Autumn - Let's be Having Ya!

New Look for A/W 2013!  Waddya think? Don't I look the professional blogger type? So shiny!

So with that, I am very pleased to announce I am back in training. New shoes, new look, new races in the diary - and the weather is near perfect for it. Cold, windy and a bit wet. As they say, if its not raining, its not training. This is also my excuse for not updating the blog, I have been outside, RUNNING! Yes you heard right, I'm back doing decent mileage too. It's been bloody brilliant.

Monday's finds me training with RDCWest, clocking up about 5 pretty steady miles with the crew. I'm not pushing myself too hard as I am incredibly paranoid I am going to injure myself for a 3rd time in less than a year - which would just be plain stupidity and I don't think BUPA would be terribly sympathetic. I'm reminding myself that speed is not the priority right now, time is irrelevant, its just about getting out there and getting my endurance and fitness back up to scratch.

Thursday's I've joined RDCWest's very own track mafia. Last night I survived my very first taste of track and did not puke, pass out or cry. I'm taking that as a massive win. I do have a slightly niggly knee, but the physio assures me that's not the end of the world, and a bit of ibuprofen and MORE FOAM ROLLING will do the trick.

Brand Spanking New Trainers (they even squeak)

CREW! Hitting Little Venice

Happy Endorphin Running Face = Mash Up

If all that wasn't enough, I've started sampling the free weight section at my local gym. The wonderful Jim Murphy  has designed both a lower body and upper body work out developed to support my running, and get my upper body stronger. Its pretty killer. I couldn't walk for about 3 days afterwards and discovered what DOMS stands for on fitness blogs. Yes those. I had them. D.O.M.S.

Serious Buns of Steel. OUCH

I am hoping the additional time in the weights room will pay off when I am hauling myself over massive walls and running through London Mud (ew) in the Survival of the Fittest event I am competing in on Nov 16th. This deserves its very own blog piece, but involves me and five other  kick ass ladies kitting up and showing the boys how its done. Or at the very least getting covered in mud and having a really good laugh making total asses of ourselves. New hobby it would seem.

So with Survival of the Fittest and Movember 10K taking me into the festive season, and the Brighton and Berlin Half to prepare for in the Spring, I've got plenty to keep me occupied, and hopefully, injury free!


Huge thanks to Michelle Allan for the awesome new header - she's a super talented design lady and all round bad ass running hero who is also raising money for Tommy's - check out her site, great offers on designs for a limited time, for a fantastic charity.

Motivation and The Mean Girl

Well into Week 8 of injury down time here at Conquest Towers. Initially I like to think I took my second ITB injury in my stride. I knew what to expect, and I hit the physio exercises hard, only throwing one or two full on diva temper tantrums. I got on the spin bike regularly and gave it 110%, and made peace with the Foam Roller Of Spiteful Death. It was going well. I even started climbing to keep me distracted

Climbing Heroes

What running injury?

This burst of positivity didn't last for long. I was hit with a fairly brutal summer cold, combined with a manically busy period at work and a very serious case of all consuming 'meh'. Typically my nutritional planning then went out the window as I reached for chocolate, sugar and caffeine to save the day, instant fixes and serious sugar comedowns. Add in a dash of 'I-just-can't-be-arsed' for good measure and you've got a very unmotivated and pretty pissed off person.

But it wasn't just the stressed out immune system to blame - officially giving up the Royal Parks place sucked. This was going to be the Half that I delivered a decent PB, and I'd wipe out the memory of literally sobbing through mile 8 last year, when the first ITB injury flared up in all its agonising glory. It was the race that would kick off a new season of 'proper running'. You know the stuff, training that is synchronised in perfect harmony with your schedule, where you cross train as often as you know you should, where PBs are beaten every month. I had a very clear idea that this would herald in some new era in fitness, and in turn I would finally become a 'Proper Runner' too. But I had to say no thanks. I'm on  the bench, I need to recover and rebuild recondition. And in my head I hear this:  I'm obviously just not cut out for this. My body is just rubbish, just stop. Its too hard

So here's the thing. I am still trying to convince that surly cynical sulking inner teenager of my youth that I'm actually capable of doing this. Every slower than expected mile, every ache, every twist, every injury  I can hear her sniggering from behind a fog of Marlborough, snapping gum and smirking, 'You don't really think you can do this do you? Making an arse of yourself out there wearing STUPID shorts and UGLY trainers, and you look a right sweaty mess, wheezing through a 15 minute run. What a JOKE' 

She's a total bitch.

I should know, I was her for a damn sight longer than I like to admit.

It's this long standing fiercely personal fight that's the hardest one. I've conquered my fears about running outdoors in broad daylight wearing VERY short shorts. I'm deliriously happy when I look in the mirror and I'm practically puce - I can laugh at the fact that I forget to take my mascara off and I look like Alice Cooper on a spin bike. I really couldn't give a flying fuck about what the blokes at the pub are shouting after me as I ran past. But if I spend too much time in my own head, I'll find a reason why I shouldn't bother. That insecure, bullying, spiteful voice gets a little louder and picks tiny holes in all my hard earned esteem.

Hence the climbing, the roller blading, the cycling. I suspect I may take up motorbiking too, that might shut up the Mean Girl in my head. Scare the shit out of her. I've also noticed making a total fool of myself and laughing about it, keeps her pretty quiet too - so there was this:

Harley Nerd

Combine the two, fear and being ridiculous and I give you Survival of the Fittest  in November. If that doesn't shut her up, it may just convert her. Get her to give up the snark and take up the pom poms. I need to become my own biggest cheer leader. Thankfully I've got a few awesome people around me, doing that job well. You guys rock (you know who you are!)

Long suffering spouse

Stella. Coach Almighty

Blink and You'll Miss It

Photography as always been something I have had a very avid (but amateur!) interest in, from disposable cameras in my teens, point and click compacts through my twenties and now the more obsessional cataloguing of daily life on my iPhone.

I suspect it's in my genes, something I picked up from my Mom. Ever the historian, she documented our lives from toddlers to teens, just like she does her beloved WW2 heroines on whom she is writing her doctorate. Perhaps with less of an academic flair, I'm hoping to capture more of my life in London, building up the bones of a history in the making.

Spending a few moments going through old snaps from school (short skirts, bad hair, too much make up) or that once in a lifetime holiday to Cuba (smoking cigars, waterfall jumping, huge lizards!) brings it all back and fills in the gaps where memory fails. I love the idea of having a great collection to sift through when I'm 90 and I can barely remember what I had for breakfast.

Plus, with social media becoming more visual (pics or it didn't happen!) and being able to slap filters on everything, arrange, collage, highlight and caption - I wanted to up my game and make sure the pictures I did take were more quality over quantity - in the midst of retro cups of coffee. So this starts with a proper camera and actually learn some of the science behind it. Cue R buying me a beautiful Canon for my birthday and my journey into becoming a junior paparazzi lookalike begins.

Coincidently, my first tentative steps testing out my new camera kit coincided with a running injury which meant I had to give up my space in the Colour Run. And what better way to make the most of a shit situation then to go and support the RDC runners and get all snap happy - and there was powder paint to boot.

Here are a few of the best bits:

Rose Tinted Chippy and Danielle 

Jason and Danielle 

Lizzy and Cory Smash Up the British 10K

Laura goes for he Group Hug

War Paint

Start Line of the Colour Run 

CREW!

These are obviously baby steps, nothing to grand, arty or special from a skill set perspective. But at the very least they capture a brilliant summer's day in London, supporting a group of people who literally keep me up and running.

As I'll be expanding on the photography vibes, I've started a new blog, Blink and You'll Miss it  here. Do check it out - would love to hear your thoughts but please note is still very much a work in progress. No whizzy html skills here yet! There will be less running and probably more random pics of the sky looking all pretty. And me being obscure and hispterish. Laughs come free.

Jim Murphy: Muscle Talk Championships

Meet Jim Murphy. The man who has single handedly turned around my entire diet (leading to my weight dropping nearly 20 pounds!), and even inspired my other half to give up the pastry and hit the gym (he's down 12 pounds). Jim has also been a huge help in managing my ITB injuries, both last year post Royal Parks, and this year when it reoccurred. With a mix of his ferocious sports massage and general aura of positivity he got me back up and running in no time. A tremendous inspiration and a great motivator.

Jim Murphy with his baby daughter

When Jim let us know he was competing in the Muscle Talk 2013 championships, Rory and I jumped at the chance to attend and offer our support. Having never been to a full on Body Building convention, we thought it would be a brilliant first time introduction to the fitness elite at their finest, and in all their self tanned glory.

And, well. WOW. On all sorts of levels. I am all muscled OUT. Diamond encrusted bikinis, blinding white teeth, and lots and lots of tanned, look-like-they're-sculpted-from-rock muscles. It's spectacular stuff. And with 8 judges to boot, no small amount of pressure on each contestant.

I couldn't help thinking the whole way through, that just those few minutes up on stage under searing hot lights, cannot do justice to the sheer amount of determination that goes into fuelling and building these bodies. It's testament to a dedication and discipline that strikes me like a bolt from the blue maybe once a year, when I've OD'ed on berocca. Certainly not every bleeding day for months and months. And no chocolate. Its impressive stuff.

But you have to see it to believe it. Here are a few of my best snaps from the day.

FLEX ! HOLD ! DON'T FORGET YOUR HAMSTRINGS (a few choice phrases from the supporters today)

Also, comforted by the fact the blokes wear less clothing than the women. And these ladies WORK OUT.

Ladies Physique Round 1

Add caption

Add caption

Winner Women's Physique 

JIM! Over 90kgs Category

Professional Champ

Men's Physique

Climbing the Walls

Over the past month or so, my friend Christina and I have taken to the ropes and started climbing the walls. Many walls. Walls that are very very high. I'm not entirely sure what possessed me to say yes in the first place, I am terrified of heights. Given I've jumped out of a plane, a tad odd. But that feels totally surreal and, as it was a tandem, I had little influence of what happened. So you kind of have to just go with it!

Climbing is a different story. You tie your own knots, or you're belaying for your climbing partner -  so it's pretty imperative you know what you're doing with the rope - you know, to stop yourself or your partner plummeting to the floor. The height thing is VERY real. You're only a few storeys up, so you can see the floor and it looks very far away and very very hard. It's you and the rope and a few small blocks on a wall, and with my fear of heights, very sweaty palms.

I must be honest, I still find it totally totally scary. I'm enjoying it, but I'm not yet all that comfortable on the rope, although I've done the test falling, actually missing a hold when you don't intend to, or slipping is completely terrifying. I'm sure the more I do it the less nervous and anxious I'll be. Which is one of the reasons I am doing it. Literally confronting pretty visceral fear, and climbing through it.

Today, our third private lesson, we climbed in the Horseshoe which is more structured, but with no incline and slightly harder routes. Each route is graded on difficulty (lower the number the easier the climb). I'm still tackling grade 3 or just grabbing whatever I can get my hands on -  literally! What I have really noticed is that is much more of a head sport rather than a brute physical strength sport. Sure, strength and flexibility will help, but its the strategy of getting up and over and thinking what goes where and at what angle, that really uses the grey matter. And that's why I am enjoying it.

I had my first taste of proper fear of being stuck today. I managed to get half way up and just couldn't figure out where to go without falling, and my right leg, (which is currently running injured) was shaking like crazy. I very nearly threw in the towel. I remembered a trick I have picked up from running. Breathe, don't panic, just breathe. And found the next move. Its hugely rewarding to get to the top. I'm sure this is good for my head, and the adrenalin is pretty cool too.

The next stop is Stina and I passing the competence test and actually climbing on our own without the instructors and building our confidence on the more challenging  routes.

Smashed it!

Hanging around

Twinge and Whinge - With Added Biscuits

I am sitting on my sofa, eating a Viennese Swirl on a Wednesday. I should be eating poached salmon and green veg and egg whites. I should be mixing whey protein and peanut butter shakes for supplements and probably stretching. Yes I should be stretching and focusing on my core, and stretching some more.

I should be doing all of this, but I am sitting on the sofa eating chocolate covered Viennese Swirls. And catching up on Hannibal, Luther and 90210. I have eclectic taste like that, serial killers and rich spoiled teens, a very good mix. I am doing everything I shouldn't be doing in some very childish bid to rebel against the fact that I can't do what I want to do. Which is run. GAH

After managing to remain totally injury free for 6 whole glorious months,  I got a bit cocky. Which is very easy to do when you're getting all over excited running with Run Dem Crew West, pushing up the mileage  and slowly, getting faster. Hooray, I hear you say! Amazing! What a result!

Nah. My right leg says otherwise. In fact my right knee *screams* otherwise. Not all that surprised to be honest, the left leg got all the attention last year, so its only right and fair that this one now starts throwing a tantrum.

So I've booked physio, I'm taking it easy. I am trying not to whinge. I am burying my fury at myself for not adding in enough cross straining and stretching with chocolate and screwed up coppers. Standard. I'll wallow in self pity and complex carbs tonight and hit the spinning classes tomorrow.

On the positive side. It will get better. I am getting faster. And I'm having a blast. Now just to get my knee in check

Run Dem Crew West (photo credit to Cory Wharton-Malcom)

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