(Originally posted on the forum) 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 … …
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It’s been said before, but bears repeating: that we run only because we so quickly forget how horrible it really is. Today’s parkrun is a case in point. Here I am, peering at my spreadsheet, noting my likely future opportunities to do this weekly 5K, when barely an hour ago, floundering in the mud, panting like a runaway pig, I was resolving never to put myself through this pain and indignity ever again. I left both start and finish a bit late today. It’s always an error of judgement to ‘quickly check my emails’ in the shadow of a looming deadline. Inevitably, this session in front of the PC screen meanders into a serene browse through the usual news websites … …
The plan was for a sinewy, grunting hour in the gym this evening but I’ve been under the weather all day. I even sloped off to bed for a while at 6pm, nursing my incipient man-flu. The Grim Reaper has shown me mercy. I will give thanks by having an early night, and hope that I’ll still be alive when I wake in the morning. Against all the odds, I may even feel able to get over to the parkrun by 9am.… …
Into November, and feeling even more optimistic about the running winter ahead. I was going to post this entry on Tuesday evening, and had started with these paragraphs: Speed of progress has been frustratingly slow, but I’m staying rational. If advancement was instant and easy, without constant self-doubt, it wouldn’t amount to the prize it remains, and I’d still be snuggled up on the sofa. Since the last entry, and the renewed assault on the lard mountain, a couple more pounds seem to have detached themselves, and the tally now stands at 17½ pounds less than it was 7 weeks ago. This is good enough. It’s easy to lose weight at a faster rate than this, but only in stupid … …
Reading ParkRun – 5K Typical. You wait ages for a 5K race, then two come along at once. For much of this week, I’ve allowed myself to slip into a negative frame of mind. Despite another week of austere dining, I seem to be bumping along the weight plateau once more. Average weekly loss so far in this campaign is around 2 pounds, but this week that’s slipped to a paltry half pound. A feeling of deep gloom sounds like an over-reaction, but when you’re a voluntary food martyr, you need to be able to see the promised land inching closer. It’s tempting to wonder why you’re bothering, if a week of no beer, steady exercise and healthy menus offers … …
A forgettable weekend, which is just as well, as I don’t remember a lot about it in the first place. Late Friday afternoon I stepped out for a short run but barely got beyond the garden gate. The gouty toe was back in its box but the two stubbed toes on the left foot, now a rather gorgeous yellow and purple, were having none of it. In frustration, I mailed a mate and demanded an evening of beer and bullshit. I didn’t explicitly specify the latter, but knew it would inevitably follow, particularly after such an arid spell. This wasn’t my first taste of alcohol in the 44 days of the current campaign: I had a couple of pints last … …
This is a toecentric period alright. The right-hand toe, as it were, has moved through last week’s shiny gouty inflammation to a sort of buried pain that’s starting to reach backwards along the sole of my foot when I walk. It’s not cripplingly painful. In fact it’s much better than the last couple of weeks, but while it lingers, and for as long as it issues a small crackle of pain each time I bend the toe, it makes me nervous. I wrote off all of last week, and don’t want to waste more time. I managed 5 miles on Tuesday, so it’s clearly not keeping me indoors any longer, but I worry a little that by running on it, … …
Today I had my first taste of winter. Not that it was particularly cold out there, but there was something bleak and ominous about running the canal towpath in steady drizzle, in the hour before sunset. It was a repeat of the bike-run-bike format. This aerobic sandwich works well, with the bike rides forming a decent warm-up and warm-down around the run. A total of 47 minutes on the bike and 56 minutes of running sounds admirably strenuous, but I must quickly confess that I took it very gently today. The cycling was a pleasant loosener, with the run being a deliberately steady and stately plod of just under 5 miles. And I mean deliberate. All I wanted to do … …
Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die: Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. Have I ever felt truly ready to run a race? Probably not. Did I feel ready to run the Crawley 10K today? Definitely not. Did I tell everyone, myself included, that I was ready? Yes. In the first few innocent strides through Lidgate Forest, I recalled my first ever Philosophy tutorial, in which my venerable tutor, Harry Lesser, asked us: “What is a table?” It’s a harder question than you think. We argued over it for an hour before he gave us his answer. “A table is something that has tableness.” Similarly, I ask … …
Where am I? Hard to say. I’m not where I was, and I’m not where I thought I would be now. But wherever I am, I’ve been here before, and I know that I’ll survive and flourish. The foot is better. It’s past the acute discomfort, throbbing stage and back into the mere ache phase. In terms of comparative pain, it’s no longer a ‘broken bone’ and back to being merely ‘badly bruised’. I have two full days left till the Crawley race, and at the moment I have no idea whether I’ll be able to take part, or in what shape I’ll be. My fear this week is that people will think I might’ve invented this complaint to get … …