Yep. I was quite giddy with excitement today.
Very quietly, I have been running again. Achilles is still stiff, but the Good Witch of the North assures me that will heal eventually and gradual rehab into treadmill running will not aggravate it at all.
So, I have now run 3 times! 10 mins, then 20 mins, and then, today, 5k in 30 minutes.
And today felt absolutely sweet. Every now and again you get a workout that hits a sweet spot. Today I felt strong and fit as an ox as I flew over the treadmill and hauled some weights. Bliss.
It goes to show how much harder work it is running on roads - all the unexpected or invisible inclines, the hopping up and down kerbs etc - so much harder than when the ground kindly moves for you beneath your feet.
Carried away with enthusiasm, I offcially pulled out of Cardiff and softenend that blow by immediately signing up for the Bath Half on March 6th. This blog will remain Countdown to Cardiff as I am still aiming to run it next year ... it just means it's a bloody long countdown.
:-)
Tuesday, 14 September 2010
Tuesday, 7 September 2010
Sidelined
It's been an incredibly hard month.
I have watched my training schedule loom, and then begin to inexorably slide past me. I have dug my heels in. I have clutched at straws. I have clawed at time with my fingernails. It has felt as if I have been clinging onto a steep rock face, trying to avoid the inevitable slide downwards, as Nick Knowles describes my death defying attempts and the RAF rescue helicopter whirrs above me. (I may also have been watching too much daytime tv .... )
My torn achilles tendon has probably been the most constant, stable part of life. It has been the one thing that seemed not to be changing. Around the stubborn injury I changed what I could:
And eventually, it happened. I realised that I would not be running the Cardiff Half. I had been sidelined.
Gumph! (That's the sound of what it feels like to be punched in the stomach which is what finally facing up to the truth felt like).
I had thrown so much emotionally into signing up for this race, my running was able to bring me a sense of some control in the snowballing world of Mum's cancer diagnosis. Letting go of the race meant letting go of some of that control and was, well, a bit panic inducing if I'm honest.
So, my fellow running freaks, I am standing on the sidelines. I am cheering you on. But I will save my loudest cheers for each one of you who is running for a cause. And I'm not talking charity. I'm talking about the other causes - running to forget. Or running to gain some control. Or running in memory of someone you love.
Run like the wind.
And I'll see you next year.
x
I have watched my training schedule loom, and then begin to inexorably slide past me. I have dug my heels in. I have clutched at straws. I have clawed at time with my fingernails. It has felt as if I have been clinging onto a steep rock face, trying to avoid the inevitable slide downwards, as Nick Knowles describes my death defying attempts and the RAF rescue helicopter whirrs above me. (I may also have been watching too much daytime tv .... )
My torn achilles tendon has probably been the most constant, stable part of life. It has been the one thing that seemed not to be changing. Around the stubborn injury I changed what I could:
- My shoes - I LOVE the guys in Bath Running shop, who became even more brilliant as my physio (who practices upstairs) nipped down to explain to them my problem so that they can fix me up with absolutely the best shoes for the job. Now THAT'S service.
- My training schedule, which became all about cardio and zero about running. I grew to resent my spinning bike as I grudgingly worked out on that instead of pavement pounding.
And eventually, it happened. I realised that I would not be running the Cardiff Half. I had been sidelined.
Gumph! (That's the sound of what it feels like to be punched in the stomach which is what finally facing up to the truth felt like).
I had thrown so much emotionally into signing up for this race, my running was able to bring me a sense of some control in the snowballing world of Mum's cancer diagnosis. Letting go of the race meant letting go of some of that control and was, well, a bit panic inducing if I'm honest.
So, my fellow running freaks, I am standing on the sidelines. I am cheering you on. But I will save my loudest cheers for each one of you who is running for a cause. And I'm not talking charity. I'm talking about the other causes - running to forget. Or running to gain some control. Or running in memory of someone you love.
Run like the wind.
And I'll see you next year.
x
Monday, 2 August 2010
Rolling with the punches
Hi. Me: 38 year old first time runner from Bath. You: Either bored @ work or putting off going for a run.
I have paused for thought.
This was not a choice. I have another injury.
After weeks of no running waiting for shin splints to heal, I now have a muscle pull on my lower left soleus near my achilles.
I've taken 2 weeks off running (no choice in that matter - muscles have a way of letting you know clearly when they need a rest. I can only liken it to having a toddler scream at you in the middle of Sainsburys - similar levels of discomfort and desire to M-A-K-E I-T S-T-O-P)
I have interesting chats about injury with folk who I love and respect hugely. There is a general, and I have to admit, fairly understandable concern that maybe I'm not cut out for running. That my body is trying to tell me something.
Like I said - understandable considering my luck over the last 3 months. But here's the thing. I have gone to working out 3 - 5 times a week since October - from nothing. Before then it's true - I never had shin splints. I never had a pulled soleus muscle (I didn't even know what or where it is - frankly, soleus sounds more like a sun cream to me). But here's what I did have; apathy, lethargy, relentlessly aching joints (especially my hips), and overweight bordering on obese. But we don't talk about these "injuries". We accept these as things that are an inevitable consequence of aging or things that we just don't talk about. But these are the things that kill us. When was the last time anyone died of shin splints?!
So, blessed with the love and concern of my friends, I will continue to be sensible, take fabulous advice and do everything I can to cement running as a part of my long term plan for fitness in my life - above and beyond the Race. Injury is an inevitable consequence of getting and keeping fit. My plan is to not let it derail me.
Meanwhile, my good witch of the North** has been away and so I wait to see her tomorrow.
And I think the best way to describe how I feel is ... trepidatious.
10 weeks left of training at time of writing. I have only got my distance up to 4 miles before being stopped in my tracks.
And it gives me time to really think abut why I am running. Why I feel so upset when I think I may not be ready or able to run (although my definition of "ready" is getting more and more flexible).So here's some reflection on my back story:
1) Celebration: I am primarily running because this is the first time in all my 38 years that I have felt that I could even consider it. Last Oct I started seeing a trainer, just once a month (they're not cheap!) and it proved to be the kick start I needed to make lasting changes and see slow and steady weight loss that I am completely confident will stay gone. The race for me is a celebration of my new found fitness.
2) Control: My mum was diagnosed with stage 4 inoperable cancer in April. Mum is my rock, one of my best friends, and all round last person in the world who deserves it ... you know the type. When I allow it to, it feels as if my life is spinning out of control. So I try not to allow it - I concentrate on one day at a time. But I'd be lying if I said that the race wasn't my attempt to control something and bring order and planning to my life at a time when I feel completely bloody powerless. And yes ... I know ... trying to control things is never good in the long run (s'cuse the sad runner's pun) but I'm just being honest.
3) St Margaret's Hospice. Mum has worked there for the last 5 years - and wants to end things there too. So I will be fundraising for them. Not that there aren't many other fabulous causes. But this is mine. And it matters.
4) Being led astray. I should know better. My starting mate for the race persuaded me to sign up with him. This is the same mate who introduced me to Tucker's Tango - the simply amazing and yet perfectly lethal dry cider they serve at Tucker's Grave. The same mate who agrees to go to the cinema with me but we end up eating and drinking instead. Really, really after 23 years, I should know better.
5) The Izzard effect. Not to be underrated. Especially his explanation that he felt he'd reached 40 healthy due to luck and cerntainly not judgement, and that 40 onwards was time to pay into the health karma account. I was profoundly moved by what that nutter did for Comic relief.
I think that's about it. I am back on the spinning bike and weights to make sure I am not wasting the time I'm 'offroad'. And we'll just have to see what tomorrow brings. But I won't worry about that right now. It's still today after all.
Cool runnings to you all.
**Good witch of the North = my physio, the best physio in all the world. See my Land of Oz blog post xxx
I have paused for thought.
This was not a choice. I have another injury.
After weeks of no running waiting for shin splints to heal, I now have a muscle pull on my lower left soleus near my achilles.
I've taken 2 weeks off running (no choice in that matter - muscles have a way of letting you know clearly when they need a rest. I can only liken it to having a toddler scream at you in the middle of Sainsburys - similar levels of discomfort and desire to M-A-K-E I-T S-T-O-P)
I have interesting chats about injury with folk who I love and respect hugely. There is a general, and I have to admit, fairly understandable concern that maybe I'm not cut out for running. That my body is trying to tell me something.
Like I said - understandable considering my luck over the last 3 months. But here's the thing. I have gone to working out 3 - 5 times a week since October - from nothing. Before then it's true - I never had shin splints. I never had a pulled soleus muscle (I didn't even know what or where it is - frankly, soleus sounds more like a sun cream to me). But here's what I did have; apathy, lethargy, relentlessly aching joints (especially my hips), and overweight bordering on obese. But we don't talk about these "injuries". We accept these as things that are an inevitable consequence of aging or things that we just don't talk about. But these are the things that kill us. When was the last time anyone died of shin splints?!
So, blessed with the love and concern of my friends, I will continue to be sensible, take fabulous advice and do everything I can to cement running as a part of my long term plan for fitness in my life - above and beyond the Race. Injury is an inevitable consequence of getting and keeping fit. My plan is to not let it derail me.
Meanwhile, my good witch of the North** has been away and so I wait to see her tomorrow.
And I think the best way to describe how I feel is ... trepidatious.
10 weeks left of training at time of writing. I have only got my distance up to 4 miles before being stopped in my tracks.
And it gives me time to really think abut why I am running. Why I feel so upset when I think I may not be ready or able to run (although my definition of "ready" is getting more and more flexible).So here's some reflection on my back story:
1) Celebration: I am primarily running because this is the first time in all my 38 years that I have felt that I could even consider it. Last Oct I started seeing a trainer, just once a month (they're not cheap!) and it proved to be the kick start I needed to make lasting changes and see slow and steady weight loss that I am completely confident will stay gone. The race for me is a celebration of my new found fitness.
2) Control: My mum was diagnosed with stage 4 inoperable cancer in April. Mum is my rock, one of my best friends, and all round last person in the world who deserves it ... you know the type. When I allow it to, it feels as if my life is spinning out of control. So I try not to allow it - I concentrate on one day at a time. But I'd be lying if I said that the race wasn't my attempt to control something and bring order and planning to my life at a time when I feel completely bloody powerless. And yes ... I know ... trying to control things is never good in the long run (s'cuse the sad runner's pun) but I'm just being honest.
3) St Margaret's Hospice. Mum has worked there for the last 5 years - and wants to end things there too. So I will be fundraising for them. Not that there aren't many other fabulous causes. But this is mine. And it matters.
4) Being led astray. I should know better. My starting mate for the race persuaded me to sign up with him. This is the same mate who introduced me to Tucker's Tango - the simply amazing and yet perfectly lethal dry cider they serve at Tucker's Grave. The same mate who agrees to go to the cinema with me but we end up eating and drinking instead. Really, really after 23 years, I should know better.
5) The Izzard effect. Not to be underrated. Especially his explanation that he felt he'd reached 40 healthy due to luck and cerntainly not judgement, and that 40 onwards was time to pay into the health karma account. I was profoundly moved by what that nutter did for Comic relief.
I think that's about it. I am back on the spinning bike and weights to make sure I am not wasting the time I'm 'offroad'. And we'll just have to see what tomorrow brings. But I won't worry about that right now. It's still today after all.
Cool runnings to you all.
**Good witch of the North = my physio, the best physio in all the world. See my Land of Oz blog post xxx
Wednesday, 21 July 2010
A whole new world of flat
For the first time in my life, I am truly appreciative of the benefits of Norfolk.
As someone who grew up and now lives in the very hilly city of Bath, surrounded by the beautiful Cotswold hills, I feel safe and secure, surrounded by hills, like sleeping dragons looking down on me.
In terms of running, the hills have been great. Before injury, my fitness was greatly improved by hauling my ass up the hills around and about. More recently, I had been told to stick to flat runs so my 2 milers have been along what I'd thought was a flat route ... until Monday!
Monday I decided to up distance to 4 miles as planned, and to try the Bristol - Bath cycle route. Which is flat.
And I mean F-L-A-T! I'd had no idea how hilly my everyday route is. I know that might sound odd, and I assure you I don't have some wierd inner ear condition, but hills are relative - and relative to the biggies, these are teeny. But these invisible hills have clearly done their bit because the 4 mile run along the cycle path was easier than I thought. And once again, the mad woman in my head was remarkably quiet!
On a darker note - there were definite tones of Blair Witch on the outward couple of miles as I didn't see another living soul ... with the exception of several hundred tits.
***Breaking leg news***
Not breaking leg.
Breaking news vis-a-vis leg.
See?
Anyhoo....
I have managed to pull my lower soleus near where it joins my achilles - this time on my left leg. It hurts to walk so back on the bike for a few days until it calms down.
Do you have any idea how sick to the back teeth I am of the twinges and strains?
Seriously.
Very ... very over it.
As someone who grew up and now lives in the very hilly city of Bath, surrounded by the beautiful Cotswold hills, I feel safe and secure, surrounded by hills, like sleeping dragons looking down on me.
In terms of running, the hills have been great. Before injury, my fitness was greatly improved by hauling my ass up the hills around and about. More recently, I had been told to stick to flat runs so my 2 milers have been along what I'd thought was a flat route ... until Monday!
Monday I decided to up distance to 4 miles as planned, and to try the Bristol - Bath cycle route. Which is flat.
And I mean F-L-A-T! I'd had no idea how hilly my everyday route is. I know that might sound odd, and I assure you I don't have some wierd inner ear condition, but hills are relative - and relative to the biggies, these are teeny. But these invisible hills have clearly done their bit because the 4 mile run along the cycle path was easier than I thought. And once again, the mad woman in my head was remarkably quiet!
On a darker note - there were definite tones of Blair Witch on the outward couple of miles as I didn't see another living soul ... with the exception of several hundred tits.
***Breaking leg news***
Not breaking leg.
Breaking news vis-a-vis leg.
See?
Anyhoo....
I have managed to pull my lower soleus near where it joins my achilles - this time on my left leg. It hurts to walk so back on the bike for a few days until it calms down.
Do you have any idea how sick to the back teeth I am of the twinges and strains?
Seriously.
Very ... very over it.
Wednesday, 14 July 2010
From strength to strength and back again
Well. This running lark is beginning to pay off.
On Tuesday, I did another 3 miles and this time used the Garmin satnavthingy watch that Running Mate loaned me. I have a 2 mile circuit which I had done 1.5 of on Saturday - but found the temptation to stop at the end of lap 1 very great as I was almost at my front door - it took Herculean strength to will myself to run another mile in the opposite direction.
So this time, I used the Garmin to show me how far I had travelled and managed a 3 mile route door to door.
The Garmin also showed me my pace - I LOVE knowing this! It deeply appeals to the control freak in me, and I managed 3 miles in bang on 30 mins. Not only did I manage 10 minute splits, but I did this whilst running without the mad lady occupying my thoughts, convincing me I was about to die every 3 minutes. I found a little bit of joy in digging deep, and found myself running from a place of determination and strength for the majority of the run.
This is some breakthrough for me.
I am used to staggering through 80% of my runs. Feeling as if I am a tourist in the the Oz-like land of running, where the munchkins are replaced with gaunt, haunted looking fast people and I am a flushed looking, staggering Dorothy who appears to have gone 10 rounds with the wicked witch of the west.
But on Tuesday, I began to feel like the wizard maybe has a point. I know I'm not fast. But I knew I had what that run required. And I went out and ran it.
And it felt good.
My good friend Jamie made a comment that the mad woman I described in my earlier post was a voice that thought she was keeping me safe - when in fact, that voice was just holding me back.
It's amazingly powerful when other folk point something out that you knew for yourself - it's not till someone else articulates it that you manage to shift it.
****in further leg news****
I'm learning the importance for me to warmup, stretch then run, cool down and stretch. I've never much bothered with warm ups and stretching before the run before. But I'm finding I'm getting nasty adductor strain if I don't. Shin a little bit niggly, so planning on replacing tomorrow's run with a spin and some weights instead and have booked in to see The Good Witch of the North (aka Claire the physio).
On Tuesday, I did another 3 miles and this time used the Garmin satnavthingy watch that Running Mate loaned me. I have a 2 mile circuit which I had done 1.5 of on Saturday - but found the temptation to stop at the end of lap 1 very great as I was almost at my front door - it took Herculean strength to will myself to run another mile in the opposite direction.
So this time, I used the Garmin to show me how far I had travelled and managed a 3 mile route door to door.
The Garmin also showed me my pace - I LOVE knowing this! It deeply appeals to the control freak in me, and I managed 3 miles in bang on 30 mins. Not only did I manage 10 minute splits, but I did this whilst running without the mad lady occupying my thoughts, convincing me I was about to die every 3 minutes. I found a little bit of joy in digging deep, and found myself running from a place of determination and strength for the majority of the run.
This is some breakthrough for me.
I am used to staggering through 80% of my runs. Feeling as if I am a tourist in the the Oz-like land of running, where the munchkins are replaced with gaunt, haunted looking fast people and I am a flushed looking, staggering Dorothy who appears to have gone 10 rounds with the wicked witch of the west.
But on Tuesday, I began to feel like the wizard maybe has a point. I know I'm not fast. But I knew I had what that run required. And I went out and ran it.
And it felt good.
My good friend Jamie made a comment that the mad woman I described in my earlier post was a voice that thought she was keeping me safe - when in fact, that voice was just holding me back.
It's amazingly powerful when other folk point something out that you knew for yourself - it's not till someone else articulates it that you manage to shift it.
****in further leg news****
I'm learning the importance for me to warmup, stretch then run, cool down and stretch. I've never much bothered with warm ups and stretching before the run before. But I'm finding I'm getting nasty adductor strain if I don't. Shin a little bit niggly, so planning on replacing tomorrow's run with a spin and some weights instead and have booked in to see The Good Witch of the North (aka Claire the physio).
Sunday, 11 July 2010
What a difference a day makes!
I had a much better run today. Upped my distance back up to 3 miles for the first time since starting back at it.
AND! During my first few runs back I knew I had to be cautious and not go hell for leather so I was deliberately jogging, not running at any real pace. And today, I ran at a more normal pace and knocked a full minute off each mile! I'm down to nearer 10 minute miles again which makes my sub 2 hour goal for Cardiff feel a bit more achievable. I felt strong for nearly all of the run.
However, I still have the mad woman in my head. The mad woman whose response to being hot, sweaty and breathing heavily is "YOU'RE GOING TO DIE!!!". She panics. It's like a reaction to being dangled off a very high cliff. She makes the conversations I have in my head while I'm running most interesting.
She's an assertive mad woman. I keep thinking that one day I'll run and she won't be there but she's pretty persistent. A friend asked me today if the running is getting easier. And of course, I am getting fitter, but I still have these insane debates where she screams "STOP RUNNING! YOU HAVE TO STOP!" at regular intervals.
------
I would like to send a message to the several nice people I passed while running today. I think I may have scared them. So apologies. You see, I was actually trying to smile. But, as I've mentioned before on this blog, smiling whilst running is tricky - when it comes to a choice between smiling and breathing, breathing tends to win, hands down. So when I try to smile, it's a bit half-hearted, or rather half-mouthed. And I only seem to be able to spare my top lip for these smiles, which results in a sort of grimace that possibly looks like I'm about to stab them rather than smile at them. What makes it worse is that my top lip then sticks to my dehydrated teeth on it's return to it's natural position.
I've decided to practice the cool art of the runner's wave and nod combo instead.
I don't want small kids to have bad dreams.
TTFN.
AND! During my first few runs back I knew I had to be cautious and not go hell for leather so I was deliberately jogging, not running at any real pace. And today, I ran at a more normal pace and knocked a full minute off each mile! I'm down to nearer 10 minute miles again which makes my sub 2 hour goal for Cardiff feel a bit more achievable. I felt strong for nearly all of the run.
However, I still have the mad woman in my head. The mad woman whose response to being hot, sweaty and breathing heavily is "YOU'RE GOING TO DIE!!!". She panics. It's like a reaction to being dangled off a very high cliff. She makes the conversations I have in my head while I'm running most interesting.
She's an assertive mad woman. I keep thinking that one day I'll run and she won't be there but she's pretty persistent. A friend asked me today if the running is getting easier. And of course, I am getting fitter, but I still have these insane debates where she screams "STOP RUNNING! YOU HAVE TO STOP!" at regular intervals.
------
I would like to send a message to the several nice people I passed while running today. I think I may have scared them. So apologies. You see, I was actually trying to smile. But, as I've mentioned before on this blog, smiling whilst running is tricky - when it comes to a choice between smiling and breathing, breathing tends to win, hands down. So when I try to smile, it's a bit half-hearted, or rather half-mouthed. And I only seem to be able to spare my top lip for these smiles, which results in a sort of grimace that possibly looks like I'm about to stab them rather than smile at them. What makes it worse is that my top lip then sticks to my dehydrated teeth on it's return to it's natural position.
I've decided to practice the cool art of the runner's wave and nod combo instead.
I don't want small kids to have bad dreams.
TTFN.
Friday, 9 July 2010
Running on Empty?
Blimey.
That was a bit of a shock.
I've spent all week taking out my frustrations on the spinning bike, confident in the knowledge that with every spin I am increasing my fitness, despite the lack of actual running.
So, this morning I am in sunny London, in Bermondsey. And I decided to do one of my favourite things - a run along the Thames.
And I am careful ... oh so careful. I run up to the park, then stretch, very carefully. Then, I'm off! Up to Tower bridge and along past Hay's Galleria, towards Waterloo. The weather is amazing. The sun shines, there is a breeze coming off the Thames, and it has to be one of the best views in the entire world.
But
My legs don't work.
And my lungs appear to have shrunk.
And I am making wierd gaspy noises as I run.
(Not to mention the fact that everywhere smells pungently of dog's piss but I'm not going to hold myself responsible for that - it just added to the general malaise)
Hmmmm.
I believe this is what is called "Running on Empty". It's Friday, and I hae worked out every day this week. No rest day - maybe my legs are tired?
Or maybe, just everynow and again, you get a crap run. It was only 2 miles. But felt like 13. Scary.
But the jewel is this: On 2 occaisions, for about 1 minute each, I felt I was running like a well-oiled machine. Fleeting feelings - but definitely there! It's like panning for gold - sift through all the shit and there are a couple of jewels.
Leg is not too bad. I cooled down properly, stetched well. It's tight but not as bad as it has been. The groin strain I appeared to pick up today is another issue. Hey ho. Nothing shall stand in my way.
ttfn
That was a bit of a shock.
I've spent all week taking out my frustrations on the spinning bike, confident in the knowledge that with every spin I am increasing my fitness, despite the lack of actual running.
So, this morning I am in sunny London, in Bermondsey. And I decided to do one of my favourite things - a run along the Thames.
And I am careful ... oh so careful. I run up to the park, then stretch, very carefully. Then, I'm off! Up to Tower bridge and along past Hay's Galleria, towards Waterloo. The weather is amazing. The sun shines, there is a breeze coming off the Thames, and it has to be one of the best views in the entire world.
But
My legs don't work.
And my lungs appear to have shrunk.
And I am making wierd gaspy noises as I run.
(Not to mention the fact that everywhere smells pungently of dog's piss but I'm not going to hold myself responsible for that - it just added to the general malaise)
Hmmmm.
I believe this is what is called "Running on Empty". It's Friday, and I hae worked out every day this week. No rest day - maybe my legs are tired?
Or maybe, just everynow and again, you get a crap run. It was only 2 miles. But felt like 13. Scary.
But the jewel is this: On 2 occaisions, for about 1 minute each, I felt I was running like a well-oiled machine. Fleeting feelings - but definitely there! It's like panning for gold - sift through all the shit and there are a couple of jewels.
Leg is not too bad. I cooled down properly, stetched well. It's tight but not as bad as it has been. The groin strain I appeared to pick up today is another issue. Hey ho. Nothing shall stand in my way.
ttfn
Tuesday, 6 July 2010
This is still a running blog
It is.
I am still thwarted by leg problems. I am still not running regularly. And I am watching the calendar days fly off like on a Hitchcock film - each flying leaf of paper getting me one day closer to running a half marathon.
A HALF MARATHON for fuck's sake! What was I thinking?!
*sigh*
But I have decided that this is still a running blog. Even when I can't run, it's still a running blog, because I am still working on strength and fitness each week. And, after a quick visit to the Cardiff Half facebook page today, I realised that I am not the only runner in the world to be cross training instead of running.
The visit to the facebook page was something of a gut wrenching revelation actually. There are many many folk running 20, 30, even 40 miles each week ... ALREADY! And it's still 13 weeks to go.
I am comforting myself with the thought that David Icke was in fact right and that we are literally *over run* with aliens under cover as humans. I believe that these aliens show their most alien traits when they run. It is the ONLY explanation I can think of for the immense distances these nutters are already clocking up.
However, there are also some huming beans on the facebook page. Special mention goes to
I am still thwarted by leg problems. I am still not running regularly. And I am watching the calendar days fly off like on a Hitchcock film - each flying leaf of paper getting me one day closer to running a half marathon.
A HALF MARATHON for fuck's sake! What was I thinking?!
*sigh*
But I have decided that this is still a running blog. Even when I can't run, it's still a running blog, because I am still working on strength and fitness each week. And, after a quick visit to the Cardiff Half facebook page today, I realised that I am not the only runner in the world to be cross training instead of running.
The visit to the facebook page was something of a gut wrenching revelation actually. There are many many folk running 20, 30, even 40 miles each week ... ALREADY! And it's still 13 weeks to go.
I am comforting myself with the thought that David Icke was in fact right and that we are literally *over run* with aliens under cover as humans. I believe that these aliens show their most alien traits when they run. It is the ONLY explanation I can think of for the immense distances these nutters are already clocking up.
However, there are also some huming beans on the facebook page. Special mention goes to
Joshuua Barker
is it bad if im not running anything yet but on the plus side i have bought some very nice running shoes :)
I love you Joshuua.
I am secretly terrified that I have bitten off more than I can chew. My trainer is perfectly confident it will be fine. But he has immensely inflated beliefs of what I can do - as shown on monday when I nearly crashed to the floor trying to lift the weight he completely believes is well within my reach.
To business - last week started back running after about 6 weeks off. I was advised to run 3 very slow and steady 2 mile runs. Unfortunately, although my shin feel better, I have nasty pains in my calf after running. Nasty enough to see me limping for 24 hours after. No amount of stretching seems to help.
Physio is away this week so I have switched to the bike until she gets back, although I think I will try just one more run on Friday. Also have a new upper body weights work out which is much fun as I feel nicely butch and beefy when I heave weights.
So.
That's me.
More soon.
Promise.
Sunday, 16 May 2010
Sunday, 9 May 2010
Distractions and new dimensions
Life hurls all sorts of distractions at you.
Like, the week after you start a blog to countdown to your first ever race, you get shin splints so bad, you aren't allowed to run for a month.
Since I last wrote, the physio signed me off another couple of weeks running, after the mother of all acupuncture sessions which completely removed the throbbing in my shins. Seriously - any of you running in the Bath area should see her for all running related aches and pains - she is a legend.
That sort of distraction tends to have a negative impact on one's blog. Sorry.
I also had a juggernnaut of a distraction a couple of weeks ago as my darling Ma came out the wrong side of a shitty cancer diagnosis. I have no intention of this blog becoming all about cancer. But my exercise has taken on a whole new dimension in the last couple of weeks. And I want to be able to write about it. So had to explain.
I am still best friends with spinning bikes. The ability to push your heart rate up and up and up is fabulous. I am also entertaining myself with my ipod by altering the lyrics and singing under my breath (at least, I think it's under my breath but this is the woman who "silently" farted on the treadmill whilst ipod'd up, only to attract a knowing grin from the guy on the next treadmill). My favourite lyric bastardisation is replacing "Burn, baby Burn, disco inferno" with "Die, cancer die! Cancer inferno". Ok - it could do with a little more imaginative work, but I can't tell you how much better it makes me feel. Also, just matching speed cycling pace with "Fuck you cancer, fuck you and die" is highly recommended.
I am focussed on getting my running back on track. I am relying on being able to put my shoes on, take off, and park my brain for an hour or so as we all head off down this new path that the juggernaut set us on. Meanwhile, trips to the gym have become a bit less frequent as it takes that much more time and emotional energy to haul one's ass to the gym than it does to open the front door and start running.
Like, the week after you start a blog to countdown to your first ever race, you get shin splints so bad, you aren't allowed to run for a month.
Since I last wrote, the physio signed me off another couple of weeks running, after the mother of all acupuncture sessions which completely removed the throbbing in my shins. Seriously - any of you running in the Bath area should see her for all running related aches and pains - she is a legend.
That sort of distraction tends to have a negative impact on one's blog. Sorry.
I also had a juggernnaut of a distraction a couple of weeks ago as my darling Ma came out the wrong side of a shitty cancer diagnosis. I have no intention of this blog becoming all about cancer. But my exercise has taken on a whole new dimension in the last couple of weeks. And I want to be able to write about it. So had to explain.
I am still best friends with spinning bikes. The ability to push your heart rate up and up and up is fabulous. I am also entertaining myself with my ipod by altering the lyrics and singing under my breath (at least, I think it's under my breath but this is the woman who "silently" farted on the treadmill whilst ipod'd up, only to attract a knowing grin from the guy on the next treadmill). My favourite lyric bastardisation is replacing "Burn, baby Burn, disco inferno" with "Die, cancer die! Cancer inferno". Ok - it could do with a little more imaginative work, but I can't tell you how much better it makes me feel. Also, just matching speed cycling pace with "Fuck you cancer, fuck you and die" is highly recommended.
I am focussed on getting my running back on track. I am relying on being able to put my shoes on, take off, and park my brain for an hour or so as we all head off down this new path that the juggernaut set us on. Meanwhile, trips to the gym have become a bit less frequent as it takes that much more time and emotional energy to haul one's ass to the gym than it does to open the front door and start running.
Sunday, 25 April 2010
Back off the saddle
Yep. Today was off the saddle and back onto the tarmac for a tentative nursery run having been told not to run for a week. I woke up and started to watch the marathon ... but the catholic in me made me go for my own run before I could enjoy it.
(I'm not catholic but if memory serves, I did have some catholic in me at one time.)
My wonderful friend Angel came for my run with me. We did intervals and I did some hills.
Good stuff happenned: My fitness has really stepped up a gear ... WITHOUT having run for almost 2 weeks. Muscles was right all along about those spinning bikes. 40 mins sweating your face off is having huge pay offs. The run today in terms of fitness was my first ever completely comfortable run. (crap for training but exactly what I was told to do) It felt amazing to be able to comfortably jog along ... really amazing.
And crap stuff happenned: My shin is really hurting. In the same place it hurt when I first went to the physio and I thought was now fixed. I strsapped it as shown, iced it when I got back, and did the special stretches I was told but it really bloody hurts now.
Back to the spinning bikes for me until I get to physio again, hopefully tomorrow or tuesday.
Dear universe. Please send me a healthy shin. I could really do with it right now.
Amenchairsondesksgoodafternoonmrspope
(I'm not catholic but if memory serves, I did have some catholic in me at one time.)
My wonderful friend Angel came for my run with me. We did intervals and I did some hills.
Good stuff happenned: My fitness has really stepped up a gear ... WITHOUT having run for almost 2 weeks. Muscles was right all along about those spinning bikes. 40 mins sweating your face off is having huge pay offs. The run today in terms of fitness was my first ever completely comfortable run. (crap for training but exactly what I was told to do) It felt amazing to be able to comfortably jog along ... really amazing.
And crap stuff happenned: My shin is really hurting. In the same place it hurt when I first went to the physio and I thought was now fixed. I strsapped it as shown, iced it when I got back, and did the special stretches I was told but it really bloody hurts now.
Back to the spinning bikes for me until I get to physio again, hopefully tomorrow or tuesday.
Dear universe. Please send me a healthy shin. I could really do with it right now.
Amenchairsondesksgoodafternoonmrspope
Friday, 23 April 2010
What creates hiatus?
Well ...
A mad dash to Bordeaux and back to rescue Best Beloved can create a hiatus.
A large plate of crepes and a demi beer in front of Paris Gard Du Nord can create a hiatus.
A change in physio advice after a follow up instructing some rest for the shins.
All these things can create a hiatus in training.
And, it appears, so can starting a running blog!
Hence - nothing for a week.
Nothing!
Nowt.
Nothing like starting a running blog to really keep you training.
However!
I'm off to the gym for a spin and a workout.
And am back in the zone!
As you all were.
x
A mad dash to Bordeaux and back to rescue Best Beloved can create a hiatus.
A large plate of crepes and a demi beer in front of Paris Gard Du Nord can create a hiatus.
A change in physio advice after a follow up instructing some rest for the shins.
All these things can create a hiatus in training.
And, it appears, so can starting a running blog!
Hence - nothing for a week.
Nothing!
Nowt.
Nothing like starting a running blog to really keep you training.
However!
I'm off to the gym for a spin and a workout.
And am back in the zone!
As you all were.
x
Wednesday, 14 April 2010
SpinSpinSpinSpinSpin
I did it! Muscles has been trying to get me onto a spinning bike for months. However, an adductor pull that took 75 years to heal has kept me off due to ungainly an completely graceless movements.
But today, wanting to give my posterior shin splints a rest (yep - saw physio ... good news on the whole - more below), I hopped on a cycle for a fast spin. The last time I enjoyed a fast spin cycle, it invovled a large glass of wine, a Best Beloved-free weekend, and bracing myself quite securely against the wall of the conservatory. This was a whole other thing.
And I loved it!!! I particluarly loved the fact that I have never sweated so much in my entire life. (I am talkming about the gym now, not the conservatory.) There's something deeply satisfying about putting your head down and peddling your socks off, watching sweat drip .. drip ... drip off your chin, nose and eyebrows. (Have I ever told you how attractive I am in the gym?) I did some hard 1 minute climbs, but mostly enjoyed head down, very fast cycling. My heart rate was right up there too - just like when I run on the treadmill. I am feeling very pleased that I've found something that gives me the same workout as the treadmill.
I took most of my weights up too and would like to offer a cautionary tale. When you are balanced back on an inflatable exercise ball, with two 9kg weights perilously balanced above your head, beware what your ipod shuffle throws at you. Today I got an attack of the giggles as my ipod decided that was the right time to play Andrea Bocelli crooning jingle bells with the Muppets in lusty support. 9kg weights make a big noise as when they drop 1 metre to the floor.
As mentioned, I went to the physio - I think I love her. She was fab, and with a few questions and pokes and prods, she mnassaged then stuck needles in me. My left leg is now completely free of pain, but my right leg is not as simple. I think it will need another session, but wonderful physio said just to pop in and she'd fit me in between clients at no charge. Have I told you I love her? I can keep on running too, she showed me a cunning way of stretching the pesky deep muscles that are causing the problem. She also gave me some tape to tape up the offending area for 2 weeks and I'm to ice both legs after runs for a week.
I have no idea who I have become. If you had told me 6 months ago that I would be relieved that I can continue running, and be prepared to ice, tape and stretch, I would have laughed. In your face. Loudly.
But today, wanting to give my posterior shin splints a rest (yep - saw physio ... good news on the whole - more below), I hopped on a cycle for a fast spin. The last time I enjoyed a fast spin cycle, it invovled a large glass of wine, a Best Beloved-free weekend, and bracing myself quite securely against the wall of the conservatory. This was a whole other thing.
And I loved it!!! I particluarly loved the fact that I have never sweated so much in my entire life. (I am talkming about the gym now, not the conservatory.) There's something deeply satisfying about putting your head down and peddling your socks off, watching sweat drip .. drip ... drip off your chin, nose and eyebrows. (Have I ever told you how attractive I am in the gym?) I did some hard 1 minute climbs, but mostly enjoyed head down, very fast cycling. My heart rate was right up there too - just like when I run on the treadmill. I am feeling very pleased that I've found something that gives me the same workout as the treadmill.
I took most of my weights up too and would like to offer a cautionary tale. When you are balanced back on an inflatable exercise ball, with two 9kg weights perilously balanced above your head, beware what your ipod shuffle throws at you. Today I got an attack of the giggles as my ipod decided that was the right time to play Andrea Bocelli crooning jingle bells with the Muppets in lusty support. 9kg weights make a big noise as when they drop 1 metre to the floor.
As mentioned, I went to the physio - I think I love her. She was fab, and with a few questions and pokes and prods, she mnassaged then stuck needles in me. My left leg is now completely free of pain, but my right leg is not as simple. I think it will need another session, but wonderful physio said just to pop in and she'd fit me in between clients at no charge. Have I told you I love her? I can keep on running too, she showed me a cunning way of stretching the pesky deep muscles that are causing the problem. She also gave me some tape to tape up the offending area for 2 weeks and I'm to ice both legs after runs for a week.
I have no idea who I have become. If you had told me 6 months ago that I would be relieved that I can continue running, and be prepared to ice, tape and stretch, I would have laughed. In your face. Loudly.
Tuesday, 13 April 2010
Q: When is a rest day not a rest day?
Answer: When it is 2 rest days.
I decided against the gym today and chose instead to frenetically manage long distance calls with France to ensure Best Beloved is delivered home earlier than expected - a spot of severe homesickness from a child that knows his own mind has resulted in a bucket load of stress for his poor mother who felt parts of herself unravelling today.
The good news is that flights and escorts are in place and my calves had an extra day of rest. I'm pretty sure at some point today I heard my calves conversing with each other. I picked up on snatches of the conversation - someting along the lines of "It must be Christmas"...
So, gym option rolls over to tomorrow - still planning on avoiding treadmill and using bikes and rowers prior to physio appt.
I have also had some tests today to confirm an irregular heart beat that cropped up yesterday is indeed down to maternal neurosis instead of the long run - looks like I'm right but all the Runningblogs were clear - GET IT CHECKED! So I did.
Other, more fabulous news is that the visist from my trainer, Muscles, on Monday confirmed that I am now within the healthy weight : height ratio as set down by those greek gods and goddesses themselves, the powers that be.
That be what? Mostly overweight and unfit by their own definition maybe?
Anyhoo - my increased fitness and the weight loss that follows is immensely pleasing. And a great motivator for the race. I might actually look like a runner by then ... you know what I mean, lean, drawn, and slightly haunted.
Roll on October.
I decided against the gym today and chose instead to frenetically manage long distance calls with France to ensure Best Beloved is delivered home earlier than expected - a spot of severe homesickness from a child that knows his own mind has resulted in a bucket load of stress for his poor mother who felt parts of herself unravelling today.
The good news is that flights and escorts are in place and my calves had an extra day of rest. I'm pretty sure at some point today I heard my calves conversing with each other. I picked up on snatches of the conversation - someting along the lines of "It must be Christmas"...
So, gym option rolls over to tomorrow - still planning on avoiding treadmill and using bikes and rowers prior to physio appt.
I have also had some tests today to confirm an irregular heart beat that cropped up yesterday is indeed down to maternal neurosis instead of the long run - looks like I'm right but all the Runningblogs were clear - GET IT CHECKED! So I did.
Other, more fabulous news is that the visist from my trainer, Muscles, on Monday confirmed that I am now within the healthy weight : height ratio as set down by those greek gods and goddesses themselves, the powers that be.
That be what? Mostly overweight and unfit by their own definition maybe?
Anyhoo - my increased fitness and the weight loss that follows is immensely pleasing. And a great motivator for the race. I might actually look like a runner by then ... you know what I mean, lean, drawn, and slightly haunted.
Roll on October.
Monday, 12 April 2010
Runners' smile
My first long run taught me a few things.
There is a pecking order for who one ackowledges on a run. And let me explain to you that I am a natural extrovert. The success of my day can directly relate to the number of other huming beans I manage to connect with on that day. So it's very odd for me to pass someone without smiling widely and probably saying hi as our ships pass in the night.
But all that changes on a run. After all, a girl's got to breathe, right?
Pedestrians only get a nod - and only if they move out of the way AND give me an encouraging or sypathetic look. I can tell the difference by the way between a sympathetic look and a patronising one so don't think you can put one over on me.
Cyclists get nothing. No eye contact. And certainly no nod. They have wheels. And yet insist they are exercising as they whizz past. Pah! Shmexercise. Arse to the cyclists.
Runners - now, here it gets tricky. I have developed the need to establish contact with other runners as they approach. I feel the need to engage in a silent, all knowing connection that transcends words. The connection must be eye contact - and it is followed by Runners' smile.
Runners' smile is different in many ways from normal smile. It is characterised by its ability to only spread half the distance of a normal smile, may sometimes be accompanied by a small amount of dribble, and is extremely fleeting. Whereas a normal smile travels up the face and brings the eye wrinkles into play, Runners' smile only affects the lips. Even the most deeply dimpled of people (and I include myself in that group) will find that the smile only ever activates lips - no dimples and no cheeks.
I like to think that my Runners' smile says: "Hi! I'm a bright and breezy runner just like you!" or "Yeah - I'm on mile 14 of my 18 mile run today. It's my second long run in a week" or, frankly, "Aren't we just bloody ACE!"
However, on reflection, I am concerned that my Runners' smile merely says this:
"Hi. I'm new and clearly in pain. I can only afford to smile this much, because breathing is more precious to me than you are right now"
On a more practical note - lower right calf in bits today, looking forward to my physio appt on weds. I will hit the gym tomorrow but only play on bikes, x trainers or rowers. Muscles has re-jigged my plan so I do 3 runs a week, sticking with the 5 miler as my long run for the next few weeks and no treadmill running in between so my legs get a bit of a break.
Happy smiling. And if you were the runner with the overly perky pony tail who reciprocated on Sunday with a bright smile and "Hi - you ok?" - remember, no-one likes a show off.
There is a pecking order for who one ackowledges on a run. And let me explain to you that I am a natural extrovert. The success of my day can directly relate to the number of other huming beans I manage to connect with on that day. So it's very odd for me to pass someone without smiling widely and probably saying hi as our ships pass in the night.
But all that changes on a run. After all, a girl's got to breathe, right?
Pedestrians only get a nod - and only if they move out of the way AND give me an encouraging or sypathetic look. I can tell the difference by the way between a sympathetic look and a patronising one so don't think you can put one over on me.
Cyclists get nothing. No eye contact. And certainly no nod. They have wheels. And yet insist they are exercising as they whizz past. Pah! Shmexercise. Arse to the cyclists.
Runners - now, here it gets tricky. I have developed the need to establish contact with other runners as they approach. I feel the need to engage in a silent, all knowing connection that transcends words. The connection must be eye contact - and it is followed by Runners' smile.
Runners' smile is different in many ways from normal smile. It is characterised by its ability to only spread half the distance of a normal smile, may sometimes be accompanied by a small amount of dribble, and is extremely fleeting. Whereas a normal smile travels up the face and brings the eye wrinkles into play, Runners' smile only affects the lips. Even the most deeply dimpled of people (and I include myself in that group) will find that the smile only ever activates lips - no dimples and no cheeks.
I like to think that my Runners' smile says: "Hi! I'm a bright and breezy runner just like you!" or "Yeah - I'm on mile 14 of my 18 mile run today. It's my second long run in a week" or, frankly, "Aren't we just bloody ACE!"
However, on reflection, I am concerned that my Runners' smile merely says this:
"Hi. I'm new and clearly in pain. I can only afford to smile this much, because breathing is more precious to me than you are right now"
On a more practical note - lower right calf in bits today, looking forward to my physio appt on weds. I will hit the gym tomorrow but only play on bikes, x trainers or rowers. Muscles has re-jigged my plan so I do 3 runs a week, sticking with the 5 miler as my long run for the next few weeks and no treadmill running in between so my legs get a bit of a break.
Happy smiling. And if you were the runner with the overly perky pony tail who reciprocated on Sunday with a bright smile and "Hi - you ok?" - remember, no-one likes a show off.
Sunday, 11 April 2010
My first "long run"
It's Sunday. And my new found foray into the world of runner's blogs suggests quite strongly that I've had it wrong about Sundays all my life. I've always believed that Sunday is the day of garden centres. Or B&Q. Or church (or so I hear). Or standing on the touch line in the driving rain, cheering on Best Beloved.
Turns out I've had it all wrong. Runningblogs are clear. Sunday is the day for your "long run". After a little research, I discovered that the "long run" is the name given to a run that is a) long but b) doens't knacker you out too much. This is different from the "hard run" which is a) hard and b) really knackers you out a lot and c) but is shorter.
With that priceless knowledge safely stored in the part of my brain that deals with "pretending to know what I'm doing when it comes to running" - I set off. After consultation with The Starting Mate (otherwise known as the git who talked me into registering us for Cardiff) I decide to head off along the canal tow path for a 5 miler. And for someone who has been running in kilometres - that's farther than I thought.
For some reason, it's made of awful for the first stretch - but on the return leg, I manage to dig deep and find my inner mongrel. I lift my knees a bit higher, keep my back up and try not to feel like I'm about to collapse. Because the oddest thing is, my mind reacts to running as if I'm permanently on the verge of collapse.
It's as if my psyche still deeply relates running to being chased. In a bad way. And can't gets it's head aroud the fact that my body is now quite fit. Each time I run, I have to have the same conversation with my psyche who is screaming in a rubbish girly way "I'm going to run out of air and die!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!". I have good ammo for this conversation. I check my heart rate, and rationally and lucidly point out that I am not going to die - in fact, when I perform a system check, I find that physically, I am feeling fine. So ha! Take that, rubbish psyche of mine.
This ALWAYS works.
For about 15 minutes.
Anyhoo - pleased to report that I finished my run, then did an extra 30 mins in the gym doing my strength exercises.
Next steps - break the news to Muscles (otherwise known as my trainer) tomorrow and then feel the pain of the new programme he'll set me. Then see physio on Weds who will magically return my lower legs to human form, instead of the mangled mess they are becoming.
Turns out I've had it all wrong. Runningblogs are clear. Sunday is the day for your "long run". After a little research, I discovered that the "long run" is the name given to a run that is a) long but b) doens't knacker you out too much. This is different from the "hard run" which is a) hard and b) really knackers you out a lot and c) but is shorter.
With that priceless knowledge safely stored in the part of my brain that deals with "pretending to know what I'm doing when it comes to running" - I set off. After consultation with The Starting Mate (otherwise known as the git who talked me into registering us for Cardiff) I decide to head off along the canal tow path for a 5 miler. And for someone who has been running in kilometres - that's farther than I thought.
For some reason, it's made of awful for the first stretch - but on the return leg, I manage to dig deep and find my inner mongrel. I lift my knees a bit higher, keep my back up and try not to feel like I'm about to collapse. Because the oddest thing is, my mind reacts to running as if I'm permanently on the verge of collapse.
It's as if my psyche still deeply relates running to being chased. In a bad way. And can't gets it's head aroud the fact that my body is now quite fit. Each time I run, I have to have the same conversation with my psyche who is screaming in a rubbish girly way "I'm going to run out of air and die!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!". I have good ammo for this conversation. I check my heart rate, and rationally and lucidly point out that I am not going to die - in fact, when I perform a system check, I find that physically, I am feeling fine. So ha! Take that, rubbish psyche of mine.
This ALWAYS works.
For about 15 minutes.
Anyhoo - pleased to report that I finished my run, then did an extra 30 mins in the gym doing my strength exercises.
Next steps - break the news to Muscles (otherwise known as my trainer) tomorrow and then feel the pain of the new programme he'll set me. Then see physio on Weds who will magically return my lower legs to human form, instead of the mangled mess they are becoming.
As the mists cleared this morning....
I wallowed in the luxury of a lie in today. Best beloved is on his exchange trip, safely ensconsed (one hopes) in France. As the murkiness of sleep began to clear, my head began to process some feelings.
"Ah, interesting" my head thought, "What's this I feel? A mild but perceptible feeling of worry or concern. Well, that makes sense, Best Beloved is 100's of miles away, of course I'm going to have these feelings - s'natural really. And now I've accurately apportioned these feelings to their cause, they will subside and I will wake up bright and breezy and happy.
"Any minute now...
"Here it comes ....
"That feeling of peace and calm...
"Or not."
You see, the feelings persisted, they did not subside. If anything, they grew more intense. It's like my emotions were trying to tell me something ... to remind me of something. Something I'd done? Yes! No. Wait. Something I was going to do...
The mists swirled, danced around, laughing at me, shaking their mist heads at me and laughing, for sure, as they parted, allowing me full and unobstructed access to clear recollection of the night before.
And my head said:
"What have you done?"
I have registered for the Cardiff half marathon on October 17th.
I have been woring with a personal trainer for the last 6 months and have got fit.
I've never been fit before. And I have to admit - I like it.
I am writing this blog to inspire me, and to hold myself to account because I am scared.
I am scared because I am getting into the ring with myself. No-one else. I am the only person accountable for making this happen. Success rests squarely on my shoulders.
So.
Let's get started.
"Ah, interesting" my head thought, "What's this I feel? A mild but perceptible feeling of worry or concern. Well, that makes sense, Best Beloved is 100's of miles away, of course I'm going to have these feelings - s'natural really. And now I've accurately apportioned these feelings to their cause, they will subside and I will wake up bright and breezy and happy.
"Any minute now...
"Here it comes ....
"That feeling of peace and calm...
"Or not."
You see, the feelings persisted, they did not subside. If anything, they grew more intense. It's like my emotions were trying to tell me something ... to remind me of something. Something I'd done? Yes! No. Wait. Something I was going to do...
The mists swirled, danced around, laughing at me, shaking their mist heads at me and laughing, for sure, as they parted, allowing me full and unobstructed access to clear recollection of the night before.
And my head said:
"What have you done?"
I have registered for the Cardiff half marathon on October 17th.
I have been woring with a personal trainer for the last 6 months and have got fit.
I've never been fit before. And I have to admit - I like it.
I am writing this blog to inspire me, and to hold myself to account because I am scared.
I am scared because I am getting into the ring with myself. No-one else. I am the only person accountable for making this happen. Success rests squarely on my shoulders.
So.
Let's get started.
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