This barren running period continues, but I feel OK about it. The strained calf means an unscheduled rest, that’s all, and I’ll be better and stronger for it. I’ve been miraculously lucky with injuries considering how fat and old I am, especially as I never do any stretching and eat all the wrong foods and spend a lot of time in the pub. Let’s face it, it doesn’t much matter. Sometime soon I need to draw up a list of races for the summer and autumn. There is a strange, unspoken assumption that I’ll be taking part in the Dublin marathon in late October. I’m already in the Great North Run on Sept 21, and I’m keen to do the … …
Blog Posts
I decided to give my calf another day of rest even though I’ve not felt a twinge for a couple of days now. Tomorrow I really must give it a test. Resting is good, but there’s always the fear that a rest might turn into an extended lay-off. It’s still uncertain what the next race will be. I’ll be doing nothing this weekend, but there are a couple of 10Ks on the following two Sundays that appeal. The phoney war continues. We all now know there’ll be a military assault on Iraq, and are just waiting for the off. The weather has been glorious for the last few days. I’ve been able to spend a couple of hours each evening … …
No run today, but does anyone really care at the moment? Certainly I don’t. Instead, I sat watching our slide into World War Three. Oh Tony. What a wasted talent you became. Such a nice boy, until you started hanging around with Idiot George, the bully from the other side of the lake. That Bush family are a bad lot. Too late, too late. A truly terrible day, and one that some of us will live to regret, while the rest of us won’t live to think anything.… …
When I left the house for a brisk 3 miler this morning, I wasn’t sure if I’d be going to Bath tomorrow. By the time I returned I’d decided not to run. I did get through the three miles without hobbling, but towards the end I could feel my right calf tightening and beginning to panic. I wouldn’t make it through thirteen miles. It’s disappointing, but just one of those things you have to accept. I’ve been lucky with injuries, and this is the first race I’ve had to pull out of, so I can’t complain too much. What’s more constructive is trying to decide how this happened. I can’t help feeling that the final stretch of the Reading Half … …
The calf is still whining a little, so no run again today. I’d say I’m fifty-fifty for Bath in two days time. I suspect I could run two or three miles with no problem, but thirteen? I don’t know. Tomorrow I’ll have a brief plod, and see how it feels. If it’s worse, I’m out of the race. … …
Hurrah! Something great has happened! I’ve got an injury at last! I’ve often thought that I should have more injuries. I’m overweight, I never stretch or have massages or do warm-ups or warm-downs. I’ve run two marathons and 5 half marathons without training properly. And yet I never get injured. I’ve been feeling quite inadequate. Equally, a few weeks ago I had a bad cold, much to my relief. It was so long since I’d been ill that I was beginning to think there must be something wrong with me. My right calf seized up after the Reading race. Naturally, I did nothing about this, though the ache has remained. Today, I popped out for my first run since the … …
Running a race is an emotional experience. After finishing Reading and collecting my medal, I tottered into the sports hall and found a line of deep, soft sofas. I sank, almost orgasmically, into one of these things, and glugged a bottle of water. I was in some kind of a trance. I remember, vividly, the sensation of floating through the air, above a rather drab looking town. I was holding onto some great red balloon with the word ACHIEVEMENT written across it in white. Horribly corny I know, but I can only report what happened. This state lasted for several luxurious minutes before I awoke and got on with my life. I was quite pleased with things at this point. … …
A bittersweet sort of a day. I drove into Reading, and parked on a Caversham sidestreet, 12 minutes and 33 seconds walk from the start line. This is the sort of statistic that comes easily to the chap who wears a stopwatch. Unlike last year, there was not a massive, stressed-out crowd of people trying to deposit their bags simultaneously. They got it right this year. I sailed through, leaving enough time for a 10 minute massage from Monique, a student at Reading College. After parting with a bargain £4, I trotted off to take my place in the starting line-up. Unlike last year, there was not a half hour delay for the race to start. No. This year, the … …
24 hours to the Reading Half. This week, I’ve deliberately reduced training to just 2 short runs, in the hope of conserving some energy. No doubt some of this excess energy will be seeping away in the garden today. It’s windy, and the rain is about to fall. The turf-cutter has just arrived, and I have a long day of garden reconfiguration ahead. How things change. Up until fairly recently, the idea of spending Saturday gardening, then Sunday running a half marathon, would have been quite alien. Perhaps this is middle-age at long last. And now with only 12 hours to go, I’m feeling drained of all strength, enthusiasm and interest in the Reading Half Marathon. I’m going … …
My strategy for Reading appears to be to have no strategy whatsoever. I’m undecided how much I should be running between successive half marathons. Undecided? I just don’t know. Yesterday I thought I’d have a short run today. Today I changed my mind, and had a rest day. One worry is that I’ve got a very tough day in the garden on Saturday. We have a turf-cutter arriving at 8am and I’m supposed to strip a large portion of the grass, moving it to a pile about 100 yards away. This will be somewhat knackering. The normal way of relaxing after a day like this is to spend several hours in the pub, getting roaring drunk. This time I’m going … …