You can't always get what you want, but that doesn't guarantee people will get what they need

I have a superstition that any statement about running a race is followed by ‘all being well’. I’m superstitious about catching a last minute cold or picking up a late injury so until I’m on that start line, I can’t be sure I’m running that race. I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve said to people this year, when they asked me what I was training for, ‘the New York marathon on November 4^th, all being well’.

This time I didn’t make the start line. This time all was not well. But it wasn’t those pesky London Transport germs or that freak last minute injury – it was a hurricane that stopped me in my tracks, blew away 18 weeks and 100s of miles of training. Or maybe, more accurately, it was the response to that hurricane.

To be honest, I was amazed they even said it would take place at all. We were luckily booked onto one of the first flights to land in JFK from London following the reopening of the airports and had a hitch free journey to New York. We didn’t even have to wait long for a taxi at the airport, despite the lack of subway or train alternatives. There was a well organised system in place, and the city seemed to be coping. We did note the patchwork power outages, at one point driving down the Van Wyck from the airport to our Brooklyn hotel, there was power on our right hand side, but none on our left. But in the neighbourhood we were stayed, there was no indication there had been so much as a storm, let alone a hurricane, unless you wanted to get a subway (which you couldn’t).

The immigration officer that checked me through was delighted that the marathon was supposedly going ahead, he seemed really proud of the fact (while ribbing me that I might have to swim to the start). Other Brooklyn locals we spoke to seemed to not think that there was anything strange about it taking place at all. The posters were up on route to support the runners for Sunday. Everything went on as normal.

But when you watched TV, you saw it wasn’t normal. Huge areas of Queens and Long Island were without power and flooded. I spoke to one local whose grandmother had escaped to the roof to avoid the flooding in her Queens home, and whose mother had lost all her possessions but was delighted to be alive. Red Hook in Brooklyn also suffered massive flooding and power loss. But it was Staten Island -the suburb which is the starting point for the marathon - that was generating the controversy and, finally, the anger towards the marathon and its runners.

From what I hear, race organisers New York Road Runners didn’t think it would go ahead either, but when reviews showed that the course was clear and that their resources could cover transport to the start, the Mayor was adamant it should proceed. The race registration opened as normal, I picked up my race number on the Thursday before the race, and spent some dollars on my race souvenirs at the expo. I started to focus again on the race itself, even working out how I would get to my bus without access to the subway, all those practical pre-race things. But on Twitter and on the news, there was disappointment and then fury at the decision to proceed. I never came across anyone in Brooklyn who was anti-marathon, but there was plenty of anti-marathon feeling to go round.

It reached the point that it became the race’s fault that many of the people on Staten Island were without power, not Sandy, not the power companies, not FEMA. It was New York Road Runners’ two generators in Central Park that seemed to be the final straw – it was (quite rightly) deemed that these would be more useful on Staten Island (or hey, even Red Hook or the Rockaways, but they are not on the marathon route so were momentarily forgotten as disaster areas). All that water etc. that runners would use, that should also go to the hardest hit. And so the groundswell of public opinion moved firmly against the marathon. There was no choice left but to cancel it, at a stage so late that virtually every competitor had arrived in the city, still needing to take up a hotel room because they couldn’t change their flight even if they wanted to (remember, there was rebooking backlog). I firmly believe it was the right decision, but I don’t believe it was made at the right time.

Obviously I’m disappointed that I did not get to run my race. With three PBs in September, I was in great form, but now I won’t know how that would translate to an autumn marathon. I may never be in that form again either. But all marathoners are psyched for last minute hitches or disappointments. So that is not what really upset me. 

What disturbed me most is how people became distracted from the real failings in the hurricane response, and focused all the blame on a race that hadn’t even taken place. No one seemed to be angry about the fact that there seemed to be no real urgency on getting the power back up in the suburbs (or even that the power companies themselves, who happily take these people’s dollars for utility bills, couldn’t rustle up some more emergency generators to get them some heat on a cold autumn night). No one seemed to care that the Mayor was not leaning more heavily on ConEd and other companies who could have perhaps supplied generators. This seemed insane to me. The only generators that existed in the world at this point were the two in Central Park, hired by NYRR from a private company. Those generators symbolised the have and have nots of the city. New York Road Runners were being unfairly vilified as the villains of the piece, yet all they could do is say which company they had rented the generators from and ask FEMA to rent them instead.

So when they cancelled the race, fine. There are more important things in life than running. Many that could access transport went out and volunteered on race day instead, which was a wonderful gesture. But I never did find out if anyone hired those two generators for Staten Island and delivered them there. I’m guessing not. I do know that when I walked through Central Park on Monday afternoon near the marathon finish, there were hundreds of boxes of apples stacked in rows, all destined for the runners’ finish bags, that had not made it to Staten Island. They probably all went rotten and had to be disposed of.

And people are still without power in NYC. People’s homes are still wrecked. People are still without the means to heat their homes and cook a hot meal. Some of them don’t even know when they will get full power back on.

So who won? New York Road Runners, with their no refund policy? New York City, who still got the economy boost from visitors who had come to the city for the race anyway? Maybe, but it certainly wasn’t the residents of Staten Island, Red Hook and the Rockaways who are still surrounded by their destroyed homes and possessions. People need to remember their anger from November 1 and 2 and focus that again on the powers that be. Nothing has been improved by the race cancellation. Except maybe Bloomberg’s poll ratings.

Me and Paula, Paula and me

Me and Paula

Since Sunday’s sad news that injury will prevent Paula Radcliffe from competing in her home games, I’ve been thinking a lot about Paula and how she’s had an impact on me and my running.

Watching her world record in London (from bed, with a cup of coffee and a bacon sarnie) made me decide that one day I would run a marathon. Years later, I took up running and my first race was a Nike 10k in Hyde Park, which Paula ran too. She was very pregnant at the time, so therefore ran a lot slower than usual, which led my mum to believe that I was much closer in ability to Paula Radcliffe than was the case. My mum has since been disabused of this notion, but the link between Paula and my races continues.

Following that 10k I was hooked. I continued running and signed up for more 10ks and my first half marathon the year after. The next big 10k I ran was the Nike Run the World event in Wembley, which I continue to rate as the worst organised race ever. Running in the dark round an industrial estate in Wembley and Tesco’s car park was grim, but the evening was saved by the flash that ran right next to me at one point – Paula herself! Back in training after giving birth, Paula was back and racing with me again, spurring me on to finish faster. That moment where she was inches away from me on a course is still a highlight of my running history.

My first marathon, though, was the key race that Paula and I ran ‘together’. New York 2009, and my personal favourite Paula Radcliffe achievement. To finish and hear that she’d won was very special. She’d come back after pregnancy and shown all her doubters that she was still a world beater. I was very proud to have shared that race with her for a short while, even if we were miles apart.

Most recently, Paula and I ran the Berlin marathon. She was back from her second pregnancy and people were doubting her again. She didn’t win in Berlin, but she performed well to finish third, and she acted as my talisman for my marathon PB. In the last 10k, I kept hearing announcements mentioning her name but not understanding German, I decided Paula must have won and the excitement at this imagined result spurred me on to a really strong finish. So thanks, Paula, I owe my PB directly to you.

The British media and public can be horribly cruel. They don’t understand that athletes get injured, suffer training setbacks or even have an off day. But because Paula inspired me to run nine years ago, I have experienced all of those things for myself and can sympathise completely with my hero. I am sure she will bounce back yet again to show us what a great athlete she is. Because let’s face it, she’s done it before.

I love Paula because she is such an inspiration for all sportspeople. She is so positive and committed, she works so hard at her discipline. I love that she cries so openly, because that is a completely natural reaction to a disappointment after you have worked so hard to achieve something. I love that she is an ambassador for distance running the whole world over. No matter what happens in London 2012, the world knows and respects Paula. She makes me proud to share a sport with her, even though I am so many, many levels below her.

And most of all, I’d like to thank her for getting me into running, and keeping me there for so long. She’s been a great running ‘buddy’ and I look forward to racing with her again someday soon.

St Albans half: great race, shame about the loos

I had been humming and hawing about doing this race. Post-injury nerves, and the glaring fact that my injury had not fully recovered from VLM - in fact, it had just transferred itself to a different part of my right leg - meant that I couldn't stop thinking I was a bit reckless to go for a half marathon race. But my physio said to go for it, with the caveat that I had to stay up all night beforehand stretching (warning: slight exaggeration), so off to St Albans I went on Sunday morning.

Setting off later than planned was not a good start either, so the nerves were at a premium when I arrived. Parking space duly found, I arrived at the runners village to announcements of a record turnout for the race. Unfortunately no one had passed this info on to the person in charge of ordering the portaloos, so there were about 15 loos for about 3000 people. You can imagine the debacle this created 40 mins before the race, with queues virtually down to Radlett, and the announcer desperately telling people to go elsewhere and find alternative loos!!

Luckily, Beloved had accompanied me for moral support and a post race pub lunch, so he headed off to a nearby leisure centre and phoned through confirmation that there were accessible loos, and that the queue was manageable. So my warm-up consisted of legging it over to the leisure centre for a pre-race toilet stop and I was in my pen 15 minutes beforehand. No thanks to the organisers though, and they really need to sort out the toilet situation next year.

Fortunately, the toilets were the only blot on the day (although the runner who decided to kick a tennis ball out of the gutter into the path of his fellow runners wasn't much of a highlight either). The weather miraculously defied forecasts and was warm and sunny. There were loads of water stations, all well organised. The course is great, with loads of evil but short hills to really test you, and loads of downhills to get you going again. I love running through the country lanes - it feels like a real switch for me, compared to my usual London routes.

There is a walking half marathon that sets off two hours before the run, and that caused a bit of congestion with the slower walkers at the very end (seemingly the slower you walk, the more likely you are to walk two abreast and block the narrow country lanes) but as no one was allowed to wear headphones, I was at least able to ask people politely to move to the right and be heard.

The finish is really well organised, with medals, appropriately sized t-shirts (London marathon organisers take note, it is possible to afford different sized t-shirts with an entry fee below £30), drinks and the best post-race treat of all - an orange ice lolly! This might not be so well received on rainy days, but yesterday it really hit the spot.

But best of all, my injury held up. One mild twinge at mile 7, but it passed as quickly as it came on and I was able to run a really steady pace, with a teensy eensy weensy negative split. My last mile was my fastest and I consistently passed runners in the last four miles. Not only did I finish strong but I knocked over 4 minutes off my previous course record, finishing in 2:06:59 (the best seconds of all). Given that my half marathon PB is 8 minutes faster than my previous St Albans time, I'm now really hopeful of achieving a sub 2 hour half later this year. It was a brilliant confidence-boosting race on all levels.

All that stretching clearly paid off and I really owe my physio a pint for getting me to the point I can race again. With 3 weeks to go before the New York marathon training starts in earnest, I'm going to take it easy and keep up the cross-training and strength work, to make sure the legs are as fit as they can be before the heavy mileage sets in.

Anti gravity running

It's June and that means Juneathon. Luckily, my marathon-induced injury is rehabilitating enough to allow me out on the roads again, albeit not as frequently as I would like. I'm still mixing in treadmills and cross-training, as well as hours of stretching and conditioning. But I've been out there everyday, even for a little mile here or there.

My Juneathon high from the first week was definitely 9 miles on Saturday. The longest I've run since the London marathon, and it felt great to be out there again. I even managed some race pace miles in there, which was great for the confidence. While the calf and the knee weren't perfect, they were happy enough for me to decide to go through with the St Albans half marathon on Sunday. Hopefully the hills won't aggravate things too much.

As part of the long, slow process to figuring out why everything started hurting all of a sudden, I went on an anti gravity treadmill today at the physio.  (http://www.alter-g.com/)
I got to wear a strange sort of 'skort' which looked like a witch's hat with a giant zip on it. Then I zipped myself into a plastic-covered treadmill, which weighs you then inflates to reduce the impact of your body weight as you run on the treadmill. Your lower body is totally encased in the inflated 'bubble' as you run. This allowed my physio to see where I was going wrong on my errant right side, and advise me on how I can reduce the impact while running out there on the roads.

It was quite techie, and quite cool, and most importantly quite a confidence booster for my fitness. However, it does make you look totally ridiculous so I'm just glad no one took any photos!

Limping back to full fitness

It's now been 38 days since I ran the London Marathon. In that time, I've rode plenty of virtual miles across landscapes of the USA. I have cross-trained, strength-trained and stretched muscles I never knew I had (which might have been the problem in the first place).  But I've run very few miles. A stiff 3 miles one day, an agonising 4 miles the next. Not to mention the added stress and worry of losing out all that running fitness I'd built up since Christmas.

Physiotherapy gave me pointers on changing stride, and that seems to help. The only problem is I have to concentrate on my stride, which is actually more difficult to adapt to than the stride itself. I'm used to running my miles in a daydream, not counting my steps. But if it pays off, it'll be worth it.

Despite the glorious weather, I did as I was told on Saturday and went to the gym for my run, rather than risk the lumps and bumps of pavements and paths. I managed 4.5 slow but totally pain-free miles on the treadmill, which was positive. But I can't run the New York marathon on a treadmill.

So I've tested my new stride out in the real world a couple of times. Three very easy pain-free miles on Monday, but 6 miles today. The longest I've run since the London Marathon. The fastest I've run since the London Marathon.

I couldn't say it was pain-free. The right calf still feels very stiff, and at two points an burning pain went through the right knee, but it was fleeting both times and seemed to be more a reminder that I wasn't concentrating on my stride rather than a pain in itself.

But I managed to run a decent pace - 6 miles in 1:01, which I'll take after injury. The pain was not longlasting and I felt fit and strong at the end of it. Maybe I am on the road to recovery after all.

I know I need to get a few more miles under the belt, both on the road and on the treadmill, before I can feel fully confident again but it's reassuring to know I've still got the fitness to come back to. I just need to keep looking after that right leg and practising my new steps.

How I fell in love with strength training

I've already moaned about how my VLM-induced injury has driven me to the gym for cross-training. While this has vastly increased the number of inspiring podcasts I can listen to in a week, it still can't compare to a riverside run in the fresh air. I'm loyal in my relationships and running is a true love. But my sordid gym affair has awakened a new passion for me - strength training.

I'll confess I am lazy. My friends say that running 5 times a week is not lazy, but it is because all you have to do is get changed, pick up your keys and head out the door. I don't have to check my bike tyres are pumped up, I don't have to fill a gym bag, I don't have to take toiletries. I just lycra up and go. I can run home from work or meetings if I need to fit a run in. It's such a convenient form of exercise for a lazybones, low-effort type, like me.

In 5 years of running I have never bothered with any cross training or strength training, apart from bike rides for pleasure and swimming on holiday. My core has remained steadfastly neglected, as anyone who has seen my flabby belly in lycra can testify. But the last few weeks of not running have made me do other things to keep my fitness up. So I decided to work on my muscle strength. And it's been a revelation.

Apparently I have a waist! Who knew after 39 years that one of those lurked beneath the comfortably relaxed, couch potato, stomach muscles? I am fascinated, like a small child with a new toy. I keep poking it, just to make sure I am not imagining it. And it's happened in only 3 weeks, so I can't complain about the speed of results.

I'd say I'm only at a two-pack stage right now (with perhaps a couple of empty plastic loops hanging spare at the side, where someone has removed a couple of cans already) and I've got a long way to go in building upper body strength but I'm inspired by the rapid results to keep going and develop a strong core for my next marathon attempt. Who knows what I can do once I have toned stomach muscles? Who knows how fast I can run with toned upper arms?

So while I remain head over heels in love with running, I might just have to keep my affair with strength training going. I'm hoping it will keep the main relationship fresh, and maintain it for years to come, right into my old (good for) age.

Running hiatus

My enforced break from running continues. Another physio session today, and another pummelling, but apparently I've made great progress in the ITB, my hip & my glutes. However, the advice is that a few more days off running and sticking with the lower impact cross training will pay dividends. So I continue to visit the gym, and leave my running shoes at home.

I still miss running - as an activity, static cycling or crosstrainers are just not as exciting. They don't give you the opportunity to check out loads of interesting people, they don't give you the chance to see which houses have gone up for sale down your road, and they certainly don't give you any fresh air. On the upside, I can listen to music or podcasts (which I don't like to do when I'm running on the road - I like to have my hearing and my wits about me). And the virtual cycle tool is quite cool, as you cycle through random bits of the USA. This has the advantage of keeping you distracted while planning your next road trip holiday. It's pretty much convinced me to enter the Chicago Marathon in 2013 as that city looks very nice for running.

It's all about self-control now. At least now I've been given a schedule to start again from. Short-term deprivation should mean less downtime in the longer term. It would be easy to head out there tonight and test the right leg out. But I've got to resist.  And if I can make my Creme Egg stash last until May, I can keep my hand out of the running biscuit tin for a little bit longer.

Missing you already

It's now been 10 days since I ran the London Marathon. I've managed to run for 5 minutes in that time, on a treadmill. And that was long enough to tell me that I'm not fit to run.
My knee niggle during the race has not eased through rest, so I have caved in and visited a physiotherapist, who has diagnosed ITB friction syndrome. I'm relieved with the diagnosis, because I know many runners who've had ITB problems and know you can come back from it relatively quickly. I've been given some fairly painful exercises to do and need to work on strengthening my glutes (I always knew I had a lazy arse, now it's official). But I am not to run - swimming or light stationary cycling only for me.

It's been less than 24 hours since I was told not to run, and 3 days since my knee expressed its own concerns on the treadmill. But I am already pining. I have a gaping hole in my life. It's not even the marathon training, it's the fact I can't pull on my shoes and go out there and do something that has been a major part of my life for the last few years.

It's a year since I last had an injury that put me out for a few weeks, but that injury was not on the back of a 5 days a week training regime. How do I fill my time without those 5 activities. How do I clear my head and get my thoughts sorted without my regular meditative run? How do I burn off enough calories to eat a slice of that cake I made?  Now I have to pay to go in a gym or a swimming pool, I can't just head out for free to the streets or the park. I'm like a kid who can't play out in the garden anymore, and has to be ferried around in their parents' car instead.

It's not just the run itself. I hadn't realised how much running facilitates other parts of my life. Most importantly, working from a home office, it gives my day a focus, away from the computer and the telephone. It makes me feel fit and healthy, whereas now I am listless and feeling scatty. I have forgotten or lost multiple things in the last few days. My mind is suffering as well as my body.

But I know I need to give the leg the treatment it needs, so I can come back strong enought to run those half marathons and marathons. I need to make sure I am at my strongest for New York in November, and give myself the best shot possible of a sub-2 hour half marathon before then. So I am trying to be patient.

But I miss it

Third time's a charm

Well, I've done it. I've completed the London Marathon. Another wish ticked off that 'things to do before I am 40' list. Unfortunately, I did not get my wished-for PB. I did it in 4:26:37, not under 4:15 as planned. But I did learn a lot about running from yesterday's incredible experience.

The weather made a liar of everyone and gave us perfect running conditions (unless of course you had wrapped up for the predicted low temperatures and wet weather - I was glad I had taken the risk of just going for my preferred race gear plus my charity vest). The organisation at the start was excellent, making for a relaxed pre-race feeling. And the crowds were incredible. I've been to watch the marathon before and I don't remember there being the sheer weight of numbers that were out there yesterday. 

At points in the race the crowd were as good as a pair of fresh legs. Tower Bridge and its support gave me a speedy mile. Seeing Beloved at mile 13 and he and other friends at mile 22 gave me bursts of energy and positive thoughts that carried me forwards.

And I really needed all the energy and positive thoughts I could get. London was the hardest marathon I've ever run, mentally and physically. I didn't race the race I planned to race, and essentially blew my own race strategy by going off a tiny bit too fast at the start. But I managed to rein myself back in from mile 2 and felt good, felt back on target. 

Around Cutty Sark, the atmosphere was so electric that it gave me my happiest moment of running ever. I am just glad I wasn't caught by the TV cameras, because I know I was grinning like an idiot, high on the deafening noise of the crowd and the band. I saw a spectator so happy to see her friend or partner running that she looked like she'd won millions on the lottery. It was simply fantastic.

But at mile 10, it all went wrong for me. My right knee started to hurt on the outside. I've had aches and pains on long runs before, and often it's a psychological thing that I can just run off. So I kept going, expecting the pain to pass before long. The sight of Tower Bridge was as good as any Ibuprofen - I started grinning like a mad fool again, running across the bridge with a maniacal smile on my face. I was excited at the prospect of seeing my Beloved in a mile or so, and the pain didn't seem to be a problem. 

By mile 15, it became apparent the pain wasn't going anywhere and it was going to stick with me for the rest of the ride. By then it became a question of mind over matter, willing it not to get worse and using every single Jedi mind trick in the book. The gels weren't giving me the spurts of energy they normally do, or at least they didn't feel like they did (a look at my splits on Endomondo suggests otherwise). Every mile from 15, I seemed to lose a few seconds and just couldn't find the energy to get them back. I was nervous about pushing too hard, in case the knee just gave out. I desperately wanted to finish the race, and finish it running. I'll never know if my overly speedy first mile was the problem, or whether I just had an underlying problem that was ready to surface, all I know is I wanted to deal with it and finish as soon as I could.

Psychologically, London was tough, because of several factors. I've done two marathons before but in cities that feel comfortable about opening up wide roads to let the runners run on. Part of the quirks of London is that you run down quite a few stretches which only fit a few runners across. If those runners suddenly decide to stop running and start walking (which seems to be a 50/50 chance in London) then this makes the route something of a bottleneck. I don't think this slowed me down as much as messed with my head, frustrated me, made me impatient and gave me negative thoughts.

The main thing that screws with your mind though is the number of people who just collapse in a heap on the side. By the time I reached 22 miles I didn't dare look to the side any more, because it was starting to mess with my head. I had moved from a time goal, to the goal of making it round without collapsing in a heap. And this is a head that knows it can run marathons, knows it can do it successfully. God knows what happens to your thoughts if it's your first marathon and people are dropping like flies around you. This wasn't something I'd witnessed in New York or Berlin, and it scared me.

And the costumes, they are really something else. They make it an incredibly inspiring and often hysterically funny experience but trying to dodge a hula hooping woman while 3 other runners are trying to take photos of her was frustrating to say the least. 

The final and most persistent frustration is the policy of handing out fluids in bottles. This is frustrating and downright hazardous. Giving people the option of 33cl portions of water every mile is wasteful and potentially dangerous. Most people just take a couple of sips and then hurl them to the side. But others just toss them on the road, where other runners have to run over them or skip over them, or often the bottles that are tossed aside bounced back off the kerb, hurtling into your foot or your calf. One runner in front of me 'helpfully' kicked away an empty glass bottle of Bulmers cider and I am eternally grateful that no one was in the way of that. And then there's the joy of running past a full plastic bottle just as someone stands on, spraying you and your trainers with water, or if you're really unlucky (like me), sticky orange Lucozade Sport. And I'm sure the irony of all those virtually full bottles of plastic water in the gutter was not wasted on all those Water Aid runners yesterday. London Marathon really need to find a better way to service runners and the environment and not make it all about the sponsors. Other marathons offer plastic cups, which are easier to sip from (and chuck over your sweaty face when you don't finish it all) and more importantly give way under foot much more easily and safely. I really didn't like the bottle aspect of it at all.

Despite all these 'nuisances', and despite my own personal performance, I loved running London. The crowd was brilliant every step of the way, and really make it a very special race. I'm deeply grateful to everyone who stood there all morning making a supportive racket and in particular to those complete strangers who encouraged me by name.  I didn't do as well as I wanted to but I'm delighted all the same, because I learnt a lot about how to run it better and if I did it again I am confident I could do a time I would be happier with. I'd employ different tactics (and maybe wear blinkers!). It ended up being an experience rather than a marathon, albeit a marathon experience. But in the end yesterday wasn't about a PB, it was about London. Which, as ever, was extraordinary. 

LON

Do you remember the first time?

Yesterday I picked up my number and my tag for the 2012 London Marathon. It's official - I'm doing this thing.

This will be my third marathon in 30 months. No big deal, given some of the awe-inspiring marathon charity challenges that take place each year. But as I get ready for this third time out, I can't quite believe how that first-time feeling won't go away.

I started big - with the 40th running of the New York Marathon in 2009. I trained dutifully, petrified at the challenge I'd set myself. The training went fairly smoothly, no major hiccups. My aim was to get round in a time that would get my name listed in the New York Times the next day and to enjoy running in a city that I love.

Like all American things, it was big. The whole thing, not just the race. The expo, the goody bag, the pre-race preamble. But most impressive of all is the way the city embraces the event. There are points on the course where it seems like the whole of New York City is stood at the side, shouting your name. There are points where there are few spectators but they usually make up for their number with a great chant. The lone fat lady in Harlem who shouted 'Go Anne Marie, that's what I'm talking about' has gone down in folklore for my family and friends.

My second marathon was Berlin. Again, the training went well. I tried a different plan, with a lot more mileage in it. I was aiming for a sub 4 hours 20 time, and a great experience in another city I love. Berlin is also big. It is tall, in its own Northern European way. It also generates a city-wide atmosphere, but not to the same extent as New York. There is great support (particularly if you are Danish), the organisation and route is faultless, and you can even get a massage en route, but it wasn't quite the same experience as New York. I did, however, beat my New York time by almost 15 minutes, so it was a fantastic marathon for me and has a special place in my heart. The final stretch down the Unter den Linden was incredibly emotional and gives you fresh legs to hit the finish line strong.

And now's I'm getting ready for my third marathon. In the city I love most of all, the city I call home. The city that can still make burst with pride to live here, and make me want to slap it for being so stupid. The training has gone ok, with more hiccups than previous years. But I feel fit and ready to run. I'm excited to run it, and intrigued to find out whether being able to eat my own food and stay in my own bed in the days beforehand will have  a positive impact on my performance and time.

But I'm more nervous than ever. The nerves don't go away, no matter how many you do. So much can depend on the day. What will the weather be like and how will that affect me? What will the crowd be like? Can it emulate the New York support, or will it be more sporadic, like Berlin? What will my stomach do? Will I need to stop for the loo, adding precious minutes to my time? How will I feel running without my marathon buddy from New York and Berlin? Will this make a difference to me at the start?

But most of all, will London do something to make me love it like I love New York and Berlin? What reason will it give me to make it special for me?

The nerves, the anticipation, the wonder - these are all part of the buzz of the marathon. The gift that keeps on giving.

Tapering is good for you - honest!!

With less than two weeks to go until the London Marathon, I can assure you that I am well and truly tapering. It's unfortunate that the taper clashes with an exponential rise in the amount of chocolate in the house but it's welcome in many other ways.

I'm tired. So tired. I have run hundreds of miles, and I'm ready to take it a little easier. I'm loving the shorter distances, the lack of speedwork, the general recuperative aspect of it all. It's not that I don't love running - I wouldn't run 5 times a week over a variety of terrains and distances if I didn't. But my body is telling me it needs a break. So I'm embracing the taper period and enjoying it as a key part of training. I tell myself that every shorter run I do, a little bit of muscle repairs itself.  Admittedly, the extra time on my hands is a bit strange, but I've managed to catch up on a lot of movies, finish a really good book and spring clean the top floor of my house (there were a lot of unwanted, oversized, race t-shirts to throw out, people).

But as I look on Twitter, and on the many blogs I read, I note that others aren't quite as 'pro-tapering' as I am. I see people adding extra miles onto shorter runs, because they are feeling good. I see people still squeezing long runs in to compensate for earlier gaps in training. Running is so addictive, we can't leave it alone, even when our training plans tell us to!

Fellow London marathoners - put your feet up! Embrace the taper. Replenish your energy stores. Repair your muscles. Use the time to investigate new and exciting ways to carb up without eating pasta for every meal. Or, like me, use it to throw out those old oversized race t-shirts you never wanted and you're just keeping 'just in case'. Sign up for some late spring races. But whatever you do, leave those extra miles alone. You won't regret it on April 22.

Pathetic Inner Voice vs Sensible Inner Voice

So this weekend was the last big push before the London Marathon - 10 miles at race pace on Friday and 20 miles long slow run on Saturday.

The 10 miles at race pace went brilliantly - my pace was strong and consistent and I felt good, loving every minute of the run.

The 20 miles, however, was not a roaring success. Perhaps it was too hot, perhaps my route was too hilly, maybe running it within 24 hours of the 10 miles at race pace was too quick. I don't know what the cause was, but miles 12-17 were the worst 5 miles I have ever run. Even worse than the time I hobbled round the last 5 miles of a 10 mile race with a foot injury.

Everything felt wrong: my legs were stiff and wooden, so tired I could barely propel them forward. Despite my normal, reliable, fuelling strategy the night before and the morning of the run, I felt hungry and dizzy. I was arguing with myself for miles 12-15, wrangling with Pathetic Inner Voice that was whining like a baby about how the run didn't feel right. Sensible Inner Voice kept reminding Pathetic Inner Voice of the fact that there were no hills left in the route and that I'd had a hard run less than 24 hours previously. But it was definitely a major dust-up between the two alter egos. I'm not sure I want to break that fight up again on April 22.

It left me with a very bruised confidence all day Saturday, reviewing my run statistics and wondering where it's all gone wrong this year, compared to my happy training experience for Berlin last autumn. Was my mad auntie right? Am I too old to run marathons?

But yesterday's news about an experienced runner collapsing at the finish line of the Reading Marathon and subsquently passing away really put it all in perspective. So what if your legs ache. So what if you should have had a bit more porridge for breakfast. You came home safe from doing something you love. And that's all we can ask for. Any day of the week.

Inspirational fridge magnets

After 3 weeks of training setbacks, ill health and random minor yet immobilising injuries, I was starting to get a bit down on the whole London Marathon thing. I've been unable to run anything at a pace for nearly 3 weeks and I'd moved from having a time goal (sub 4:15) to just wanting to get round.

But then my race magazine arrived! I have a number, I have a start zone (red - my favourite colour). I have a map of the course so I can plan where to wave to family and friends. I can ride the train to Greenwich for free. And best of all, I have another Timex race time fridge magnet to add to my collection!

The fridge magnet is applied to the fridge. Black, incomplete - a blank canvas waiting to be updated with my latest marathon time. It's next to my 2009 New York Marathon debut fridge magnet, which reads 4:34:34. What will the London one read on April 22?

Will it be a time at all or will all these interruptions to my training backfire? Or will it be another PB? Who knows? But a flexible fridge magnet has completely restarted my enthusiasm and boosted my confidence for London in a matter of seconds.

Mopeds and missing marathon training in Marrakech

I always knew I had to go to Marrakech for a weekend right in the middle of my marathon training. Booked months in advance, I had scheduled around it. I'd make sure that I wouldn't miss out on the long run I was supposed to do that weekend. What I hadn't planned for was that the two weekends before that would also be beset by setbacks, first a bad fall, and second flu. So I was already playing catch-up on my training, missing two long runs.
I like to run in new or different places - hence my choice of NYC and Berlin marathons in the past. Running somewhere different refreshes you mentally and physically. Everywhere I travel, for work or pleasure, I take my kit. Friends I visit know I'll be getting up early to take in their local streets. But somehow I knew that Marrakech wasn't going to be an option. I decided not to even bother taking running stuff, and just to make sure I got a long run in either side of the weekend.

I was right to assume that I wouldn't get the chance to run in Marrakech. The weekend was a packed programme of eating, drinking, excursions in extremely dilapidated taxis and more drinking. Celebrating 40th birthdays is simply not condusive to marathon training.

Besides, it was virtually impossible to walk in the Medina, let alone run. Any run would have been retitled 'escape the moped riding down the narrow alley', while shouting 'j'ai déjà mangé' at people trying to coax you into their restaurants. I'd also feel fairly disrespectful running in short shorts and top in that city, where women tend to cover up. I saw only one runner all weekend, and that was a guy out by the airport. Although I did see a large group of French cyclists at one point - I suspect they might still be trying to cross the first road they came to.

So I'm glad I pushed myself to run 20 miles last week before my trip, and happy that I was able to relax and enjoy Marrakech for what it is, without looking for a place to run.  Maybe I'll go back there one day for a running excursion.  If I can get across the road.

I'm not panicking yet, but...

I'm starting to feel overwhelmed by training setbacks at the moment.

My first attempt at a 20 mile run ended in a busted elbow, stiff & swollen knees and some fairly spectacular bruising. I managed to get back out running after three days, plenty of ibuprofen and some fairly creative use of frozen peas.

I decided to continue my training programme where I left off, not going back to the 20 miler but heading on with training as if it were all on track. This mean going into a low mileage week, which I thought it would give my sore knee a chance to recover fully.

This has turned out to be a big mistake, physically and psychologically. After a few short runs last week, I headed out on Saturday morning for a 6 mile run at race pace. I had woken up with a sore throat, but nothing major. Just a quarter of a mile in, I knew I didn't feel right. I couldn't breath properly, labouring at even a snail's pace. So I nixed the idea of a paced run, and just crawled slowly round for a couple of miles before calling it a day and heading home. By Saturday evening, my bones ached and my temperature was positively tropical.

So my 12 mile run on Sunday was cancelled, and I now have a wonderfully wheezy chest to go with the aches and the sore throat. I'm resting, just as I know I should, but the physical layoff is playing havoc with my race confidence.

What if I don't get to do a 20 miler? My next one is scheduled for Thursday, as I can't run Friday-Sunday as I am in Marrakech for a 40th birthday party, but what if my chest isn't clear by then. I'll be 5 weeks away from a marathon and won't have run further than 17 miles.

What if I have yet another setback? What if they are like London buses and come in threes? I am vaguely panicking about the whole marathon training plan - the last two weeks have been a disaster for fitness and confidence.

And why is it always such beautiful weather when I am laid off running? It's like the weather gods love to rub it in!

I know I need to stop panicking. I know that if the worst comes to the worst, I can head out for a 20 mile run next Monday after work. I know I can chuck the training plan out and focus on getting the long runs done, even in the rain. I know that no marathon training plan is without a setback. But that doesn't stop me being frustrated at those setbacks, as every single issue I face just adds minutes to my time and takes me away from a PB.

I just have to keep telling myself, I know that I can run a marathon. See, look, photographic evidence...

'ooh, Vic - I've fallen'

I need a bit of Reeves and Mortimer to cheer me up. Today started well. I'd prepped for my first 20 mile run of the year with a good meal last night, and porridge this morning. I got a couple of critical work tasks out of the way, and the sun came out. I was ready to run.

I'd planned to run to Richmond Park, do a lap, then home, which works out neatly to 20 miles. It even has a natural 'blue pop stop' (or for you non-northerners, a newsagents that sells blue Powerade) built in on the way back. It was perfect running weather, sunny but mild. Great conditions for a 20 miler.

I should have known however, when that lone magpie landed on the roof outside my office window at 9am, that it would be a bad omen for the run. I am incredibly superstititious about magpies, and have never yet been let down by the 'one for sorrow, two for joy' mantra.

My magpie kicked in just after the 4 mile mark, where I somehow stumbled on God knows what. I went stuntman, slo-motion style right into the road, and landed flat on my front, with my kneecaps and elbows bearing the brunt. Sometimes when I fall when running I just wish someone could record it so I watch the playback. It seems to take forever to fall, so long that sometimes I have been able to right myself and not go splat. But I was not so lucky today.

I was lucky there were no cars were coming along - it could have been much worse. I took a bit of time to pick myself up as I'd winded myself going splat on the tarmac, and pretty much decided that 20 miles was now out. But because I am a crazy runner, and crazy runners do that thing where they just can't leave running alone, I decided I would run the 4 miles home again.

My left knee quickly disagreed with this course of action. If knees could talk, mine definitely said 'get yourself to a 65 bus stop now, before I go on strike completely'. This was literally adding insult to injury to me, as I hate buses (as famously described in series 2 of Green Wing, 'mobile asylums') and I hate not being able to finish my run.

I was a bit teary by the time the bus turned up, and nearly broke down into full flown sobs when he charged me £2.30 to carry my wounded pride and joints home. My elbow was covered in blood, and my favourite running top is now sporting an extra bit of arm ventilation, and the pain in my arm was so intense I was seriously worried I had fractured my elbow. I felt pretty confident my knees were intact, if just battered, bloodied and swollen. But my arm did not feel good at all.

One shower, lashings of Savlon and several judiciously placed 'cotton wool pads tacked on with plasters' later, I am now back at my desk, bag of peas on the knees, and counting my lucky stars I'm still intact enough to run that marathon in 7 weeks and 2 days. No long run this week, and pretty low on the mileage overall since Monday, but hopefully I can get back out in a couple of days and start building up again. And, of course, learn how to lift my feet a bit higher!

From miffed to chuffed, in 4.5 miles

I've been having a bit of a crisis of confidence since my 17 miler at the weekend. I don't remember feeling so tired after a run - races yes, but training runs no. I am starting to worry that this new higher mileage schedule is a bit too much for my soon-to-be-40 year old legs.

Last night, after a day of zigzagging across London for various meetings (one of which was totally forgotten by the person I was meeting, despite a reminder on Friday) and eating crappy meeting food, I came home and headed out for a shortish run. The schedule said 5 miles but I just wanted to get out and clear my head. It's great weather this week - even an evening run doesn't require the same number of layers of clothing and I felt really quite free as I was running. I didn't feel particularly fresh or lively, instead quite sluggish, but then I put that down to tiredness and the poor diet of the day. I had wolfed down a low-fat rice pudding about 15 minutes before heading out, to make sure I had some carbohydrate in there somewhere.

Well, the rice pudding might have had some effect, because after 3 miles of running I started to feel really good. I felt like I was picking up a lot of pace, but decided not to check my pace and just run and go with my feelings rather than the GPS. It was good - I felt good. Surprisingly good, given how exhausted I had felt the day before. So I ran another 1.5 miles home, feeling exceptionally strong and pretty convinced I had posted a magic mile.

As you can imagine, when I checked my splits, I was pretty disappointed to note that I hadn't really been that speedy at all. My fastest mile was 9m 21sec, which was a lot slower than it seemed out there on the street. Disappointed, I showered, ate and sat on the sofa wondering if my mind was starting to play tricks on me.

But of course, I am a sad statto of a runner so I couldn't resist checking my statistics in more detail. According to the stats, I was 1 min:10 sec faster than mile 3 in my final mile - hence the feeling of speed I had got when I was running. But, more importantly for my confidence, I realised that the route I took home was a consistent gradient. I'd basically run my fastest mile uphill all the way.

I'm still a little bit worried about the mileage on my schedule - especially as it's going to be a tough work week and difficult to fit miles in - but at least I get the odd glimpse of progress, even at my advanced age.

Maybe I can run that marathon after all.

Self-chicked

Just when you think you are getting the hang of this marathon running lark, you do something that makes your thighs go 'oi, cocky, what are you playing at?'

In my case, it's pacing. I paced my first marathon badly but paced my second one to perfection. I thought I'd cracked it.

On Thursday night, I knocked out 7 consistently paced hill intervals and congratulated myself on really mastering pacing.

Then today I ended up crawling for the last 5 miles of my long run, because I ended up overdoing it on the Thames Towpath in an effort not to get duded (copyright: lazy girl running). It did cross my mind I was going too fast for my long run, but it was sunny, I felt good and I was winning! He couldn't get past me. So on I went, picking up my pace and increasing the gap between us. At mile 10, my rival finally peeled off and I realised I'd been racing a tall woman of 'advanced years' - gutted.

I think the moral of that story is 'you always need to focus on your pace, no matter how good you think you are' (and maybe check who's chasing you before you start 'racing')

What I have learnt from marathon running

Recently, I've been talking to quite a few people attempting their first marathon. It reminded me what a daunting prospect it is when you've never done one before, and what a daunting prospect it still is when you've done two. As I hit the halfway point of marathon training #3, I am reflecting on lessons learnt in the last two and half years, and what I could pass on to first-timers.

1. Training is so much harder than the marathon itself
Trust me, you think hitting the streets or the treadmill 4-5 times a week, with increasingly long runs at the weekend is hard? Well, it is. It’s a psychological tool, designed to make the race a lot easier for you. This is particularly true of your first marathon, as the thrill of it all will carry you along for at least the first half. Actually, what am I saying? It works in the second one as well!

2. Do not listen to negative thoughts
You should only listen to your inner voice when it is saying good things. Good things include, ‘keep going, you lazy cow’, ‘stop whingeing’ and ‘you can have a beer when you finish’. Bad things include ‘you can’t do this’, ‘you’re too tired’ and ‘I can just go in my shorts, it won’t make any difference’.

3. You will at some point in the race feel very tired
This is totally normal. Do not let your head tell you otherwise. It does not mean you have not trained properly (unless you haven’t – see 5), it just means you are running a long way. Keep going, you will get there eventually. And then you can sit down.

4. It is very difficult to sit down after a marathon.
You’re ok for the rest of the race day itself, but the next day consider fitting a temporary grab rail next to the loo or your chair so you can lower yourself down gently. This is way more surprising a side effect than not being able to walk down stairs properly. You can avoid stairs, but you can’t avoid the loo!

5. Training (unfortunately) is the best preparation
Ok, people have run marathons with barely any training (reader, you know who you are!) but they are a) mental and b) quite fit in other ways. Even when you don’t feel like training, just get out there and do it, because it will make you feel a lot better at mile 22 of that race. That’s a promise.

6. The thrill of it all
No matter how hard you find it, I guarantee you will look back on the race experience as a good thing. Maybe not immediately. But eventually. I saw a banner during my first marathon that read ‘marathons are like childbirth: you say never again, and then the next thing you know you’re doing it all over again’. I can’t comment on childbirth, but I can vouch for the addictive quality of 26.2 miles.

Food not so glorious food

I've been getting a lots of emails and tweets lately with links to items about food or diet. Runners food specifically. Like we have our own aisle in Sainsburys. (In local Sainsburys I do have my own aisle. It's the fruit and veg one. No one else seems to bother with it. But I digress).

All this talk of food has made me think about just how much of the whole marathon prep revolves around food, or fuel. But in general, web articles and magazines are quite unimaginative about what they suggest. Pasta, bananas, low-fat protein...yadda, yadda.

For a record, I hate ready meals or most forms of processed foods. I'm a bit weird, and prefer to know what I'm eating as far as possible. I can cook, so it seems a bit pointless to eat something out of a bit of plastic when I cook myself the same thing, except fresher, with less salt and more flavour. I'm also really suspicious of low-fat versions of fatty things - e.g. low-fat cheese. If cheese is making me fat, I just eat less cheese. Cheese with the fat taken out of it cannot be good for you - something bad will have been inserted at some point to compensate for the essential element of that foodstuff.

So my whole marathon training diet is juggled around fruit and veg I like, eggs, fish, chicken, pork and a bit of beef the night before a race. It seems to energise me. I eat yoghurts, and pasta, and tinned tuna, which are obviously processed. But for the most part, I try to make everything I eat from scratch. For instance, I make a lot of soups. But I am desperately trying to avoid eating too much of a good thing this time round, because I have a track record. I get bored of food. I get so bored, that it reaches the point that I never want to see that foodstuff again.

Since I started training for my first marathon in 2009, I have turned myself off the following 'runners foods':

Jaffa Cakes - I still mourn the fact I have not eaten a Jaffa Cake since October 2009. I loved Jaffa Cakes until I started running marathons. Now, they are dead to me. Dead to me, I tell thee.
Cereals - admittedly this is probably quite a good thing to be off health-wise but still, these used to be a convenient low-fat breakfast foodstuff, with some fruit added. Now they are milk or yoghurt covered instruments of torture .
Bananas - I ate a banana after the Berlin Marathon last September. I went off them. I tried another one yesterday. It's official - I hate them. My Room 101 would be full of slightly overripe bananas.

Items in the danger zone currently include crumpets, porridge and rice pudding.

I am now becoming terrified of turning myself off more foods that I used to enjoy. I need more variety. I need ideas. And I need them now. Before the bananas get me again.

Community refreshments

The route for my spring marathon is now confirmed. The inaugural Marathon of the North posted the full route on their website yesterday and I have reviewed the course for potential points of wind resistance. Ok, there will be huge chunks of it that are not all that scenic but when I am running along the rugged north east coastline, with the wind attempting to blow me into the North Sea, I will be appreciating the beauty of it all. Honest, I will.

Because running in the North East isn't all about the scenery. Most of the Great North Run itself is along dual carriageways, although crossing the Tyne Bridge is spectacular and it does have a stunning final 1.5 mile section, where I defy anyone's flagging spirits not to be lifted by the sight of the South Shields open water. What running in the North East is all about is the people. More specifically the 'community organised refreshments'.

The Marathon of the North website has a wonderful disclaimer on the home page 'Water/isotonic stations are as marked on the map. There may be additional community organised refreshments, which are to be used at the runner's discretion'. This is a fairly essential disclaimer for potential first-time visitors to the North East - that's because the locals love to come out into the streets for the runners, even in fairly bleak weather, and feed them. People in the North East are all about making sure you're fed. When I was a kid, I thought it was just my family, but then I ran my first Great North Run. Now I've run the race a few times, in varying weather conditions, I can confirm 'community organised refreshments' include orange segments, jelly babies, Coca Cola, ice pops, baby wipes and, my own personal favourite, someone around 11 miles who stands at the end of their drive with a giant tin of chocolate digestives. At 11 miles, this is always very tempting and only the thought of indigestion on the last mile stops me from putting my hand in the biscuit tin and taking a handful. If that same person wants to stand in Roker Park on May 6th, at the 35k mark, I might not be so restrained.

When a region offers so many snacks to its runners, it gets a disclaimer on the race website, you have to love it. I'll remember that when the wind blows in the wrong direction on the day...

This is a low

Week 2 of marathon training is over with, and what a week that was. Every single mile was an ordeal, my body felt sluggish and all my times were slow ones. Thankfully, my head is still in the game, so I was able to run my miles and keep the training on track. But while the spirit was willing, the flesh was definitely weak.

To make matters worse, I've ended the week with a bloody toe, significant chafing in some seriously antisocial areas and the overwhelming feeling that humankind is not what it used to be.

While I may have had some comedy in the shape of the 'crazy left arm lady' in the park the other day, today was a real disappointment. It was cold, but it was bright, and I really don't mind running in the cold if it's dry, so I headed out quite enthusiastically. The first couple of miles were fine, but then I had to make a brief toilet stop (somewhat predictable given the supersize coffee I had about an hour before heading out - schoolboy error). I chose to do this at Watermans Centre in Brentford as I was on a riverside run. Watermans is a lovely arts centre, which I am a big fan of. But its clientele this morning left a lot to be desired. Arts Centres need to make money, so Watermans host a Christian church group meeting on a Sunday morning. Fine - it's a free country. But I think individuals would be much more Christian if they didn't a) allow their children to deliberately block toilets and b) encouraged their children to wash their hands after using the loo.

Ok, you think, so modern manners are on the decrease - we all know that. True, and I quickly forgot to be angry as the sun was out in force as I headed south over Kew bridge towards the towpath to Richmond. This was a regular route for me last summer but it's been a good 3 months since I've been down there. And I'd forgotten how selfish everyone is on that towpath. It's not even every man for himself, it's 'deliberately make life difficult for other path users'.

Towpath users basically fall into the following categories
1 Runners
2 Cyclists
3 Families out for a walk
4 Dog walkers
5 'Ramblers'

It's safe to say these are numbered according to the level of consideration they can give to others. Runners seem to shut themselves into protective mode and keep out of everyone's way as far as possible. Cyclists for the most part are quite good too - although you get the odd person who can't actually control the bike or who doesn't feel the need to let you know they are behind you, I've noticed that 95% of them are quite considerate about communicating with other. Families out for a walk are the best at responding to an 'excuse me' and letting you pass (if you're passing from behind) or giving way to let you pass (if they can see you approaching).

Dog walkers are split into two groups - as ever. Responsible pet owners considerate of fellow path users and selfish b***ards who seem to think they and their dog should be allowed to do exactly what they like. I love dogs, I really do, and it breaks my heart that one day one of those poor animals will be deemed 'dangerous' and put down, all because they can't really behave properly off the leash in a confined space (which is what a towpath is, people - fall one way and you're right in the Thames!). I have a message for this second group. Ignoring your dog when it jumps up at small children, runners or basically anyone coming its way is really bad behaviour. And when a small child is barrelled right into the river, his/her parent complains and your dog gets a lethal injection - well, you only have yourself to blame.

'Ramblers' are the worst. Groups of well-heeled middle-aged, middle-class men and women who firmly believe that they should be able to walk 3, 4, 5, even 6 abreast and not give way to anyone else - ever. Cyclists, runners, dog walkers, families coming their way - you can almost see them thinking 'well, you can all just go jump in the river before I will move 3 inches to the right or left to allow you to pass'. And this is just when they can see you approaching! When you are passing from behind you virtually have to thump them on the back to even get their attention. After nearly ending up in water twice today because of these people, I was angry. And running when angry is a bad idea.

There was some light relief in Old Deer Park. I saw two Sunday footballers guilty of missing absolute sitters in their matches. The second one was such a bad miss I actually laughed out loud as I ran past. I did feel a bit guilty laughing, especially as he was knelt on the grass with his head in his hands, but perhaps it will teach him to just tap it into the open goal next time instead of trying to do a flashy cross-the-face of goal chip.

So I enter week 3 with the hope of better legs, better times, better ball control and better road users. Come on, people, let's be nice to each other. It's the only way to live.

Running in style

Today's run was short, but highly entertaining.

I was joined in the park by a young woman walking, who would every now and then burst into a run. And she ran like this...

http://youtu.be/E_0Ta_DIWuU

Watching me, watching you

Well, that's week 1 of marathon training under my belt. All runs completed as per training schedule, and only one soaking. A good week.

I loved my first long run yesterday. There is something about running 10 miles that I love - it is just a perfect distance. Far enough to make it interesting, not long enough to wear you out totally. I really need about 5 miles just to get going, so 10 miles gives me time to really stretch myself. Of course, it's going to be just a midweek distance soon, as the long runs creep up to 20 miles. But I still won't mind.

Yesterday's run also gave me the opportunity to pursue one of my favourite urban running pursuits - nosiness. While a run off road or along beautiful countryside roads gives you fresh air and inspiring views, running around West London gives you a chance to muse on the eccentricities of your fellow man.

I planned yesterday's route to investigate a house in Isleworth that has interested me for ages. Normally I only drive along this route, but if the traffic lights are red, I frequently get a glimpse of small figures in a front porch along the main road. At Christmas, these figures all sported Santa hats. The addition of the red caps to something that looked suspiciously like a replica Charlie Chaplin made the decision for me - I had to see these figures close up.

Off I ran to Isleworth, taking in the lovely Syon Park and the river Thames on the way. I headed back via the main road, so I could have a close up look at the figures. As suspected, one was definitely a mini Charlie Chaplin. Another is a little old lady and the third a butler in a red jacket. All of them the size of 6 year old boy. All of them waiting creepily in the porch to welcome visitors. Santa hats are packed away for the next 11 months, of course, but that doesn't make them any less weird for a front porch!

So why not get out running and indulge your inner curtain twitcher!

I don't want your money, honey, I want your love...

Happy 2012 followers. Sorry it's been a while, but let's just say that my NY resolution is to revive my blogging habit and keep my training alive. Believe me, I've been busy. Since I last posted I have notched up a marathon PB at Berlin, and have kept running through the winter (a first for me, and possibly a greater achievement than that marathon PB). I've also managed to keep my fledgling business afloat while juggling a 5 day a week training schedule, so that has taken up much of my spare blogging time. However, another NY resolution is to be much better at the old time management lark, and as a result the blog will once again become a priority in my diary.

My resolutions this year all have something of a theme as in August, I turn the big 40. Or not-so-big 40, if you believe that 40 is the new 30. I'm certainly fitter and healthier than I was at 30, although probably a bit fatter. And all that, good or bad, is down to my distance running habit.  In spite of this, my crazy Auntie informed me last year that I will be old at 40, so 'should stop running marathons, as old people shouldn't run marathons'.

I don't feel in the least bit old (well, maybe the day after a long run). So this comment sounded a lot like someone throwing down a gauntlet (she might just have dropped it, she's a bit clumsy as well as eccentric). But with my 4th decade approaching, I have set myself  a series of new challenges for this milestone year.

Obviously the trick to resolutions and challenges is to keep them positive, and manageable. Therefore, my 2012 challenges are:

• to run two marathons - spring and autumn
• to run a sub 2 hour half marathon
• to run a sub 1h 22min 10 miler

For my spring marathon, I had hoped to do London, but the ballot defeated me so instead I selected the glamorous location of...Sunderland. Reasons: it's the inaugural Marathon of the North, it was cheap, I can benefit from free accommodation (and positive messages about my age, health, fitness and suitability for running long distances from my crazy Auntie) and, of course, if the support for the Great North Run is anything to go by, the spectators will be brilliant, in any weather.

Other races in the calendar are the Watford half in February, the Great North Run in September and the Thames Towpath 10 mile in April. I'll also be doing either St Albans or Ealing half marathons in June, depending on whether the Ealing half goes ahead. And, for my grand finale, the New York Marathon in November.

Readers, you'll be able to check on my progress towards these challenges by following this blog (I promise) or following me on Twitter @nylonruns. I'm not doing it for charity, I'm doing it to prove that old people CAN run marathons!