Stella Hangs Up Her Coaching Lead

I have known for sometime that I was going to have to re-evaluate my training runs with Stella. The vet had recommended that after 7 to 8 years, the pressure on their bones from the impact could do more harm then good and suggested trail running for the majority of the time. So I have been taking her out on shorter runs, or concentrating on parks over pavements.

Stella is now heading on for 9  (that's 63 in doggy years) and realistically I don't think I can take her out running as often as I used to without risking wearing her out. Not that you'd think to look at her, she still has the bounce and just plain crazy energy of a Jack Russell crossed with all the Staffie determination. But its all in much shorter bursts and she is exhausted when we get through the door.

I really noticed this today when we went on a very short (but fairly quick) run round the old neighbourhood, she wasn't rearing to go, she stayed right next to be rather than careening out in front, and she was panting hard after 1.5 miles. Now that is partly the heat, but her lack of interest to really gun it on the straights, made me think it might be time to retire my coach. She deserves a break!

To say I am very sad about this is an understatement. If you know me or have been following this blog, you'll know she was one of the main reasons that I started running in the first place, nearly three years ago.

She was my motivation to get out the door in the early days, getting all excited when I put on my trainers (even when I was less than inspired) and helping to spur me on out the door. She helped me gain confidence in being my company on long runs, and later on night runs. She was my body guard too, she can look fairly ferocious, and interestingly I got a LOT less street harassment from idiot bar flies when I had her on the lead! She was my partner on intervals, racing me up hills, barking at the top of Holland Walk while I wheezed my way up and down. I can't really imagine not running with her in the run up to my next foray with the Royal Parks race.

So as a tribute to the best coach a gal could wish for, here are her best bits

Stella bosses around Holland Park. Standard

First Long Run along the canal. We hit Subway after 

Stella totally embarrassed by my shameless selfies post marathon rejection 

Stella Contemplates Holland Walk

Post Squirrel Killing Run. There was a lot of blood. Eww

Snow Running. Not a fan

Thank you Stella. You got me out the house, through Couch to 5K, up to half marathon distance, and the only casualty was that one squirrel.

Looking forward to long walks in the park and chilling out on the sofa. And I promise to stop dressing you in hoodies from American Apparel

London Gets its Spring On

Its been a good week in my parallel life of Lycra! And about time too, its been a long time coming, the training has been progressing, but its been baby steps and frustrating at the best of times. But in the last few weeks I've finally started clocking some decent mileage both on the treadmill and out of the road.

This great week also coincided with the weather finally improving (not a coincidence), meaning everyone it out and about and there are so many less excuses to not get laced up and out the door. Plus, it's lovely to be outside at this time of year. Lighter evenings, magnolia in full splendour all over Notting Hill and spectacular gardens in bloom in Holland Park. And no need for cumbersome layers weighing you down when you run. So I have been swapping a few treadmill sessions for the great wilds of West London, reacquainting myself with some of my old routes from the summer last year.

London, showing off and looking glorious in the sunshine, for the Marathon

Its has also happened to coincide with the London Marathon, on the warmest day of the year so far and bolstered by the huge wave of support in the wake of the horrific events at Boston just a week before. Half a million Londoners came to support the 35,000 runners and we were there at Mile 25 cheering for our friend Frani Heyns and everyone else who sped past us. I was hoarse in about 45 minutes. It was fantastic. 

Danni congratulates the Fantastic Frani - first marathon in 3:18!

It was amazing to see the social element of the sport really coming into play to motivate and support friends and family through the last mile and a bit. Powerful stuff and I admit to getting a bit overwhelmed more than once (*sob*). 

The most social I've been in my running  has involved a few sessions on the weekend with my mate Emily, which came to an abrupt end when I was injured, and we haven't yet managed to pick them up again (Em, we need a few Ealing routes soon though!). While I was returning to form I wanted to run on my own, to build up my confidence again, and get to grips with having to go really slowly. I didn't want to hold anyone else back (or show up my frustration, there were tears and tantrums)

Then, last Monday, I joined up with Run Dem Crew West. I have been following a few of their members on Twitter, having seen a few articles in the running press and a few of them out in force at races, so they've been on the periphery of my radar for awhile, but I've not had the time (or nerve) to check them out myself. Then, having signed up for We Own The Night, running with Team Pretty Fit led by a RDC member, Sophie Levett and needing to inject a kick into my training, it was another stroke of genius timing and the last push I needed to try something new. 

So I turned up at Paddington Rec (far too early, like the eager bod I am..such a nerd) on my own, in my running kit and it  was a more than a little nerve racking. But I got over it. 5.5 miles later I felt like I had met a whole crew of fellow running nutters, happy to talk pace, race,  Lycra, training and getting smash up on endorphins. Cannot wait until next Monday to do it all again!

In the meantime, I've clocked in a few more runs, a pretty hardcore up tempo 5K run as part of the training plan and a spinning class. I have also survived Week 1 of the new, no dairy, added whey protein eating plan regime designed to help me lose the last four stubborn pounds, and highlight muscle definition. I am already seeing the difference in my arms. Amazing what a difference nutrition makes, but that's for another post.

Post 5km up tempo run., Stella not impressed

Stella contemplates the new lycra with disdain 

And lastly, to round off my seven day running extravaganza, on Sunday, I'm off to finally meet the rest of Team Pretty Fit to rack up some mileage around Victoria Park. All in all a pretty fan-fucking-tastic week indeed!

New Season, New Look

Spring has not sprung. It's mid April and we still have the heating on, I am making full use of all my coats and and the electric blanket. Because its freezing. And with it being April, everyone is marathon obsessed, and out pounding pavements all over London. Inspiring stuff bearing in mind the horrendous weather.

Joining in the 'spring' spirit, I have also started training, albeit mostly on the treadmill because I have totally wimped out, but training nonetheless. I have signed up to We Own The Night in Victoria Park on May 18th, which will be my first race since the disaster that was the Royal Parks.

Following advice from my physio, I'm combing the running with two spinning sessions a week, and that combined with the eating plan means I have bought myself my first pair of size 8 jeans since I was about sixteen! The bad news is I have to get my wedding ring resized, and my credit card has taken a serious beating.

It's been hugely satisfying watching all the hard work pay off, eating healthier, getting my form right and as a result, achieving my goal weight. But that does require a new wardrobe full of clothes that actually fit, rather than shirts that bunch up in the wrong places because they're just a bit too big. That includes new belts, new bras (slightly gutted), new running kit (that doesn't fall down), and of course, new jeans!

So thought I'd dig out an old snap from my training last year (right)  prior to the eating/coaching plan, and a snap of me a few weeks ago (left). Eighteen pounds down (circa 8kgs) and four to go! That sub 1 hour 10K race in May, could just be doable

The Jozi vs Western Cape Sessions: A Sea Level Softy Speaks Out

Back in London post three week holiday to South Africa.  Back to work, and invariably back to treadmill sessions and/or  bracing pavement pounding in the freezing cold. Spring brought snow and sleet, the poor daffs are literally freezing to death.

But rather then dwelling on the pretty dire training conditions i.e. ice on the Portobello Tuesday night, I'm much happier to recount my running sessions in sunny South Africa, while I load all my pictures over from iphone, making sure I logged all the activity on good old Nike+

I ran a lot in South Africa. Weird for me, because back in the olden days, a holiday was the perfect excuse to do NO EXERCISE whatsoever, so rejoicing in packing shorts and vests for my holiday down south was slightly ludicrous. But the crazyis here to stay. No more long running tights and waterproof jackets, hats and running gloves. Just shorts and a vest. Fan-bloody-tastic.

I was really looking forward to exploring a bit more of Joburg, and a lot more of the Cape. I have realised that I NOTICE more when I am running. I've become more aware of my neighbourhood in London as a result, rather than just rushing past everything while on autopilot en-route to work. When I run, I take it all in. So I was very keen to take this theory and test it on the big bad streets of Jozi, and the wild trails of the Cape.

But Johannesburg is another story. Its a city 4,921 feet above sea level and by mid February is pretty damn hot on the high veld. By 9am it's close to 25 degrees and there are no clouds, no wind and no place to hide. There are also NO PAVEMENTS. I must first make it very clear that although I grew up in Joburg, I never did any running there, so this is the first time I have really paid attention to the lack of any kind of side walk action. I did a bit of light sprinting, once or twice while avoiding parents, teachers and the occasional lunatic ex boyfriend, but no sport. I famously came last in school cross-country when I was 8. It look me another 21 years to get over that humiliation, having convinced myself I just 'wasn't sporty', so hitting the asphalt in this town was a mental thing too.

I'd love to say I smashed it. That it was 5ks of speed and agility.That the neighbours waved encouragingly and that I discovered some fantastic new coffee house/gallery/ cake shop on my route (a fav past time in London). But I didn't.

First the altitude difference hit me like a ton of bricks. I could barely breathe let alone keep up my pace and form. After 2.5km I had to walk, heaving as I went, stopping to wipe the sweat which was pouring down my face and succeeding in freaking out a few neurotic Doberman as I stumbled past. A messy mess really. Oh and Jo'burg has some serious hills. I has not bargained for that. I had failed to notice these while driving around in my youth. I managed another 2.5km and limped home. Having had my ass handed to me, and being on holiday, I climbed back into bed determined to start the day over. Fail.

Respect to you Jozi runners. Call me a sea-level softy all you like, you guys are HARDCORE

Thankfully running in the Cape is a completely different experience. Betty's Bay in particular has a fantastic mix of great tarred road along the coast as well as some pretty awesome trails that wind along the beach. You even get to see Penguins on your morning run. Yes really. I mean who doesn't want to wake up to that? And it's at sea level. YES!!

Over the two weeks we were there I ran religiously every other day, between 4 and 6 kms as per my training post injury, and took in the trails, botanical gardens, beach routes and got reacquanited with a beautiful part of the world that is very close to my famiy's hearts, and part of our history now spanning five generations.

Here's a taste of the place and a few snaps of me post run. Just to prove I actually logged the mileage!

Moody: There are actual Penguins behind me here at Stony Point , but this pic doesn't quite show them!

View just before I hit the trail along the dunes/ beach path

Half way point in my 6K run having got to the Harold Porter Botanical Gardens. Not a cloud in the sky

Got to love early morning endorphins!

Breakfast back at Craigeburn, our family cottage by the sea, over looking the lake

I am hugely grateful to have the opportunity to take in the beauty of a place, almost like it was the first time, with just a pair of trainers.Smashed that then! WINNING

Sorry Jo'burg, you may be my birth place, but heart belongs to the Cape. That and I''m too much of a wimp to take on your altitude. And lack of pavements. Its too much  for this very amateur runner   (and there are penguins in the Cape. You can't beat the Penguins).

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! 

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

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

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! 

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

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)

Hot and Cold

Just over two weeks to go and with my weekend long run lost to snow on sunday. I need to up my game ahead of the Brighton half marathon. Race numbers have arrived, hotel is booked and the count down begins.

So, Monday or not, I hit the sludgy streets of Ealing en route home this evening. Besides the mounds of grey slushy snow and black ice, it was a balmy 3 degrees, so thankfully I retained the feeling in my fingers. No such luck for my toes, I accidentally hit a puddle or two, which is unpleasant at the best of times, but when the water is recently melted snow its freezing. Bone chilling cold.

The 5.5. mile run home is definitely getting easier, but its still enough of a work out to get the appetite raging. Getting through the front door I was delighted to smell the beginnings of a tasty chicken soup brewing in the kitchen. Perfect!

That is until R throws in an entire scotch bonnet. I still can't go in the kitchen due to the excessive chilli, and that's just from the steam. I suffered a major coughing fit and streaming eyes just from a casual glance in its direction. This stuff is hardcore.  I do love a bit of a kick in my food, but this, I would rather not inflict it on my insides. So hot soup and cheese on toast it is.

 Let the carbo loading commence!

(N)ice Sunday Session: 15km and Counting

Six weeks to go to the Brighton Half marathon and my training schedule is really kicking in. No more 5km short runs (short runs are now 9.5kms) or two day rest days. No more long warm up sessions. Just plain hardcore mileage, and in my case dreaming up new excuses not to get out the door, to avoid imagined pain, and possible death by running.

I knew it was coming, a week ahead I could see the 15km Run leering at me from my Nike+ training calendar. And it has hills, this route, hills and intervals and very few traffic lights (so no cheeky breaks) and generally was engineered to make me cry. I should know, I created it myself when feeling particularly fit and, in hindsight, was probably whacked out on endorphins and therefore, slightly crazed.

Having already moved the session from Saturday to Sunday, I really couldn't find any more excuses to put it off any longer. Having not run this far since the Great Scottish Run last Sept, its no wonder I was feeling more than nervous about heading out. But I did, thanks to the new running play list. Particularly a bit of Vitalic - Poison Lips, which was just what I needed to get out of the fear and into the zone.

An hour and forty five minutes later I got home feeling exhilarated but exhausted and my legs felt like lead, and with another long week of training ahead, I can't afford to be feeling broken!  I've heard about the benefits of ice baths from various magazines, blogs and sites, but I have never had the guts to try one out. This seemed like the best time, which feels very odd with it being 6 degrees outside! But sometimes the crazy stuff works the best.

And yes, it was very cold (and I didn't include ice, the water in the pipes was freezing enough!). But, not has bad as I thought, as my core was still very warm from the run.  Proof will come in the morning when I'll be able to see if I can actually get out of bed without fits of bad language and many many nurofen!

Now, to fill up on pasta with R's homemade pesto (it's legendary) and copious amounts of Yazoo (best recovery chocolate milk ever!)

*snooze*

Going Nowhere Fast

First day back at work and we are greeted with howling winds and pouring rain. Not drizzle  or classic London 'tiny' rain that just gets you damp, but howling sheets of the wet stuff. Like I said, the Apocalypse is right on time!

It cleared up for about half an hour but I wasn't hardcore enough to chance running home and being lashed by winds and icy rain (yes I am a wimp), but I also couldn't miss a training session seeing as the half marathon is next month (!!).

So I made for the safe and dry haven that is Gymbox and I hit the treadmill. This is no mean feat. I hate the treadmill. With a passion. It makes me feel like a tubby hamster, that sweats more than any of the other hamsters. Not pretty.

This is the thing about running in the gym, you're not alone. At any point. Particularly in January, when all in sundry are out in force starting out new year's resolutions, they should all be out by March thankfully.

But in losing my precious alone time, I do get to avoid slow walkers, nasty dogs snapping at my ankles from doorways, stall workers chucking out old veg, or kids on bikes swerving on the pavement.

The monotonous treadmill drudge also means its all about the playlist. And while I'm not dodging nefarious stains on the pavement, I'm unearthing a couple of new gems to add to my A/W 2012 playlist. I say new gems, but really it's just new tracks I'm discovering from recent downloads that help me beat the boredom, and forget about the twinge in my calf or the cramp in my foot!

So far I've discovered these two tracks, which significantly helped my pace, and made me forget about the very skinny blonde next to me smashing the treadmill at twice my speed (although I did feel very smug when she only managed it for 10 mins. Too much speed, not enough stamina. Shame)

So that's another week committed to the run, or so my Nike+ tells me. I need the practice, I've got 16kms in my training schedule on Saturday and I am praying for some sun, even if its cold. I don't think I can take 1.5 hours on the treadmill calorie watching on the screen and praying the super fit body builders aren't laughing at my gait. You don't get that on the street!

Dirty as you like, London streets are more interesting than the inside of a gym, and there is nothing that beats that knackered-off-the-street feeling when you walk through the door in from the cold. Sorry treadmill trainers, unless it's armageddon outside, I'm avoiding the fake pavement. And in fact I may just invest in some proper rain gear to make sure it really is only once in a blue moon I'm forced to use them!

2012 : Bring it!

January 1st 2012. YES! We made it through the festive period with minimal collateral damage and almost no casualties (save the cheesecake in the fridge - that got whipped). We even managed to keep to the training schedule, with 4 runs clocked in between Christmas day and today. Not bad. We won't mention the pace or timings, but we got out there.

And they say start as you mean to go on, so we managed 5km today, which I am especially proud of as:

a) its New Year's Day - so that's a first
b) it was POURING down with rain (I had puddles in my shoes, squishing all the way home)
c) the Achilles is playing up
d) with all the festive feasting, and over indulgence, the NYD run was 'heavy' going

With the new year upon us, I'm also in dire need of refreshing the running play list so any recommendations greatly received. My track list  seems to be stuck in an indie electro time warp between 2005 and 2007. Anyone remember the Klaxons?!

Thought not.

Anyway, Happy New Year all, happy running, it's good training for the upcoming Apocalypse

Jingle Bell Jog

It's Christmaaaaas!

This year I promised myself I'd do the previously unthinkable, and run on Christmas Day. It would be quiet, traffic would be at a minimum, and it would help prepare my body for the onslaught of Christmas dinner, with a few hundred calories already converted to extra points. I really didn't think I'd actually do it.

At 10am this morning it was looking unlikely either of us would actually get out of bed. Having started watching Pulp Fiction (for the 14th time) at Midnight accompanied by many, many mince pies - we were not in good shape. But Stella needed walking, and if we're going outside anyway, may as well lace up. First we have an argument about the weather. I tell R off for being grumpy on Christmas day. He bites his tongue and we somehow manage to locate our phones, running tights, headphones.

Much to Stella's delight we head out the dood for 10:30am. She is now so well accustomed to the routine that she get's inordinately excited the minute when we put our trainers on and barks like a lunatic from when we leave the front door until we actually start running in the street. Maniac. She has also started insisting on running between us. If R is on my left and I have her on the lead to my right, all hell breaks loose and I nearly come tacky in the middle of  road while entangled in her lead as she tries to get to the other side. At no point should either of us be running too far ahead, she has to have us both in her sights. Which is rather good for pacing!

My fantasy of empty streets and quiet park lanes quickly dissolved as soon as we hit Holland Park. Children were out in force testing new scooters, remote control cars, and a few new puppies here and there. But with everyone in such a festive mood, I dont think anyone noticed Stella was trying to catch the new toys (but thankfully failing spectacularly). She settled for a big stick twice her size.

Having got to Kensington Palace Gardens, we slowed the pace, let her nibs off the leash to attempt to catch a squirrel for her Christmas dinner, and took in the Royal Parks. A beautiful Christmas morning, no snow unfortunately, but enough green and golden leaves to make it worth dragging ourselves out of bed. There is nothing like a run to clear the cobwebs, and it really reminded me how lucky I am to live in such an amazing city with huge open spaces for everyone to share (even the skateboarders were being civil today!), right next to the hustle and bustle of a mad metropolis.

Back home, with the wet (but now clean) dog wrapped up in warm towels, and the beginning of an amazing Christmas dinner on the go, I'm pleased to say I'm feeling the festive spirit at last, having been a bit bah humbug all December. I'm getting all grateful, blame the endorphins!

Happy Christmas all! May 2012 be bigger, better and brighter (and bring a few more PBs please...!)

Happy Christmas from us lot!

R&R

After a long week of little training (whoops!) and loads of Christmas dinners, my Sunday 5 mile route was hard going. But with blue skies and no threat of rain, at least I wasn't being rained/ sleeted/ snowed on. Sure enough there was enough mud to keep Stella occupied, icy nights equals squishy days and a very dirty dog.

There were loads of runners out in Hyde Park today, clearly everyone has a spring marathon on their mind. That or they are trying to stave off the Christmas pounds. I've had to admit defeat and rejoined Weight Watchers in an attempt to get back into my skinny running tights for the Brighton half. Too much cake and not enough mileage! And its not helping the quest for speeeeed! Ooof. Just a bit to heavy going (ahem).

But it is Christmas after all, and the best part of this run in this wintry kind of weather is the recovery. I have a quick chocolate milk so I don't pass out, a hot shower to regain the feeling in my fingers and nose and get into a big chunky jumper and my best tracksuit bottoms. Sexy.  Then, once Stella has had all the mud washed off of her,  and I've sorted out the muddy towels, sometimes the sofa cover and maybe a cushion or two (never turn your back on a muddy dog) -  nothing beats snuggling on the sofa with a warm dog, fluffy slippers and a cup of tea in front of Sunday afternoon telly.

And we get to do it all again tomorrow