Right then. Since the last time I posted I've done:
- My first ever 10-mile run, on 10th December ....
- .... and my second on 7 January (well, ok, 9 miles)
- as well as four shorter training runs of about 2 or 3 miles each. This is probably not enough, but it has been Christmas and I have been slacking off with the merry promise of going hard in January (ha).
It wasn't all running - I did walk from time to time - but I covered the distance, which is my main aim throughout this training programme.
Just to be clear, I am not aiming to do the marathon in any particular time. I just want what any novice runner wants - to get round the course without needing to be stretchered off at mile 8, weeping, in a foil blanket in front of television cameras before they cut back to a sympathetic Clare Balding in the BBC studio.
ANYWAY. The route I took was from Oval down to Clapham Common, across to Wandsworth Common, through Battersea to the river and then back up to Vauxhall. I had only intended to do 8 miles, but ended up getting lost and taking a bit of a detour.
It was the most beautiful day. Crisp, cold and sunny. I had a bit of an epiphany moment on Clapham Common, looking at the sun glinting off the water and all the cheerful people out exercising their dogs (and the haggard people exercising their small children), where I just thought - WOW, I am enjoying this so much. I won't claim that feeling lasted for the entire run, but it was a high point. It was very invigorating. I seldom feel invigorated in life. It was probably on a par with, say, having a completely empty laundry basket or finding a tenner in your pocket.
The 9-mile run I did a couple of days ago was very slightly less enjoyable.
The reasons for this were threefold:
1. I ran on a Saturday lunchtime. I chose a route which began well, across to Vauxhall, up the river towards Westminster, la la, lovely lovely, then BAM YOU'RE AT WESTMINSTER BRIDGE AND ALL THE TOURISTS IN THE ENTIRE WORLD ARE IN YOUR WAY. I ended up doing that impatient kind of hopping motion as I jostled through the crowds, and I definitely ruined a few people's holiday snaps by running in front of the camera. From Westminster Bridge to Tower Bridge was a bloody nightmare. The whole place was teeming with European couples wearing matching padded jackets and designer sunglasses and suede loafers, strolling arm in arm and looking smug. I kept barrelling into people and it was a blessed relief to get past the Tower of London on the other side, when the crowds thinned out again for a bit.
2. I was a bit hungover (please refer to first line of my previous post)
3. My sports bra is, I now realise, a size too small since Bingefest 2011, aka Christmas. Running in a sports bra that is one size too small is akin to someone just standing in front of you, holding one boob in each hand in slightly too firm a grip, then jiggling them up and down vigorously. For two hours. By the end I was in agony. I am buying a new sports bra this week.
Of the short runs there's not much to report except that I blindly ran front-on into a waist-height grey metal barrier on Clapham Common and went head over heels. There were lots of people there to witness my shame, and those who weren't looking were quickly alerted by the loud BONNNNGGG noise I made as I hit the bar.
Also, I played a game of chicken with a squirrel somewhere on a pavement in Wandsworth, and can report that I won. In your facy, tiny rodent.
Oh yes AND I had an amazing (-ly short) run in France, which is where I spent Christmas with my family. It was beautiful and very tranquil. I only wish I'd bothered going out for a run more than once. But I'll upload some pics of it tomorrow anyway.
I've got to start raising my sponsorship money soon - £1,600. Gulp. I'm going to be one of those annoying knobs who emails their Justgiving link round every five minutes. FML.
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