Great stuff EG. Glad things are starting to drop into place.
I was with you in spirit this morning. Up at 6am to run a timed 5k. Not the same as a park-run; a very different experience in fact, on my own in a dimly-lit Aire valley. But needs must.
I'm definitely up for Parkrun. Seems odd to think we're running very similar races at precisely the same hour in different locations. Rather like Paris & Zurich in 2006 ... well, perhaps not; there were a few more miles to cover that day : )
Bailed on my post-Bonfire scamper after early-morning deluge of work e-mail necessitated a trip to the office. Now sat at my desk feeling like Sweder-the Hutt after too much deli-lunch. Butternut squash soup so delicious went for second helping but failed to ignore turkey & cranberry baguette and free choclate biscuit. Result: lethargic lard. I'll be there tomorrow for certain. Run well.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
(08-11-2009, 10:49 PM)marathondan Wrote: Just caught up with your latest posts EG; it's all sounding great. You must be feeling that the oil tanker is headed on the right course.
Progress is steady, but it's definitely progress. Am bang on the weight-loss target of losing a kilo per week. Eight weeks gone, eight kilos gone, and as expected, the running is gradually taking care of itself as the weight comes off. Just need to keep doing what I'm doing. The sub 2 half still seems like a long way off, but I'll keep working towards it. Next milestone is the Brighton 10K next Sunday. Very different race from with the Crawley 10K of a few weeks ago, but will still be interesting to compare how I feel during it.
El Gordo
Great things are done when men and mountains meet.
I'm in another disappointing hotel in Nottingham, without the ability to upload a proper entry, but I wanted to mention today's run.
Just 4.5 miles, but apart from that ever-nasty first half mile, this was an outing that felt good at last. Last week's 8 miler made me happy after I'd got home; this one managed to offer pleasure as it happened. It's a while since I've had that experience.
Perhaps "pleasure" is the wrong word. Satisfaction might be better. I feel vindicated in my belief that weight is a key factor to getting back into the groove. Since dipping below 220 pounds a couple of weeks ago, I've felt more confident and more able. This week the scales have me under 216, and with it, a bit more bounciness and self-belief.
It was a grim day: cold and and grey and forlorn. I'd have preferred running in a proper storm to this featureless nothingness. By two o'clock I'd given up hoping that it might brighten, and plunged into it.
As mentioned, the first 5 minutes or so were as horrible as ever. There's something amiss if I don't ask myself whether I should give up and return home in these opening few hundred metres. Experience tells me that persisting into the second half mile will usually offer a reward, and so it was today.
After a mile, I realised I was running at a half decent pace for me, about 10:30, which added a bit more willingness again. I don't suppose I ever regard myself as being fully fit, but relatively speaking, when I'm as fit as I generally get i.e. in the last few weeks leading up to a marathon, I think of 10 minute miles as a good training pace for me. I've been nowhere near that in this campaign up until the last few days. The Saturday parkrun averaged out at 10:17, and today was looking promising so far. It gave me a fillip, and on I bounced.
I started with my normal round-the-block route but halfway through the big baronial estate I pass through, ducked down my newly-liberated illicit path, alluded to during my 8-miler entry. First time I'd been down it in this direction, which made it seem all the more daring.
It gave me a novel experience. I frequently run past the herds of deer, but they are always on the other side of the fence. Today, I was on their side of the barrier, and they didn't like it. I'm not sure that I did either. There were hundreds of them, and living up to their neurotic stereotype, decided to panic. So for about three hundred metres, I found myself passing through a tempest of deer, darting and flitting across my path and back again. It was a swirl of madness. I wanted to laugh, but was also worried that the tumult would catch the attention of one of the gamekeepers, who might feel minded to investigate. I remember a sign on a gate I used to run past in Yate, when I was training for the London Marathon in 2002: Trespassers will be shot.
But I was able to reach, and pass through, the gate at the far end of the path without having my buttocks peppered with lead.
I now had a choice of paths. Should I continue down the farm track and take the long loop around the canal towpath to give me another 8 or so miles? Or take the shorter route back along the lanes, and head for home?
Looking at my watch, and mindful that I had to drive to Nottingham at some point, I opted for the latter. If i can find the time, I'll aim to do the long run on Thursday. So I headed back, still feeling sprightly.
I managed to maintain the pace, finishing with an average of 10:31 over the 4.5 miles. I'm happy with that at my current weight. It's the sort of pace I was expecting to be at once I'd lost another 5 pounds or so. To reach it now is a good sign. It won't produce any records in Brighton on Sunday, but points to the likelihood that this will be a more comfortable 10K jaunt than the one in Crawley last month. Whether it will allow me to pose a serious challenge to the venerable Seafront Plodder remains to be seen. Possibly not; but I'll be disappointed if the gap between us hasn't shortened in the past month.
El Gordo
Great things are done when men and mountains meet.
May I take this opportunity to wish you a most excellent run on Sunday.
Good job you avoided the buttock leading - that shot's heavy y'know.
I'm off - will post as and when. The relatively private nature of this site allows for occasional indescretion without fear of reprisal or leaking of potential publication fodder. Am taking a collection of HST's finest work as inspiration, though sense the case of Jim Beam we're picking up on route may bring me closer to the maestro than the flattery of attempted imitation ever could.
Res Ipsa Loquitur
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
(10-11-2009, 11:54 PM)Sweder Wrote: Res Ipsa Loquitur
For people such as myself who have no idea what the feck this means, I've already Googled it...
Res ipsa loquitur is a common law theory on the use of circumstantial evidence in tort liability on a negligence theory. The term comes from Latin and means "the thing itself speaks," but is more often translated "the thing speaks for itself." The theory allows the plaintiff to use circumstantial evidence to meet the burden of proof in negligence cases for only the first two elements: duty and breach. Proving these two elements means that, in fact, the defendant was negligent. However, the plaintiff must still prove, by a preponderance of the evidence, that the defendant's negligence was the cause-in-fact of the harm and the proximate cause of the harm before he can recover from the defendant. The theory only applies when, as a matter of law, there is enough evidence to allow a trier of fact to come to a conclusion. It was first formulated in the English 1863 case Byrne v. Boadle.
Erm yes, Byrne v Boadle. Of course.
Legalese aside however, I am looking forward to reading The Sweder Diaries real soon. Have fun, Ash!
(11-11-2009, 12:11 AM)Mid Life Crisis Man Wrote: Legalese aside however, I am looking forward to reading The Sweder Diaries real soon. Have fun, Ash!
Indeed. As I've said to him, this is a once-in-a-midlife opportunity, and hope to see some literary return. But that may be putting unnecessary pressure on. Maybe he should just have a great and wild time, and leave it at that. Maybe he won't be capable of cogent thought.
Hmm. That never stopped him writing previously....
El Gordo
Great things are done when men and mountains meet.
(11-11-2009, 06:32 PM)El Gordo Wrote: Indeed. As I've said to him, this is a once-in-a-midlife opportunity, and hope to see some literary return. But that may be putting unnecessary pressure on.
Perhaps, but we all know he'll not feel the adventure complete until he's completed a Hunter-esque travelogue of the great blast.
So, I feel no qualms at all at applying the pressure.
Pressure? Let me tell you 'bout pressure amigo.
Pressure is having to unpack and assemble a borrowed, hitherto unseen (by me or the drummer) drum kit comprising a multitude of apparently identical shiny parts with folding spindly legs to support an array of skins that would satisfy an army of Orangemen. In 20 minutes. Whilst Motorhead are soundchecking Rosalie through the house PA. Pressure? Pah! I eat it for breakfast me ...
We discerned after several frantic, expletive-filled minutes that said kit was missing a hi-hat stand, snare stand, snare drum and stool. Thankfully the Damned stepped up and offered parts as did the venerable Hobbs, Motorheads' sound engineer, fixer of all things and generally top geezer. Rarely in all my days have I produced so much sweat in so little time. I wouldn't trade a minute of it for all the Lapsang Suchong in Soho.
As for diaries I'm erring on the side of living rather than observing it all. No doubt there will be hours in which to reflect - I've made a few notes - but I'll have to see what occurs. A lot of what goes on on tour should stay on tour. If word should get out that someone's pimping memoirs from the road a beautiful 30-year friendship might come to a messy end. Besides, I favour 'live', from-the-field reportage. I'm not one for chin-scratching and building something beautiful; I'd rather regurgitate, spew out events as they happen, laced with the diced carrots of error and omission, publish and move on. It's my way, flawed it may be, but I draw an energy from writing in the present that's hard to replicate outside the fast-flowing (as HST called it) Weird Lane.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Pressure is what EL is heaping on himself by the bucket load, in the vain hope that he'll convince himself that he has the remotest chance of dragging his sorry carcass across the finish line ahead of me on Sunday at the Brighton 10K.
(11-11-2009, 10:49 PM)Mid Life Crisis Man Wrote: Are you two trying to psyche each other out with this being nice to each other business?
Come on guys, whatever happened to out-and-out, hard-hitting, body-jarring male competitiveness?
(12-11-2009, 02:16 PM)Seafront Plodder Wrote: Pressure? I'll tell you what pressure is.
Pressure is what EL is heaping on himself by the bucket load, in the vain hope that he'll convince himself that he has the remotest chance of dragging his sorry carcass across the finish line ahead of me on Sunday at the Brighton 10K.
That's more like it - dem's fightin' words and that deserves a fightin' man's drink. Barkeep, give this man two fingers of gulpin' whiskey.
(12-11-2009, 02:16 PM)Seafront Plodder Wrote: Pressure? I'll tell you what pressure is.
Pressure is what EL is heaping on himself by the bucket load, in the vain hope that he'll convince himself that he has the remotest chance of dragging his sorry carcass across the finish line ahead of me on Sunday at the Brighton 10K.
That's more like it - dem's fightin' words and that deserves a fightin' man's drink. Barkeep, give this man two fingers of gulpin' whiskey.
Softly softly catchee monkey....
El Gordo
Great things are done when men and mountains meet.
(not a sight I want to see at any time) like a kid on his first school outing. 
