Wandering round Notting Hill this evening, waiting for M, I find a copy of Hal Higdon’s Marathon: The Ultimate Training Guide. Hurrah!… …
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Phew. That was close. The week’s schedule was rescued after all. I can now confess that after my quite unplanned waltz down the Tesco wine aisle, I wondered whether this was the beginning of the end. But it wasn’t. All is back on track – even though I could have done with the scheduled rest day today in advance of Sunday’s 15 mile eye-popper. It’s been a valuable lesson though. Never underestimate the potency of a Tesco Chianti moment. Nor indeed of a Tesco Chianti. What a fab day. Cold, but spectacularly sunny for much of the day. Knocked off about 5 to chase the remnants of the sunshine down the lanes, but never quite caught it. It was still … …
Another 7 miles on the board. A relief. I was apprehensive, thinking that my two dissolute evenings would have filled my veins with booze and saturated fat, and that I’d be found fox-nibbled under a hedge at dawn, frozen solid. But well, it was alright actually. Damn cold though. Well below freezing tonight in this part of the West Country. Hard to get started. My breath was strangely… solid, and I could almost feel myself choking on it to start with. The pavement seemed harder than normal, though the grass verges were still sodden from the recent torrents. As I stepped from the path to the grass I could feel my feet sinking in this sludge, and I only … …
Oh, what a rare delight it is to feel these warm alcoholic clouds cushioning my poor overburdened head. I’ve returned from my wedding anniversary dinner, feeling quite [hic!] replete. Before the Ming Dynasty summoned me, I did however manage to fit in a 4 mile run. I had no idea how it would turn out, and I was apprehensive, but it worked surprisingly well. Needless to say it was raining, though not too hard. I did my 10 minute warm-up-walk not knowing what would happen when I began to run. My hood was up, I felt threatened and vulnerable. I was convinced that I’d have some cardiac catastrophe within minutes of kicking out. But no. Much to my surprise, it … …
Oh dear… I’m writing this as I chomp through a chunk of Cheddar the size of Ayers Rock, and pour myself another glass of Tesco’s finest Chianti Classico. I’m having a day off. A couple of days off in fact, as tomorrow we’ll be dining out at Chipping Sodbury’s finest Chinese. Eating out is the biggest casualty of this health regime. Despite the pleasures of running, and the self-gratification of losing all this weight, I decided I needed a short break from it all as I enter the second half of the programme. From time to time we all need decent wine and lasagne and cheese and peanuts and ice-cream. So that’s what I’ve dined on this evening. I will … …
Why should I be surprised? I’ve said more than once that the satisfaction I get from a run seems to be inversely proportionate to the level of expectation. I didn’t enjoy today’s 10 miles very much, and I’m still trying to understand why. I felt tired and lacking in energy. Why? Plenty of reasons. So many candidates in fact, that I don’t know which was the main culprit. For one thing, I had only 5 or 6 hours sleep last night; got up late and had the usual Sunday breakfast dilemma: do I eat and risk feeling too bloated for running? Or skip breakfast and risk being under-fuelled? I chose the latter. What else? Well, Friday’s relatively fast run was … …
I couldn’t resist it any longer. This afternoon I made my way down to Easy Runner (“Bristol’s only running shop”) for a bit of retail therapy. What a delight. Never thought I’d see the day when I would swoon in front of a display of socks, but as old hands are fond of telling newbies like me, “When you train for a marathon you learn things about yourself you never knew”. Once I’d calmed down a bit I invested in 2 pairs of Thorlo socks which are the sort of Roederer Cristal of the sock world, and a rather fetching gold-coloured Coolmax teeshirt. And a pair of lycra shorts to put an end to thigh-chafing misery. Oh, and a variety … …
I’ve been frighteningly disciplined so far when it comes to dragging myself onto the street when I really haven’t felt like it. Partly because experience tells me that I’ll end up being very glad that I did, but mainly because there has always been this fear that once I start to slip, it will be the thin end of the wedge, and in less time than it takes a novice to snigger at the word fartlek, I’ll be off to the chippie, via the Oxfam shop to drop off my running gear. True to form, yesterday I got changed and headed off into the night, despite feeling sleepy and fatigued. After a couple of hundred yards I stopped and … …
What a great run I had tonight. Seven miles and not a drop of rain; barely a gust of wind; several degrees above freezing at last. Perhaps this is what running is supposed to be about. Not battling against the weather and the cold and injuries and blisters, but just having the pleasure and the comfort of reasonable temperatures and dry ground beneath your feet. Well into February now –let’s hope that the curtain is beginning to come down on winter at last. Apart from the conditions, what was really joyful about this run was that my legs felt strong again, after several days of achey, tired heaviness. I’ve had to drag my legs around with me on the last … …
Mindful of the possibility of overdoing things a bit last week, I took a complete rest yesterday to prepare for a new week of exertion. If today’s run is anything to go by, it didn’t do a whole lot of good. I decided to do my modest 4 mile run in the morning, before work, instead of the usual early evening. The main practical reason was that I was planning to spend this evening witnessing my team’s further humiliation at the hands of Bristol City. A more worthwhile reason is that I would prefer to run first thing in the morning beause I think it would energise me for the day ahead. This was to be a dry run, as … …