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