Pouring with Rain? Perfect!

Its Week 3 on the new regime and I'm up to 2.5 mins running/ 2.5 mins walking. Still knackering, but its getting easier and I can really see a difference. Dave, my running coach even said, 'massive improvement would be an understatement' so I am feeling pretty pleased with myself. That and the eating plan is also paying off, 10 pounds down and back in my size 10 skinny jeans. Hopefully the combination of nutrition and training should make me faster. I'm aiming for a 5K by the end of Jan, with a view to sign up for a half marathon in the Autumn 2013. 

But Christmas is getting in the way! I hadn't managed a run since last Sunday, and spinning classes were given up in favour of night out with work and friends. That also means the eating plan was 'tweaked' somewhat. So with this being day one of my Christmas holidays and with all this extra time on my hands I really had no excuses not to run, plus cabin fever was already setting in and Stella looked like she might start eating the Christmas tree. 

We set off in a light drizzle, and 5 minutes in it started chucking it down. At only 7 degrees out, that's not all that fun when you're still warming up. Very glad I had the sense to wear a hat, but thankfully 10 minutes in, the routine kicks up a notch, so I may have got soaked through, but I wasn't freezing. And its worth it, I am loving being back on the road, even if its only for 20 minutes every other day. 

Stella had a ball, which meant we both got back to the flat looking like drowned rats, and pretty covered in mud. Hot showers all round, and I'm treating myself to a mince pie. Tis Christmas after all. 

Hot New Look - Bedraggled 

Stella submits to being bathed

But not for long...

ARMS and ABS! All Hail the New Regime

Week Two of the New Running Regime. Just a few sessions under my belt and I can already see a huge improvement, that and it feels completely different. Much more streamlined.

The main focus has been strengthening my core, in a bid to stabilise my running and sort out the alignment. So that means literally, sucking it (the abs) up. I have never felt my abs work like they do when I'm working this program. Hopefully by the end of this I should have a wash board stomach.

The running itself is knackering, mentally as well a physically. The combination of core work, and trying to remember to pull in the tail bone, keep the back soft, remembering to lift and pull (hamstrings and glutes) rather than push (calves) AND lean forward from the ankles to aid momentum, my brain is having a hard time keeping up with my feet. That's only doing two minute intervals (running) and three minutes walking. Exhausting and I have to keep reminding myself to breathe.

Most of the time all I can hear in my head is my coach shouting ARMS and ABS! Repeatedly. Arms must not swing across my body. Ever. Abs need to be in pain. Constantly.

Once a week I get filmed running on the treadmill (*cringe* but a great motivation to pull in the abs!) so my running coach and me can check out what's going right and what's still going wrong. Everything from my left hip collapsing half way through the cycle and the weird flick I do with my right foot. But its also great for seeing how far I have come, with four weeks still to go.

The great news is that I am already faster. Like much faster. I can't quite believe it was as simple as bring the feet in line with my centre of gravity, upping the cadence and leaning forward. Just a tad. Well, let's be honest, I'm running faster in two minute spurts. Not sure I could keep up the pace for 13.1 miles. But we'll see.

Here's me after 20 minutes (that reflection is actual sweat + smudged mascara for proper authenticity). I usually looked like this after 2 hours. So that's efficiency for you!
Here's hoping for a 5km for Christmas.

Hair a complete state and V sweaty. Not well documented here! 

Earning My (Go Faster) Stripes

FINALLY! New (physio approved) trainers purchased, and a brand spanking new training schedule designed to get me back up and running (ahem) in 6 weeks.

And there is actual running involved. Not just excruciatingly dull muscle group repetitions.  I am delirious with excitement. A very small amount of running, yes, but running. Three times a week and a session with the coach to entrench the new, efficient, super speedy habits.

Box Fresh Mizunos

Lots of other exercises to build up the core, correct the imbalances and at least another three low impact  cardio sessions a week. Having rediscovered how much I love spinning, there's a good chance I'll look like GI Jane by the end of this. But generally I'm just thrilled to have my stress buster staple back.

Celebrated with a new running jackets for the icy winter mornings. Why not (and it matches the new trainers)

New clobber, complete with go faster stripes

Zen and the Art of (Not) Running

If you've been following the blog you'll know I'm currently out of action on the running front. It's been over a month since I last ran, and around 8 weeks since the injury made its (omni)presence known. About seven sessions of physiotherapy, a few sports massages and endless, endless exercises to strengthen my glutes, calves and core, and I'm still no closer to being run ready, 'another two weeks'. I heard that four weeks ago. Going slightly mad.

The problem, they say, with ITB injuries is that its difficult to pin point just one cause.  It turns out I'm pretty riddled with all sorts of odd habits, badly aligned hips, little flexibility in my ankles, etc etc, the list goes on and on. Just as one thing gets sorted, something else flares up. If I'm to run again safely, I need to impact-proof my joints, by building up the *right* muscles.

I am now torn between ignoring all good advice (they're just quacks) and just tearing off regardless, OR quitting running altogether (I'm not cut out for this sporting malarky). Because anything in-between requires frustrating, tears inducing, mind numbing work.

I have never been the patient sort. If I am not able to do something perfectly immediately I lose interest fast. This happened with my 'passion' for guitar when I was 16, my flirtation with Kung Fu when I was 19, Kick Boxing at 22 and then Wing Chung at 25. There was even a 6 month period when I was obsessed with Krav Maga. Nothing stuck. I told myself, I was too uncoordinated, unfit, too short or too old. I also told myself I wasn't the 'sporty type' to justify my lack of perseverance, which in reality, was just a lack of discipline and more than a bit of plain old fashioned laziness. But I had done a really good job of convincing myself otherwise.

So when I found I could actually finish a 5K run without keeling over, I was astonished. Here was something I could do. Just by putting in a bit of extra work every few days, I built myself up to running 10K, then a half marathon. And just to prove it wasn't fluke, I ran another one. I had finally broken through that warped image I had of myself as 'unsporty'. I could do this!

Other mad things happened; people started asking my advice, 'you're really into fitness what do you think?' or 'I've just started running, how long before I can run your kind of distances?'. I had never dreamed I'd ever be referred to as a 'fitness freak' or 'running nerd'. I was over the moon, regardless of whether they were compliments or otherwise.

Then this happened. I literally limped through the Royal Parks. It wasn't fun anymore. My body stopped doing what I wanted it to. It hurt. A lot. I've had to stop and recover properly. My confidence has taken a pretty serious knock, and it was pretty fledgling to begin with. I now find myself contending with all the old mantras. 'What did you expect?', this old voice says, 'you're not sporty. Who are you kidding? You're not built for this. Stop pretending. Sit on the sofa and just give up. Maybe try aqua aerobics instead'. Full on pity-party going on in my head.

Luckily, I have a very positive physiotherapist, who is patient when I am throwing a strop, and a few great running friends who can't wait to get out there again, no matter if I have to take it very slowly.  Come Christmas I am crossing my fingers I should be clocking up the mileage. In the meantime, there's aqua (!)

A gem of wisdom captured on the Portobello Market

Swimming 101: Don't Drown

Five o'clock this morning my alarm went off and I got out of bed. Its pitch black outside without a soul in sight, not even the psychotic neighbours, who I'm convinced don't actually sleep (that right there is whole separate blog). I'm out of bed, I'm dressed and I'm out the door and headed to the West End to meet my friend (and new swim coach) for 6:30am. I'm out of bed, and clearly out of my mind. 

Its eerie driving through the West End at 6am on a Wednesday morning. The sun hasn't even thought about rising yet, the shops are all still pretty shut up and there are only a few people around, wrapped up against the pre-dawn cold. And it is cold. Its been years since I saw this side of London, and back then I probably would have been headed to bed, rather just getting out of it. And I certainly wouldn't have thought I'd ever be dragging myself out of slumber, willingly, at this hour to hit the pool. Before work. Like a lunatic.

Thankfully the Oasis centre in Tottenham Court Road is warm, and although we were disappointed the heated outdoor pool wasn't open yet, I was slightly relieved that I wouldn't have to brave the cold wearing only my speedo full piece and some spangly goggles. The indoor pool would do!

Then there's nothing else for it. I have to jump in. And its more than a shock to the system when I get going. I'm very grateful to have a friend there, who is a very strong and experienced swimmer and talks me through the different lanes and has a look at my very rusty technique. 

The first thing that strikes me is how tough it is. Really, lung burning, muscle aching tough. I am not swimming fit at all. It reminded me of my first few C25K sessions, I had to stop every couple of lengths to catch my breath. Totally knackering. I also seem to have forgotten how to swim without inhaling half the pool. Cue much spluttering and the occasional fear I may actually forget to come up for air (yes, mad). Or get taken out by the super quick pensioner just behind me n the lane. Its a jungle out there. 

To add to this farce, swimming freestyle highlights my terrible co-ordination, those neural pathways are non existent, I'll need some lasers to burn these into my brain! I can't get the breathing sorted as well as have my legs kicking as much as they should at the same time. Yup. It's comedy value really. 

But with a few pointers from my swimming guru friend, and sensibly slowing the pace, I began to get into it. Managed about 35/40 minutes. Not bad going for session one. Now to ensure I fit in at least another three ahead of the Torture (sorry Physio) appointment. 

One of the many excuses I thought up to not go swimming. 

Sink or Swim

Two weeks since the race and a few follow up physio appointments later, its very clear that my running injury is a bit more complicated than I initially thought, and its going to take a lot more than a few weeks rest to get better.

Pay attention, here comes the science bit, I'll keep it brief. The year old calf injury from back in Feb 2011 has come back to haunt me, just in time for Halloween. Apparently this is fairly common as I didn't get it properly looked at. This means my right calf has very little flexibility and my left leg has been compensating. Add to that the lazy glutes (as discussed here so I won't go on), a pretty lackadaisical core and tight hips and HEY PRESTO! Awful awful ITB issues. What fun.

The upshot of all of this is that I will not be running for at least another month while I focus on building up the flexibility and getting the right muscles 'firing'.  When I do start again, I have been advised to pretty much start again. They're talking running for a minute, walking for three minutes... that kind of starting again. OH GOOD. But we're also talking sorting out my posture, getting rid of that weird flick I do with my right foot, and getting stronger and faster all round.

So there's that to look forward to. In the meantime its been suggested I swim. Yes, swim. And not the faffing about in the pool I usually do, while on holiday. Proper swimming, using freestyle, to build my core strength.

Its worth noting I haven't been swimming for fitness purposes since 1994, back in Roosevelt High's Grade 8 swim team, which I was a part of for precisely 2 days.

I do not have fond memories of sporty 'proper' swimming in general. My high school pool was also used for diving so was suitably, very deep and I had this irrational fear that I'd dive in too deep and not reach the surface quickly enough. You know, before I drowned. I hated the horrid elastic caps that had to be dusted with baby powder so they didn't stick together, and pulled my hair,  the sting-your-eyes chlorine that also turned my hair green and made my skin itch. The unflattering school issue navy swimsuits.

But needs, must and all that. I've had a bit of a look around the local leisure centre facilities, and with the hoards of screaming children, it looked just as daunting as my old school pool nearly 18 years ago. I left without even getting a toe wet.

Not a good start then, so I'm just reminding myself I was just as terrified of my trainers when I first put them on. Flashbacks of shivering to the core wearing ill fitting brown nylon shorts on the starting line in the middle of winter come to mind. All the anticipation and anxiety, only to come last in sprints. Or falling over the hurdles. Its fair to say I loathed running, I found it humiliating and difficult. Now I find it something I pretty much can't live without. So if I want to get back on it. I'm going to have to jump in the pool.

My ideal pool.
Unfortunately no Lilos are allowed at the leisure centre

Royal Parks or ...The Plan B Race

I finished it. Yes. I finished. This is what I keep repeating to myself while alternating ice packs and hot water bottles while recovering on my sofa post 13.1 miles this morning. What a race. But for very different reasons.

It was such a beautiful day, perfect weather, and everything was going incredibly smoothly, no delays, no queues, I was feeling relaxed and positive about the race. I had told myself that I wasn't going for a PB, with my injury, I really just needed to get round. So no pressure.

But once I was there absorbing the atmosphere, all the buzz in the air, the anticipation, part of me really thought the universe may just conspire to deliver me a 2:15. It was sunny after all. In October. Crazier things have happened. Right?

Emily and I set off at a good pace and I honestly felt pretty awesome up until about mile 4 - so technically the very start of the race. Emily's very uplifting chatter of, 'we're nearly a third of the way there!' helped, for about another mile or so, and then I had to drop two more Nurofen to counteract the now, very painful ITB. And I stopped being able to keep to our pace.

Come mile 6, and my sunny disposition was starting to darken. I was already tired, how can this be? Well I can tell you, three weeks with just cross training is a very poor substitute for the real thing. I kind of knew this in the back of my head, but again my over positive mind frame pre-race, let me conveniently forget it.

Between miles 8 and 9 I thought it may just be over. Or at best I'd have to make peace with the fact I was going to hate every inch of the course left to run and may just cry my way through it. Nurofen helped a tad, but then the other ITB started to strain which threw me off my game plan completely. Both sides? Are YOU SERIOUS!?

At this point I felt a tap on my shoulder, 'you alright love?' says a woman wearing the same charity shirt as me. And for once I didn't try and front it out. I'm not sure if it was the implicit camaraderie as we were running for the same charity, or the fact that at this point I thought I may vomit, but instead I said;  'Not really, having a pretty tough time, I'm injured blah erg, blah URG, blah *sob*' And Julie just got it.

And by some minor miracle, Julie was in a pretty similar state to me, and more than happy to keep me company while I just got myself back together. Having torn her calf muscle running the London Marathon earlier this year (at mile 16, with another 10 miles to go - and she still finished!), she was looking at walk/ running the last 4 miles. Which sounded like a good Plan B to try and salvage the rest of the race, and possibly my ITB (and sanity).

And from that point my race improved dramatically. Julie's fantastic demeanour and inspirational story helped distract from the pain, and well, we just had a laugh. I stopped taking it so seriously. I gave up the idea of getting anywhere near a PB. We talked to other runners. I managed to jump up and down enthusiastically when I saw my friends and family who came to support (ouch, but worth it). We helped first time half marathon runner Katie, manage a particularly nasty stitch. We waved at everyone. We made faces at the cameras.  We finished with a spectacular 800 metre dash (er, hobble really), in just over 2 hours 39 minutes, actually smiling. Plan B.

Now that's nine minutes slower than my PB, but I'll take that. Those nine minutes reminded me of something pretty core, that I had forgotten to have fun when training. It was all splits and miles logged and comparing schedules with other colleagues, desperately trying to achieve perfect form, and ultimately finding myself in a lot of pain on physio tables. Not fun really. At all.

So I'm going to take some time out to recover, sort out the injury slowly and properly and then take to the street again, when its healed,  without the expectation, or added pressure of an impending race. And just run, for fun. To feel good, and have a laugh.

Until Paris next year that is!

DONE. Badge to prove it 

Amazing to have my Mom here to see me run all the way from Sunny South Africa

Sucker for Punishment

Slippers. Not great for impact sport

It's been a pretty slow week. I have been putting my feet up pre the big race on Sunday on advice from my firm but fair physiotherapist. She has advised that any further impact training will just inflame the Irritable ITB even further, making running the half marathon this weekend pretty uncomfortable. And I have since come to learn, that my physio's idea of 'uncomfortable' is my idea of 'agony'.

So I have resigned to cross training. And not the fun kind i.e. cycling/ rowing, which would just aggravate the hip flexors and ITB further. No I have been advised to use the actual Cross Trainer. The one with the arm movements and everything. IT IS SO VERY VERY BORING. I feel like one of those 80's aerobics obsessives, swinging pony tail and retro headphones to boot.

But anything to keep the cardio up, although I have to say after 6km on the damn thing I did contemplate throwing myself in front of the women on the treadmill opposite. Just for a thrill.

My dark mood turned blue when I received the Elvis magazine along with White Jacket of Rejection through the post on Saturday. Those in the know will be nodding in recognition.

Runner Rejection. No VLM for me

This just made me sadder. Bad Elvis

The news arrived, I didn't get a place in the 2013 London Marathon. Sad Face (although secretly my physio is thrilled). But I have now got it my head that a marathon is the next challenge.

Which begs the question, while I sit here popping nurofen having been through an excruciating hour of sports massage which practically had me crying for my mother, am I losing my mind?

Along with a whole new vocab to describe pain, and precisely where it hurts (I thought ITB was some tax agency, and I won't go into what I though the piriformis was), I also seem to have picked up a virulent strain of masochism.

When training is going well you can look forward to the following:

• Punishing long runs that leave your legs like jelly
• Interval training that fairly often is so intense you think you may be sick 
• Hill training that has you gasping for air 
• Blisters
• Chaffing
• Abuse from cyclists, construction workers, lager louts hanging outside pubs

And when its going badly you can expect all of the above with the added joy of being injured. So there's the frustration of not being able to actual clock the mileage (or clocking it through gritted teeth), and the fact that you are probably in additional pain in some for or another. Never mind the mental kicking you give yourself for getting injured in the first place, if its self inflicted, like mine.

So why bother?

It keeps me sane. I am going out of my mind not being able to run. Now that I have mastered the run-without-music its a real meditation is just letting go and sweating it out. So here are my top 10 positives (there are many many more)

• I earn my dinner and can eat with guilt free abandon!
• I sleep better and wake up more rested 
• I am less quick to complain, or get annoyed (probably because I'm exhausted)
• I am more relaxed and more positive, more flexible muscles, less tension
• I have more confidence, getting medals is very rewarding!
• The sense of achievement having completed the mileage never gets old
• Although I look a total sweaty fright post run, I feel totally rock and roll 
• A long run gives me time to help me think and organise my thoughts 
• I feel more connected to my body (right now, I would rather feel less. It hurts)
• Running reminds me to BREATHE. Simple, but helpful for obvious reasons

Ultimately it makes me a better human being to be around. So send your good vibes people, I just need enough to get round 13.1 miles on Sunday!

Countdown: Two Weeks to Go

Numbers UP!

Two weeks today, hopefully I'll be putting my feet up after completing 13.1 miles in the Royal Parks. Race number has arrived, charity vest is at the ready, and with a few more physio sessions lined up between now and then, I'm crossing my fingers that I'll be racing on Oct 7th.

The ITB is still causing some discomfort, but I managed 10km (with a break for added stretching) this morning without wanting to throw myself in the Serpentine. So provided Emily brings the chat, my ibuprofen lasts and these agonising foam roller love ins pay off, all will be well. I'm doing about 20 minutes a day with the blasted thing (10mins in the morning, 10 in the evening). I'd say we're getting a tad co-dependant. Stella is not happy and took another chunk out of it while I wasn't looking.

I've managed my prescribed exercises all week, mainly as the trainers were gathering dust due to the annual seasonal cold that has been going around, but I'm really hoping they help in the long term, and I don't get told off by the physio again!

The REGIME as imagined by Stick Man 

Rock and Roller. A Horror Story

On Sunday I managed 13.5km of my planned 17km long run before the Dreaded Knee won over, and through gritted teeth I had to admit defeat. After much debating about walk/ running home and even trying a few yards at a time I knew the game was up and limped to the bus stop in a sulk.

I spent the rest of the afternoon with ice packs at the ready, developing an autumn cold and feeling sorry for myself. I had come to the realisation that no amount of Green Giant frozen peas were going to sort out this particular issue. I had an idea this may be the Insufferable IT band causing all this worry, but I had to seek advice from the professionals.

And I was right. Thankfully by some miracle granted by the running gods, I got myself an appointment on a day's notice. and some tough advice to boot.

The diagnosis? In order of pain brought on by physio massage (I screamed. Like a baby)

1. Rock hard, aching calves brought on by too many days tottering about in high heels and not enough stretching. Apparently this is also why I'm not getting faster, my calves aren't able to generate the power  because they're TOO STIFF. I blame Kurt Geiger 
2. Inflamed IT band from non-engaged glutes. Yes I have a  LAZY ass! Oh and, not enough stretching
3. Very tight hip-flexors from, you guessed it, not enough stretching AND cycling up hills in France 

My physio thinks we may be able to do a 'patch up' job for the Royal Parks, provided I take nurofen for  two weeks like fiend and do my exercises/ stretches every single day. Twice. At least. And come back to see her for more torture, aka treatment. Serves me right. Really should've down the stretches, starting about 2 years ago.

Oh and meet my new Best Friend - the Foam Roller. Welcome to the House of Pain. I screamed like a baby, again.

Resting. While I choke back tears OF PAIN

Getting acquainted. Pre-excruciating, blood curdling screams

Stella found this new development somewhat unnerving, attacked the foam roller and then tried to sit on me while I was doing my stretches. I might make her stretch with the roller if she tries that again. Not a helpful coach.

Stella is suspicious

I've also had to take one last, long look at my beautiful collection of heels as they are now, verboden until after the race, and even then I suspect my physio would suggest not on a daily basis. There goes my cost-per-wear theory. But an excuse to buy new shoes. So not a terrible day.

Wicked Witch Flats - serious toe cleavage

Good Week, Bad Week

No good deed goes unpunished, past few weeks have certainly been proof of that!

Having got back from France relaxed and fitter than we were before we left, we discovered Stella the Dog wasn't very well and shipped her off to the vet to get her checked out. Thankfully she's fine, dosed up on antibiotics for a mild bug, but the vet did notice that her poor paws are looking a bit worn and has suggested she only run trails. No more pavements. Or I need to buy her some Nikes.

Coach: On sabbatical 

So I am currently without a coach. But I managed a decent five and half miles last Tuesday, trying out a new route via Hammersmith to shake it up a bit.

Wednesday a few of us braved the wilds of North London to visit Move Three Sixty on advice that Hannah Richards had passed on when we met during one of Sweaty Betty's Run Britannia events.

We met with Claud Serjeant for our assessment who quickly worked through analysing our postures, videoing our running styles (cringe!) and checking our footwear. He gave us some invaluable insight into where we were going wrong, what the aches and pains were pointing to, and how to correct them. It's all about the glutes! Oh and the hamstrings. We came away with core strength exercises and stretches to begin working into our training schedules. So many 'ah ha!' moments around balance, symmetry and kinetic movement, I wish I had brought a notebook!

Saturday I had my first Yoga class of my beginner's course at the Life Centre. Ninety minutes of basic stretching, postures and some interesting new types of breathing (who knew?!).

The Life Centre in Notting Hill

Armed with new stretches, (mad breathing) and awareness of posture, Emily and I banked 15km with a pretty decent pace for 7:30am on an unseasonably hot Sunday morning. And all seemed well, up until about 13km, when my knee started to complain and its been niggling on and off just a little too much for me to ignore. After all of that!

I managed only 3 miles this evening, before it started playing up again and now I'm a little injury paranoid. It may just be a par-for-the-course ache, rather than anything more serious, but nevertheless I am icing the knee with as many frozen peas as I can get my hands on. Oh and eating chocolate pudding, I hear it has pretty good healing properties. I may just take another rest day with the Coach.

Chocolate Pudding. Good for knees

A French Affair

Last week I packed my running shoes along with my passport and headed to Plaisance in France, for a week of indulging in cheese, catching up with family and perhaps even fitting in some cycling between the running sessions I had planned.

Most of that went according to plan. We took a leisurely train to the Aveyron region via Toulouse, settled into the holiday mood and arrived at our destination suitably relaxed and full of french pastry. And as a result I was itching to get some mileage in to hopefully balance the butter intake and ease out the stiffness that comes with long train journeys.

I needn't have worried, it didn't take long to get ourselves sorted out with top-of-the-range bikes, creative itineraries, maps and Garmins, from the wonderfully effervescent  and knowledgeable Claudia Koch who owns and runs Cycling Magnolias, a cycling tour company based in the beautiful Les Magnolia's hotel in Plaisance who we booked our holiday through.

Les Magnolia's Hotel

One or two long bike rides wouldn't mess too much with my running plans, I thought, I can include in my 'cross training' days and perhaps one or two meandering trips around the country side on my recovery days. Surely? Best laid plans and all that....

I have to admit, the running was forsaken in favour of the beautiful bike I found myself in possession of for a week. It wasn't the easiest first day, I fell off four (!!)  times while I got used to the straps on the pedals and I earned myself some spectacular bruises, but after that it was a match made in heaven. Beautiful countryside to explore, minimum traffic and breathtaking views.

My lovely hybrid for the week 

My trainers were almost left in my suitcase, I just wasn't planning on having such fun on the bike and the running sessions were quickly forgotten.  Of course I was suitably punished by finding new and interesting muscles that ached like nothing I have ever experienced having hit the hills or trying (stupidly) to keep pace with my uber-fit cycling-guru father.

Dad and I on top of the hill en route to St Izaire (75km round trip)

So, by the end of the holiday I had clocked up (almost) 200km on the bike and a very disappointing 10km in actual running, one session on an early Tuesday morning post thunderstorm to shake out the stiff cycling muscles. Of course I am blaming the heat  and the fact that those hills can only be conquered with bikes. My legs on their own just couldn't cope!

I also blame the cheese. I can't run on a full stomach. But I can cycle.

Cheese. The overriding theme of the trip

Back in London and I am contemplating buying a road bike. But like any affair, I can't quite see how it would fit into my 'real' life in London just yet. To much traffic to contend with, the issue of storage, the expensive kit that comes with it. So I'm back with my first love, simple straight-forward running and hitting the pavements back in training for the Royal Parks.

But there may be a triathlon in my future... wear did I store my swimming cap again?

The Hills are Aliiiiiive!

On Thursday night I attended a Women's Running event at Runner's Need in Victoria hosted by the editor, a life coach, personal trainer and a physiotherapist. The main focus of the event was to discuss motivation and training techniques and thankfully the crowd were all relatively new runners, training for half marathons, so we all had very similar questions.

My main challenge at the moment is getting my pace up when running on my own. I find it incredibly hard to push the speed element of the training without someone else's slightly faster pace to mirror. Interval training I can manage, but its the longer stamina runs that end up falling back to 11:30 min miles, rather that the 10:30 I'm aiming for.

The feedback from the experts then was to give hill training a go. Great for stamina, a form of interval training and also adds in an element of strength training for the old legs. Clearly I am thrilled about this. Hills - not a fan. Intervals - make me want to vomit. Fantastic.

The plan they recommended looks like this:

• Warm up for 10 minutes regular tempo
• 1 minute or thereabouts hard up hill 
• Recover on the down hill
• Repeat for 15 minutes (with a 2 minute recovery jog if needed half way)
• Cool down 10 minute tempo run

This looked pretty doable actually and lucky for me there's a pretty killer hill about a mile away from my flat, just enough time to warm up then.

I set off in my brand spanking new running kit (discount sale at the seminar! I am a sucker for a deal) feeling pretty positive about the session. One minute up hill - pfffft! Easy.

Walk? We ran!

Stella contemplates the hill

Stella sets the pace

And so we hit the hill. One minute up hill, fine. I've done that hill a hundred times before. But just the one time per run. One minute up that hill six times over? Not so fine. Although very amusing for passers by, and very confusing for Stella the Dog who actually sat down at one point. Clearly the hill even got to her.

Really pleased I managed it and what a way to clear the better part of 5kms and get the heart rate hitting the threshold. HELL YES! (I say this after I collapsed in a heap on my kitchen floor)

Four to the floor

Stella in Recovery Mode = Hiding

Suffering: Optional

With the 2012 Olympic spirit blazing through London at the moment its hard not to get completely engulfed in it and then attempt some huge personal record breaking feats. And why not? Mo winning double gold in particular, and emphasising, "its all hard work and grafting, then anything is possible" inspired me to get out there and train. No more excuses. 

I've also found inspiration in another form, as I am finally reading one of the definitive running autobiographies by the brilliant Murakami; What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. He writes about the idea that pain is inevitable, but that suffering is optional. This was a philosophy he read an ultra-marathon runner discussing when coping with huge physical stress over a prolonged period of time without giving up, and its an idea he's taken to heart with his training. 

So yes, basically it is going to hurt. Potentially a lot. There's no getting round that, but it's whether or not you give into your doubt or fear of coping with that pain that makes all the difference. There's a choice there, which seems so obvious and simple. But when I'm breaking new ground, be it that extra kilometre, faster pace or steeper hill, its a choice I have to keep making, sometimes over and over again while running. 

Thankfully though I am not training for an ultramarathon, so let's be frank and do away with my drama queen antics, the pain won't be gut-wrenching (we hope!). 

It's all in the eyebrow

Nevertheless, my training run today of 7 miles (11.3kms) was not off to a great start and I was feeling pretty lack lustre. That pain in the hip started niggling again and then a nasty stitch developed around the 3 mile mark (that will be that apple danish, more fool me!). But with a few well chosen mantras, some old school Chemical Brothers (Dig your Own Hole, ironically fitting) and consistently making the choice to push on through, in the end I managed a decent pace and finished the required mileage. 

Even if I did end up looking a bit like this. Ouch. 

This snapshot doesn't quite show you how red in the face I actually go (crimson). Having pushed through the discomfort, and locked another training session in the bank, I do love those endorphins and the red face, dry mouth, salt in the eyes, burning muscles that they bring. Pretty fantastic after all. 

Plus I get to demolish a huge guilt free seared beef and mustard BOSS sandwich. Full credit to Mr R for making sure there was delicious post run food in the fridge. Gold!

The Good Run

Running and I did not get off to a good start this week. Still recovering from my Sunday long run, I wasn't feeling very clever on Monday morning. With an early start looming, and the bus rounding the corner faster than I could walk it, so I made a run for it, thinking I could clear the distance Usain Bolt style. Forgot I was wearing heels, forgot I am not, in fact, an Olympic gold medal sprinter. Forgot to look out for misplaced dustbins. And predictably, found myself upended on the pavement, flat on my face on Ladbroke Grove with the contents of my handbag strewn far and wide. Thankfully I was wearing trousers.

A very sweet 10 year old boy stopped to help me collect my oyster card, mascara and notebook, while three very able young men pretended not to laugh. No cut lips, but my blood was boiling nonetheless. I think my pride was more hurt than my scuffed hands and knees but Ouch (capital O). Oh and I missed the bus.

Tuesday's rolled around and I'm still feeling a bit battered from the fall (no blood it did some kind of mischief to my shoulder and I'm playing up the drama). But the training schedule is what it is. And there's less than 9 weeks to go to the Royal Parks half marathon. No more excuses.

Recently I've been trying to incorporate the tips on form that I was given a few weeks back during one of the Run Britannia sessions, and its beginning to really make a difference. I've picked up a few bad habits over the past 18 months that I have been running, which they say is very normal, the hardest thing is just getting out a doing it in the first place. But now that I'm trying to increase speed and pick up the distance, I need to start looking at being more energy efficient. Which isn't as hard has it looks.

So I'm trying to unpick the habit of heel striking and shifting to mid foot running which means I'm dragging my feet less and using stronger muscles (activate the hamstrings - OUCH). I'm straightening my back and pulling my shoulder blades back rather than up, so less slumping forward and less tension. And lastly I'm relaxing. Yes really. Just going with it.

And what a run it was! Not overly quick, or long, but I felt pretty goddamn amazing. A few aches and pains as per normal, but less fatigued, much lighter. And the niggling hip pain seems to be easing. Even in the pouring rain. YES!

Hardcore. Oh Yes. 

New Route! 

Super Sunday

It must be Olympic fever. I managed the 6am start twice this week, even got R out and about for a quick 2 miler and managed a decent 10K this morning - partly motivated to get to the screens in Hyde Park to watch the ladies marathon as they approached Pater Noster Square. 

Completely inspiring to watch the city get behind team GB. And in particular watching the ladies clean up  in the medals!

Hyde Park Olympic Screens

Ladies Marathon - 2 hours and counting!

Having allowed myself a short break to watch the action, I headed back to Ladbroke Grove - when the heavens opened. Which after 8kms is actually welcome relief - one of the great perks of summer running, cooling off!

Headed home to finish off the long run of the week, treated myself to Yazoo (best run recovery drink on the market in my humble opinion) and a salt beef, pickle and mustard sandwich. Standard.

Like crack for running addicts

nomnomnomnomNOM

Run Britannia!

In a bid to transform myself into an early morning workout obsessive, (which I'll need to be to clock up the miles needed to actually get a decent time in the Royal Parks) I made to commitment to meet my running BFFs,  Emily and Laura at 7am on Sunday morning. That's a 6am wake up call on my usual Day of Rest (i.e. 11am lie in!).

Needless to say, it was a struggle turning off the snooze button and lacing up my trainers. Even Stella didn't budge in her basket as I left this morning.

I did feel very smug to have arrived at High Street Kensington before any of the morning trains had even kicked in for the day.  Less smug seeing hoards of Olympic volunteers merrily striding down the streets looking polished and ready for action, while I was still yawning and checking if I had my t-shirt on the right way round!

We had decided to trial Sweaty Betty's Run Britannia, a program of sightseeing runs (5k or 10k) through London running over the Olympic period.  Although we were slightly apprehensive at first thinking we may just be running alongside very fast, very experienced Sweaty Betty Staff and uber runners, we were greeted with huge smiles from the team and set off at a manageable but challenging pace. Note: I am slow, clocking 11 minute miles, so needed a push!

We chose the Royal Park run, which seemed fitting for our training, and with beautiful weather and early enough to be a bit cooler - we meandered through Kensington Park Gardens, via the Royal Albert Hall clocking up 10kms, with a few tips on form and pace along the way from coach Hannah.



Those tips clearly paid off immediately as I clocked up my fastest training 10km! Shaving nearly 4 minutes off my last race time

Back at the Hight Street Ken branch, we were presented with fantastic goody bags (the coconut water went down a treat!) including water bottle, bag and flash neon laces. Nice reward for the weekly long run indeed, thank you Sweaty Betty!

Planning on a few more sessions, taking in up Soho and a bit of window shopping around Harrods - fitness, fashion and soaking up the Olympic atmosphere? Perfect.

The Crew

Saturday Crew

I count myself very lucky to have a number of mates who also happen to run. They understand the obsession with lycra, the constant worry over every niggle in your knees pre race, they actually want to hear the mile by mile account of your last triumph and understand how crazy it makes you when injury flares up and you're stuck wearing flats with your beloved trainers gathering dust.

But strangely I have never been into running with other people if I can help it, even the fellow obsessives. I like the fact I don't have to make conversation. I can change my pace without the worry of being too slow or too fast and I get to occasionally fall in a heap post massive hill climb or muck about with the dog and turn off the GPS. But even I, the solo running purist, had to admit, it can get a tad dull.

That all changed recently when I started running with a colleague from work who has similar running experience to me and doesn't mind mixing up the chat with a good dose of iPod time too. Now with the Royal Parks training underway and both of us registered and hitting up the training schedules, I'm counting myself even luckier to have a bit of company on those long runs which can get very tedious when you're clocking up 10+ miles!

Our first Saturday session this morning was a scorcher, first sight of the sun we've had in weeks and we managed six miles before 10am (this is early for me on the weekend!). Stella the Dog avoided an altercation with a mastiff puppy in Holland Park and we all managed not to pass out. Not a bad result for our first meet!

Posted with Blogsy

The CHASE is on!

Yes, we're back on the blog at it again! Signed up and ready to get our training ON! Royal Parks Half Marathon on Oct 7th this year- and this time with another 30 or so colleagues from Random House so no doubt we'll be a force to be reckoned with.

We're all running for Chase, and I'll be adding the fundraising details to the blog this weekend once we've got our charity page set up. Brainstorming a few crazy ideas to get you all to part with your hard earned cash for a very worthy cause. All and any suggestions also eagerly welcomed!

Watch this space!

500 miles!

I did it! 500 miles. Yes Five Hundred Miles.

Or, if you prefer....804kms. That's right, Eight Hundred and Four kilometres. 

Put that in your pipe and smoke it P.E. teachers from my youth! And I did it all in just under 18 months. I'm pretty chuffed with that.

Plus, according to the glorious Nike, I burned a smoking 50,000 calories. That's at least one of Rory's caramel and macadamia nut cheesecakes. Result.

Yes, my average pace is still pretty slow, but I'm working on the speed factor and building more intervals into the training (read as: running after Stella with a stick, and visa versa. I need to get a bit more professional now I'm into the next 500!)

Never to let a celebratory moment pass without some kind of fantastic reward, I have bought myself some shiny new trainers to carry me through the British 10K, the Palma Half Marathon, and should the ballot gods look kindly upon me (or not as the case may be), maybe even the big daddy, London Marathon 2013.... YES I registered.

Now holding thumbs for the announcement in October.

*clicking my heels together three times*

I can almost hear these shoes whispering.....Come on 26.2!! (ok, too much coffee after 7pm, must detox)

Come Out and Play

Finally back in training having secured a place in the British 10K and another in the Palma Mallorca half marathon in October and I'm determined to get sub 1hr on the 10K and sub 2:15 on the half. I need to hit the intervals and get faster, which ultimately means changing up the routine.

So I dressed the dog up in a very fetching American Apparel hoodie to get her ready for the new regime. She has since figured out how to take it off so there goes our co-ordinated running team look.

Today I managed a speedy 5K fuelled by my angry 15 year old self. I have since rediscovered the music of my misspent youth (maybe something to do with another birthday on the horizon and getting a little further into my 30s? That or I had amazing taste in music 16 years ago....). Cue anthems from Pearl Jam, The Offspring, Nirvana, Soundgarden and RATM.

Had you told me 16 years ago, (probably in detention though a haze of B&H special mild), that years from now I would be listening to the exact same soundtrack while pounding the pavements in London (in Lycra no less) I'd probably have given you the finger (perfectly manicured with black permanent marker of course) and told you to stop smoking your socks.

Ironic then, that in 2012 I'm picking up the pace to 'Smash' and sprinting down the last 1K to 'Genocide'. I'm now pulling together an even more grunge worthy playlist to sort out my next long run. 10K of Temple of the Dog and I may revert to wearing my ripped jeans and bleach dyed vests.

I have a sneaking suspicion that I saw just the same get up in Urban Outfitters at the weekend (along with Nirvana T-shirts, Kurt spins in his grave), so provided I can master that look of youthful disdain I may just get away with it

The music itself may have to remain on the iPhone though, R is having none of it. While sorting out my playlist earlier today he said 'I think I've heard enough of this, what is it exactly?'. Talking 'bout my generation....