Inspirational fridge magnets

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

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

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

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

Mopeds and missing marathon training in Marrakech

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

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

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

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

I'm not panicking yet, but...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'ooh, Vic - I've fallen'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

From miffed to chuffed, in 4.5 miles

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe I can run that marathon after all.

Self-chicked

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

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

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

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

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

What I have learnt from marathon running

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Food not so glorious food

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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