Friday 23 March 2012

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.

Wednesday 21 March 2012

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.

Monday 12 March 2012

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...

Friday 2 March 2012

'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!