What a day. Up at 6:30 to get out for a final longish run. Only 8 miles, which doesn’t seem like any great feat at this stage of the game. It’s too late now to worry. A week from now I’ll be lining up in Grant Park, sandwiched between Lake Michigan and the forest of skyscrapers that’s the Chicago Loop, wondering what the hell I’ve talked myself into this time. The Great North Run happened today. Sounds like a dramatic event, and has to be on my list for next year. Ian Painter has a good write-up as always. Important that I don’t return to the semi-permanent vegetative state that I lived in for a quarter of a century up … …
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Haven’t run since Tuesday. Too much work to do. Working 12 hours a day including Sat and Sun, and dining on Burger King, cans of beer and giant Mars Bars. Wish I was joking. It’s pretty grim when you have to look forward to a marathon for relaxation. But I’ll get there. Tomorrow, Sunday, I’m working but hope to get a run in in the morning. I need to. 8 miles only, but if I can do it I’ll feel much happier.… …
It’s here. October. Marathon month. Hot damn… After the success of last night’s run I decided to seek out some more dark, quiet lanes for further, flotation-tank-like contemplation. I started out on the canal towpath which perhaps wasn’t a great idea. The path is just too narrow and too uneven to run in pitch blackness. But at least I had a good excuse for taking it very easy indeed. It was another 5 miles under my belt, and I’m beginning to stop feeling anxious about having missed Sunday’s long run.… …
Monday is traditionally a rest day, but after skipping my 12 miler yesterday, again, I could hardly claim to need, or deserve, a rest. More than that, on the train home this evening I actually started to look forward to a run. I felt sort of coiled up, and needed stretching out a bit. So I ran 4.5 miles along tiny back lanes in total darkness. And it was quite exhilarating. I felt… invisible. No sound apart from my breathing and my footfalls. Just the occasional rustle in the hedge, and the distant clatter of the Newbury train to remind me of some parallel universe to which I must sometimes belong. Usually when I run I moan like mad to … …
Supposed to run 12 miles today but instead I went to work. I had a vague thought about doing my run after work, on a circuit that goes along the Thames to the Tate Modern, across the Millenium Bridge to St Paul’s, then along the other bank of the river back to Waterloo or even Westminster Bridge, then back to the South Bank. But I didn’t. Too much beer yesterday. Arrived in Shepherds Bush early to watch the end of the Leeds-Arsenal game on TV in the pub, and got chatting to some people, and, well, ended up having a few pints more than intended, followed by a few more after the match. Eventually M turned up to drive us … …
Another early morning, 4 mile run. It’s getting chilly out here. Two-T-shirts chilly.… …
The Banana Story: Out at 6:30 this morning for a clammy 4 mile dash around the darkened village. The run was reasonable, but as I had to get the 7:40 to Paddington, I was left with little time for breakfast. So after my shower, I grabbed an apple and banana and hobbled off to the car. I stuffed the banana into my jacket pocket, and chomped on the apple as I drove to the station. As usual, I stopped at the newspaper kiosk, jumped out, scored a copy of The Times and hurried back to the car. Imagine my dismay to discover my banana lying dead on the pavement next to my car, squashed flat. Dropping it was bad enough, … …
And so, the fabled taper begins. It’s the thick end of the wedge. Or the thin end, depending on your perspective. The ‘V-Board’ is full of references to “taper madness”. The V-Board? It’s the never-explained name of Hal Higdon’s Web Forum. I haven’t given him a plug for a while, so I’ll just remind you that Hal is a legendary American marathon runner whose training programme I followed to prepare for London in April, and have used again for Chicago. If you want to know more about this remarkable runner/artist/writer/humourist, or to learn a bit about getting started as a runner, check out his website. A few hours after arriving in Chicago, I should be at the V-Board get-together … …
Women are geniuses. I bought yet another pair of socks yesterday, and immediately found myself on the horns of a dilemma. The packaging asserts that “most long distance runners do not use petroleum jelly on their feet”. I was shocked and upset. It had a ring to it not dissimilar from “real men don’t eat quiche”, an epithet that ruined the 1980s for me. What was I to do? I had used PJ liberally for all my long distance runs. Was I to break this habit now, on the eve of my 20 mile run? I sought the advice of my wife who immediately issued me with my instructions. I was to coat one foot in this substance, and leave … …
Much to my amazement, I did it. Nearly 10 miles on a pitch-black, hostile evening, when I really didn’t feel like it. A desperate day at work. I got home late-ish, weary and disillusioned. I’m not into speed training, but twice on the way home I was forced to produce explosive bursts of sprinting — in vain. First at Paddington, between the Bakerloo tube train and platform 10 of the mainline station, where I arrived, panting, to see the 18:18 moving off without me; and at Reading, between the train and the local branch of Sweatshop, where I wanted to replenish my supply of Powergels in preparation for my 20 miler this weekend. But again, I missed it by the … …