I am still not running, due to ongoing footache. It is markedly better and I'm hopeful of a run this weekend, but in the meantime have been cycling and walking long distances (which surprisingly does not hurt) to maintain some fitness
I've also been using the downtime to plan my marathon training a lot more rigorously than New York in 2009. Then it was easy - the world (well, it's wide web) is littered with beginner marathon training programmes.
However, after beginner plans move straight into advanced. Some are called intermediate, but essentially these are still for people running their first marathon after trying one or two half marathons. The advanced ones are so daunting as to be impossible. It's becoming a bit of a minefield, to be honest.
I started with the Internet, as that is where I have downloaded all previous training plans. There are essentially 3 types of internet training plan online:
1) the I have never run before, but have accidentally signed up for a marathon/wanted to run a marathon before I die and need to get round 26.2 miles plan. These build basic fitness and measure runs in time rather than miles. And are not testing enough for me
2) The sub 4 hour marathon plan. God I would love to do a sub 4 hour marathon but surely there is something in between getting round in however long it takes and 4 hours. Like sub 4.30 (my target)? I'm quite happy to attempt a sub 4 hour training plan, though, as soon as I find one which doesn't require you giving up full time work due to the amount of mileage and runs/cross training you have to put in.
3) elite. Nuff said...
Failing to find anything suitable on the internet, I've gone for the book route. Currently on my table are 4 books containing training plans.
The first two are female orientated, one more overtly than the other. Liz Yelling's the Women's Guide to Running is quite well written, but aimed predominantly at women who don't do anything resembling exercise, have difficulty motivating themselves or finding time to get out for a run etc and contains nothing for a female who runs already. Even the improvers marathon training plan is plotted in time not mileage. This makes me incredibly sad and equally furious - that a woman's life is so fraught that she can only slot in runs based on time rather than distance.
Runs based on time are dull, dull, dull. I can't figure out how long it will take without doing out and back (yawn). And it doesn't help you to develop pacing strategies for races either. But hey, women are only doing it for the weight loss, aren't they. They aren't serious people, like those masculine chaps. [Feminist rant over.]
The second is How to Run by Paula Radcliffe, my girl crush. It's quite new and not essentially for females but when you read it, you get the sense that the publisher assumes mainly females will buy it. Being Paula, there are some testing training plans in there. Very testing. The gulf between the intermediate (time not distance again, grr) and the advanced (give up work because you're running a minimum of 10 miles 6 times a week), however, is huge. I would like to give the advanced programme a go, but know that off the back of an injury layoff I am asking for trouble. So I will maybe park that one for next year, and hope for full fitness in advance of NYC 2012
The remaining two are chalk and cheese. The Essential guide to Running has made me so mad on opening it I can't even bear to discuss it. Again, aimed at someone who is thinking of taking up running, or just started yesterday. But to make matters worse, it also talks to them like they are a complete simpleton.
Where are the books for the inbetweeners? Surely I can't be the only person looking to improve who isn't going to be a bloody elite after their first marathon. I am getting lots of extra training in walking back to the library to take these books back but not much joy in terms of training plans
My hope is now pinned on Hal Higdon's Marathon. A quick scan of his webpages this morning was vaguely positive - training plans based on miles not time, and a range of them to choose from. Surely something called Marathon must be the winner? Certainly compared to the Essential guide to running, it appears like a seriously worthy tome. I live in hope of these plans working out for me.
In the meantime, if anyone can offer a mileage-based, 4-5 week training schedule that is testing without being a full-time job, please let me know!
LON
Tuesday, 3 May 2011
Thursday, 21 April 2011
One foot in the not-so-grave
Well, two visits to the podiatrists later, and it seems that there is good news and bad news
The good news is I haven't got a fracture
The bad news is I have got some random acute injury which hurts to run on, and means I have to stay off my running feet for a couple of weeks until it gets better. The doc even tried strapping my foot up to see if altering the mechanics would help but to no avail. It's rest, anti inflammatories and (im)patience for me for a while
The weather here continues to be amazing, so pretty heartbroken to miss out on all this fairweather training, and will have to resort to my very rickety old bike to get some outdoor cross training in.
Not being able to run has made me fantasize about running somewhat, I've been musing on my marathon experience of 2009 and wondering what it will be like in Berlin this year. Will I have a similar experience? Will it be positive? Will it be negative?
It also occurred to me that my marathon memory is starting to fade. When I try to plan for this year's test, and I look back on lessons learnt, I've realised that I'm starting to forget the experience.
To refresh my memory, and provide a tangible record, this and my next couple of blog posts will be a retrospective of the 5 boroughs 2009. For those of you who've heard it all before, I apologise. And hell, apologies to the rest of you too.
Pre-marathon I remember well, as it basically involved a very long sleepless night. Whoever decided to hold a marathon the day after Halloween, when America par-tays, was a very foolish or very cruel person. Wisdom tells you to get an early night before a marathon. Easier said than done.
Adrenalin and nerves were enought to keep me awake. Not content with the body's ability to keep me alert, the pre-marathon gods had also conspired to make Halloween the night the clocks went back an hour too. I was in utter panic at the thought of my alarm clock not being set to the right time, panic at the thought the hotel would forget my wake call, panic at not getting any sleep. A very restful combination, you will agree.
The final straw was the group of people who decided to par-tay in the corridor outside my hotel room. I thought shouting at a bunch of complete strangers, who felt well within their rights to be shouting and hollering at 3.30 am in a hotel corridor, was pretty much the nadir of my pre-marathon experience. But then I hadn't used a portapotty at that point.
If I remember correctly, we got to the ferry terminal in Manhatten for the trip to Staten Island at about 6am. But it might have been earlier. Who knows, it was unholy, that is certain. There was an amorphous mob of lycra waiting to get on a ferry and you couldn't help but feel sorry for anyone who might have just had a great night out clubbing and wanted to get home afterwards in a dishevelled Halloween costume.
I remember the ferry ride being very serene, with Lady Liberty looking on. I remember the transfer bus to the start being a bit more hectic, but with the added entertainment of seeing what everyone had decided to wear as a disposable pre-race outfit.
When we got to the start area, we found we still had a couple of hours to kill. Thankfully NY is a sensible woman who had brought magazines and a paper to read. We also had plenty of time to visit the delightful portaloos for the ritual pre-race toilet visits. Equipped with toilet paper and hand wipes (get us), we were ready for anything. Even for the misfortune of using a toilet that had been frequented by a fool who thought chilli was a good pre-race dinner.
Pre-start is just a lot of sitting and waiting (sit, don't stand - after all, you're going to be on your feet plenty for the next few hours), watching other people's rituals. Lots of 'thanking your lucky stars you get to wear a sports bra rather than just a loose running vest'. Men have a lot more 'chafables' than we ladies, and for that I am eternally grateful.
And then the moment of truth, where they call you to the start. It had been raining overnight so the start area was fairly muddy and it seemed unlikely that any charity would be able to use the clothes we dumped unceremoniously at the start. A complete stranger took our photo on his BlackBerry to email to us, and we were ready to go. With the cheesy sound of Francis Albert Sinatra blaring out, we set off in a throng towards the Verrazzano Bridge and all of a sudden, that was it. Racing. Across the bridge. With a perfect view of just how far you have to run for the rest of the day stretching out on your left.
As you as you leave the bridge, you enter Borough 2 - the biggie, Brooklyn. A major chunk of the race is run through Brooklyn, which is probably just as well given the amount of visual stimulation it provides. And then there is the support.
Bay Ridge, the residential part of Brooklyn that kicks it all off was lined with complete strangers - all shouting our names. At first, natural manners kick in and you think 'ooh that person must know me' Then you realise 'oh no, I have my name on my shirt' and wave anyway but after about 10 miles you realise that you can't acknowledge everyone who cheers you along.
The first couple of miles are all about checking people out, figuring out who your pacemakers are, seeing who is doing the weirdest thing mid marathon (bouncing a basketball all the way round, for example). Fancy dress is not a big thing in the NY marathon, which is a relief if you've ever been slapped in the face by a balloon mid-race at the Great North Run, but there is still plenty of gimmick runs to keep you mentally occupied. Taking in my fellow runners helps me get mentally settled in, establish a vague community, get into a pace. All important stuff at the outset.
Then I had my long race toilet panic - I knew I would have at least one, and I had to stop at about mile 4 in Brooklyn. That one visit to the portaloo ensured I would never need the toilet again during the race, even if I drank in gallons of fluid. I still have Nam-style flashbacks about the inside of that toilet - to the day I die I will not understand how a previous visitor had managed to do what they did that high up the wall - but it had the positive effect of giving me toilet-fright and ensuring I would run to the finish before I stopped again
And it was uphill from there - literally.
Stay tuned for part 2
LON
The good news is I haven't got a fracture
The bad news is I have got some random acute injury which hurts to run on, and means I have to stay off my running feet for a couple of weeks until it gets better. The doc even tried strapping my foot up to see if altering the mechanics would help but to no avail. It's rest, anti inflammatories and (im)patience for me for a while
The weather here continues to be amazing, so pretty heartbroken to miss out on all this fairweather training, and will have to resort to my very rickety old bike to get some outdoor cross training in.
Not being able to run has made me fantasize about running somewhat, I've been musing on my marathon experience of 2009 and wondering what it will be like in Berlin this year. Will I have a similar experience? Will it be positive? Will it be negative?
It also occurred to me that my marathon memory is starting to fade. When I try to plan for this year's test, and I look back on lessons learnt, I've realised that I'm starting to forget the experience.
To refresh my memory, and provide a tangible record, this and my next couple of blog posts will be a retrospective of the 5 boroughs 2009. For those of you who've heard it all before, I apologise. And hell, apologies to the rest of you too.
Pre-marathon I remember well, as it basically involved a very long sleepless night. Whoever decided to hold a marathon the day after Halloween, when America par-tays, was a very foolish or very cruel person. Wisdom tells you to get an early night before a marathon. Easier said than done.
Adrenalin and nerves were enought to keep me awake. Not content with the body's ability to keep me alert, the pre-marathon gods had also conspired to make Halloween the night the clocks went back an hour too. I was in utter panic at the thought of my alarm clock not being set to the right time, panic at the thought the hotel would forget my wake call, panic at not getting any sleep. A very restful combination, you will agree.
The final straw was the group of people who decided to par-tay in the corridor outside my hotel room. I thought shouting at a bunch of complete strangers, who felt well within their rights to be shouting and hollering at 3.30 am in a hotel corridor, was pretty much the nadir of my pre-marathon experience. But then I hadn't used a portapotty at that point.
If I remember correctly, we got to the ferry terminal in Manhatten for the trip to Staten Island at about 6am. But it might have been earlier. Who knows, it was unholy, that is certain. There was an amorphous mob of lycra waiting to get on a ferry and you couldn't help but feel sorry for anyone who might have just had a great night out clubbing and wanted to get home afterwards in a dishevelled Halloween costume.
I remember the ferry ride being very serene, with Lady Liberty looking on. I remember the transfer bus to the start being a bit more hectic, but with the added entertainment of seeing what everyone had decided to wear as a disposable pre-race outfit.
When we got to the start area, we found we still had a couple of hours to kill. Thankfully NY is a sensible woman who had brought magazines and a paper to read. We also had plenty of time to visit the delightful portaloos for the ritual pre-race toilet visits. Equipped with toilet paper and hand wipes (get us), we were ready for anything. Even for the misfortune of using a toilet that had been frequented by a fool who thought chilli was a good pre-race dinner.
Pre-start is just a lot of sitting and waiting (sit, don't stand - after all, you're going to be on your feet plenty for the next few hours), watching other people's rituals. Lots of 'thanking your lucky stars you get to wear a sports bra rather than just a loose running vest'. Men have a lot more 'chafables' than we ladies, and for that I am eternally grateful.
And then the moment of truth, where they call you to the start. It had been raining overnight so the start area was fairly muddy and it seemed unlikely that any charity would be able to use the clothes we dumped unceremoniously at the start. A complete stranger took our photo on his BlackBerry to email to us, and we were ready to go. With the cheesy sound of Francis Albert Sinatra blaring out, we set off in a throng towards the Verrazzano Bridge and all of a sudden, that was it. Racing. Across the bridge. With a perfect view of just how far you have to run for the rest of the day stretching out on your left.
As you as you leave the bridge, you enter Borough 2 - the biggie, Brooklyn. A major chunk of the race is run through Brooklyn, which is probably just as well given the amount of visual stimulation it provides. And then there is the support.
Bay Ridge, the residential part of Brooklyn that kicks it all off was lined with complete strangers - all shouting our names. At first, natural manners kick in and you think 'ooh that person must know me' Then you realise 'oh no, I have my name on my shirt' and wave anyway but after about 10 miles you realise that you can't acknowledge everyone who cheers you along.
The first couple of miles are all about checking people out, figuring out who your pacemakers are, seeing who is doing the weirdest thing mid marathon (bouncing a basketball all the way round, for example). Fancy dress is not a big thing in the NY marathon, which is a relief if you've ever been slapped in the face by a balloon mid-race at the Great North Run, but there is still plenty of gimmick runs to keep you mentally occupied. Taking in my fellow runners helps me get mentally settled in, establish a vague community, get into a pace. All important stuff at the outset.
Then I had my long race toilet panic - I knew I would have at least one, and I had to stop at about mile 4 in Brooklyn. That one visit to the portaloo ensured I would never need the toilet again during the race, even if I drank in gallons of fluid. I still have Nam-style flashbacks about the inside of that toilet - to the day I die I will not understand how a previous visitor had managed to do what they did that high up the wall - but it had the positive effect of giving me toilet-fright and ensuring I would run to the finish before I stopped again
And it was uphill from there - literally.
Stay tuned for part 2
LON
Monday, 18 April 2011
Jealousy, panic and a waste of beautiful Spring weather
It's been a difficult week for me, on a personal and sporting level. The search for freelance work continues apace, and a vague depression is setting in at the lack of immediate income and the current inability to pay my mortgage after May.
I was also heavily distracted by legal stuff and nonsense re my redundancy claim, which sapped most of my energy last week. It's ironic that all this happens when you start spending huge periods of time in your own company - just when you need others to take your mind off things, you actually enter a period of your life where you don't get a lot of company. And I can't keep popping out to meet people for coffee or lunch, as this all eats into work time and income must be found.
Not helping my mood is the added problem of my right foot. Following last Sunday's fiasco, I'd stayed off the pavements to help ease the injury but of course, this prevents me from my regular stress release of a run. So it all builds up.
Yesterday was the London Marathon, and I was green with envy watching everyone experience the wonders and horrors of 26.2 miles. In typical British fashion, a mild sunny day was transformed in everyone's mind to a small heatwave, but I suppose given that most training has been done in the bleak British winter, it probably does class as the warmest running conditions most first-timers have experienced. Personally, I thought it was pretty near perfect weather yesterday, and I hope it actually helped more people than they realised. I will definitely attempt to get a place in the lottery next year, although I steer clear of running in a charity spot. If I get in that should guarantee some fairly foul weather for all those anti-sunshiners out there.
Inspired by the marathon, and feeling little or no pain in my foot, I headed off into the 'dreaded' sunshine for a run round the local 3 parks. I got to the first park, about a mile from home, and felt the foot go into spasm again. The pain was excruciating and I stopped to walk instead to the nearest park gate, trying to be sensible and not run until it stopped. After a couple of minutes walking, the pain completely disappeared so I set off at a jog again - and it immediately resumed 'agony' mode.
Slinking home at a slow walking pace, I realised that this was a biggie, and with a marathon to run later this year I had to be a grown up about it and stop running until it was sorted.
Some Google self help later, I've come up with two options for my foot. It's either a stress fracture or extensor tendonitis. Or something that has never come up on an internet forum before - I could be a ground breaker.
Despite my parlous finances, I'm biting the bullet and visiting a podiatrist in the morning. I haven't got the time to wait for an NHS consultation - it could be two months. So I'm paying £30 and hoping he can give me some relatively good news re diagnosis and prognosis.
Here's hoping Operation Siegesaule can get on track on time and that this isn't too serious. The thought of having a real injury is truly frightening and I don't think I can take any more blows right now, so here's hoping the gods of foot injuries are smiling on me
LON
I was also heavily distracted by legal stuff and nonsense re my redundancy claim, which sapped most of my energy last week. It's ironic that all this happens when you start spending huge periods of time in your own company - just when you need others to take your mind off things, you actually enter a period of your life where you don't get a lot of company. And I can't keep popping out to meet people for coffee or lunch, as this all eats into work time and income must be found.
Not helping my mood is the added problem of my right foot. Following last Sunday's fiasco, I'd stayed off the pavements to help ease the injury but of course, this prevents me from my regular stress release of a run. So it all builds up.
Yesterday was the London Marathon, and I was green with envy watching everyone experience the wonders and horrors of 26.2 miles. In typical British fashion, a mild sunny day was transformed in everyone's mind to a small heatwave, but I suppose given that most training has been done in the bleak British winter, it probably does class as the warmest running conditions most first-timers have experienced. Personally, I thought it was pretty near perfect weather yesterday, and I hope it actually helped more people than they realised. I will definitely attempt to get a place in the lottery next year, although I steer clear of running in a charity spot. If I get in that should guarantee some fairly foul weather for all those anti-sunshiners out there.
Inspired by the marathon, and feeling little or no pain in my foot, I headed off into the 'dreaded' sunshine for a run round the local 3 parks. I got to the first park, about a mile from home, and felt the foot go into spasm again. The pain was excruciating and I stopped to walk instead to the nearest park gate, trying to be sensible and not run until it stopped. After a couple of minutes walking, the pain completely disappeared so I set off at a jog again - and it immediately resumed 'agony' mode.
Slinking home at a slow walking pace, I realised that this was a biggie, and with a marathon to run later this year I had to be a grown up about it and stop running until it was sorted.
Some Google self help later, I've come up with two options for my foot. It's either a stress fracture or extensor tendonitis. Or something that has never come up on an internet forum before - I could be a ground breaker.
Despite my parlous finances, I'm biting the bullet and visiting a podiatrist in the morning. I haven't got the time to wait for an NHS consultation - it could be two months. So I'm paying £30 and hoping he can give me some relatively good news re diagnosis and prognosis.
Here's hoping Operation Siegesaule can get on track on time and that this isn't too serious. The thought of having a real injury is truly frightening and I don't think I can take any more blows right now, so here's hoping the gods of foot injuries are smiling on me
LON
Monday, 11 April 2011
Thames Towpath 10 torment
Yesterday I took my cuts and bruises out for a 10 mile race. Maybe racing 10 miles after only two 3 mile runs in 3 weeks is a bad idea. Maybe I should have given the foot injury another week. Or maybe yesterday wasn't my day.
Tempted out of the house by a beautiful and uncannily warm Sunday in April, and the thought of running along the lovely Thames instead of a traffic-filled road or a dog-filled park, I decided to go ahead and race anyway.
The first warning sign came when I could not get my Clif bar down me at breakfast time. Normally these are a great raceday breakfast, but yesterday I felt like I was trying to eat a brick, with no appetite whatsoever. I forced the majority of the bar down, along with a small coffee, and headed out to the race site.
All started off well, with a good even pace and no real issues with the foot injury. The uneven towpath is not the best surface for running, admittedly, but nevertheless it makes a really pleasant change to be running in glorious sunshine where the only traffic noise is the swish of a rower's oars through some very picturesque bits of the Thames. The surface caused a couple of fallers, so I was glad to get my fall out of the way earlier in the week. Yesterday's stony gritty surface was causing some nasty cuts.
After 6 miles, Beloved turned up alongside me on the bike to shout some encouragement - it was well timed, because it was at this point my faulty right foot was start to voice some serious displeasure at the level of activity I was asking of it. However, Beloved pointed out that I was making good time, so I relaxed a bit and kept on.
Unfortunately, in mile 7, just as I approached Kew Green, the foot went into major spasm. I had to stop completely for a few seconds, then limped a few yards until the pain went off. As soon as the pain subsided, I started running again.
I can hear a voice now saying 'duh, why did you start running again?'. I'll admit to be pathetically stubborn on several points and one of those is definitely race mementos worth winning. I was determined to finish and get my engraved pint glass so onwards I went. Also, from a practical point of view, I had driven to the race start and had to get back to the car so I could get home, so really had very little choice. I am not totally mad.
I managed another half a mile before stopping again. This time I loosened the laces on my right shoe to ease the pressure, and remove a stone that had worked its way in. Off I pressed again and made it safely to the 9 mile market without further incident. As soon as I entered the final mile though, my foot made its final protest and went into spasm again. I part-limped, part-hopped, part-ran the final mile - finishing in a depressingly slow 1:42 - 11 minutes slower than last year. I wasn't totally last, but very nearly.
The patronising tones of the marshals didn't help either. They seemed to be talking to me like I was some simpleton who had decided randomly to run that race because it was a nice day. I wanted to say 'I run faster than this, I do, I do' but couldn't for wincing with pain.
On the plus side, I got the damn glass - so it was not a total failure
I'm back in rest mode with the foot, and hoping to be back out again for another 10 mile race in 11 days. Certifiable - yes. Stupid - maybe.
LON
Tempted out of the house by a beautiful and uncannily warm Sunday in April, and the thought of running along the lovely Thames instead of a traffic-filled road or a dog-filled park, I decided to go ahead and race anyway.
The first warning sign came when I could not get my Clif bar down me at breakfast time. Normally these are a great raceday breakfast, but yesterday I felt like I was trying to eat a brick, with no appetite whatsoever. I forced the majority of the bar down, along with a small coffee, and headed out to the race site.
All started off well, with a good even pace and no real issues with the foot injury. The uneven towpath is not the best surface for running, admittedly, but nevertheless it makes a really pleasant change to be running in glorious sunshine where the only traffic noise is the swish of a rower's oars through some very picturesque bits of the Thames. The surface caused a couple of fallers, so I was glad to get my fall out of the way earlier in the week. Yesterday's stony gritty surface was causing some nasty cuts.
After 6 miles, Beloved turned up alongside me on the bike to shout some encouragement - it was well timed, because it was at this point my faulty right foot was start to voice some serious displeasure at the level of activity I was asking of it. However, Beloved pointed out that I was making good time, so I relaxed a bit and kept on.
Unfortunately, in mile 7, just as I approached Kew Green, the foot went into major spasm. I had to stop completely for a few seconds, then limped a few yards until the pain went off. As soon as the pain subsided, I started running again.
I can hear a voice now saying 'duh, why did you start running again?'. I'll admit to be pathetically stubborn on several points and one of those is definitely race mementos worth winning. I was determined to finish and get my engraved pint glass so onwards I went. Also, from a practical point of view, I had driven to the race start and had to get back to the car so I could get home, so really had very little choice. I am not totally mad.
I managed another half a mile before stopping again. This time I loosened the laces on my right shoe to ease the pressure, and remove a stone that had worked its way in. Off I pressed again and made it safely to the 9 mile market without further incident. As soon as I entered the final mile though, my foot made its final protest and went into spasm again. I part-limped, part-hopped, part-ran the final mile - finishing in a depressingly slow 1:42 - 11 minutes slower than last year. I wasn't totally last, but very nearly.
The patronising tones of the marshals didn't help either. They seemed to be talking to me like I was some simpleton who had decided randomly to run that race because it was a nice day. I wanted to say 'I run faster than this, I do, I do' but couldn't for wincing with pain.
On the plus side, I got the damn glass - so it was not a total failure
I'm back in rest mode with the foot, and hoping to be back out again for another 10 mile race in 11 days. Certifiable - yes. Stupid - maybe.
LON
hitting the wall
It hasn't really taken me over three weeks to finish the New York half marathon - I have merely been neglecting the blog, for reasons that will become clear
The New York race was fantastic. As usual, the city was very kind to me, giving me lots of sunshine and no rain on race day. Admittedly it was cold, and my mistake was not to wear enough clothing for the race (I think I have only just managed to repair my chapped knees in the last couple of days) but apart from that, everything went really well.
I managed to knock 4 minutes off last year's time, even including a toilet stop, and feel really confident again about my ability to progress in my running. I know Berlin is a long way off, but it's important to me at my age to not feel like it's all downhill and for that, I am really pleased with my NYC half time.
Since the race though, things have not been so rosy. I managed to run once on the Wednesday after the race, but on the Thursday I pulled a muscle in the top of my foot going downstairs (the shame). I've done this before but on the other foot and I know that rest is the answer, so I just took a week off and tried to stay off the foot as much as possible. On top of that, my work decided it would be a good idea to make me redundant, which proved a fairly time-consuming distraction from foot injuries and running.
It's been a tense time, with lots of downs and very few ups, and there is still a whole mess to sort out and God knows how it will be sorted. However, there are positives that I am trying to take from the situation.
I've decided to go freelance and work from home. This should give me much greater flexibility with my running and mean that it is easier to fit in training, as I won't have to be commuting into London every day. I'll miss the long runs home, but there is nothing to stop me finding another route nearer the time, and it will be two hours of my life I will get back on a daily basis
Secondly, I think it is going to have a really good effect on my weight. I've already lost four pounds on the stress diet, but working from home has already meant lots of healthy lunches and no temptation from the office cake and biscuit mountain. So that should also have a positive contributionn to my marathon training
My first redundancy run, however, has not worked out so well. I headed out midweek around 5.30, after closing the computer down for the day. I was feeling quite stressed by the events of the day, and thought a run would clear my head. By 5.37 I was lying flat on my back about half a mile from home, wondering where my glasses had landed and worried that I had actually lost part of my head, rather than cleared it.
I'm still not sure what happened, whether I tripped over myself or a paving stone, but all of a sudden I was conscious I was heading towards the floor. More importantly, I could see a waist level brick wall heading towards my face, as I hurtled towards someone's front garden wall. My first reaction was to protect my face (vanity = king of the emotions) and somehow managed to twist myself round in a corkscrew fashion so I landed on the wall with the length of my left side. I then ricocheted back off the wall and rolled onto the ground in a Starsky and Hutch style, glasses flying off my face in god knows what direction.
Of course, this had to happen on a main road. My vanity kicked in immediately and I got straight up, picking up my glasses and (pathetically) stopping my GPS. I let out a very loud 'ow' and looked down to see blood pouring out of about 5 points on my left hand. My left ear felt like it had been sliced in half, and my left shoulder was protesting fairly loudly as well. So I slouched off towards home, feeling embarrassed, agonised and generally chastened by the whole experience.
Remarkably, I have only a mild graze on my right knee and elbow, and the left knee and elbow are intact. However, there is not much left of my little finger on my left hand apart from blood and scabs. I somehow have managed to cheese grate the inside of my ear, leaving the outside intact (don't ask, I'm never going to figure that one out). I have also cheese grated the back of my left shoulder, and have a big hole in the front of the same shoulder that, bizarrely, resembles a bullet hole.
Hell, maybe that's it, maybe I was shot and that's why I went down! Yes - that's my story and I am sticking with it...
LON
The New York race was fantastic. As usual, the city was very kind to me, giving me lots of sunshine and no rain on race day. Admittedly it was cold, and my mistake was not to wear enough clothing for the race (I think I have only just managed to repair my chapped knees in the last couple of days) but apart from that, everything went really well.
I managed to knock 4 minutes off last year's time, even including a toilet stop, and feel really confident again about my ability to progress in my running. I know Berlin is a long way off, but it's important to me at my age to not feel like it's all downhill and for that, I am really pleased with my NYC half time.
Since the race though, things have not been so rosy. I managed to run once on the Wednesday after the race, but on the Thursday I pulled a muscle in the top of my foot going downstairs (the shame). I've done this before but on the other foot and I know that rest is the answer, so I just took a week off and tried to stay off the foot as much as possible. On top of that, my work decided it would be a good idea to make me redundant, which proved a fairly time-consuming distraction from foot injuries and running.
It's been a tense time, with lots of downs and very few ups, and there is still a whole mess to sort out and God knows how it will be sorted. However, there are positives that I am trying to take from the situation.
I've decided to go freelance and work from home. This should give me much greater flexibility with my running and mean that it is easier to fit in training, as I won't have to be commuting into London every day. I'll miss the long runs home, but there is nothing to stop me finding another route nearer the time, and it will be two hours of my life I will get back on a daily basis
Secondly, I think it is going to have a really good effect on my weight. I've already lost four pounds on the stress diet, but working from home has already meant lots of healthy lunches and no temptation from the office cake and biscuit mountain. So that should also have a positive contributionn to my marathon training
My first redundancy run, however, has not worked out so well. I headed out midweek around 5.30, after closing the computer down for the day. I was feeling quite stressed by the events of the day, and thought a run would clear my head. By 5.37 I was lying flat on my back about half a mile from home, wondering where my glasses had landed and worried that I had actually lost part of my head, rather than cleared it.
I'm still not sure what happened, whether I tripped over myself or a paving stone, but all of a sudden I was conscious I was heading towards the floor. More importantly, I could see a waist level brick wall heading towards my face, as I hurtled towards someone's front garden wall. My first reaction was to protect my face (vanity = king of the emotions) and somehow managed to twist myself round in a corkscrew fashion so I landed on the wall with the length of my left side. I then ricocheted back off the wall and rolled onto the ground in a Starsky and Hutch style, glasses flying off my face in god knows what direction.
Of course, this had to happen on a main road. My vanity kicked in immediately and I got straight up, picking up my glasses and (pathetically) stopping my GPS. I let out a very loud 'ow' and looked down to see blood pouring out of about 5 points on my left hand. My left ear felt like it had been sliced in half, and my left shoulder was protesting fairly loudly as well. So I slouched off towards home, feeling embarrassed, agonised and generally chastened by the whole experience.
Remarkably, I have only a mild graze on my right knee and elbow, and the left knee and elbow are intact. However, there is not much left of my little finger on my left hand apart from blood and scabs. I somehow have managed to cheese grate the inside of my ear, leaving the outside intact (don't ask, I'm never going to figure that one out). I have also cheese grated the back of my left shoulder, and have a big hole in the front of the same shoulder that, bizarrely, resembles a bullet hole.
Hell, maybe that's it, maybe I was shot and that's why I went down! Yes - that's my story and I am sticking with it...
LON
Monday, 14 March 2011
Ready or not, Brooklyn, here I come
With a week to go to the NYC half marathon, the weather decided yesterday that my last long run should not be conducted in the breezy Spring conditions of last week, but in proper grey, dank and dreary London weather. I'm hoping that this means I might have kept a bit of weather luck back for Sunday's race but whatever the conditions, I'm as ready as I am going to get now.
Still carrying too much weight, still feeling I missed too much training, still sporting the most disgusting-looking big toe in the history of disgusting toes but nevertheless enjoying the running again - psychologically I'm looking forward to testing myself and seeing just how far I need to progress before Berlin in September. I was reminded yesterday afternoon on my long run of just how tedious distance running can be and thanked my lucky stars I have an unrivalled capacity for daydreaming. It's a skill that gets you to 8 miles before you even realise it's full-on tedium (and one that gets you through the dullest of meetings during the working day). I'm sure I should probably be concentrating on form or pace or some other running-related technique but unfortunately I'm not. Most of the time I can't even remember what goes through my head on my long runs, which I tell myself is a blessing.
I don't get much practice at hills these days, so I decided that my last long run should be a hilly one and headed off to the dreaded Horsenden Hill for an out and back route. Every time I set foot on the bottom of that hill, I berate myself for taking the route - it's a vile steep incline from the start, with a few dips along the way, and really tests the old lungs. It doesn't seem so steep on the way back but I can't quite tell whether that is psychological or topographical. However, I learnt yesterday that not only is it steep, but it's a damn sight nearer my new house than I thought it was, which meant that I had to find an extra 3 mile loop before I headed home.
As a result, I ended up taking in about 5 hills in total. Not all as steep as Horsenden, but enough to feel everything working. No squeaking of lungs, which is good. Some squeaking of hip, which is not so good. I did take in a few new streets as well, and looking at the massive mansions of posh Ealing is quite distracting. I was particularly taken with the huge white house on top of hill 4, which in an ideal world is probably worth a couple of million pounds, but is instead in total disrepair. Every possible bit of paint was peeling off and/or filthy, and it reminded me of Johnny Weismuller's house in Beverley Hills when I took the 'homes of the Stars' tour in LA. Overrun with weeds, run down and filthy, a massive mansion unable to be sold on or developed until Johnny's estate runs out of money - a condition of his will. I remembered thinking that they certainly weren't spending any of the estate money on upkeep, which would have seemed to me a pretty quick way of getting rid of the dosh and being able to sell the house on. It would have costs millions of dollars just to weed the garden.
Look at me, comparing Ealing to LA (not actually possible with yesterday's weather). I should start comparing to Brooklyn first, as that is my destination on Thursday. Will fit one more run in here in London, then the rest of my taper will have to take place on the other side of the Atlantic. What a hardship!
While I wish my running buddy was a bit closer for training runs, it's lovely to think that I'll be running over the Brooklyn Bridge soon in a last minute leg loosener, getting ready for Central Park and Times Square on Sunday. I am privileged to run in such iconic locations, and it makes running round suburban Ealing easier to bear.
NY, here I come!
LON
Still carrying too much weight, still feeling I missed too much training, still sporting the most disgusting-looking big toe in the history of disgusting toes but nevertheless enjoying the running again - psychologically I'm looking forward to testing myself and seeing just how far I need to progress before Berlin in September. I was reminded yesterday afternoon on my long run of just how tedious distance running can be and thanked my lucky stars I have an unrivalled capacity for daydreaming. It's a skill that gets you to 8 miles before you even realise it's full-on tedium (and one that gets you through the dullest of meetings during the working day). I'm sure I should probably be concentrating on form or pace or some other running-related technique but unfortunately I'm not. Most of the time I can't even remember what goes through my head on my long runs, which I tell myself is a blessing.
I don't get much practice at hills these days, so I decided that my last long run should be a hilly one and headed off to the dreaded Horsenden Hill for an out and back route. Every time I set foot on the bottom of that hill, I berate myself for taking the route - it's a vile steep incline from the start, with a few dips along the way, and really tests the old lungs. It doesn't seem so steep on the way back but I can't quite tell whether that is psychological or topographical. However, I learnt yesterday that not only is it steep, but it's a damn sight nearer my new house than I thought it was, which meant that I had to find an extra 3 mile loop before I headed home.
As a result, I ended up taking in about 5 hills in total. Not all as steep as Horsenden, but enough to feel everything working. No squeaking of lungs, which is good. Some squeaking of hip, which is not so good. I did take in a few new streets as well, and looking at the massive mansions of posh Ealing is quite distracting. I was particularly taken with the huge white house on top of hill 4, which in an ideal world is probably worth a couple of million pounds, but is instead in total disrepair. Every possible bit of paint was peeling off and/or filthy, and it reminded me of Johnny Weismuller's house in Beverley Hills when I took the 'homes of the Stars' tour in LA. Overrun with weeds, run down and filthy, a massive mansion unable to be sold on or developed until Johnny's estate runs out of money - a condition of his will. I remembered thinking that they certainly weren't spending any of the estate money on upkeep, which would have seemed to me a pretty quick way of getting rid of the dosh and being able to sell the house on. It would have costs millions of dollars just to weed the garden.
Look at me, comparing Ealing to LA (not actually possible with yesterday's weather). I should start comparing to Brooklyn first, as that is my destination on Thursday. Will fit one more run in here in London, then the rest of my taper will have to take place on the other side of the Atlantic. What a hardship!
While I wish my running buddy was a bit closer for training runs, it's lovely to think that I'll be running over the Brooklyn Bridge soon in a last minute leg loosener, getting ready for Central Park and Times Square on Sunday. I am privileged to run in such iconic locations, and it makes running round suburban Ealing easier to bear.
NY, here I come!
LON
Thursday, 10 March 2011
the F word
I realise it's been a while since my last post - I suppose I've just been too busy doing things to blog about them.
Admittedly I did have a little slack period after last week's Lost in South London fiasco but it wasn't all deliberate - honest! First of all, I had a weekend trip to Vienna. Regular readers will know that I am not averse to running in new cities, in fact I love a new route that combines sightseeing. However, Vienna was taken over by European radiologists conferring and confabulating, so we were consigned to a hotel out near the airport. This meant that the local scenery was not so wunderbar but the hotel did have a gym. So I packed some very lightweight running stuff, planning to fit in a quick treadmill session and keep my sightseeing to a more sociable even pace.
Unfortunately the hotel then tried to charge me 9 euros to use the treadmill and I had a Northern moment, refusing point blank to pay for something I actually hate (cf several other posts re hatred of running on rubber belts while watching daytime tv) and regretting not bringing some cold weather kit so I could hit the ring road. Instead I decided to have a extra hour of Vienna tourist time and resolved to fit an extra session in this week when I got back to London.
And how glad am I that I did? While I would have loved to run round central Vienna (a gorgeous city, full of runners and blessed with perfect weather last weekend), I have had an absolute ball running round my local area this week.
Running is fun again! Fun, fun, fun!! (Beach Boys or Housemartins, take your pick for soundtrack to that exclamation)
It's been a combination of factors - perfect weather brought back from Vienna (cold, but bright sunshine), the later sunset giving me some spectacular warm glows over my evening runs, not having to dodge any foxes en route and a general buzz from the running itself
I have loved all 3 runs so far this week and plan to fit in 2 more before the close of the weekend, including a final long run. So what if I'm fat and slow, this running lark is fun! (Maybe not that bit of tonight's speedwork session where my lungs started to make a squeaking noise on the exhale but, hey, that stopped when I started jogging again).
If I can maintain this rekindled love of running until March 20, then NYC will be a blast. I am so excited about the race now, excited to see my running buddy again, excited to get out there and be cheered on by the world's most positive crowd.
Go, fresh air! Go, cancer! Go, Nylon!
LON
Admittedly I did have a little slack period after last week's Lost in South London fiasco but it wasn't all deliberate - honest! First of all, I had a weekend trip to Vienna. Regular readers will know that I am not averse to running in new cities, in fact I love a new route that combines sightseeing. However, Vienna was taken over by European radiologists conferring and confabulating, so we were consigned to a hotel out near the airport. This meant that the local scenery was not so wunderbar but the hotel did have a gym. So I packed some very lightweight running stuff, planning to fit in a quick treadmill session and keep my sightseeing to a more sociable even pace.
Unfortunately the hotel then tried to charge me 9 euros to use the treadmill and I had a Northern moment, refusing point blank to pay for something I actually hate (cf several other posts re hatred of running on rubber belts while watching daytime tv) and regretting not bringing some cold weather kit so I could hit the ring road. Instead I decided to have a extra hour of Vienna tourist time and resolved to fit an extra session in this week when I got back to London.
And how glad am I that I did? While I would have loved to run round central Vienna (a gorgeous city, full of runners and blessed with perfect weather last weekend), I have had an absolute ball running round my local area this week.
Running is fun again! Fun, fun, fun!! (Beach Boys or Housemartins, take your pick for soundtrack to that exclamation)
It's been a combination of factors - perfect weather brought back from Vienna (cold, but bright sunshine), the later sunset giving me some spectacular warm glows over my evening runs, not having to dodge any foxes en route and a general buzz from the running itself
I have loved all 3 runs so far this week and plan to fit in 2 more before the close of the weekend, including a final long run. So what if I'm fat and slow, this running lark is fun! (Maybe not that bit of tonight's speedwork session where my lungs started to make a squeaking noise on the exhale but, hey, that stopped when I started jogging again).
If I can maintain this rekindled love of running until March 20, then NYC will be a blast. I am so excited about the race now, excited to see my running buddy again, excited to get out there and be cheered on by the world's most positive crowd.
Go, fresh air! Go, cancer! Go, Nylon!
LON
Friday, 4 March 2011
How many times can a person lose Hammersmith?
I've been neglecting my running this week - work and potential redundancy issues have reached critical mass and distracted me from my normal routine. My early starts have been reserved for staff meetings and one to ones with affected team members, not leaving me much spare time for training.
I did however manage to keep one evening free for a long run. In fact, my longest run. I'm not going to have time this weekend to do a long run - I'm going to Vienna for the weekend with a friend, and it seems unfair to her to take off for an 11 mile run when we are only there for a couple of days. Obviously, a runner knows that this is the ideal way to sightsee, but my travelling companion thinks my running activity is a sign of insanity and therefore I'm going to have to make do with a couple of shortish runs in the hotel gym before breakfast
So I opted to bring my long run forward a couple of days and run home from work. Since I moved house last summer, in theory I am now within long run distance of my place of work. Admittedly it's more of a marathon training long run than a half marathon one - effectively it's probably 14 miles between home and work, maybe a bit less or more depending on the route I decide to take. Running home would be a great way to save time and achieve a training goal - the ultimate in multitasking.
Wrong! I set off happily in the sunshine after work on Wednesday, hoping to get across Battersea, though the park and over to the north side of the river before the sun came down. My final destination was set for B&Q in Chiswick, where I would end my run with the purchase of a new kitchen tap and a ride home in the car by Beloved.
Less than a mile from the office, I set off merrily down the wrong road in south London. This applies literally and figuratively. God forbid London councils should include road signs at the start of every road, are we all supposed to just have a TomTom in our head now? I passed Nine Elms Sainsburys, blithely assuming this meant I was on Nine Elms road. Nope, I was on Wandsworth Road which, instead of hugging the river to Battersea Park, heads south west away from the river and the park.
If they ever wanted to film The Wire somewhere in England, Wandsworth Road would be a nice place to start - 'projects' on either side of the road, interspersed with desolation and some of the scariest looking pubs I have ever seen. There was the odd quirky bar or shop, for those middle class south Londoners who like to 'keep it real', but that was it. I did think about getting my phone out to check where I was but clearly Wandsworth Road doesn't get many runners and the entire population seemed to stop and stare at me as I hurtled past, so I didn't feel too confident about stopping and flashing an iphone around. I did however get a lovely mouthful of very strong dope smoke, just to make the run a bit more interesting. To make matters worse, Battersea Power Station loomed large in the background, mocking me with its ever increasing distance from my route.
So when I finally reached the bottom of Queenstown Road, meaning I knew where I was and how I could get to the park, I was deliriously happy. I was also conscious that my detour was going to significantly impact on my overall mileage but the sun was still shining so I just stopped worrying and sped up to reach the park while it was still light.
As I got into the park I got out my phone to see how far I'd run and bloody Endomondo hadn't worked! So I had to start tracking my run there and then, feeling totally deflated that I couldn't even take comfort from the fact I'd knocked a few miles off the distance already.
After being chased through the park by two yappy dogs and one careless owner, I was starting to feel a bit harrassed about the whole running home lark. The sun was going down, the temperature was plummeting and I remembered I had brought no food with me at all. At this stage, if I was an emoticon, it would be 'Frowny face'.
Relieved to see Chelsea and familiar territory, I went heading off north and onto the Kings Road. Knowing that this was essentially taking me south west again, I thought I had better start heading in the right direction and headed off north towards Parsons Green. With a quick pitstop for some emergency JellyTots in Parsons Green co-op, I headed off towards Fulham, with a view to running though Hammersmith and then into Chiswick.
Those of you who followed the marathon training in 2009 might recall the 'losing Hammersmith Bridge' incident. This week I went one step further and lost the whole of Hammersmith. Some might call this more efficient, but emoticon-wise, this took me into 'tears running down face' mode
As I went further and further down Fulham Road, distracted by very nice looking cafes, restaurants and posh butcher shops, I found myself heading South West yet again. Like a faulty compass. Given that the whole point of choosing the Battersea route was to avoid running through Putney the sign saying 'Putney' (straight ahead) was enough to drive me to a stiff drink. Instead it was more likely that it was me that was stiff, getting colder and colder as the evening wore on and by now running in circles.
As Fulham Road is much more suited to getting out an iphone and looking lost, I finally stopped for as short a time as possible, to find Hammersmith before I froze into an ice statue. Pointed in the right direction by GoogleMaps, I made one final phone call to advise Beloved that B&Q Chiswick was now a pipe dream and 'could I have a lift home from the tube station instead?'
Running the final leg back to Hammersmith, I have never been so cold. I could almost feel my thigh muscles stiffening as I moved, the temperature had dropped so dramatically. I have never been so pleased to see Hammersmith tube station in my entire life. Anyone who has been through the station will know that this is a sign of utter desperation.
Cold, miserable and fearing the worst for stiff muscles the next day, I prowled the shops of the tube station to find a suitable recovery foodstuff. I made do with the world's sweetest chocolate milkshake - though I could only finish half, it was so sugary.
Home, showered and feeling very sorry for my navigation skills, I vowed never to run south of the river again unless accompanied by a native. We northerners really need to know our limitations.
LON
I did however manage to keep one evening free for a long run. In fact, my longest run. I'm not going to have time this weekend to do a long run - I'm going to Vienna for the weekend with a friend, and it seems unfair to her to take off for an 11 mile run when we are only there for a couple of days. Obviously, a runner knows that this is the ideal way to sightsee, but my travelling companion thinks my running activity is a sign of insanity and therefore I'm going to have to make do with a couple of shortish runs in the hotel gym before breakfast
So I opted to bring my long run forward a couple of days and run home from work. Since I moved house last summer, in theory I am now within long run distance of my place of work. Admittedly it's more of a marathon training long run than a half marathon one - effectively it's probably 14 miles between home and work, maybe a bit less or more depending on the route I decide to take. Running home would be a great way to save time and achieve a training goal - the ultimate in multitasking.
Wrong! I set off happily in the sunshine after work on Wednesday, hoping to get across Battersea, though the park and over to the north side of the river before the sun came down. My final destination was set for B&Q in Chiswick, where I would end my run with the purchase of a new kitchen tap and a ride home in the car by Beloved.
Less than a mile from the office, I set off merrily down the wrong road in south London. This applies literally and figuratively. God forbid London councils should include road signs at the start of every road, are we all supposed to just have a TomTom in our head now? I passed Nine Elms Sainsburys, blithely assuming this meant I was on Nine Elms road. Nope, I was on Wandsworth Road which, instead of hugging the river to Battersea Park, heads south west away from the river and the park.
If they ever wanted to film The Wire somewhere in England, Wandsworth Road would be a nice place to start - 'projects' on either side of the road, interspersed with desolation and some of the scariest looking pubs I have ever seen. There was the odd quirky bar or shop, for those middle class south Londoners who like to 'keep it real', but that was it. I did think about getting my phone out to check where I was but clearly Wandsworth Road doesn't get many runners and the entire population seemed to stop and stare at me as I hurtled past, so I didn't feel too confident about stopping and flashing an iphone around. I did however get a lovely mouthful of very strong dope smoke, just to make the run a bit more interesting. To make matters worse, Battersea Power Station loomed large in the background, mocking me with its ever increasing distance from my route.
So when I finally reached the bottom of Queenstown Road, meaning I knew where I was and how I could get to the park, I was deliriously happy. I was also conscious that my detour was going to significantly impact on my overall mileage but the sun was still shining so I just stopped worrying and sped up to reach the park while it was still light.
As I got into the park I got out my phone to see how far I'd run and bloody Endomondo hadn't worked! So I had to start tracking my run there and then, feeling totally deflated that I couldn't even take comfort from the fact I'd knocked a few miles off the distance already.
After being chased through the park by two yappy dogs and one careless owner, I was starting to feel a bit harrassed about the whole running home lark. The sun was going down, the temperature was plummeting and I remembered I had brought no food with me at all. At this stage, if I was an emoticon, it would be 'Frowny face'.
Relieved to see Chelsea and familiar territory, I went heading off north and onto the Kings Road. Knowing that this was essentially taking me south west again, I thought I had better start heading in the right direction and headed off north towards Parsons Green. With a quick pitstop for some emergency JellyTots in Parsons Green co-op, I headed off towards Fulham, with a view to running though Hammersmith and then into Chiswick.
Those of you who followed the marathon training in 2009 might recall the 'losing Hammersmith Bridge' incident. This week I went one step further and lost the whole of Hammersmith. Some might call this more efficient, but emoticon-wise, this took me into 'tears running down face' mode
As I went further and further down Fulham Road, distracted by very nice looking cafes, restaurants and posh butcher shops, I found myself heading South West yet again. Like a faulty compass. Given that the whole point of choosing the Battersea route was to avoid running through Putney the sign saying 'Putney' (straight ahead) was enough to drive me to a stiff drink. Instead it was more likely that it was me that was stiff, getting colder and colder as the evening wore on and by now running in circles.
As Fulham Road is much more suited to getting out an iphone and looking lost, I finally stopped for as short a time as possible, to find Hammersmith before I froze into an ice statue. Pointed in the right direction by GoogleMaps, I made one final phone call to advise Beloved that B&Q Chiswick was now a pipe dream and 'could I have a lift home from the tube station instead?'
Running the final leg back to Hammersmith, I have never been so cold. I could almost feel my thigh muscles stiffening as I moved, the temperature had dropped so dramatically. I have never been so pleased to see Hammersmith tube station in my entire life. Anyone who has been through the station will know that this is a sign of utter desperation.
Cold, miserable and fearing the worst for stiff muscles the next day, I prowled the shops of the tube station to find a suitable recovery foodstuff. I made do with the world's sweetest chocolate milkshake - though I could only finish half, it was so sugary.
Home, showered and feeling very sorry for my navigation skills, I vowed never to run south of the river again unless accompanied by a native. We northerners really need to know our limitations.
LON
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