Sun 1 Dec 2002

Time to get going again.

Seven weeks after Chicago, and I've not run at all, apart from a desolate, two mile jog about three weeks ago. Since the marathon I've put on at least 15 lbs. It's time to act. My close season is over.

I've lost all my marathon fitness. I'm fat again, and get out of breath walking up the stairs. Excellent. Once again, we have a blank canvas. A corpse waiting to be revived.

This weekend I've entered three events for next year: the Silverstone Half Marathon on March 2nd, the Reading Half Marathon on the March 9th and the Great North Run on 21st September. There will be many more, though these are ones that are likely to fill up quickly.

Yesterday I walked 4 miles along the canal in the dark. It was unrecognisable from the many Chicago training runs I did along there. There were no flies to chomp, no cyclists to deflect into the canal. There was no rendezvous with fate in Chicago to wonder about. There was nothing at all. No birds, no animals, no anglers, no sounds. Just the still, silvery canal and the soft, slippery mud sucking at the soles of my shoes.

It was hard to accept that Chicago was all over. But we've passed that stop now, and it's time to prepare for new adventures and new disasters.

The first definite racing date is the Wokingham Half Marathon on Feb 9th. If I thought I could manage it, I'd like to get to the Stubbington 10K on Jan 12th.

Stubbington? Er, how should I know? I'll look on a map when I get up that morning. But they say it's by the sea, and they say it blows away the Christmas cobwebs. Just what I'll need.

But if I can't get there, it looks like Wokingham in February.

This week, I need to do another few walks like this, along with some sustained, sensible eating, and I might be able to start running again in a week or two. Why not join me?

Mon 2 Dec 2002

Some good news today. I think.

One of my planned 2003 half marathons was to be Bath in March. It's become one of those halfs that everyone wants to run. Even people who don't want to run it, want to run it. It's the Glyndebourne of half marathons.

Which is why it sells out so quickly, and why I missed the cut.

And then today, while poking around under the sink in a dark corner of the Runners World magazine website, I came across an ad offering 100 first-come-first-served places. Gulp. Despite the trembling fingers, I got one.

That was the good news. The bad news is that it's on March 16th, a week after Reading. Which is a week after Silverstone. Three half marathons in three weeks.

At least this gives me something interesting to aim for. And who knows? It might be a dry run for later in the year when, on FIVE successive Sundays are half marathons I'd like to run. Starting on August 31st with Budapest, then Glasgow, Lake Vyrnwy (Wales), the Great North Run (Newcastle) and Bristol. That might be an interesting target. But let's see how we go with the more sedate Silverstone, Reading and Bath first.

Working from home today gave me the chance to go for another good walk at lunchtime. I walked the staple 3.67 mile route that I ran so often (sometimes in multiples) when training for Chicago. The non-canal one. This time of year isn't very beautiful. Apart from the berries on the holly hedges, I saw little of interest beyond the contents of my soul. Even that was pretty dull, frankly. Everything flat and dormant and bare. But after 7 weeks of total idleness, I've at least got out of the armchair and taken the first few steps along this new adventure.

2003 will be a half marathon year, with no marathons till 2004 at the earliest. Originally I thought I'd try to run 20 half marathons in 2003. And I still might, but it seems like a pretty arbitrary, and therefore pointless, target, and one that puts unnecessary pressure on me. The revised plan is just to run some races that look interesting, and hope that I avoid injury, and improve my performances. That may amount to 6 races or 26. Let's see.

Tues 3 Dec 2002

The excitement mounts.

I really have to start jogging next week to prepare for the offensive Spring I've lined up for myself. And I mean jogging rather than running. The two words are not interchangeable... If all goes well I can step up a gear the week after.

I'm thinking of following Hal's marathon training programme again, but with a little more flexibility. If I was to do London, I would be starting the training next week in any case. All I really need to get to is a comfortable 10 or 12 miles by... well, by the first week in February if I'm to do Wokingham on the 9th of that month. Hmmm. That's not too far away.

I might just skip the training and get straight onto the carbo-loading...

Thurs 5 Dec 2002

Walking is for cissies. I couldn't hold back any longer. I wanted to join the big boys' game again.

So before lunch today I got togged up, and went out for the mildest of jogs. A very easy pace indeed. The seven or so weeks since the marathon have reduced me to... no, have enlarged me to some grotesque, misshapen version of the elfin athlete who graced the streets of Chicago. It's been humiliating, lumbering round the local streets like Frankenstein's monster, the gasping villagers prodding my blubber with sticks. I hear them whisper to their incredulous children: "Some folk say he once ran a marathon, you know. Never believed it myself, mind..."

It was time to act. It felt odd, putting on my New Balance 854s for the first time since the morning of the race. As I creaked along the pavement, it all seemed like a very long time ago.

The plan was to do my usual 3.67 miles. Beyond that, I had no target. I was going to have a leisurely run, and see what happened.

And what did happen? Not a great deal, it has to be said. I took it very easily indeed, jogging at a stately 12 minutes a mile. If I had an unofficial target, it was just to complete the distance without stopping or walking, and that I managed without a lot of trouble.

This must sound strange to a non-runner. I completed a marathon just a few weeks ago (albeit at the fun-runner level), yet here I am talking about trying to run for three and a half miles without having to stop and walk. The oft-quoted wisdom is that you can have a break of about 4 days from running before your fitness starts to suffer. More than a week and the effects are quite noticeable. So seven weeks, particularly combined with the Beer and Cheese and Chocolate Diet that's all the rage in this household, can have quite a dramatic impact.

The reason for this is that I haven't yet adopted running as a daily lifestyle thing. It's still a target-oriented activity. Running London, then Chicago, then a clutch of half marathons next Spring. Nothing wrong with having goals. They're an important motivational mechanism; they get you out there in the dark and the cold, when even Emmerdale or the washing-up can seem a preferable option. The downside is the sense of anticlimax after the goal is reached, and the lapse into slothfulness and celebratory overeating and drinking. Perhaps the more I do this, the more it will become a natural part of my routine, and I'll see fewer peaks and troughs.

Talking of goals, today I found another race for next March that looks tempting. The 'Connemarathon', as the name suggests, is a marathon in Connemara, one of the most picturesque corners of Ireland, and not far from where I have family. I've no plans to run the marathon, but there is a half marathon on the same day, over the second half of the marathon course. A small affair: 2002 was the first one, and only 12 people did the marathon and 60 the half. The race is so secluded that they have to bus all the competitors into the mountains for the start.

The bad news is that I already have 3 halfs booked for that month, so this might be biting off a little more than I can chew.

But did that ever stop me before?

Fri 6 Dec 2002

Just recently, I've been working at our office near Heathrow. It's situated in a large park, with a golf-course, a couple of lakes, and a network of sandy paths, ideal for running. Today was the inaugural jog.

I changed in the office and ventured outside at high noon. There's something about being overweight and unfit and unwarmed-up that makes running on a chilly day seem like an unnecessary expedition into the Antarctic. Despite what the barometer said, this was a day cold enough to freeze the blood in my veins, and reduce my 2003 running targets to a cruel joke.

I so wanted to stop and turn back. I wanted to turn back before the sweat started to squeeze through my pores, and while my knees were still stiff and tingling from yesterday. If I stop now, I kept whispering to myself, I won't even have to have a shower. I can just forget about it. No one will know. Better to have tried and failed than... can't win 'em all... there'll be other days... be better equipped next time... should concentrate on diet first... lose a few pounds before running... these shoes are worn out... only risking injury...

But leaping from one platitude, and from one lame excuse to another took me across the main road, along to the end of the lake and halfway up the first hill on the golf course before I knew it. The sweat was starting to both warm and freeze my brow, the way it does when you're getting cranked up, and I knew by then it was too late. I'd have to go through with the damn thing.

It reminded me of that run I did a year ago almost to the day. December 11th, the first day of training for London. I'd felt thoroughly miserable and incongruous, and slightly embarrassed about the whole thing. As happened that day, I eventually came through feeling pleased that I'd done it, though having no illusions about the quality of the performance. Today's run was barely even a run. More a kind of chilly shuffle around the park. But it was injecting a bit of vinegar into the soul.

I'll be starting the marathon training again on Tuesday, to give some structure to my preparation for the half marathons I'm running next year, and particularly the 3 or 4 on successive weekends in March. Also, while I'm not doing London in 2003, I've offered to lend a hand to the UK Brain Tumour Society, to help them keep track of their marathon runners through their training, and on the big day itself. Doing the training myself should help me to keep in tune with them.

Sigh.

Sun 8 Dec 2002

Tonight, watched Paula Radcliffe winning the BBC Sports Personality of the Year for her amazing achievements. Strange to think that I took part in two of the five events that she won, including the one where she broke the world record.

No running this weekend. I need to, er, prepare myself mentally for the new training regime beginning this week. I did allow myself some R and R yesterday by drinking loads of beer at lunchtime, watching the Man United v Arsenal game, then making parsnip soup and sweet and sour chicken in the evening. It was my response to the discovery that I am now more than 17 pounds heavier than I was 8 weeks ago. There's nothing like a bit of comfort eating to stop you getting depressed about your weight. Serious diet has to start tomorrow, and serious training on Tuesday.

Probably.

Next week >