The snowball has started its much harder journey back up the mountain. It’s like some perpetual battle between Good and Evil. This week, Good is fighting back. Whichever direction I’m moving, whether towards or away from my world record 2 hour marathon, there seems always to be some external momentum propelling me onwards. All things being equal, if I’m running regularly I keep running regularly; if I’m eating badly I keep eating badly. I said all things being equal. They rarely are. It takes a fairly small pebble on the road to halt the ascent or the decline, and send me back in the other direction. I’d better capitalise on this one while I can, as it’s shockingly successful … …
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Aha! The cruellest month is with us. Excellent. Just the sort of excuse we need for sloth. It’s not been the best of weeks. I’ve managed only two runs in the last seven days. Less to do with motivation than hitting a very busy patch at work. A project we’ve been working on all year is now reaching its panicky climax, and I’m having to spend almost every waking hour staring at the gleaming teeth of our deadline. Time for a renewed assault on the waistline problem. As mentioned last week, I plan to join a local running club, but I want to lose a few pounds before I do. I’m going to try making a note of what I … …
How did I manage to miscalculate my winnings so badly? It must have some kind of temporary mental paralysis. The long and the short is that I didn’t “earn enough to pay for a couple of good meals out”, but I did accrue enough to finance a couple of evenings in the pub, the first of which I cashed in this evening. So. So the unfortunate Iain Duncan-Smith is no more. Is it just me, or did he remind you of a character from Wind In The Willows? I could never watch him without imagining him gnawing at a damp tree-root. At the time of writing it seems that Michael Howard is to emerge from the shadows to have … …
It must be another sign of growing old (were more proof needed). For my birthday this year, I asked not for the new Led Zeppelin DVD, but… a breadmaker. And I’ve been using this item regularly since June. In the way of most men, I spent a few hours fiddling with it, trying to persuade it to work, before, in a moment of desperation, deciding to read the instructions. Here I discovered that bread has all sorts of undesirable, invisible ingredients: sugar, salt, milk powder, vitamin C, butter… Surely all these items weren’t really necessary? I decided to leave out the sugar, salt and milk powder, and added a lump of margarine instead of the butter. I produced a few … …
I didn’t do a longish weekend run after all, just the usual 3.5 miler on Saturday before heading off to Loftus Road. Unfortunately I was laid low by a sudden and mysterious attack of drunkenness after the game, which left me… reluctant to run for ten furious miles along the hedgerows of West Berkshire yesterday morning. Oh well. So be it. Monday is my usual rest day, though perhaps I should have got up and ran, as I missed a long run yesterday. But I didn’t. Tomorrow morning I will run, but I can’t be sure about Wednesday yet, as there’s another trip to Mecca tomorrow evening to see QPR take on Manchester City in the Carling Cup. As I … …
I always enjoy planning things; such a good substitute for the inconvenience of action. Yesterday I discovered that the organisers of the Reading half marathon have opened the doors to next year’s race (March 7) and this knowledge launched me into a fog of research that lasted most of the evening. As readers of the forum will know, I’m considering a marathon in Poland in the spring. April 25. When it comes to planning, this destination now becomes my starting point, from which I have to reverse-engineer my life. Now that I’ve publicly mentioned the possibility of the race, the chances of making it there have risen. Wroclaw has become a firm date, if a sort of… provisional firm date. … …
Not quite so cold this morning, just a minefield of invisible puddles instead, and a steady drizzle. I’m beginning to hate myself for giving early morning running such a glowing review last week. I now feel unable to say “Couldn’t be bothered this morning”. It almost happened today. Not because the bed was too warm, but because I have a couple of minor aches that I don’t want to exacerbate. One is a badly bruised toe, the other an aching back. The former happened when I stubbed my toe in the dark yesterday morning, walking into the vacuum cleaner that M had thoughtfully left in the middle of the landing before she came to bed. I later complained about this, … …
Has it ever occurred to you how amazing it is that we all look different? You’d think there would have to be a limit to the number of permutations possible, given the raw material available: pair of eyes, ears, a nose, a mouth, hair colour/style, skin colour/complexion type. But no, the plausible combinations seem endless. What’s surprising is how few people look strange. You’d think that many of us would have to look pretty weird to ensure that the endless variety of human appearance is maintained. But that isn’t the case: apart from “tragic boffin” Dr David Kelly, who has a replica on every train I’ve ever travelled on, virtually every new face I see, and there must be hundreds … …
Stopping to walk during a race is like committing mass murder, don’t you think? You’re a bit reluctant to do it for the first time, but once you’ve done it once you can’t stop. I was musing on this notion this morning, as I plodded around the Blenheim Palace 10K. The Blenheim Palace 10K? No, I didn’t know I was going to do it either. I got up around 8am today, planning on a leisurely Sunday breakfast followed by a gallop along the canal in mid-morning. I casually checked out today’s events at the Runners World website, and noticed the Blenheim Palace race. What the hell? I got into my running gear, cleaned my teeth, left a note for … …
That final question resonated throughout Wednesday. After oversleeping and not running, the day became a kind of minefield, which I lurched across without a care, and from which I didn’t emerge intact. Too much crap food and beer. Yesterday was much better. I didn’t wake up as early as I wanted to but I decided a run was worth getting the later train into London. I didn’t feel great as I set off. After the excesses of the previous day, I felt listless and miserable. But again, for the final mile of the three and a half, I found myself almost bouncing along through a flock of open-mouthed schoolkids, with a smile on my face. And something similar happened again … …