Thursday, 26 January 2012
My first race!
I just completed my first race, the Dubai 10km road race, in 1.06 hours. I feel like a proper runner!
Sunday, 22 January 2012
Dubizzle
I'm in Dubai at the moment with work and will be here for the next two weeks. The weather is actually surprisingly bad here - temperatures are still around 15 degrees, but it's very cloudy and windy. Frankly I think most Londoners would still bite your hand off for a day like this at the moment, but the Dubai government has apparently issued severe weather warnings and everyone's walking around with a slightly scandalised expression.
Anyway I had to do a long run yesterday and decided against going outside. I didn't want to face the heat and I wasn't really sure where would be a good place to run - Dubai isn't exactly set up for pedestrians and every road is a 6-lane highway. So I stuck to the treadmill, which was dull and tedious for 2 hours 20 minutes, but comfortable and a good way to educate myself about pace-setting. I have a tendency to go faster than I should at the start when I'm outside; on the treadmill I was running slightly slower than normal, which felt weird but meant that I did my 18k with very few walking breaks and felt comfortable throughout.
Nonetheless, I would like to do a bit of running around Dubai, and by happy coincidence it's the Dubai Marathon next weekend, with a 10k race alongside it. I'm going to sign up. It starts at 7am so should still be relatively cool. It'll be my first ever race! Exciting.
Anyway I had to do a long run yesterday and decided against going outside. I didn't want to face the heat and I wasn't really sure where would be a good place to run - Dubai isn't exactly set up for pedestrians and every road is a 6-lane highway. So I stuck to the treadmill, which was dull and tedious for 2 hours 20 minutes, but comfortable and a good way to educate myself about pace-setting. I have a tendency to go faster than I should at the start when I'm outside; on the treadmill I was running slightly slower than normal, which felt weird but meant that I did my 18k with very few walking breaks and felt comfortable throughout.
Nonetheless, I would like to do a bit of running around Dubai, and by happy coincidence it's the Dubai Marathon next weekend, with a 10k race alongside it. I'm going to sign up. It starts at 7am so should still be relatively cool. It'll be my first ever race! Exciting.
Monday, 9 January 2012
It's here! 2012. The year of the marathon.
I've let things slide on this blog a bit! Luckily my running is going a bit better than my blogging. But I thought I'd give a quick post-Christmas update. I am sure there are people out there HANKERING for news. Well, fear not, this post will take you on a whistlestop tour of my training programme, covering tourists, fences, squirrels and finally facing the truth about my Christmas weight gain and its implications for my bosomly comfort.
Right then. Since the last time I posted I've done:
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.
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.
Saturday, 26 November 2011
Hangover + run = FML
I learnt an important (and some would say obvious) lesson today: never run with a hangover.
It's been a busy week. Normally my social diary is pathetically empty and I have to resort to diarising things like "Tesco shop" or "X Factor" to fill the blank spaces. But for once I've been busy with actual fun outings. So indulge me if it sounds like a whitewhine. "Oh, my social life is so hectic. No one has problems like me."
I've had things on for four evenings in a row - two dinners, a night out at Book Slam (amazing - especially David Nicholls) and, last night, an evening in the pub. Where we saw Emma Watson, who is very pretty indeed in real life.
Anyway. I have been drinking every night and I was really starting to feel it yesterday. I nonetheless got through half a bottle of Shiraz and a vodka tonic and my hangover kicked in at about 10pm. I slept terribly. I woke up several times with a dry mouth and pounding heart. My stomach hurts. My head hurts. You booze, you lose.
And if you try and do a long run after said boozing, you especially lose. I did my longest run to date today - ended up being 6.96 miles (hurrah!) but my god it was painful. And it took a whopping 1hr 35 mins. That is as long as your average feature film. There are probably people somewhere in the world who can get an actual marathon done in that time.
It really was a physical and emotional battle. Even the sight of several cute dogs, usually a demiquaver of cheer in the relentless double semibreve of a long run, did nothing to help lift my spirits. All I could think of was getting home and sitting down with a soothing cup of tea and morphine drip.
The last mile was a joke. The only point at which I managed a proper speed during that mile was when I spotted an odious little creep of a letting agent that I was unlucky enough to have to deal with recently. I took momentary pleasure in the fact that he is growing a moustache, presumably for Movember, and it looks crap. Like someone has spread PVA glue on his top lip and flicked some pubic hairs at it. Anyway, I made that hilarious observation (to myself) then I pegged it in case he recognised me. Once he was out of sight I slumped back into leg-dragging, whimpering inertia.
The point is, I did it, it was NOT FUN, but let's draw a line under it and hope things improve.
Incidentally, I did an hour of yoga when I got home and it felt totally brilliant. I think it's the way forward. It certainly helps with the calf muscle of doom. Will blog about that again another time.
It's been a busy week. Normally my social diary is pathetically empty and I have to resort to diarising things like "Tesco shop" or "X Factor" to fill the blank spaces. But for once I've been busy with actual fun outings. So indulge me if it sounds like a whitewhine. "Oh, my social life is so hectic. No one has problems like me."
I've had things on for four evenings in a row - two dinners, a night out at Book Slam (amazing - especially David Nicholls) and, last night, an evening in the pub. Where we saw Emma Watson, who is very pretty indeed in real life.
Anyway. I have been drinking every night and I was really starting to feel it yesterday. I nonetheless got through half a bottle of Shiraz and a vodka tonic and my hangover kicked in at about 10pm. I slept terribly. I woke up several times with a dry mouth and pounding heart. My stomach hurts. My head hurts. You booze, you lose.
And if you try and do a long run after said boozing, you especially lose. I did my longest run to date today - ended up being 6.96 miles (hurrah!) but my god it was painful. And it took a whopping 1hr 35 mins. That is as long as your average feature film. There are probably people somewhere in the world who can get an actual marathon done in that time.
It really was a physical and emotional battle. Even the sight of several cute dogs, usually a demiquaver of cheer in the relentless double semibreve of a long run, did nothing to help lift my spirits. All I could think of was getting home and sitting down with a soothing cup of tea and morphine drip.
The last mile was a joke. The only point at which I managed a proper speed during that mile was when I spotted an odious little creep of a letting agent that I was unlucky enough to have to deal with recently. I took momentary pleasure in the fact that he is growing a moustache, presumably for Movember, and it looks crap. Like someone has spread PVA glue on his top lip and flicked some pubic hairs at it. Anyway, I made that hilarious observation (to myself) then I pegged it in case he recognised me. Once he was out of sight I slumped back into leg-dragging, whimpering inertia.
The point is, I did it, it was NOT FUN, but let's draw a line under it and hope things improve.
Incidentally, I did an hour of yoga when I got home and it felt totally brilliant. I think it's the way forward. It certainly helps with the calf muscle of doom. Will blog about that again another time.
Wednesday, 23 November 2011
Woof
Things have been going a bit better again since my last post. I did a very slow and ginger 2 miles (23 mins) on the treadmill on Tuesday and stretched loads afterwards, then let myself have another few days off. I was almost starting to feel back to normal again with not a single ache or pain.
This encouraged me to do 5.3 miles on Sunday, and I'm really glad I did. It took me just over an hour and I ran from home to Battersea Park, did a loop of the park and then home again. It was a weird and gorgeous run. It was really cold and foggy and dark, even at 10am, and the park was pretty empty except for a few other runners and people walking their dogs.
My multi-marathon-running friend has a deep-seated loathing for dogs (which I don't share - I love them and am a perpetual wannabe dognapper) because of the way they like to catch you up and run at your heels. Someone sent me this video the other day, which really made me laugh:
Look at him go!
Having been briefly pursued by a frisky wolfhound (not Fenton) in the park on Sunday, I'm starting to see why she's not keen. I still love em though. One day, when I live in a house with a garden and have some free time (2047), I will own my very own dog and then no doubt I'll be the one you see running after it in the park shouting "JESUS CHRIST!".
This encouraged me to do 5.3 miles on Sunday, and I'm really glad I did. It took me just over an hour and I ran from home to Battersea Park, did a loop of the park and then home again. It was a weird and gorgeous run. It was really cold and foggy and dark, even at 10am, and the park was pretty empty except for a few other runners and people walking their dogs.
My multi-marathon-running friend has a deep-seated loathing for dogs (which I don't share - I love them and am a perpetual wannabe dognapper) because of the way they like to catch you up and run at your heels. Someone sent me this video the other day, which really made me laugh:
Look at him go!
Having been briefly pursued by a frisky wolfhound (not Fenton) in the park on Sunday, I'm starting to see why she's not keen. I still love em though. One day, when I live in a house with a garden and have some free time (2047), I will own my very own dog and then no doubt I'll be the one you see running after it in the park shouting "JESUS CHRIST!".
Monday, 14 November 2011
The Spectator
I haven't been able to run for a whole week now. After my 4-mile one a week ago today, my right leg seized up somewhat. I've had quite a lot of pain around both my ankles and the back of my right knee in particular.
Various friends recommended that I rest up, so I gave myself a week off. Things have definitely improved. Not quite back to normal yet, but getting there.
I'm going to try a gentle run on the treadmill tomorrow. According to the training plan I should be tackling a 5-miler, but we'll see how it goes. I'll have to do loads of stretching afterwards and maybe whack some ice on my knee if it's bad. We have an in-house physio at work who I can visit if it all gets a bit too much.
In other news, I went to watch my boyfriend run Survival of the Fittest on Saturday. Some pics are below.
It's a 10k run, taking place in and around Battersea Power Station. You have to do various un-fun obstacles along the course, like hauling yourself along scaffolding monkey bars, jumping hay bales and wading through skips full of icy cold muddy water.
It looked horrific. The poor people running it were obviously clinically insane, because all of them were smiling and laughing as they went round, rather than weeping, shaking and faking injury like any normal person would do.
J did it in 54 minutes which seems ridiculously, unfeasibly fast to me. He was in the top 15%, which I guess means most people do it in a more manageable time.
Once he'd crossed the finished line, I made him come with me to the discounted running gear tent, where I celebrated his fantastic achievement by forcing him to wait for me, wrapped in his foil blanket, while I selected some new sporty leggings and a top.
Just need to actually manage another run now!
Various friends recommended that I rest up, so I gave myself a week off. Things have definitely improved. Not quite back to normal yet, but getting there.
I'm going to try a gentle run on the treadmill tomorrow. According to the training plan I should be tackling a 5-miler, but we'll see how it goes. I'll have to do loads of stretching afterwards and maybe whack some ice on my knee if it's bad. We have an in-house physio at work who I can visit if it all gets a bit too much.
In other news, I went to watch my boyfriend run Survival of the Fittest on Saturday. Some pics are below.
It's a 10k run, taking place in and around Battersea Power Station. You have to do various un-fun obstacles along the course, like hauling yourself along scaffolding monkey bars, jumping hay bales and wading through skips full of icy cold muddy water.
It looked horrific. The poor people running it were obviously clinically insane, because all of them were smiling and laughing as they went round, rather than weeping, shaking and faking injury like any normal person would do.
J did it in 54 minutes which seems ridiculously, unfeasibly fast to me. He was in the top 15%, which I guess means most people do it in a more manageable time.
Once he'd crossed the finished line, I made him come with me to the discounted running gear tent, where I celebrated his fantastic achievement by forcing him to wait for me, wrapped in his foil blanket, while I selected some new sporty leggings and a top.
Just need to actually manage another run now!
Tuesday, 8 November 2011
Moving on up
The house move is over. Hurrah! The new flat is lovely, as is my new flatmate, and I'm very relieved to have the move over and done with. It is quite a novelty not to have to sleep with earplugs in. I have gone from busy A road lined with glass noise-reflecting office blocks, to quiet square with no through traffic. On my first morning I awoke to hear actual birdsong coming from the tree outside my window. Talk about living the dream.
The move itself was all a bit more stressful than anticipated (let's just say the 3 seater sofa currently sitting on the pavement outside my house most definitely doesn't fit through my front door) so I didn't get round to doing my long run until yesterday.
I did 4 miles ish (no internet at home so couldn't map it accurately) in 50 minutes. I ran from home up to Vauxhall tube station then along the river to Battersea Power station, then home via Larkhall Park. I still had to do a fair bit of walking, but it's definitely getting easier. It was lovely and cold. I wore red and pink striped woolly gloves, which had the double effect of looking ridiculous and keeping me too hot. I need to get some proper ones. And some leggings which aren't made of, essentially, plastic, and therefore wick the sweat away from me rather than clingfilming it to my clammy calves.
I went for lunch today with my friend who is a proper runner and is also doing the London marathon next year. I told him about the ankle pain I'm getting a bit on my right hand side, and he said he thinks I'm (a) not stretching enough and (b) doing too much, too soon. This seems a fair comment. I am stretching like an Olympic gymnast after each run, but I think my training plan may be a bit .... ambitious. For this stage in proceedings, anyway.
So I'm going to stick with the long run programme - i.e., going up by 1 mile every Sunday - and will try and maintain two short runs during the week. But I might keep my grand Fartlek interval training plans on hold until a bit further along.
The move itself was all a bit more stressful than anticipated (let's just say the 3 seater sofa currently sitting on the pavement outside my house most definitely doesn't fit through my front door) so I didn't get round to doing my long run until yesterday.
I did 4 miles ish (no internet at home so couldn't map it accurately) in 50 minutes. I ran from home up to Vauxhall tube station then along the river to Battersea Power station, then home via Larkhall Park. I still had to do a fair bit of walking, but it's definitely getting easier. It was lovely and cold. I wore red and pink striped woolly gloves, which had the double effect of looking ridiculous and keeping me too hot. I need to get some proper ones. And some leggings which aren't made of, essentially, plastic, and therefore wick the sweat away from me rather than clingfilming it to my clammy calves.
I went for lunch today with my friend who is a proper runner and is also doing the London marathon next year. I told him about the ankle pain I'm getting a bit on my right hand side, and he said he thinks I'm (a) not stretching enough and (b) doing too much, too soon. This seems a fair comment. I am stretching like an Olympic gymnast after each run, but I think my training plan may be a bit .... ambitious. For this stage in proceedings, anyway.
So I'm going to stick with the long run programme - i.e., going up by 1 mile every Sunday - and will try and maintain two short runs during the week. But I might keep my grand Fartlek interval training plans on hold until a bit further along.
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