Throb, throb, throb. It had to happen: the first obstacle of the campaign is here, if a bit earlier than hoped. For about 12 years now I’ve had a gouty right toe. I can, and do, forget about it for 95% of the year, but every now and then it appears and waves a big red flag in my face. Ah yes, it’s you again. I felt a twinge on Saturday after my canal run, but thought no more of it until the next day when I was flexing the top half of my feet on the leg press at the gym (excellent exercise for the calf muscles), and felt the familiar stab of pain in the big toe joint. … …
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Ah, that’s better. Another 10 kilometres up the canal, but markedly more comfortable than last Saturday, when I was reduced to a run-walk for the second half. Today I crumbled in the final mile, but the first 5 were walkless and steady. So, why should today be different from a week ago? Three pounds lighter for one thing; and another 6½ hours of cardiovascular chalked up. On their own, unremarkable facts: just a couple more bites in the elephant-eating task. But they’ve taken me closer to the tipping point that must surely come: the moment when I’ll be released from that waiting room, into the real contest. I sense it’s not far off now. I’m hoping that next weekend’s 10K … …
Eagle-eyed followers of my desultory tweeting (www.twitter.com/runningcomm) will be aware that on Tuesday I was visited by an urge to get hold of a medicine ball. So on my way to the gym that evening, I called into Argos, emerging with a formidable 6 kg rubber specimen. Yep, with handles, and everything. I went for the handled one because it was described as being “easier to use”. Later, I wondered if that was much of a selling point for an item that is bought specifically to offer a difficult workout. The rain was ceaseless yesterday. Normally, this is no disincentive. In fact it almost adds to the appeal, as it emphasises this saintly sense of self-sacrifice. But yesterday? … …
Me, I’m to blame. It’s all my fault. I’m a middle class, white male, and I’m a ‘boomer’. Over the last few days, I’ve separately read, or heard, that all of these things make me a thoroughly wicked person, responsible for the ills of the world. It’s one of the reasons I need sometimes to take off my clothes and go running through the neighbourhood. It’s a sackcloth and ashes thing. “Here I am! It’s all my fault! Come and get me…!” I almost added: “If you can catch me”, but I am all too catchable at the moment. I’m on one of those irritating weight plateaux where, despite an exemplary diet and exercise regime, I hover around the same … …
It’s the end of the 3rd week of my reinvention. I like to keep records. The Americans have a name for it. I am a number slut. In my three weeks, I’ve managed 24.7 hours of cardiovascular exercise. This is broken down into 12.2 hours in the gym over 12 visits; 7.7 hours of cycling; and 3.55 hours of running. Rest days? Four. Lost 8.8 pounds. I could list a lot more detail around heart rates and gradients, but I will refrain. I could discuss at length how my first three weeks compare with the first three weeks of last year’s post-Lewes Hamburger moment. I won’t do that, but here are the key facts: I’m about 1 pound behind in … …
The distance, 6.17 miles, looks good, but it hides the truth. This was an uncomfortable jaunt along the canal towpath. Here’s a tip for newbie runners: have everything ready for your run in one place. All your kit, plus any of those optional extras you might use: watch, HRM strap, charged-up iPod, headphones, cap, hi-viz vest, calf/knee strap, arm wallet, phone, gels, water bottle… and so on. It means that when you decide to run, you can go to one place, get changed and be out the door within minutes. I devised this excellent advice in the winter of 2001/02, when I started running regularly. Tragically, I’ve never been able to persuade myself to adopt it. Today was a classic … …
For the bawling baby athlete within, it’s been a disorderly, ill-fitting sort of week. With Tuesday to Thursday blocked out with day trips to London and Luton, I had high aerobic hopes for Monday — but as previously noted, Sunday’s prolonged activity prodded my ticker into mild panic. Unusually for me, I took the sensible option, the well-worn advice of coaches everywhere, professional and amateur, and I listened to my body. What I heard was the agitated flapping of the white flag. So I booked an unexpected rest day. And yesterday, my day in london was too long and too annoying to consider going out again in the late evening, so it was another green R on the spreadsheet. Eyes … …
The heart crept back into its box today, though I still didn’t fancy a run this evening. Instead, an hour of towpath cycling. At the end of it, my legs let it be known they’d had a decent workout, though I hadn’t produced quite enough of the salty wet stuff for my liking. The first of two days in London today. On the train in, the plump blonde lady next to me answered her phone and tutted impatiently, before answering the question she’d been posed: “Up in the bedroom in the pink handbag. Otherwise, there are some in the big pot in the cupboard with the cereals….” I was keen to know what sort of item would be at home … …
Not a good day. I woke this morning with both heart rate and blood pressure about 20 percent above the norm, and feeling lethargic. It looks like a simple case of overdoing it. So no exertion today, and an early night.… …
Phew! It’s good to sit down for a breather. I’m pleasantly knackered. Not felt like this since… probably since the marathon, 23 weeks ago. Does gardening count as cardiovascular exercise? If so, I’ve racked up 4½ hours today, including the 2:25 of biking and gymwork this morning. Even without the two hours of mowing and chopping, I’ve attained nine hours of cardio this week, which I have to be pleased with. In lard-melting mode, an hour’s exercise a day is a good target, and anything above that, a bonus. Including the garden toil (and it certainly feels like a workout), I’m running at about 1½ hours a day this week. The dividend on this investment has already arrived. According to … …