So, now I know that I'm now at the stage where I will be able to get 13 and a bit miles round the marathon course and be able to start counting down the miles until the finish.
I ran the Reading half (see how I drop the word "marathon"? I am a proper runner...) this weekend in a time of 2.08:54, which I'm very pleased about as it means consistent sub-10 minute miles. On that basis, I will complete the marathon in 4.17:48... That's how it works, you double your half-marathon time and that gives you your time for full distance.
I'm torn because while I'm quite pleased with myself, knowing that nine months ago I couldn't run for a bus without getting out of breath, the smaller, more sensible part of my brain tells me however that I do actually have to run a lot further in just under four weeks time. I've often ignored this plain-speaking, logical voice in my head, but on this occasion, I'm listening hard. I'm now slightly more confident that I won't die during the race, but still doing all I can to ensure this doesn't happen, especially before I've had the chance to launch my running shoes into the Thames.
Plus points from yesterday:
Power Gels (they taste bad, but work good)
still having enough kick for a sprint finish down the home straight
finishing ahead of the two lads dressed as a camel (just)
It sounds like a quaint village in Norfolk, but it's actually the Law. Now we're moving inexorably towards the marathon, that's the advice and very good it is too. Since Sunday I've "put" about 23 "miles" "in" "the" "legs" which should be around 45/50 by the weekend. I had been following a plan which advocated fartleks (see post below), speed training and the like, but it seems that distance might be the key. I hasten to add this is not solely my own idea, but a conclusion reached from speaking to those who have run the distance previously. I now admire these people and listen intently to every word they say. I ran home yesterday from work, about 8.5 miles, which was actually quite nice as it was light when I left work and grew dark as I ran (no, it didn't then get light again before I reached home!). It's a very different type of run when there is a goal at the end of the miles, in this case my sofa and Father Ted (the tv series, not the local vicar on a soul-saving mission - I'm way beyond that I fear). The run becomes almost enjoyable, so I plan to perhaps run in tomorrow, though I need to get at least 12 miles under my belt, sorry, "in my legs" before the end of the weekend, something which may be difficult as I'm heading to Bristol for the weekend and by all reports it's a bit hilly there! Then there's the Reading half next weekend and the Kingston Breakfast Run the weekend after to respectively add 13 and 16 miles to the imaginary totaliser I have for the miles in my legs, much like the ones they had/have on Blue Peter where you send in things like milk bottle tops or used carrots which would be placed in a massive see-through plastic container. Once full they would be able to buy a chair for a library or something. At least nowadays they have far more sense and raise money by fleecing children on premium ratephone lines.
As the Spice Girls sang, all you need is positivity...
They did follow that line with "Slam it to the left (if you're having a good time), Shake it to the right (if you know that you feel fine), Chicas to the front (huh huh) and go round", so perhaps one shouldn't heed too much of what they say. The point is since posting about my nightmare run last weekend, I've cycled into and home from work all but one day this week (losing my bike helmet en route on one occasion), have rediscovered healthy eating, and generally feel far better about the prospect of running through London for over five hours. Can I recommend Porridge? I would like to. I also met up with a friend and her beautiful new baby girl for coffee, who also happens to be a fitness instructor in real life. Talking to her about my training and listening to her take on things (both she and her husband have run the marathon) was very uplifting and I'm very grateful to have people like that around to lift the spirits when they're a bit low. She did also say "Slam it to the left (if you're having a good time), Shake it to the right (if you know that you feel fine), Chicas to the front (huh huh) and go round" so perhaps I shouldn't heed too much of what she says...
Richmond Park is considered beautiful, a natural nature reserve, a piece of the countryside in the midst of our ever-sprawling metropolis, where the Deer run free, mingling with man in beautiful harmony, and the walkers take in the crisp, fresh air as their children cycle lovingly alongside.
IT'S NOT LIKE THAT!! IF IT WERE A VASE, IT WOULD BE OF THE MING VARIETY!! IT'S SODDING HILLY AND I RAN ROUND THE ****ING PIECE OF **** TWICE ON ****ING SUNDAY!! WHY THE **** DID I ****ING DO THAT?!?! I MUST BE ****ING STUPID!!!
Right, calm...
It was my scheduled 14 mile run and if I ever thought I was nowhere near ready for the marathon, I now know for certain. I ran through 11/12 miles okay, but one of the hills on the second lap took it out of me completely. In the end my running partner was walking and I was "running" alongside. It wasn't really helped by the fact it was raining the whole way round and the Park resembled a swimming pool, one which had been over-filled at that. To compound matters, as we approached the car and therefore the end of the run, the little cafe ("all day"?! - don't make me laugh) from which we would buy carrot cake and sugary tea, shut. I would have cried had I not been face down in the mud at the time.
So, to conclude: I need to get "miles in my legs", I need to book more massages, and I need never, ever, ever to enter a marathon again. In truth, there's no real danger of that.
The last two weeks have been slow, principally because of an unsually busy diary, resulting in the not especially well balanced equation of No Running + Eating Out & Drinking = Decreased Fitness and Increased Fatness. I've enjoyed it, but always under the guff of a guilty cloud telling me I should be behaving myself. Well, today I heeded those words from the talking, guffy cloud and for the first time basically since it got a bit cold, I cycled into work. I've got shiny new mudguards, nice bright lights and pumped up tyres, so there's no excuse now not to do it every day, or at the very least once a month. I'm also running at lunchtime today, plus doing 14 miles around Richmond Park and it's environs on Sunday. A full-on resumption of my training schedule with no lead-in is a kill or cure strategy, but one in which cure is the only real result. The run is in just over seven weeks and I'm not planning on dropping dead during the race, so improved health and fitness would seem sensible. Saying that, I have got a runner's injury of sorts, Piriformis Syndrome which is this - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Piriformis_muscle#Clinicals In crude terms, a pain in the arse. I'm having regular physio now though, so a combination of baby oil and someone kneading my backside with their elbow is helping me, or at the very least taking my mind off the problem for an hour or so. In real life, I've been cast to play Fagin in Oliver around May/June time, clearly chosen because of my rangy figure, readily able to portray someone who struggles to find the money for his next feed...
Not much to say. I live in my house in Surrey-on-sea, work in IT, act in and direct plays and musicals in my spare time, support the mighty Fulham, listen to lots of music and fail to be funny when writing my blog. I also fail to be funny while doing stand-up comedy
