Yesterday was a bad day. Maybe I was slightly hungover, which wouldn’t have helped, but I felt strangely isolated. I say “strangely” because I’m pretty self-sufficient. As long as I have a computer or a book, and access to a fine wine cellar, I’m perfectly happy with my own company. But yesterday it sort of crowded in on me there for a while.… READ MORE.... …
Blog Posts
My mum died this morning at 10:40. The decision not to go to Almeria was the right one. I’d set my sails, and was ready go. Then late yesterday afternoon, having just made arrangements with Sweder to pick me up in Crawley on his way to Gatwick, I went to see my mother. She’s been unwell since Christmas. Last weekend, M and I drove to North Yorkshire to help celebrate the 50th birthday of M’s old friend, Sally.… READ MORE.... …
Life is frantic these days. It’s like being pursued by a gorgon, with each mini head yelling at me to get something done. It’s all happening. What is? Too much, you’ll be relieved to hear, to list and to pick over right now. I have a thousand things to do, including, now, at 11 p.m. on a Friday night, the need to pack for a party weekend in Yorkshire and a complicated business day in Nottingham on Monday.… READ MORE.... …
Success: my first experiment with treadmill intervals yesterday evening. At least I’m presuming it was a success. I did what I set out to do, namely run 6 x 2 minutes fastish, interleaved with 6 x 2 minutes slowish, on a treadmill set to an incline of +1. This followed 30 minutes of bug-eyed biking and elliptical cross-training to get the blood bubbling nicely through my arteries.… READ MORE.... …
After 3 weeks of clinging to the Boston ledge by my fingertips, I may just have clambered back to safety. An enforced lay-off can be a good thing. It’s one of nature’s slick self-protection mechanisms. When your instincts may be to overload, you end up compelled to take some rest and recovery. Sounds good, but during a marathon training plan, you can very quickly have too much of a good thing.… READ MORE.... …
Within hours of gloomily tucking up the previous entry in bed, and retiring, head bowed, I feel obliged to rush back up this glittering celebrity staircase to announce these better tidings. It’s a small gain, but at the moment, any gain is something to be snatched and shown off. It was nothing more than 3.5 miles around the block at lunchtime, but for the first time since Boxing Day, I managed it without feeling any calf twinges of note.… READ MORE.... …
Perhaps I imagined that by not writing about my troubles, they would somehow go away. They haven’t, and I’m still very fed up. To pick up the story from last time, I did indeed set off on my “stately 3 or 4 miler” the following day, but got no further than 100 metres before the calf went again. Not as sharply as it had the previous week, but I couldn’t run on it.… READ MORE.... …
Here is the news — good and bad. Hold on while I switch on the dry ice machine and play a few arpeggios on the harp to set the mood… Look into my eyes, look into my eyes, the eyes, the eyes, not around the eyes, don’t look around my eyes, look into my eyes, you’re under… It is Boxing Day 2008 — just 3 days ago.… READ MORE.... …
I got up early this morning and ate a banana and some Marmite toast, washing them down with a small black coffee. In my life, this signals only one thing: the long run. OK, or a race. Even a shortish one. But today, it was the long run. The clue is not so much what’s on this menu, but what’s omitted.… READ MORE.... …
The end of Week 19 (counting back from Boston). I got the 3 key runs in, and the 3 cross-training gym sessions. Sounds great, yet the week didn’t go quite as planned. With M away Monday and Tuesday, I managed to resist the lure of alcohol the first night, but slipped out to the pub on Tuesday, hoping in vain to see Chelsea chased out of the Champions League by a bunch of plucky Transylvanians.… READ MORE.... …