Living up to the name

Sooo…  there now follows very little at all about running. This is because I have done very little running at all.

Since that triathlon I did last month, I have run one less time than the number of EU referendums the UK has had.

Now I’m not sure if it’s the cause or the effect…  if it’s to do with the lack of running or the result of the referendum… but my motivation has been on a fairly low ebb recently.

My Garmin will tell you I have been running…but it’s lying.  I’ve been playing tennis while wearing it so I can see what distance I’ve been covering and still get ‘BOUNTS‘ points. (I’ve written about them before, I’ve effectively earned £15 so far this year for free, just doing the little bit of activity I already do. If you’re looking for a Bounts referral code, use avery1132 or just click the link for 100 free points when you do your first activity.)

Smallest child has taken up tennis (instead of dancing) which starts at 9am on a Saturday, so that’s parkrun off the agenda for the foreseeable future.  I don’t mind that.  Just glad that she is being active and enjoying it.  The biggest child has been doing a lot of tennis too (more about that later), and thankfully, the same sport has been keeping me active in this non-running month.

It’s weird that I enjoyed the triathlon so much, ran a great 5k time considering the swim and bike beforehand, and yet have done nothing to do with running since.  In part this may be due to the dodgy left ankle which seems to flare up after any exercise recently.  It may also just be a bit of the post-race blues that I often get.- does anyone else get that? Oh… and putting a bit of my recent weight loss back where it came from.  Here’s a picture of just how unmotivated I’ve been…. I have a brand spanking new pair of some of my favourite running shoes in the cupboard – unworn – tags still attatched… and they’ve been there for four weeks.  Even their presence can’t persuade me outside yet.

  
I have signed up to one of the free 5k decathlon race series in September and a local 10k in November/December (I can’t remember exactly), so I have something to work towards at some point at least…and a bit of work to do beforehand.

So I really have been ‘Not Much Of a Runner’ recently. My thoughts a few years ago of doing an Ironman before my 40th birthday will remain as just that – thoughts.  I did look into it, but the cost financially and physically have me beat(en) before I’ve started.  There’s a reason not many people do one.  Mine is not one of those inspirational ‘Can do’ blogs I’m afraid.  If you want one though, go and check out www.runslikeadog.wordpress.com and read about Cathy, who is two weeks away from doing her first Ironman .

 

It’s been all about the tennis for me and my boy. With the help of a little bit of luck, he was selected to go onto Centre Court at the Nottingham Women’s Open Tennis to go and toss the coin at the start of the quarter final match featuring the British player ‘Tara Moore’ (who lost incidentally) – obviously a highly specialised job that only a ten year old can do.

Him doing that meant that my daughter, my wife, and I got free tickets for the day and we saw some great tennis.  I also got free tickets earlier in the week thanks to the tennis club I play for.  The following weeks thanks to another internet competition I’d entered, we got free tickets to the semi-finals of the challenger tour (kind of like the equivalent to the Championship as opposed to the Premiership – to use an English football comparison – and I won’t mention English football again).  This involved a lovely drive to Ilkley, Yorkshire and the prize also included a grass court coaching session on that morning.  I hat a bit of a hit too but pretty much left my son to it for a couple of hours before settling in to watch some more great tennis.

   
    
  

  

As a result of yet another competition, I then won free tickets to the men’s ATP event in Nottingham on the Monday (I had already taken the week off work) but anticipating it would be chucking it down, I cycled there and back home so at least I got some exercise despite only seeing 20 minutes of tennis before needing to collect the kids from school.

However I then got a message from the competition people saying that as it was such a washout on the Monday, and one of their other winners was unable to accept their free tickets for the Tuesday, would I like them.  Well yes I would indeed, I said. So I cycled again on the Tuesday and this time got a bit sunburnt.

  

   
On the Wednesday, I actually already had paid-for tickets that I’d purchased months ago (see, I do actually contribute sometimes) and I cycled in once more, but this time I had a friend collecting the kids from school and I wouldn’t have to leave early and I could relax a bit.

  

 Logic would dictate that carrying a bottle of bubbly for over half an hour on the bike and then opening it would only have one result. Well it did… and the cork landed – as I was helpfully informed by the security personnel – on court number 3! oops.

No more free tickets since then.  I’m not going to Wimbledon this year.  Maybe my son will get good enough in about 15 years to qualify there and I’ll get my free tickets then.

 

I’ve been playing tennis as well, though –  I’ve bought a new racquet AND tennis shoes, and I’m  working my way through the rounds of my club’s own championship so will be playing in the semi-final soon… most likely to be against our club’s coach… mmmm… I know this is supposed to be a running blog, but I’ll let you know how much I lose by.

I don’t think I’ll be winning a trophy…

Advertisement

How did it go? (Nottingham Sprint Triathlon)

June 2016

So my last blog post was a short introduction to how I intended to beat my younger self at this year’s triathlon. 

I suppose, to be honest, it wasn’t so much how as just that I had that idea. There was no plan as such. Just an intention to swim hard, bike hard and run hard and then generally hope that I’m fitter and harder than I was four years ago!

This is a short post. You know how I’m no good at long race reports. (I can actually hear your collective ‘phew!’)

The first thing to note is that I did fit into both my tri-suit and my wetsuit. Four years on from their last outing this was no mean feat… unless by ‘mean’ you actually just mean ‘average’ in which case, that’s exactly what it was. But I was s bit worried about that do it was indeed a good start.

SWIM (750m open water – 15:23)

The timing of the swim start had been changed due to a course change upon the discovery of some blue-green algae in the lake. They needn’t have bothered as I am colour-blind anyway and besides, the water was so murky you couldn’t tell what anything was.

I swam the swim ok, but my snug wetsuit seemed to make lifting my arms out of the water really hard. I would also get stupidly dizzy and need a few strokes of breaststroke just to stop the world spinning. I alternated between this and front crawl until the exit gantry, where I then proceeded to try and remove my rubber onesie while trying not to fall over! Proper dizzy!

I later found out my son, watching, was saying, “What is he doing?” Upon viewing my antics.

BIKE… (20k – 36:53)

“…Eventually!” – my son.

This felt straight-forward… with a few corners thrown in. Four laps of not crashing. 20km.

I was never going to be super fast on the bike but I overtook a few people and was overtaken by a few different people… though I consoled myself with the fact that most of these were not in fact ‘cycling’ so much as ‘piloting futuristic looking spacecraft’. I’m sure I would have overtaken myself if I was piloting futuristic looking spacecraft too!

I did one of those clever, off the pedal – straight into running with the bike -dismount thingies, but I think I was going a little faster than I thought because my legs had to work like billy-o to prevent immediate face-planting embarrassment.

RUN  (5k – 22:51)

This must weirdly have had it’s benefits though as I settled into a steady running pace that I thought I could sustain for the next 5k and a glance at my Garmin told me this was 7:45/mile . Pleasantly surprised with that so I stuck with it.

I slowly picked off a few runners and didn’t get caught by anyone (that I remember) which felt good (obviously anyone faster than me at running was also faster than me at swimming and/or cycling).

I still had enough energy for a strong finish in just over 1 hour 18 minutes – just over five minutes faster than my time in 2012 🙂

  
If I continue at this rate of improvement I shall be winning this event by the time I am 55 years old! 

Many thanks to the family for cheering on the chubby bloke in a leotard, and to the marshals – who incidentally were lovely to me (the friendly, law-abiding triathlete novice) but who had to deal with a few trumped-up numpties, I heard.

It is now June… Which in the past has meant JUNEATHON which has meant daily blogging. I can’t see that happening…but maybe a few more regular ones this month.

Packages, pants and PBs

Part 1 – packages

Spoiler: This post contains a full frontal photo of me in a rubber suit with my package clearly visible.

At the end of this month, I shall be racing a triathlon for the fist time in a long time. So long has it been, that on Wednesday last week, I thought it prudent to check that my triathlon suit has not drastically shrunk during its time in my drawer.

It has. A little. But I was able to squeeze myself in. Just. I hope it returns to its normal size in the next few weeks!

It has been even longer (about 3 years?) since I wore my open-water swimming wetsuit. I thought I’d perhaps try that on too. This took longer. It even required a break part way through – to cut my nails for fear of tearing the rubber in my efforts to wrench the obviously aged and stiffened material further on to my muscular, svelte frame. I can’t believe this suit has shrunk as much as it has!

After the leg/bum/tum workout that was the application of the lower half, I crouch down and manage to get one arm in, using the ‘slowly standing straight’ method of pulling the remainder of the wetsuit into approximate position. 

I figure, as long as I don’t need to breathe at all during the swim section of the triathlon, I shall be fine. 

Using a combination of yoga poses, near dislocation, and the sheer determination that only wetsuit wearers possess, I managed to actually put both arms in AND zip the zipper all the way up!

Yeah baby!

Woo hoo!

*Dingggg Dongggg* 

What??!

*Dingggg Dongggg*

!

An actual ding-dong. A someone-at-the-door ding-dong. A day before son’s birthday, might be a parcel, best not ignore it, sort of ding-dong.

I have no choice. I go and answer it. I try in vain to explain exactly why I’m wearing an overly tight-fitting rubber suit on one of the hottest days of the year so far as I collect the package – clearly seen in the photo below (I knew instantly that this would be a blog post  – and one that would require a photo with a caption!).

I have decided that every day, between now and May 28th, I shall put on the tri-suit/wetsuit combo as a method of training. It ticks all the boxes:

Strength
Endurance
Flexibility

…and it’s quite motivational!

Part 2 – pants

I was recently offered some more Chaffree underwear for free – I declined.

I have written before about Chaffree underwear. They asked me to. They sent me some free to try. I like them – a lot. If I didn’t, I would say. They work – if they didn’t, I would say.

Question – So why did I decline some free ones?

Answer – Because they’re worth buying! So I bought them.

In the interests of transparency, I have to declare at this point that having bought myself a further two pairs, Amanda, the Chaffree boss-lady, sent me an extra pair anyway.

So if you’re reading this and your thighs don’t chafe, then fine. No problem. Keep doing what you’re doing. It works…

… but if you do… seriously consider giving these a go. I wasn’t asked to write this. I want to. Because I love you. 

Not entirely true. 

I don’t reallyknow who you are. You could be anybody. I might know you. I might have met you. I might even love you, I suppose. Mum and dad occasionally read this blog. Hi Mum. Hi Dad. I love them. The rest of you… well… You’re lovely too I’m sure… But  the point is I did just want to write this as I wouldn’t want any of you to suffer unnecessarily with the pain that comes with chafing, especially when (but not limited to) running.

If you’re a blogger/runner/professional-underwear-reviewer then find them on Twitter (@chaffree) and get in touch with Amanda, as I know she’s always on the lookout for bloggers who write betterer than wot I do an’ that.

Part 3 – PBs

It’s been a little while since I got a 5k PB [ ‘personal best’ that is – for the benefit of my aging parents…and American people 😉 ]. Not since my little PB streak inspired by a new Garmin and a bit of weight loss before Christmas. But a couple of weeks ago, my son’s school hosted their annual 5k charity race and we both got PBs. He broke his by 4 minutes(!) to go sub-30 with 29:20, and I took about 30 seconds of mine to go sub-22  for the first time ever with a 21:45.

—————————————–

In case you were wondering… that package in the wetsuit photo…it was some new running shorts that I won through completing a challenge with ‘Running Heroes‘ (if you sign up, use referral code 6w7m for extra points!). It wasn’t a present for my son. I could have hidden and not answered the door and it wouldn’t have mattered.

The Ashby 20 + NB Lite Packable – Part 2

Well that was an eventful weekend.

Warning: This is a long(ish) one.

I will get on to the review part of this post in just a second so please don’t get put off by the next paragraph – it’s not as depressing at it may at first sound. 

(I’ll include side headings in this post so you can skip to the bits you came here for if you like. I won’t take offence)

PERSONAL

So, a little personal news.  I mentioned a couple of weeks ago that my Grandmother (‘Granny’ to me) had had a stroke.  Up until that point she was living independently at her own home at the age of 92. She recovered partially from that stroke and she was able to see and talk to my dad and his brothers over the next few days… but while still in hospital she suffered another stroke and never regained consciousness, dying on Saturday morning. We will all miss her and her random Christmas presents (though, I have to admit they were actually disappointingly very appropriate just recently) but we are grateful for her full and active life.  

She didn’t even read my blog while she was here so I’m doubtful she’ll see this next bit now… but… ‘Goodbye Granny’.

TENNIS 

At the point I heard the news, I was dropping child 1 (aged 9) at his 10:00am tennis coaching. I parked up at the club and then helped out there for a couple of hours. I then was due to play in a match an hour later so after a quick lunch, I then served at my child for half an hour while he attempted to return them.

The mixed doubles match I was in started at 1pm and all seemed to be going well. Child 1 was in the clubhouse listening to the football match on the radio and… …and then I noticed play had stopped on the adjacent court. One of our men had got injured two games in and couldn’t continue. As it was so early in the match, our opponents graciously allowed a substitution to take place. Step up Child 1.

So after two hours of coaching that morning he then very much steps up to the mark and plays the ten remaining games of the first match… then 12 games in the second match and a further 12 in the third – helping his partner to win just enough games for our club to win overall. Nice one, son.

ASHBY 20 (pre-race)

So although nearly 5 hours of tennis is not normal preparation the day before a 20 mile road race, there was a part of me that was happy not to expect too much of myself at this event. I would try to run the whole way round, take it slow from the start, NOT run a half marathon PB by over five minutes and then slow massively in the final few miles (like last year!); I would enjoy it. Secretly, I would have loved a time below 3 hours but I accepted that this was unlikely as it would mean averaging 9 minute miles for the whole 20, and it’s officially ‘undulating’. Anything around 3:10:00 and I’d be happy.

My hard-working wife had decided to come along with with the kids too so they would drop me at race HQ and then camp out on the course somewhere to offer support…

NEW BALANCE LITE PACKABLE 

  
This was THE perfect jacket for the start line today. There was no rain but it was cold and it kept the wind chill right off while doing that thing where you hang around and decide whether you can really be bothered enough to queue for the portaloos. A much more stylish alternative to the 1980s Karate Kid bad man look courtesy of an adapted bin bag…
  
  
  
I wore it for the first 4 miles, packed it into its own pocket and carried it for the next two and then chucked it at my family when I passed them at mile 6. It was so light though that it flew over their heads and onto a random person’s drive. Sorry about that, random person. In a moment of instant payback though, I wasn’t looking where I was going and ran straight into a traffic cone. The pain in my toe thankfully only lasted for about a mile.

Now I think I’ve said, I like the jacket. It’s proper light, so portable and so functional BUT  there’s this thing…

…the zip.

 It works and everything…very smooth…well made, etc…

…but it’s on the wrong side isn’t it?

My other jackets…

   
    
   

…always with the moveable zippy bit on the left (as I look at it when wearing).

Then there’s the New Balance Lite Packable… zipper on the right.

  
This should not be a tricky thing for a moderately intelligent human being, you would think. But can my brain get around this?… no. It’s like one of those trick bikes that steers the wrong way at a fair. Have you seen them? No matter. They exist, and it’s like that. My brain just cannot do the switch. It has been the undoing of me…. or not, as the case may be.

Just thought – Do women’s jackets zip the other way? This is officially a men’s one… 

 
…see.

So there you go, anyway…

Summary = Great jacket. Weird brain-boggling zip.

Disclaimer: This is not the most important thing in the world.

ASHBY 20 REVIEW (cntd)

I’ve done plenty of 6 mile runs recently and some of them at faster than 9 minute miles so keeping this going to mile 10 seemed straight-forward.
When I got to half-marathon distance at just under the 2-hour mark, I partly thought, “Well done. That’s sticking to the pacing plan.” And another part of me thought, “mmm… I was here last year about 8 minutes earlier and still finished the whole race at 3 hours 4 mins”.

The plan then became to try and keep steady pace until mile 17 and then do maths.

At mile 17 I did maths. All I needed to do was a parkrun distance in 26 mins to break the 3-hour mark. This might be tough, but do-able!

Then something strange happened.

Something that has never happened before towards the end of a race.

I started overtaking people instead of getting overtaken.

That was a weird feeling.

My breathing got a bit strained and loud but I kept going to the end where I could see my lovely family waiting and cheering me on.
There was a little sprint finish which resulted in me just nipping over the line with 18 seconds to spare! I could have taken it easy! (I could have looked a darn sight better in the race-photos too – shocking!)

I even got a £5 spot prize when I picked up my goody bag, just like last year. And just like last year it went straight to the Rainbows charity pot at the cricket pavilion area where I received a decent sports massage.

I didn’t even get cramp. That’s a first too! I think I’m a fan of this pacing lark.

My heart looks like it enjoyed it.

Many thanks to the organisers, volunteers, locals, supporters and other runners for making this an absolutely cracking event. It’s a perfect spring marathon build-up event…But I’m not doing a marathon this year, so I can also say it’s just a brilliant event in its own right. And instead of a medal at the end (which doesn’t keep you warm) you get a hoodie (which does).

  

Ashby 20 + NB Lite Packable (Part 1)

This weekend it is the Ashby20 – a twenty mile road race against a Gorilla.

I’m not quite sure what the whole gorilla thing is about to be honest. I guess it’s just a little side show.

 

The Ashby20 – Because nobody lokes the last 6 miles of a marathon, anyway.

 
I did this race last year in preparation for my Huddersfield marathon because it too has a few hills. I can’t remember much about it actually – MY REVIEW IS LINKED HERE – so I might read it again myself before the weekend. Or I could just read part 2 of this post (but that’s some kind of weird existential stuff going on there as I won’t have written it until after I’ve done it). 

Mmmm… Now I have just read the initial review and I don’t think I’m in anywhere near the same kind of shape. Sunday could be interesting

I would probably be even more interesting if I was playing in a competitive tennis match on Saturaday – tomorrow – the day before this twenty miler.

So… tomorrow, Saturday, the day before the Ashby20 I shall be playing in a competitive tennis match – approximately three hours in a league match at my local club

This could have a couple of unexpected (though because I am identifying them, they are possibly a little bit expected) advantages:

1) I won’t set off like a mad thing like I normally do at the beginning of races.

2) I’ll have a fairly reasonable pre-prepared excuse for when it all goes a bit belly-up! Yay – that’s what it’s all about folks – “Go hard…or at least have a reasonable excuse lined up“.

Because of this hightened level of physical activity this weekend I’ve been eating super-healthily   ‘carb loading’ (and we all know that that basically means beer and doughnuts).  Sunday really could be very interesting.

It’s not that I haven’t done any training for this, by the way. I ran a lot of miles last week, I’ll have you know. I seemed to do a lot of 6 to 10 mile runs as part of a challenge to win a swanky new running watch. I completed the challenge but didn’t win the watch. 

My disappointment at this was lifted slightly when the lovely people behind the PR for New Balance sent me a snazzy Lite Packable Jacket to try. 

   
Here is the official New Balance link to the Lite Packable Jacket.

Now at no point does it explain why the word ‘lite‘ is used in place of ‘light‘ because it is proper light.

It has been constructed by sewing together the wings of ten thousand butterflies using the thread of a silkworm…and it weighs about the same… 99 grammes by my reckoning.

 That’s less the weight of the flour required by Delia Smith to make 2 large pancakes before even adding the milk and egg.  That’s right – I eat pancakes even after pancake day!

Not only that, it also folds neatly into itself so that you can have that special ‘crumpled’ look when you eventually want to wear it again… 

 
Seriously though, this is so packable and so light that I wouldn’t think twice about taking it with me on a long run and tucking it into a running belt.  It will definitely be coming with me to the Ashby20 on Sunday and while everyone else is there keeping warm at the start line in their black bin-liners with holes cut out for the head and neck like some kind of evil 1980s karate henchman, I shall be ready to strut my stuff on the catwalk of running style with my Lite (light) Packable offering. Oh yes.

Have a good weekend folks. I’ll (eventually) get round to part 2 some time soon after.

The ups and downs

Sorry. Not Sorry…

…I took a whole load of other beach pics while on holiday in Norfolk last week which I shall now bore you with briefly and then I would like to tell you about Child 1’s dramatic tennis tournament victory and Child 2’s first junior parkrun.

But first those pics…

   
   
Hey, it isn’t just all sunrises, you know! Oh no, no, not at all… there were sunsets too… 

  
  

…but, mostly, to be honest, it was indeed frosty, sandy beaches and sunrises/nuclear explosions in the distance while I ran serenely by (after setting the camera on timer and sprinting away like Billy-o first)

    

 

Moving on from the beach… I said I’d like to tell you about my son’s tennis victories… well I would like to…but I can’t… because unforunately he lost three of his four games and was a bit disappointed in himself, bless him. To be honest, he wasn’t playing his best at all so the results were fair, but I’ll tell you what else, he lost far better than I have seen him lose before. Even when he lost agsinst a lad half his size (after being a set to the good up and having three match points in the second) he shook the lad’s hand and gave him an Andy Murray style bloke-hug as they walked off court. He saved the tears for us later.

Child 2 was all up for completing a junior parkrun while we were away so, having been organised for once in my life and having registered and pre-printed her barcode before we left home, we headed to Norwich.

She was excited.
Too excited.
Is it possible for a five year old to be too excited?
Yes it is.
She was too excited.

By the time the 2km junior parkrun started, she and her brother had probably run that distance already, chasing each other around the courtyard! Child 1 for some reason did not want to run the parkrun, though (probably because he was tired out!) so became 50% of the family cheering squad.

We ran. We walked. We ran. We talked. We saw a volunteer and sprinted. We stopped. We walked. We saw mummy. We ran. We walked… you get the idea… and we finished! Yay!

And she is instantly a ‘proper runner’ too because when mummy asked her if she wanted to do another, she replied, “Never again!” …but we all know what that means, don’t we, folks?

  
In other news…

My parents currently live in Devon, but not for long. They have been trying for a while to sell up, downsize, and move to be a little closer to me (Nottinghamish), my brother (Cambridgeish), and our families. They’ve recently had an offer and all parties want it to happen within a month!

I love visiting Devon and the house is the one I literally grew up in. I’m not sure that I’m ‘grown up’, however but nonetheless I have very fond memories of my childhood there and I will be sad to leave it now (even though I left it really when I went to University). Any sadness is outweighed by the fact that we will see far more of my parents, who will be less than two hours drive away rather than over four hours currently.

I have come to help mum and dad sort stuff out, break stuff up, take stuff to the tip/dump this weekend which has also been good because on the way I’ve been able to visit an old school friend and his newly born child, and it also means I can run the killer – Parke parkrun (which will clearly be very muddy and I’ll never make it up that steep first hill if I don’t right away buy some decent new trail shoes immediately, right guys?!*).

It’s also good to be here with my folks because my dad’s mother, a thoroughly independant, self-sufficient 90+ year old, had a stroke a few days ago. It is serious and will be life-changing but she seems to be out of immediate danger. Family are really supportive and are taking it in turns to be a physical presence with her. My Granny is an amazingly strong woman and we’ll have to see how that impacts on her recovery over the coming weeks/months.

So without the excuse of visiting my parents here, this might be my last Devon trip for a while 😦

To make the most of it, I got up early yesterday and went for a 5 mile run up another huge hill (there are lots of those in Devon!) to this forest…

  

So… yeah… it’s all quite up and down at the moment.

I have the literal trail shoes
(* yes, I did need to right away buy some decent new trail shoes immediately )…

Let’s hope I have the metaphorical ones too.

  

Why I am not entering Marathon des Sables…

The main (and most important) reason  for not doing the Marathon des Sables is that I don’t think I can pronounce it properly. The potential embarrassment of this is paralysing.

A secondary (and less significant)  reason is that it looks really hard and I’m nowhere near fit enough. This is a minor detail, however.

Also… I’m not keen on running on sand.

I like the idea of running on sand, just not the actual doing of it.  This would hold me back somewhat, I do believe.

Furthermore… sunsets and sunrises – I’m a total sucker for them. And in deserts apparently, they are particularly brilliant. So I would end up stopping every five seconds to take a photo and I’d miss the cut-offs as a result.

  
So there you go. All things considered, I think it probably best, on balance, that I do not enter ‘the toughest footrace on earth‘ or however they like to refer to it.

It has taken me many years of running to reach this conclusion but it was this morning’s run along a Norfolk beach that cemented it in my mind. I’m away for a few days holiday on the east coast (well, about three miles in from the coast) and with the Ashby 20 coming up next month, I figured I really ought to get a few miles in my legs. Now we all know that running on the beach (along with running in the rain/ running in the morning/ running in the dark/ running while listening to ‘Eye of the Tiger’, ‘the Trap’, ‘Chariots of Fire’) instantly makes you hardcore and therefore doubles the training effect*… so I marked out a little route, charged my Garmin and set out my running gear the night before (I can be organised on rare occasions). 

*science

I woke before the sun did the next day and I ended up running for 7 or 8 miles. On the journey I …

• Got totally splattered with mud while running a very dark bridleway.
• Reached the beach before sunrise.
• Chased, caught and disposed of some random balloons blowing around on the beach.
• Got a massive nosebleed for no reason!
• Scared a few dog-walkers (due to the nose bleed) who must have thought, “why is it always us that meet the early morning psychos?!”.
• Took far too many pictures…     
  

  I really must work on my selfie-taking technique

   

  

• Actually realised I had a nose bleed and realised why I was getting those funny looks!
• Noticed my Garmin was actually set to ‘ride’ instead of ‘run’ for the duration – doh!
• Saw some interesting graffiti…  

Close up…?… 

 

• Generally enjoyed a very pleasant morning run 😊

In other news: My daughter ran her first junior parkrun the other day (this deserves its own blog post another time).

My dad has recovered from his ‘episode’ AND look to be moving closer to us soon.

That wetsuit I optimistically brought with me looks like it might stay dry… 

 
Looks a bit rough to me…

…and worse in black&white… 

 

Pride comes before awful

So my foot is definitely better. And I’ve been for a few short runs to make sure it’s better. And my cold is much better. And I’m eating better again. Well done me. And generally things are better. 

And on Saturday I ran a parkrun again for the first time in ages it seems.

Unfortunately that was NOT better. But I expected that. Ran my socks off and was still about 50 seconds off my best. Glad I went though. Well done me. Let’s get this consistency going again.

I’ve kept up my non-running exercises too (I decided to take up new hobbies of weight lifting and knitting [when I prematurely and over-dramatically  assumed that my foot niggle meant I would never walk again!] mainly just so I could get the ‘knit one, curl one‘ joke in) so, well done me.

Also, having eaten a healthy homemade dinner on Saturday night, I heroically decided that doing the ironing would prevent me from further snacking. Well done me. I got the board out and the iron, and was just about to plug it in… when the phone rang…

…oops…

…I’d totally forgotten about the tennis club meal out to the local Thai restaurant. ‘Where are you, mate?” came the voice from the phone.

Oops…

“On my way!” I replied.

I promptly cycled into town (my body is a temple, you know).

I then proceeded to drink all the beer and eat all the food.

 I eventually cycled home somehow (my body is a temple and all that) …far too late, of course, and slept terribly, woke early and ate a HUGE fried breakfast (which is required by British law).

My tennis match is just after lunch on Sunday, so I don’t actually eat lunch (just a packet of Maltesers). I play ok, but we lose the ‘important’ (it’s all relative though!) tennis. I then eat the muffins/choc biscuits/flapjack provided before coming home and having a full roast dinner. 

Yay! Go me! ahem.

It wasn’t an easy weekend in other aspects. On Friday night, Dad was taken in to Hospital. I won’t go into details but suffice to say he is out now and sounded better than he has in a few weeks actually.

Andy Murray lost the tennis earlier (this probably features unnecessarily  on my list of bad things that happened this weekend).

I also had the sad news that an old friend from my University days had died. I had totally lost touch with her over the past few years and didn’t even know she was ill. She was only a year or two older than me and her kids are similar ages to mine. Not that her having young children makes it any greater or less of a loss but just that I can identify with the fragility of it all.

And then Sir Terry Wogan has died as well…not that I knew him personally, of course but I did sort of ‘grow up’ with him.

😦
Not the best of weekends, really.

I’ll be hoping for a ‘recovery run’ tonight.

BREAKING NEWS: Runner realises that actually NOT running with an injury can be beneficial to healing.

A 38 year old, thinning (hair rather than body-type), brunette runner has recently given an exclusive interview to this blog describing essentially how, following the onset of mysterious foot pains that threatened to leave him unable to ever walk again, he was able to miraculously turn his fortunes around in just three weeks!

I caught up with him over a coffee in his kitchen recently to establish the facts of this extraordinary case.

He takes a sip of coffee, lets out a long sigh and sits back in his seat as he places a cigar in his mouth and nonchalantly places his feet on the chair next to him. His hamstrings are so tight that the resultant release of energy catapults him backwards into the floor. He eventually recovers, shifts uneasily in his chair, takes another sip of his drink and a bite of his cigar before beginning his tale as if the events of the last thirty seconds never actually occurred.

“It was amazing really” he begins, recalling the events of the past month. “I went from being fully active – running, swimming, performing stunts aboard the top of a train, and Morris-Dancing at weekends – to being unable to place my foot to the floor without shooting pain. And I had no idea why!”

“I even wrote a blog post about it,” he continues, “to try and cement in my own mind that it was in fact real.  Because everything I write in blog posts is real and actual fact!” He slams his fist on the table and takes a further bite from his cigar as he says this.

“Runners fall into one of three categories when it comes to injuries,” he asserts with an air of authority in his voice…

“Category (1) – I’ll be fine. It’s just a niggle. Nothing that a good hard track session or ‘undulating’ long run with full mandatory ultra running kit won’t cure!

Category (2) – I must immediately make an appointment with a consultant orthopaedic surgeon and demand an MRI / acupuncture / a personal 24 hour round the clock physio / an invasive operation 

Category (3) As if there’s a category 3! There is no other option. Category 3 is clearly a joke. There is nothing to see here.” 

He snorts, laughing a little too long at his own non-joke as he proceeds to eat around the edge of his cigar before dipping it in his coffee. After a moments silence, I urge him to continue….with the story…not dipping his cigar in his coffee.

“I have always been a category (1) personality but losing the ability to weight-bear when shoeless had me stumbling around for answers. I thought my tennis match would let me accurately assess the extent of the injury but I had the wrong week, then it snowed on the right week and the match was cancelled. I ran to my car after work briefly last week but apart from that and lifting a few weights, exercise has been pretty non-existent. To be honest, I was quite fed up and I had very little mojo to do anything even if I could have. Maybe this saved me.”

He pops the rest of his cigar in his mouth and gets another identical one from the TWIX packet next to him…

“So there you have it.” he says, as the interview reaches its climactic conclusion, “I basically didn’t do anything. Didn’t take painkillers. Didn’t take anti-inflammatories. Just rested. And it got better.”

WOW! I’m left speechless. As I attempt to adjust to the enormity of these events. How one man, by resting, has effectively turned upside down conventional wisdom with respect to running related injuries.

He pulls me over to one side and whispers in my ear…

“Do you know, in hindsight, I reckon it was doing the can-can in bare feet on the tiled kitchen floor with my daughter a few weeks back and following that up with a few sessions of that ‘Shape-Up’ game on the Xbox – again, without shoes. I reckon it was just some sort of…well… bruise. 

Maybe I’ve been a bit over-dramatic.”

I am in shock. I have wasted too long writing an article that I could have headlined ‘Man recovers from bruise!‘ and so I collect my belongings and leave, slowly shaking my head, and without saying another word.

As I get to my car, and for the entire drive, I panic that I cannot find my wallet that I was sure was in my trousers earlier…but when I get home later that evening it turns out, I find it down the side of the sofa. 

The following day I smile to myself and think.  That runner bloke and me… we’re pretty similar really.  

I crack open a TWIX, dunk it in my coffee and look forward to my rearranged tennis match on Sunday afternoon.

Why running injuries are like losing your wallet.

Bare with me while…. Err… Bear with me… Err… Stay with both me and any nearby bears who currently may or may not be wearing clothes, while I explain the whole wallet/injury thing.

Now, I may either have a little niggle, or possibly a life-changing medical condition.

I do most definitely have a tendency to exaggerate however (I’ve been told a million times to stop doing it), so none of this should be taken too seriously. I hope.

It’s a foot pain, basically. It came on very suddenly about a week ago. Specifically – on my 4th MTP joint (underside of foot, the bony bit of the toe next to my little one where it meets the rest of the foot) making placing a bare (definitely ‘bare’ this time) foot to the floor feel like I’m stamping on a piece of Lego.

Yes. Stamping on Lego.

That bad.

So naturally  I immediately presume that I have developed aggressive, sudden-onset sero-positive erosive rheumatoid arthritis.

In a similar way, I thought my wallet was in my shorts pocket after my night run to the 24hr supermarket the other day…but the following day when I came to wash them, it wasn’t. So naturally I presumed that I dropped it and its contents (including £40 cash I’d just got from the machine) somewhere on the route home.

I go through stages of ‘wallet loss’ . These include

1) Oh my goodness! Panic! Cancel my cards. We can only live off stale bread and water until we have saved the money to repay this dreadful loss.

2) OK…think! This always happens. It’s not where you thought it was but you’ve probably just absent-mindedly put it in the fridge instead of the milk or something.

3) Right! Panic again. Not in the fridge. Check other pairs of shorts in case you were mistaken about which ones you were wearing. No luck. Check pairs of shorts not worn for a year – just in case. Nope.

4) OK. Stay calm. It nearly always turns up. You have just now looked everywhere it could possibly be (and even some places it couldn’t possibly be) mmmm…face it. It could actually be proper lost this time.

5) It’s still not found. No point getting angry at your own carelessness. Try to be happy for the lucky person that has just found £40, and hope that they really needed it). Time for bed. Try to sleep well. Don’t be angry with yourself or the world. It will change mothing.

6) Oh there it is! (Under the pillow with the headphones I’d taken out of my pocket when I got back from the run) I was never really worried. I knew it would be somewhere.

A pic from my New Year’s day run (in case, like me, you were getting bored with all those words)

.

.

Unfortunately, I am still in the equivilent early stages with my injury/niggle. I don’t remember actually doing anything to it… Maybe...there might have been a stone in my shoe that I thought I’d just put up with rather than remove? But it wasn’t that painful or anything.

Now I have just got out of bed (early Sunday morning) and I cannot put any weight on that part of my foot without it feeling like I’m stepping on a pin (obviously a standing-up one, like a drawing pin …or a tack… – this is more painful than standing on a pin that is lying flat on the floor. I wouldn’t have mentioned it if it was only that painful).

You see, I’m trying to be light about it because I hope that in a few days it it’ll turn out that it’s just been some sort of bone bruise that goes away, never to return, and I can laugh about how I was getting all melodramatic about it for no reason.

It seems ok when it’s cushioned. I can even run on it, though I’m being sensible and trying not to…

I went for a bike ride on Friday afternoon, to do a spot of geocaching…and fell off for the first time in ages…coming down this very tame (but very slippy/muddy) hill…

The thing is, that hill has a canal at the bottom and although not-braking was necessary for staying-uprightness, there was also a requirement for corner-turning in order to prevent removing-self-from-canal-with-bike-ness.
I stayed upright mostly.
The bike didn’t.
I felt sorry for my bike.
So I promptly joined it on the canal path floor.
In that muddy puddle just there.

I just ‘enjoyed’ wallowing in the mud for a bit before checking my actual, proper ‘I know where this injury is from, I just fell off my bike’ type injuries and then took  the above picture… followed by the one below, to try and show that the hill felt steeper than it looked!

I was able to cycle most of the way home, stopping off to buy some good for the evening meal. But on exiting the shop realised my front true was now totally flat. Unusually having headed out with no puncture repair kit (which of course guarantees getting a puncture that needs repairing!) I had to run and push the bike (and my now full backpack) the remaining 3 miles home in order to still be able to collect little people from school. I was shattered. But the foot felt fine while I was running in my nicely cushioned trainers.

I gave parkrun a miss on Saturday but I’ve got a tennis match today. Could be fun

I hope my next post reports how the foot pain has totally disappeared. If not, it looks like the cycling and swimming might get better.

[Edit. …and of course, for the record… it’s ‘bear‘ with. No stripping off, here!]