig, we bumped into the entire contents of the Arsenal football stadium trying to get onto the Tube, so had to walk yet another mile and a half to another tube station to be able to board a train.
I'm not sure my legs have felt that tired since I ran the New York marathon!
As a result, my paronychia-ed toe now looks shrivelled and worn, with a yellow and black colour scheme. It's almost like a part of my body has died prematurely - I can only hope it won't shrivel up and drop off entirely, because I'm pretty sure you need both big toes to run any race distance. My entire lower half aches gently from marching round London in work shoes and I have only myself to blame
So I'm inserting a rest day into the plan today and intend to head back out and test my new speed status tomorrow morning instead. Here's hoping...
LON
Despite my persistent demotivation over the last few weeks, I'm still managing to drag my new shoes out for training runs. The dark evenings remain a challenge, so I'm directing my efforts into running in the mornings before work.
Gradually my runs have been getting faster - admittedly in small degrees - but it's safe to say I'm slowly getting fitter. My Endomondo app on the iphone is proving really useful for measuring my progress, and mapping my routes, and I've become very comfortable with being shouted at several times every run by an American lady. Yesterday morning though, it all seemed to start to come together properly
The mornings are definitely getting lighter, which a huge plus for my darkness-demotived self. I also remembered to take on board some PowerBar ride shots before I left the house, as opposed to just heading out on a glass of water. So I don't whether the psychological boost of sunshine was key, or whether it was simple sugar rush that helped me produce my PB for 2011.
I managed to knock 62 seconds off my best mile for this year so far and reproduce it over a second mile too. The moment my US friend shouted out my mile, I even did a little fist pump to myself. I was elated - I'm now remembering what it is like to get fitter and progress, rather than just thud round like a fat plodder.
I'm obviously still weeks away from the NYC half and will no doubt experience some running lows over the rest of the training period but nevertheless I'm now starting to feel positive about my abilities again. I've got my running mojo back.
Unfortunately, I had to spoil my running high by completely overdoing things for the rest of they day. As if running 4.5 miles before breakfast was not enough for my grudgingly unfit body, I then decided that the best way to move around London in between 3 separate meetings and a night out at a music gig was on foot. First I walked from Victoria to Westminster (not so far), then from Westminster to Trafalgar Square (little bit further but not too far) then from Trafalgar Square to Oxford Circus (further than I thought).
With a seated break for dinner, I then proceeded to stand for 2 and half hours at the music gig, with a throbbing infected toe and a gradually increasing hip ache. My aches and pains weren't helped by the world's most preposterous support act, a man in a suit with a stuffed cat and a tiny electronic organ singing children's songs.
On leaving the gig, we bumped into the entire contents of the Arsenal football stadium trying to get onto the Tube, so had to walk yet another mile and a half to another tube station to be able to board a train.
I'm not sure my legs have felt that tired since I ran the New York marathon!
As a result, my paronychia-ed toe now looks shrivelled and worn, with a yellow and black colour scheme. It's almost like a part of my body has died prematurely - I can only hope it won't shrivel up and drop off entirely, because I'm pretty sure you need both big toes to run any race distance. My entire lower half aches gently from marching round London in work shoes and I have only myself to blame
So I'm inserting a rest day into the plan today and intend to head back out and test my new speed status tomorrow morning instead. Here's hoping...
LON
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