Sunday, 28 February 2010

Thursday, 25th February – 59 days to go

The snow from yesterday has thawed leaving the ground very wet. It’s a murky day and the sun never breaks through. Unpleasant weather seems to be a recurring theme for Thursdays and it looks like Mick’s attempts to get us doing stretches and pilates will be thwarted again.

The focus for our distance training today is a long tempo session. Mick’s version of a long tempo run is a seventy minute effort, sandwiched between a ten minute warm-up and a ten minute cool-down. The intensity for the seventy minute bit is "moderately hard". Mick describes this as “you can talk, but only in short sentences”. I have to admit that is how I talk anyway. The intensity should be no faster than marathon pace plus fifteen seconds. So for me I’m aiming for no quicker than 7:45. In theory we should all set out together, run thirty five minutes at our own chosen pace and then get back to the start at the same time. We did this same session two weeks ago and although the route was fairly simple, due to a series of unfortunate events I managed to get lost. I got back to the starting point late after running the return leg considerably quicker than my intended pace.

We do a ten minute warm up by running from Undercliffe Cricket ground to Gain Lane by a circuitous route. After we’ve all gathered and set our watches we set off down Gain Lane, onto the A647, down Galloway Lane/Waterloo Road through Pudsey, up Swinnow Road, over Stanningley Bypass and up past Bramley Railway Station. Turn round somewhere in Bramley and head back. 4.4 miles out and the same back. Got back just after the thirty five minute mark. It was definitely uphill on the way back, in fact the whole run was hillier than I’d anticipated. Averaged 8.01 per mile, so slower than I was aiming for. Put this down to the hills, the weather, puddles, chatting and general tiredness in the legs.

It rained throughout the warm up exercises and run and for the first few minutes of the tempo run. When we were thoroughly soaked it let up. If it rains or snows in the London Marathon I will have had plenty of practice.

Wednesday, 24th February – 60 days to go

Today is a rest day and I have absolutely no intention of sneaking in an extra run. I believe this is a temptation for “real” runners; clearly, I’m not a “real” runner. In any case, there has been snow overnight and the pavements look too treacherous to risk a run.

I almost catch up on Marathon Talk by listening to week 3 and 4 that I’ve already downloaded and round it off with this week’s episode as well. Only weeks 5 and 6 and I’m up to date. I wonder if they realised Tony would be such a nutter! I think a compilation of Tony’s Trials at some point in the future is on the cards.

I also decide to direct my reading more towards running, fitness and perhaps something motivational or inspiring. Liz travels on the train quite a bit and sometimes manages to read rather than work on her journeys, so she keeps us supplied with new reads. I don’t read them all as some are a bit too girly for my tastes (you can usually tell from the cover). I tend to make a pile of the new ones that appeal to me and add books that I want to re-read to this pile. The pile is currently in danger of tottering over and represents about six weeks of solid reading. For some time now I’ve been the slowest reader in our house. You want your kids to grow and develop but I didn’t really want to be in the slow reader group of one. The first sign was “Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire”. This was the first one where JK had decided she had so much money that she could afford to be self-indulgent – 600 plus pages. George was about eight at the time and we agreed that he got the book in daylight hours and I could read it when he was sleeping. I imagined that I’d finish it ages before him. In the end I was seriously considering administering a sleeping draught to his cocoa to give me the edge. I was reading until four in the morning to keep up with the little blighter. Harry has now gone the same way, though we don’t compete as I just can’t get interested in the Darren Shan books.

It’s not only the reading either. I’m also shortest in our house. This is familiar territory. I wonder what psychological damage was inflicted on me by my three older and taller siblings who referred to me as “the runt of the litter” for several years. Still, I’m the only one of the four of us in the “normal” range (just) so who’s laughing now, freaks?

I reluctantly allow the monsters and murderers of Miami to unleash their mayhem by returning the last two Dexter books to the shelves. Crimes in Richmond will go unsolved and the author and Scarpetta must wait to resolve their confused sexual orientation for awhile longer as “Blowfly” is similarly set aside (you’d have thought they’d’ve sorted themselves out long ago). Someone else will have to talk about Kevin as I haven’t got the time.

I gather together our collection of running and fitness books. I find these a difficult read; I can only dip into them rather than try and read from cover to cover. I’ll start to work my through them over the next couple of weeks and I hope can take on board enough knowledge to help me understand what I’m doing to myself by aiming to run a marathon.

Friday, 26 February 2010

Tuesday, 23rd February – 61 days to go

Still no ill effects from the long run on Sunday. Looks like the body has absorbed the rough treatment and I’m ok to go out and give it some more. I knew that I was going to miss the VARR training session in the evening due to watching football. A trip to Elland Road. Yuk. Dirty Leeds. I’m with the away team – Oldham Athletic. I would have stopped watching some time ago but in a bizarre and unwelcome role reversal my eldest makes me go. The match turns out to be a disappointment - not unexpected I’m afraid. The local paper (to Oldham) describes it thus “there was something deeply dispiriting about the meek nature of this defeat”. They’ve said something similar for most of the last few games. Enough said.

I’ve enjoyed the four Tuesday evening sessions that I’ve been to and will go consistently outside the football season. I arrived late for my first VARR session and latched onto the first group that I saw; unfortunately for me this was Group 5. I managed to stick with them for a while but they were just too quick for me. Thanks to Dave for running round with me, sorry I held you up. In the second session the whole group did speedwork in the (near) ice, which was interesting. The third week it was Kirkstall Hills up and down the side roads between Burley Wood Crescent and the gym. I think someone said there were nineteen, but I lost count. I’m sure it was more than that. Last week we did what I thought was some sort of interval training but which I now learn from Michael’s blog was a fartlek. Told you I know nothing about running.

In order to keep up with my programme I need to do “70 minutes steady”. I reckon this to be about 9 miles at 8:00 pace. There is still some snow in the fields which I guess will be boggy with snow that has already melted so I reluctantly reject a run around the Chevin and head towards the city centre. This run will be an abbreviated version of my long Sunday run, but I’ll get back onto Otley Road at Hollin Road a little below Yorkshire Water treatment plant.

This is a familiar run that I know to be 9.06 miles. At half way I check my watch and its 36:10. I’ve never managed a negative split on this run partly because it’s pretty much down on the way out and up on the way back. I do the second half in 39:17 for a total of 74:27. This gives a pace of 8:13 overall, 7:59 out and 8:27 back. I really struggled on the way back and couldn’t have gone much faster. The Sunday run must be still in my legs. I remember little of the run other than I found it surprisingly difficult. I recall seeing a runner heading towards me and when he passed I tried to mimic his running style longer stride and more upright posture. I could only keep this going for a minute and was soon back into my tired shuffle.

It seems to be a recurring theme from my last three timed runs that I’m falling a little short of my desired pace. I’ve put this down to a minor injury, difficult conditions underfoot and tiredness respectively. I guess if this trend continues I’ll need to seek advice and amend my programme.

Monday, 22nd February – 62 days to go

When I get up on Monday morning I’m feeling remarkably chipper. No particular aches or pains or after effects from yesterdays exertions. I don’t get complacent though; previous experience suggests that if I get away with no ill effects the day after exertions then they may catch me up the day after that. I don’t understand the science of this but know it to be true. Another bit of science that I can’t get my head around is the recovery run. I would think an extra hour in bed would be far better for me, but there’s no point in getting someone who knows about these things to come up with a programme if you’re not going to follow it.

The snow has almost disappeared from the pavements and road, but I still choose my trail shoes as there may well be some tricky bits. I set off on a familiar route up Church Hill and Old Lane then round Hilton Grange. Briefly onto Harrogate Road, back down Old Lane to Occupation Lane, Moorland Road and home. About four miles in about 40 minutes. Can’t be more precise as I didn’t wear a watch.

In the evening I go alone to Tony’s as Liz is away with work. Warm up then a mixed circuit of upper body and core. I’m knackered at the end of it, particularly my arms.

When reflecting on my long run I was pleased I’d done it in spite of the weather. There were mixed reports from others who went out. Liz Memory Mapped the run for me and it turned out to be 16.3 miles. One hour twelve out and one hour twenty two back.

I was completely surprised to hit the wall at only 15 miles. I thought this happened around 20 miles and wasn’t allowed on a training run, just reserved for a proper race. In retrospect I should have taken out gels and drinks but I don’t like carrying stuff. I’ll not make the same mistake again. I should have kept up with Marathon Talk. Due to incompetence I only got round to downloading the first six podcasts last week. I was going to follow Tom’s Venice Marathon tactics and catch up slowly over a few weeks but have realised that the advice is time specific as well as generic. Will catch up in this week.

Even though I’ve done both my long runs quite slowly I’m not discouraged by progress to date. I’m a little behind schedule but should be able to get back on track without pushing too hard.

Wednesday, 24 February 2010

Sunday, 21st February – 63 days to go

Up early for the long run to find a light dusting of snow. By the time I’ve had my cuppa and brekky there are flurries of snow. While waiting for toast to digest I watch Winter Olympics on the red button. I realise I’ve watched the loop twice in order to avoid going out into the cold. I put on extra layers of clothing and after much dithering I decide that a cross country trek to Harewood is not a good idea. It’s now snowing hard so I decide to stick to the main road. I will head off towards Otley as far as the Dyneley Arms and then back. If it’s too slippery or the snow gets worse I’ll just have a two mile run and crawl back under the covers; if it’s not too bad I’ll continue towards the city centre as far as the Library pub and then head back. If I have the energy I can then carry on to the Dyneley Arms and back to extend the run by another two miles.

I set off in my trail shoes and find that there is just enough snow underfoot for it not to be slippery. I make reasonable time to the Dyneley Arms and on the way back I can see my own footprints heading out. I’m pleased to see that I ran out with a reasonably long stride; no shuffling here. I have already stashed a couple of water bottles in the front garden. I have a glug of water and leave the bottles and head towards town.

The pavement isn’t slippery, but the road hasn’t been gritted and is very dangerous. What little traffic there is moves very slowly. As I approach Adel there are a couple of runners heading towards me. One of them is wearing shorts! Who would look out of the window this morning and think “Hmm looks like a shorts day”?

I’m mostly running with my head down as it starts snowing harder. I leave the A660 and head down Adel Lane, cross the ring road and onto Weetwood Lane. No donkeys out at Hope Farm just a forlorn looking Shetland pony sheltering under the gazebo thing. Church bells ringing as I get back to Otley Road very appealing (ha). Organized religion has no attraction for me, but the sound of the bells is comforting.

Pavement needs care now as there are people about and the snow has already been walked over. When I briefly run under cover in front of the Arndale Centre I realise just how much running on and in snow is slowing me down. This run isn’t about pace or time on feet; it’s definitely about reaching a destination, turning around and heading back. I know I’m not going to be able to stick to my schedule but it was important for my confidence to get out this morning and do a long run.

I’ve not really felt the cold, but when I run alongside the park at Woodhouse Moor the temperature seems to dip and the wind picks up. I’m relieved to reach the junction with Clarendon Road and head back. One hour twelve minutes at the half way point which I reckon to be about eight miles. It’s the one and only time I will check my watch on this run.

I’m now running back up the hill and into the snow. My mind begins to wander; I try and think about running instead of the usual disconnected rambling thoughts. On the Fetcheveryone website there’s a graph that (possibly) shows a correlation between the distances of one’s five longest runs and one’s finishing time. If the chart is to be believed then my five longest runs ought to total 100 miles or more if I’m to meet my target time. I know I’ve only got six more long runs scheduled and I don’t feel that I’m ready to move up to the twenty mile mark just yet. Change my line of thought as this line isn’t very positive.

I think about my blog. Before I started it I just had a vague idea that I wanted to record my first marathon. I didn’t intend it to be a stream of incoherent babble (perhaps I’m in touch with my feminine side! Sorry ladies, only joking). The words of Ms Schmich float into my mind “Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements”. My chosen form of recording things is usually a spreadsheet. My first long run would have been recorded as date, route, distance, time – a bank statement equivalent. Whilst my blog falls down on the love letter analogy it seems to make sense to me. Something that the boys say on Marathon Talk also has some resonance. Getting to the start line is equally hard as running the race. I want to record the whole meandering experience of my first marathon not just the race itself. I have a strong suspicion that if I do make it to the start line then the race itself will be just a blur (and not because I’m moving so quickly). Thanks to everyone who has given me positive feedback on the blog. Thanks especially to Sam for his kind words and encouragement.

I head towards home and stick to Otley Road all the way up towards Weetwood roundabout. There are so many side streets and drives with drop kerbs that are difficult to judge with snow still falling and settled on the ground. My knees are getting jarred and achy. Another of Mary’s phrases comes to mind “Be kind to your knees. You’ll miss them when they’re gone”. I decide that her advice would make a decent blueprint for an organised religion and it’s only as long as a single newspaper article.

It’s a real drag getting up the hill across the ring road and past the cemetery. It hasn’t stopped snowing the whole time I’ve been out. I push on past the Lawnswood Arms and by the time I pass the Parkway it stops snowing. Suddenly I can see properly and I pick up the pace a little. By the time I reach home it’s snowing hard again. I have another glug of water from the bottle I’ve stowed in our front garden and head off up the road for the final two miles. Just past the Britannia I start to feel peculiar and consider turning back, but I’ve just gone past a couple enjoying the snow and think it would look strange if I suddenly stopped and ran past them. I continue on to the Dyneley Arms and turn for home. I can’t feel my knees and am getting light headed. I feel dreadful. In the words of Marwood “My heart’s beating like a f*!*ed clock”. I’m going slower and slower and eventually have to walk. I want to lie down at the side of the pavement and curl up into a ball. I start to run again but only very slowly. It’s like someone’s nicked all the bones out of my body.

I’m home. Two hours thirty four minutes, the longest I’ve been on my feet. I tell Liz I’ve had an “out of body experience”. I try and explain and she says all matter of fact “You’ve used up your glycogen stores. You’ve hit the wall”. I can’t process this right now. Liz has a massive smoothie ready for me which I neck in one go and ask for more. I have a quick hot shower and then scarf down a bowl of porridge before collapsing into bed for two hours of solid kip.

Tuesday, 23 February 2010

Saturday, 20th February – 64 days to go

I’m not really susceptible to addictions, but parkrun has become one of them. Brilliant idea by Paul Sinton-Hewitt and fantastic delivery in Leeds by Tom and the team.

My marathon training for today will be a run round the park. For once we’re up early enough for Liz to drop me at the lights at Shaw Lane so I can warm up with a one mile run to the park. I carefully avoid the piles of chunder dotted about the pavements by last night’s Otley Run students and start a circuit of the park. Paul is putting out the directional signs and kilometre markers so I join him. He’s on his own as Liz G isn’t feeling too good so won’t be running today. We join the throng setting up at the finish line and I do a warm up lap with Helen and Rick.

I report the results of last night’s foray into the world of marathon time predictors and Helen confirms that these are notoriously optimistic. Double your half marathon time and add ten per cent is her advice. I tell her I’ve just listened to the first Marathon Talk podcast and am impressed with the quality and she tells me they’ve got better since then, so that’s something to look forward to. Rick recounts a tale of being dragged across the kitchen by his daughter’s enormous puppy and we’re at the start line.

It’s a great turn out and there’s an award for Aamir who’s running his one hundredth parkrun this morning; as this is only race number one hundred and twenty three this is quite an achievement.

Until recently I’d been looking for a PB every week. Whenever I recognised that I wasn’t in that kind of form I would try and take George down. We’re of a similar standard but have a different approach; he sets off slowly and then winds it up for the last half of the race. I try and build a lead and hang on at the end as he’s got a terrific finish. Due to a combination of injury, snow & ice and more sensible marathon training I’ve stopped looking for a fast 5k time. There’s still unfinished business with George as he leads our personal series by some way, but I’ve been using the last few parkruns as practice for running at and around my marathon pace. Consequently, I’ve spent the last few races looking to tag on to someone who’s running between 22 and 24 minutes. Unfortunately for her, I’ve picked on Ellie and have run round with her for the last three or four Saturdays.

We’re off and I settle into a rhythm and catch Rick on the corner. Paul is really going for it today and is way ahead. Rick says he can’t get his breathing right in the cold weather so isn’t going to go for a PB today. We catch Ellie at about 1.5k and decide we’ll run with her for the rest of the race. Ellie likes a fast start and this time has looked really strong going up the slope on the first lap. We keep up a good pace until about 2.5k when Ellie lets forth a plaintive wail “I’m cold”! Fortunately, Rick is more of a gentleman than I am and offers up his running gloves. Ellie’s hands are so cold she can’t get her fingers into the gloves so Rick performs some sort of stately dance alongside her while helping her get the gloves on. Alison goes past just before the 3k marker and gives Ellie a shout of encouragement.

I’m convinced we’ve lost too much time with the glove exchange and that Ellie won’t get a PB today. Rick dispenses proper coaching advice about running style and visualisation and I make a mental note to try some of these techniques myself when I’m next trying to go for a fast one. The best I can do is blurt out “You can still do this Ellie, but it’ll really hurt”. I don’t think you’ll find that one in the coaching manuals. We keep up a good pace and by the time we get to the last 300 meters Ellie is away on a fast finish. We can’t keep up with her as she gets loads of encouragement from Sam, the marshals and those congregated around the finish line. That was a really good run in sub zero conditions. Ellie has improved her PB by nine seconds, Paul was four seconds off his PB and Alison has knocked a second off her previous best.

When I started to recognise parkrunners and their performances I was puzzled as to why people of different abilities sometimes ran around together. This must be a lose/lose situation I thought. Surely the faster runner will be frustrated at running at a slower pace, while the slower runner will feel under pressure to run at a pace that is faster than they would like? Now I think I’ve got it. Since running with Ellie I’ve understood that I don’t really go for it when I think I’m going for it. When it starts to hurt I pull back in a way that she doesn’t. Also, I’ve changed my view on runners with a fast finish; I used to think they must be running too slowly during the race if they can suddenly pick up the pace at the end. I can see this isn’t the case. Some people are just blessed with a fast finish. I reckon if I do some proper speed work I may be able to improve my finish. At the moment I seem to be upping the effort at the end of a run but this isn’t converted into faster movement.

So at the end of my first “real” week of marathon training where am I?

In a Bridget Jones Diary meets Fetcheveryone style this is how it’s looking:

Weight 73.1 kg
Total Mileage 28.5 miles
Long Run 12.5 miles
Long Run Pace 10:00
Days without alcohol 5

I last got weighed just before I started the Thursday Distance Training sessions, I think it was Saturday, 16th January. I weighed 74.9 kg so 1.8 kg has disapparated since then. Not sure of my weight in “real money”. In a fit of pique I changed the scales from imperial to metric when I hit thirteen and a half stone and neither of us can remember how to change it back again.

Friday, 19th February – 65 days to go

Today’s a rest day. Phew. Have only just warmed up from yesterday evening. Decide to follow advice of Paul S and not try to do too much post London. Tear up my application for Leeds Half. I’d really like to run it, but will get vicarious pleasure from supporting family and friends instead. I’m already booked into the three 5k John Carr series. First one is ten days after London so may not be able to give of my best. The equivalent race last year was my first race where almost all runners were club runners and I was completely intimidated. Set off from the back and didn’t really understand that overtaking someone wasn’t impolite. Nowadays I just barge past people (if I can catch them). Balance the disappointment of dipping out of Leeds by sending off applications for “Race the Train” run in Wales in August. We’re meeting up with family and are camping. Should be interesting.

I’ve dug the “fruit infusion” packets out of the cupboard and checked their sell by dates. Just over. This seems to indicate that it’s been about two years since I last tried them. The aroma is always fantastic, but they just taste like hot water. Nevertheless, I’ve decided to cut down on caffeine and give them another try. Obviously wasn’t too keen last time as there are fifteen of twenty left in one packet and seventeen of twenty in the other. Have decided that you’ve got to leave the bag in the water for a long time and then squeeze it hard to get the flavour. They’re not as bad as I remember. I’ve also found a few Bush Tea teabags at the back of the cupboard. Yippee. Joy unbounded. Think I can stand this regime for seven weeks as long as I get a proper cuppa first thing.

Have an hour with personal trainer in the afternoon. Liz can’t go ‘cos she’s got a telephone conference that can’t be rearranged. Tony, our personal trainer, has encyclopaedic knowledge of football from 1970 to present; ditto pop music (specialist subject heavy metal 1975 to 1990). He also knows much about human anatomy and how to fix it when it’s broken. We agree that his role over the next few weeks will be to concentrate on keeping me healthy with just a little core strengthening. Have a massage on aching calves and hamstrings. I had no knowledge of massage prior to Tony, but regard him as “old school” i.e. he thinks that the more he hurts me the better it’s doing me. Today is a level 2 massage. I rate his massages as follows:

Level 1 Easy. I’ve obviously got nothing wrong at the moment. This is usually on the Friday before a Sunday race when I want to go for it.
Level 2 Not too bad. I’ve got aches and pains but nothing that’s particularly worrying.
Level 3 Hurts. Usually concentrates on some specific area that I’ve been daft enough to announce is causing me discomfort.
Level 4 Unbearable. Always left calf. I have to take off glasses (I don’t know why), stop speaking (difficult anyway as I’ve stuffed towel in mouth), tears leak down my cheeks. It may sound like it, but this is definitely not crying.

Tony then straps my ankle with zinc oxide tape which should see me through to Sunday’s long run providing I don’t fall asleep in the bath too many times over the next couple of days.

Come home to find Liz chuckling at Russell’s blog – he’s run with Liz Yelling you know. Read through Kay’s running blog and Russ is spot on: Kay packs more into one day than an ordinary person can manage in a week. I wonder if it’s too soon to put in my order for a birthday carrot cake? Finish off with a read of Michael’s blog. All steely eyed determination. I’m looking for any anxieties or signs of doubt, but nothing yet. Must be just me then.

I put my PBs into some sort of race predictor program and the result is unexpectedly low. In turn I feed my PBs for 5k, 10k, 10 mile and half marathon into the programme. It predicts my marathon times as 3:07, 3:10, 3:06 and 3:07 respectively. Whilst I’m obviously flattered that the programme thinks so highly of me, I know I can’t run those times. Liz suggests putting in my Brass Monkey time. This comes out at 3:13, which is a bit more like it, but anyone who’s seen me at the end of a half marathon would testify that I would not be capable of picking myself up and doing the whole thing again in only 10 minutes longer.

Sunday, 21 February 2010

The First Photo


I have to admit it; I’m not photogenic. I know I’m no oil painting so I don’t have unrealistic expectations. I appreciate that the camera isn’t going to turn me into a George Clooney lookalike, but some people who aren’t particularly eye-catching do “take a good photo”. This photo of me is not untypical.

There was a (an?) horrendous foul-smelling muddy trench on the PECO Ilkley cross country run. You had to cross it three times through the shallow end and three times through the deep end. A guy from Ilkley Harriers had positioned himself with camera to catch the interesting action as runners floundered or powered their way through the puddle. He got some great shots and was joined by enthusiastic amateurs equally keen to see how we coped. There are photos of various people Kay, Rick, Dave and Liz among others all storming through the puddle. But not me.

So here I am going through the muddy trench for the third time. First time I went through I really went for it (honest). Where was the cameraman then? Wandered off to photograph the alpha males and the uber fast lady from Kirkstall coming back through the shallow end. Second time round I also went for it with some gusto but twisted my ankle and nearly fell over. Luckily the cameraman had wandered off again so fortunately no photographic evidence.

Third time around and I was feeling a little tentative. The two guys behind me had been lining me up for the last half mile, my ankle was sore and I’d begun to become anxious about the muddy expanse which in my mind has grown from a puddle to a lake. Suddenly the runner in front of me (who I’m about to lap) pulls up so she can tiptoe across the puddle. It‘ll make no difference; they’ve cunningly attached tape around the lake and you’ve got to go through the middle of it. Then “snap” and I’m captured for posterity in a bizarre startled pose. What is this? Aquaphobia? Hydrophobia? Whatever it is the two guys behind storm past me and I limp to the finish line a sorry and bedraggled spectacle.

Thursday, 18th February – 66 days to go

Have an OMG moment when I peer out the window in the morning. Why am I always surprised when it’s snowed overnight? Thought we’d seen the last of the white stuff so I hope it does the decent thing and melts away.

Our numbers for the John Carr series of 5k have arrived. I say arrived, I had to go and get them from the Royal Mail sorting office because in an act of not untypical f*!@wittery I’ve used an ordinary 1st class stamp on an envelope that’s about a millimetre bigger than A5 and Royal Mail have decided that this is a “large envelope”.

Decide to do the weekly shop at Asda while we’re collecting the envelope in order to justify the trip. During the course of shopping I (we) have made some decisions about nutrition. Not surprisingly it’s all bad news. No cream on my porridge or cereal. I was brought up on green top TB-laden milk and the modern stuff just doesn’t cut the mustard so I always add cream to my brekky. This will be sorely missed. No butter. I have to make do with some sort of margarine that has been re-branded as “I Can’t Believe Anybody Could Possibly Think This Is Butter” or some such. Options drinking chocolate – 5 for £1. I load up the trolley with bananas which Liz tries to put back. She’s the only one in our house who eats bananas. I’ve eaten two bananas in the last forty five years and both occasions are etched on my memory. I can’t stand them but have decided that they’re the perfect on run snack. They’re cheap, full range at Sainsbury’s is FairTrade so can tick the middle class right on box without actually having to do anything and when you’ve eaten the thing you can just lob the skin into the nearest hedgerow cos’ they’re organic (only joking). Training my palate to actually like them may be something of a challenge. Liz clearly thinks I’m not up to the challenge of eating raw bananas as she heaps in loads of other fruits and mutters something about bananas being a good base for smoothies.

Thursday evening is Distance Training. Sleet has been falling all afternoon and carries on as we arrive at Undercliffe Cricket Club and meet up with the Thursday nighters. We do the warm up exercises and follow it up with a two mile jog to the start of the short tempo session. Gill pulls up injured part way out and I feel like sacking it and going home. I just can’t get warmed up. The short tempo consists of running out for 12.5 minutes at just over 10k pace, then turn round and run back. As we’re a mixed ability group we should all run a different distance and then arrive back at the starting point at the same time. This bit of the session goes really well considering the weather conditions and greasy surface of the pavement. I finally begin to feel warm, but by the end of the session I’m frozen stiff. It’s another session in the bank, but I would never have ventured out on my own. I guess this is one of the advantages of group running in that it gets you out and working when otherwise you’d be slumped on the couch watching telly and taking in calories.

Decide to warm up by taking a small(ish) Jameson’s into the bath. Remember I’m on the wagon so reluctantly hand over the Jameson’s and make do with an Options Hot Chocolate with Mint. It’s pants. It isn’t often you can say something cost 20p and was a rip off. Will have to find another pick me up in future.

Wednesday, 17th February – 67 days to go

Take a proper look at Liversedge half results. Just being nosey really. Adrian came 34th! He’s just getting better and better. Sixth in M45 category, only one M50 ahead of him and no Fs. Reckon he’s about three minutes faster than me at the moment so page down the list to check where I’d have come if I’d run. Bugger, Claire’s on that bit. Don’t know her, but recognise the name and know she’s at least two minutes faster than me. Page down some more. Decide to award myself 64th place. Sorry Mr Dugdale, Chris is coming through. Look for other people I either know or whose name I recognise. Alex from parkrun did well; wonder if he pushed the pram (and baby) round like he does at parkrun? I think of myself as something of a cold fish, but even I’m cheered by a young man pushing a pram round the park at breakneck speed. Mr Elder you really are a w*!!@*. Only know or recognise four people. Maybe everyone else is suffering from race fatigue as well and they’ve taken the day off.

Check e-mails. Mick has sent his training log to the Thursday evening group and there are already four responses in. Open Mick’s log (blimey, that doesn’t sound good). Excel spreadsheet. Completely ignore content whilst checking spreadsheet for macros, what ifs, pivot tables and fancy presentation whistles and bells. Find none, just a workmanlike record where you know it’s the content that’s important to the creator. Reflect on what a saddo I am. Look through Mick’s log. Flipping heck, what a lot of training and such detail. Even records shoes! I’m both very impressed and very intimidated on both counts (training and recording). There was a time when I’d have nicked the format, adapted with macros, what ifs etc etc and started my own log. Those days are gone. I know I don’t have the will to maintain such a record. Agree in principle with logging runs, but regret that it’s not for me. Open other e-mails to find out what others make of it. Nikos, Chris and Julie all keep logs! Crikey. Hang my head in shame. Maybe need to reconsider. Check out the links they’ve sent. Some great stats on Fetcheveryone site recommended by Julie. I’m aiming for a 3:15 finish but think a 3:30 is more realistic. Last week the median “Fetchies” in these two groups ran 35-38 miles with long run of 16-16.4 miles. 3:15ers ran their long run at 7:54 pace and 3:30ers at 8:22 pace. Decide to keep similar records for my training runs rather than a log. Thanks Julie.

Plan my long run for next Sunday (2 hours 20 minutes. easy). Decide to run from home to Harewood and back at 8:30 pace. Liz does the Memory Map thing and this comes up a long way short. We decide to go on a walking reccy to check out extending the run down to the Wharfe at Harewood and then following the river to East Keswick. I’m going to have to run over 16 miles which is a bit further than I was hoping, particularly at increased pace.

Drive over to Harewood and walk down to the river. It’s turned out to be a fine afternoon. Five hares in the first field. Not exactly doing the Mad March Hare stuff, but they’re definitely thinking about it. Further on we see three roe deer. Haven’t seen any for years. Don’t know Latin name for mammals. There are only about a dozen “proper” British mammals (I’m not counting mice and shrews and things as they all look the same from a distance) so can’t explain this oversight. Walk six miles and we’re both knackered; the Tuesday session has really taken it out of us so it’s as well that Wednesday’s a rest day. Not sure if I can count the six walked miles in my weekly mileage chart. I guess it depends how well I’ve done with my runs.

Saturday, 20 February 2010

Tuesday, 16th February – 68 days to go

Still drizzling. Mooch about in High Bentham for a while then head off towards home. We’ve decided we’ll get out for a walk in Settle if it’s fine or Skipton if it isn’t. Drizzle turns to steady rain. No walk.

Have iced ankle regularly and applied Voltarol. Can still feel it, but not too bad. No other niggles. Decide I’m fit enough to do the VARR training session. Liz has quick peek at results for Liversedge Half and Adrian’s done 1:29. Get to Kirkstall and it’s cold. People are waiting inside. Brace myself and enter gym. Hate gyms. Don’t have time to go into full gym entry depression mode as Sophie is first person I see. Ask her about Liversedge. She looks aghast – 2:16. Hilly. I hate hills so I’m glad I was too late to enter. She sees it as a good, challenging training run and is happy with time. We all move outside.

Tom explains about different groups. I try and persuade Liz to go with group 2 but she’s adamant she’s going with group 1. Kay hands over VARR running vests. Excellent, I can run in club colours for last PECO even though I’m a 2nd claimer. Move into group 4 led by Rick. There’s five of us and I know everyone to some extent. Group 5 boys wander over. They’re all feeling knackered or ill and have decided to come with us. Have momentary panic. They’re all scarily fast and this might result in me having to go faster than I want to. Calm myself with thought that the other group 4ers are in the same boat and if we all stick together we can get through it.

Set off. Paul S waits for me as I stow vests in car. Pick his brain on marathons on warm-up run up Kirkstall Road. He’s done thirteen marathons but none for 10 years. Recovery messes with his other runs so he’s given them up. Paul and Liz seem to race every weekend throughout summer all over north of England so can see his point on avoiding marathon recoveries. When he did run them his approach was similar to the one I’m taking. He advises not too many long runs, so I’m happy with that. We pick up the pace as we head towards Armley and then it’s a succession of fast pace with long strides interspersed with slow periods where we’re almost walking. Decide this is interval training but don’t know whether it’s short intervals or long intervals. Chat with Sam. He’s on a long build up to a half marathon. We chat about training, Ellie’s progress, Joe’s comeback and then off into another fast bit. Rick does a great job reining in the fast guys and he heads for home as we storm back to base.

Back outside the gym we do recovery stretches. Chat with Michael. He tells me we’ve done just short of six miles in 48 minutes. This is normal for this particular session. Ask him about his 18 miler last weekend. Relieved to hear he was doing it real slow as well. 2 hours 50 minutes at 9:30 pace. Maybe everyone else is not so far ahead of me as I’d thought. Shoot the breeze with the rest of the group while waiting for Liz.

Liz returns with group 2, red faced and gasping for breath. She’s had her arm twisted to go with what is clearly the “proper” group for her. We both agree it’s been a good session. I’ve managed to think about running all the way round with mind not wandering off at a tangent. Need to keep this focus. Ankle is ok, no other niggles.

Monday, 15th February – 69 days to go

Liz & I are having a couple of days’ rest and recuperation in High Bentham. Boys have declined to come with us. Who could blame them? Today I’m supposed to do a 30 minute recovery run but have decided to trade this in for a four hour walk in the Howgills. Get up to find drizzle/wintry shower going on. Make morning cup of tea and break bad weather news to Liz. Neither of us has a Plan B for inclement weather. Decide to do domestic tasks until weather clears. By lunch time it’s obviously set in for day. Set off for Lancaster to mooch around shops and have a coffee. Come back and start blog of yesterday’s run.

Review Sunday run. Negatives: (1) Liz has Memory Mapped it for me and I’ve only run 12.5 miles. (2) I’ve only run for 125 minutes when I should have done 130 minutes. (3) I’ve knacked my ankle. (4) I’ve managed to run for 125 minutes and have thought about running for less than 2 minutes. (5) Wasn’t expecting to solve Fermat’s Last Theorem or come up with an innovative way to resolve Northern Ireland’s policing and justice problem, but am disappointed with my record of thoughts whilst running. Positives: (1) I feel that I’ve actually started the solo running bit of my marathon training. (2) 125 minutes is the longest I’ve been on my feet. I’ve done this same run before, but at 8 minute pace & I’ve done five half marathons all in the 1:28 to 1:38 range, but this feels like new territory. (3) I settled into a running rhythm of 9 minute 30 second miles without giving it a thought. Whether 9:30 miles is the right pace or not is by the by. (4) Even though I knacked my ankle I carried on and managed to get back up to speed after a brief interlude.

Tell Liz that I’m going to give up chocolate and biscuits until after the marathon. This isn’t greeted with the reverential response I was expecting. She points out that I “don’t really like chocolate and hardly ever eat biscuits”. This is wounding. Piss on my chips why dontcha? I respond with I’m also giving up alcohol. I have no idea where that came from, but I’ve said it now, it’s out there. We’re both silent for a minute. Stunned. She gives me a way back by saying there’s no point in making myself miserable. I stand firm. We compromise by agreeing I can have the occasional bottle of Crabbies alcoholic ginger beer – because that’s not a real alcoholic drink. I consider whether this might open up a whole new field of untried alcopops if the going gets tough. Decide it won’t. I’m against alcopops and not just because it’s such a silly word. Perhaps I do have a moral compass after all. Having stupidly given up alcohol I backtrack on the chocolate thing. I’m allowed to take hot chocolate when I go to Boundary Park, but only for evening matches. We agree. I like this because (a) the hot chocolate may take my mind off the dross that passes for football at BP nowadays; (b) taking a flask to a football match will embarrass my son and it’s a parent’s bounden duty to embarrass their offspring whenever possible; and (c) Bovril is disgusting, I’m sure its made from cows unmentionables even though cows don’t have unmentionables. Liz further expands this by saying I should be allowed Options Hot Chocolate sachets. Sixteen varieties and only 40 calories a cup. Great.

I wander down to Spar for sacrificial last chocolate (Magnum). Scour house for last alcoholic beverage and have to settle for Sauvignon Blanc (good) from winebox (bad).

Monday has been and gone and I’ve done nothing physical in the way of marathon training, but am feeling reasonably positive.

Thursday, 18 February 2010

Sunday, 14th February - 70 days to go

I’m setting off for what Mick’s plan terms “2 hours 10 mins easy.” Apart from the obvious (how could running for 2 hours and 10 minutes ever be described as easy?) I’m much more content with aiming to run for a set time than for a set distance. I can break it down into manageable bits without getting intimidated. I haven’t got the jargon fixed yet, so I’m not sure what “easy” means. I set off up the A660 towards Leeds and the first few steps are awful. I’m running like an old man. Remind myself I am an old man so running like one is ok. It takes about half a mile and I’m into some sort of rhythm. Start to notice my surroundings. Wow, it’s a cracking morning. Sunshine (no warmth) and crisp, cold air. It’s a good-to-be-alive day.

Pass the house that Liz has told me is exactly 1 mile from our house. Check watch. 9 minutes 30 seconds. For the twentieth time I wonder how accurate this mile mark is. Start a tortuous piece of mental arithmetic to try and calculate how long a marathon would take at this pace. Curse primary school teachers for not beating the 26.2 miles table into me when they were beating catechisms into me. Would have been much more useful. Two cyclists heading out of Leeds, one speaking very loudly. Only catch a snatch (snigger) of their conversation. Twelve words and two are swear words. Well really, there’s no need for that. Make a mental note to cut down swearing. It’s not funny and it’s not clever.

Into the park, nobody about. Think about Simon and blame him for my swearing even though I was well into my forties before I worked with him. Brief moment of regret for his failed marriage. Childhood sweetheart & two kids. Make mental note for millionth time to thank Liz for putting up with me. Think about Simon’s ex – have seen her name in the lists for the last couple of community runs, but would only recognise her if she was wearing pyjamas. Long story. Seems unlikely that she’d be wearing her pyjamas for the Chevin Chase. Get back on the tortuous calculation. Onto the bit of Leeds Country Way. Silently congratulate Council on doing an excellent job with the path. First uphill slope; no problem. Feeling good. Finally work out that I’d do the marathon in 4 hours 9 minutes at 9:30 pace. That would be ok if worse came to worst and I had to run at “easy” pace. Cross King Lane, up the hill and onto Eccup Lane. No cars.

Kennels are eerily quiet. Wonder if dogs have been sedated. If I was manager of the kennels I’d sedate the dogs from time to time just to get some peace and quiet. Recognise that this makes me morally reprehensible but am comforted by the unlikelihood that I’m ever going to manage a kennels.

Bugger – first moral dilemma of the day; sheep in crop field eating crops. Should I alert the farmer? Ignore moral dilemma by chastising myself that I don’t know what breed of sheep they are or what crop they’re eating. Pass golf course. No golfers. Lazy.

First spit of the day and over two miles done. Don’t approve of spitting. Dirty. If I was a footballer I’d never spit on telly. Resign myself to the likelihood that I’ll probably never be a footballer.

Decision time – clockwise or anti round the rezza. Decide on clockwise because the sun would be in my eyes if I went anti. Big slurp of water then stash my bottle in a gap in the wall. Check watch. 26 minutes. Run the up and down bit, past the farm and do a mental check of the body for ailments. Check round the usual suspects (right knee, left calf, right ankle) and everything feels ok.

Yellowhammer (Emberiza citrinella) not singing. Tree Sparrows (Passer montanus) in hedgerows. Up the slope and off the Lane towards the rezza. Dogs. Big (bad). Two of them (double bad). On leads (good). They struggle to get at me. Owner holds them back with some difficulty. Young and friendly (dogs not owner). Forget to say hello to owner. Past converted farm. They’ve done a grand job, but they won’t be getting a visit from Kevin and the camera crew anytime soon. Still can’t see any activity there. Looks like an institution rather than residential. Make a mental note to mention it to Liz; she’ll probably google it cos she’s nosier than me. “Grand” reminds me of “champion” and “gradely” and Yorkshire ….. vernacular? dialect? Wonder if Liz has finished God’s Own Country yet. Keen to get her views on (a) whether writer is master of misdirection or I’m a dullard (took me 175 pages of 200 page book to realise central character was a sex monster not a victim of society) and (b) whether Yorkshire vernacular is spot on or just a little off.

Kestrel (Falco tinnunculus), not hovering. Down to the rezza. Hear Wigeon on the water. Can’t remember latin name. Wonder if this is another sign of creeping senility. Start to make mental list of top ten favourite bird songs. Get distracted by thinking of atmospheric soundtrack on Woman in Black TV version from a few years ago. Make a mental note to dig out book and read it again. Make another mental note to check Amazon for availability of TV version.

Another runner. Heading my way. Bloke. About my age. Good upright style. Check him out to see whether he’s more time ravaged than me. He isn’t. Bastard. Consider whether my more worn look can be put down to some sort of Dorian Gray misspent youth. Conclude it probably can’t. Just luck of the draw.

Sod it. Moral dilemma number two. There’s an alarm going off inside the house on the corner. Weird sounding eighties alarm like the phone’s off the hook. Should I stop and investigate? Run on. How guilty will I feel if there are reports of a murder at this house in the local papers? Make a mental note not to read local papers for the next few days.

Back on with list of bird songs. Decide it has to be bird sounds not songs as top two aren’t vocal. Wonder whether other people compile lists of favourite bird sounds. Conclude they probably don’t. Decide not to wonder what that says about me. Remember that latin name for Wigeon is Anas penelope. How could I have forgotten that? Anas (snigger). Penelope. Momentarily dejected that I think first of Lady Penelope from Thunderbirds, then of Penelope Pitstop. Only then do I think of Penelope from the Odyssey. I really am a philistine. Start listing racers from Wacky Races. Get seven, can’t remember who drove the Arkansas Chuggabug then decide I can’t cope with two different mental lists at once so complete my list of bird sounds.

Hear a Great Spotted Woodpecker (Dendrocopos major) drumming. Number two on my list. Sign of Spring. Yippee, can’t come soon enough for me. Approaching scary stile thing, metal, narrow at the top then widens at the bottom. Must be to keep something off rezza path, but can’t think what. Momentary panic. Hope nobody’s looking as I do series of stuttering steps followed by ungainly twisty thing to get through the gap.

Into fields and there’s a crunch underfoot. Frost. In the corner of the field where the sun hasn’t reached. Walker. No dog. Friendly greeting. Geese flying over and calling – think it’s Branta canadiensis but maybe Anser anser. Can’t decide. Not flying in approved V skein format. Sloppy. Decide that I now need to add contextual element to list; proper wild geese calling at Welney, Martin Mere or Slimbridge type place worth much more than scabby geese flying round Eccup. Skylark (Alauda arvensis) singing as it soars. Number four on my list. This is turning out to be a good run. Think of A Curious Incident .make a mental note to read it again. Worry about where it might be. Knowing us it won’t be on the shelves in alphabetical order of author (surname), in chronological order. Any of the four of us may have read it last. I’m definitely not going to look for it in the boys bedrooms - they’re like war torn Beirut (is Beirut still war torn?). Would it be frivolous to buy another copy? (My copy). Yes it would be frivolous, but not if I got it second hand. Specially not if I got it from Oxfam. Make a mental note to go into Oxfam & buy Curious Incident.

Over the style and down the slope. Shit. It’s muddy. I’m going too fast. Alright, not too fast, just out of control. Do a slalom, skippy thing until I’m back in control. Hope nobody saw me. Over the stile at the bottom. Ouch. Pillock you know you can’t get over this style in one step without consequences in the groinal area (groinal?). Up the muddy slope. Yuk. Its claggy and hard going. Wet socks. Bugger, I‘ll have to wash them. How could I possibly think I could get away without washing my socks after a long run? Must be a man thing. Gerry would understand. Only wash your kit when it needs it. Think of the Villa. They’re on TV this afternoon. How can I get myself in front of a TV at the right time? May need some careful diplomatic manoeuvring. Decide to leave plotting until later.

Logs. Well, more like horizontal trees. Piled up really neatly, I like this forester. There’s a sign, a proper printed bought-in-a-shop sign that says “Please do not climb the timber pile”. I wasn’t going to. But now I’ve seen a sign telling me not to I’d really like to climb all over it. Resist the temptation. Momentarily wonder where you’d buy a sign like that.

Back onto Eccup Lane. Check watch. 60 minutes exactly. This is the half way point. If I do the second half in the same time as the first I’ll be home in 2 hours. Ten minutes short. I’ll run past my house to the Dyneley Arms and back. Extra mile and a half in about ten minutes. Look for water bottle. Bollocks. I know it’s round here somewhere. Eventually find it. Make mental note to take a better look around the next time I stash my water bottle. Up the lane. Do another mental check over body. Beginning to feel it now. Abdominal muscles are aching. Maybe that’s a toilet thing not a running thing.

Must take my mind off my body. Haven’t seen a Red Kite (Milvus milvus) yet. Scan skies for one now. Nearly fall over. Decide for the thousandth time that multi-tasking isn’t for me. Look in hedgerows for signs of Spring. Find none. “April is the cruellest month”. What an arse. February is clearly the cruellest month. They should make a pile and burn his books. Consider compiling a mental list of most overrated literary figures and start with Eliot. Decide against, can’t cope with any more mental lists. Enter some sort of trance like state for the next few minutes.

Doing the body MOT thing was definitely a mistake. Oh no, the alarms is still going off in the house on the corner. Moral dilemma number two part two. Run on. Can hear the barrister’s voice in my head “So Mr Jones, let me get this clear” (pauses for effect). “You ran past the house of the murdered householder without stopping to help. Not once, but twice.” Distract myself from guilt by trying to remember whether I’ve ever seen a barrister at work except on telly. Seem to remember a trip to the courts when I was doing British Constitution O Level, but cannot recollect anything. Remember my week of jury service. Can’t remember a barrister at all, but have momentary feeling of guilt that I may have been responsible for freeing up a kiddy fiddler. Calm myself with reminder that it was a unanimous decision. They should never have brought the case to court. He was clearly not guilty. Why ask me to decide?

Three people on the path. They’re all separate. Cyclist. Listening to music. Vacant expression. Walker. Having a bad day already. Birdwatcher. Nice Jacket. Friendly hello. Move on. Catch a glimpse of my shadow. Check out my running style. Can’t come to any conclusions. Throw my shoulders back, make myself more erect (snigger), lengthen my stride. Makes absolutely no difference to my shadow. Conclude that using your shadow as a guide to running style is bobbins.

There’s a song playing in one part of my head; I can’t stop it and don’t know how long it’s been going. The Tender Trap. Can’t remember who sings it. From the old days. From a show? Sinatra? Seem to remember all the words, not necessarily in the right order. Not proper verses. Consider asking Liz if it’s from a show. Decide not to. If she doesn’t know she’ll just make something up. Will have to google it myself if I really want to know. I recall James Nesbitt singing it in Cold Feet. Go through the lyrics in my head. God, this is awful. At best arrogant at worst deeply misogynistic. Can you like a pop song if the words are as offensive as this? Yep, no problem. Play Under My Thumb by the Stones in my head. Follow it up with The Spider & The Fly. No problem. Make mental note to have debate on this with Liz.

Pass same lady walker that I passed earlier. She’s going round the rezza in the opposite direction. We don’t say hello but give each other an awkward knowing look familiar to those who regularly circumnavigate the rezza. Try and do some sort of helicopter perspective of rezza and rewind memory to work out where we passed first time around. Conclude that I’m running faster than she’s walking. Phew.

Come through horrible stile for second time. Make first involuntary middle aged noise of the run. A strange grunting sound. Check watch. 1 hour 27 minutes. There will now follow a series of bizarre noises until I finish the run.

Approaching the muddy slope again. Start to not exactly panic, but become anxious. Decide to take the slope very gently. Twist my ankle. Hear loud crack, yelp and swear simultaneously. Hobble down the rest of the slope whilst making pathetic keening noises. Take a quick look round for assurance that nobody has witnessed this. Crawl over stile at bottom. Two walkers and two dogs coming down slope. Grit teeth and lurch into grotesque lumber in stiff upper lip British kind of way. First dog big (bad). Second dog small (good). First dog loose (bad). Second dog on lead (good). First dog picks up speed and runs towards me. Won’t be intimidated. Decide to make eye contact with it. It seems to have bloodshot eyes and very strong shoulders. It’s giving me evils. I fight back by giving it Paddington’s Hard Stare. It runs straight past me. Oh yes, Chris one Dog nil.

Continue on towards lane with ankle hurting. It’s the one I twisted at PECO Ilkley in that horrendous, foul smelling ditch/moat thing. Decide to take my mind off the pain by inventing moral dilemma inspired by my yelp. I’m on a boat with one life belt ring thingy. Ronaldo and Drogba are in the water floundering. Which one do I save? Weigh up pros and cons for a minute. Decide I’d shuffle off to the other end of the boat and leave them both while I have a crafty fag. Am genuinely shocked that I could ever contemplate smoking. Have secondary (minor) shock that I could leave two human beings to drown. Remind myself that this is just theoretical and it doesn’t necessarily mean I’m a Bad Person.

Reach the lane. Check watch. 1 hour 38 minutes. Bugger. I’ve lost 4 minutes. I can’t get to the Dyneley Arms and back in the time allowed. Set off up the slope. Three golfers at the tee, one about to hit shot. He does this curious jumpy thing as he addresses the ball. Give a quiet chortle. How does he expect to play well like that? Consider how my running style must look to them and feel suitably humbled. Keep head down and plough on. Past the kennels again. Dogs are voluble as usual. They weren’t sedated then. Down King Lane and onto path towards Golden Acre. Ankle is easing up. Play back incident in my head. Did I really yelp (probably); did I really swear (definitely); was there really a loud crack from my ankle (dunno). Try to come up with a contextual description for yelping. “Yelped like a …..”. Can’t think of anything that’s pc. Give up.

Into the park. It’s busy now. Oldsters, families, prams the whole nine yards. How much bread can those ducks eat without sinking?

Back onto the A660 and I’ve decided to run on past my house regardless of my sore ankle. What a wounded soldier. Pass the one mile marker house. Wonder for the twenty first time why they’ve marked their drive pillars with green paint rather than white paint like the house next door. I get the white paint thing; it’ll show up in the dark. Surely the green paint won’t? Maybe it’s some special luminous paint that really glows in the dark. I’d have noticed that though wouldn’t I? No, it’s just past the entrance to the park. We’ve got into the habit of saying either “They’re dogging again” or “Nobody dogging tonight” when we drive past the entrance to the park depending on whether there are cars in the car park with their lights on. Liz and I don’t really know what dogging is – we have an idea (Stan Collymore) and that’s enough for us, thank you very much.

Gosh I’m knackered. Decide to toss water bottle into my garden when I run past the house on my way towards the Dyneley Arms. I’ve already decided I won’t actually go as far as the Dyneley Arms, but I’ll go towards it. Another runner. On the other side of the road. Only the second of the day. Bloke. About my age. Going very slowly, but very stylish. Avoid eye contact. I’m now definitely shuffling with ankle pulsing and abs aching.

Decide I won’t run past my house after all. I’ll just run five minutes short.
Saturday 13th February 2010 - 71 days to go



Why write a blog on my impending tilt at the London Marathon? I have been inspired (Kay) and intimidated (Russell/Michael) by the blogs of others and also the casual "just knocked out an 18 miler this morning" posts on facebook (thanks for that Russ). I admit it I'm a confirmed pessimist, I guess I want to record my experience of marathon preparation just in case (a) I fail to make it to the start line or (b) I get nowhere near my target time. Also there’s a bit of self-justification as well; Mick Brearley has drawn up a training schedule for me and already I’ve failed to stick to it. I’ve missed my first four Sunday long runs as I’ve raced instead – two PECO cross country races, a 10k and a half marathon. I reckon I’ve just about got the half marathon out of my legs and can now get on track with the training schedule.

I know my limitations enough to know I can’t run the level of mileage that others are aiming for. My training schedule is based on:

Sunday long slow run
Monday recovery run/strength & conditioning
Tuesday group session with VARR
Wednesday rest
Thursday group session with Mick
Friday strength & conditioning
Saturday 5k time trial at about marathon pace

I’m aiming to gradually increase weekly mileage from about my usual 15/20 miles a week to 40/50 maximum. OK, I admit that the Monday recovery run has so far been aspirational as all I’ve managed is a recovery limp at walking pace. Strength & conditioning sessions with Tony have been more about stretching, massage and knee rehabilitation to keep me going through races rather than building up core strength to get me through the marathon. The physio was very dismissive of my “weak core”, so I need to do something about that.

I’m bound to be the world’s worst blogger. I can’t seem to stay on track anymore and it’s getting worse. I have the concentration span of a retarded goldfish. When I was awarded a London marathon place I blithely told anyone who’d listen that I’d probably got no more than ten marathons in me at my age. Subsequent injuries, contemptuous physios and the plummet into winter depression have caused me to downgrade this to one or two. I’m determined to record my first marathon in as much detail as possible.

I have no idea what my blog will be like. Presumably some sort of variation on Bridget Jones’s Diary. I’m ok with that. I feel an (undeserved) sense of ownership as I remember reading it when it was a newspaper column. That was before The Independent became unreadable, of course. Decide to have some house rules. No quitting - I’ve started so I’ll finish (Magnusson not Humphrys); no swearing (except where strictly necessary). Can’t think of any more house rules. It won’t have any running insights; I don’t know anything about running so how could it?

So where to start? I know. I’ll put down all the thoughts that I have (& can remember) on my first long run. At the end of a training session I can’t remember anything that I’ve thought on the way round. Ask other runners and they can’t either. Sure, they’ll give you some guff about checking pace, looking at HRM etc, but how long can that take? If I’m going to be out for 2 hours 10 minutes and I’m on my own I must be thinking of something.