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
Sunday, 25 April 2010
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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