Let every eye negotiate for itself

You know what it’s like. One minute you’re running along no problem the next you’ve gone for a burton and you’re face down in the mud. That’s why they call it fell racing, I suppose. The bog grabbed hold of one of my legs and momentum just carried me to the ground. It was a bright spot for half a dozen runners who went past as I was faffing around and getting going again. I can recommend Auld Lang Syne as a good run to finish the year though. It starts and ends above Haworth like Withens, but is shorter less steep and mostly better underfoot. Unlike road running you have to watch every step. I’m not sure I like fell running as I’m crap on going uphill and I don’t really enjoy the downs as I’m a wimp. It hurts my knees and I can’t just let go and throw myself downhill with the abandon of others. That said, I do want to support the races put on by Woodentops as I think they’re really generous people who do a great job for hill running in Yorkshire. I let young Brownlee take the glory again for the second time in a week.

Since Chevin Chase on Sunday, I’ve had two rest days and two slow trots. Five miles with run club on Tuesday with a couple of speedy bursts on the way back and six miles to Eccup and back yesterday. I got off to a good start today and held on reasonably well. There were none of my usual rivals to indicate how well I ran, but it felt ok. To be honest though I’ll be glad to be running at a more normal time of the year. You can only get trashed by pixies and reindeer so often before it becomes a tad trying.

Inevitably at this time of the year it’s almost obligatory to reflect on the things that I’ve accomplished (and failed to accomplish) in the past year. Here goes:

I ran 91 races/time trials – 43 of these have been parkrun 5ks. Fastest parkrun time was 19:35 a week before the 2010 London Marathon. I’ve run five other 5ks.

Shortest race was 1 mile – Ilkley Incline (10:33) – and the longest was London Marathon (3:31:20). I’ve completed nine 10ks – fastest Abbey Dash 40:36.

I ran four 10 milers with Otley (1:10:55) being the fastest. I’ve run six half marathons – fastest Brass Monkey in 1:31:28 and slowest Great North Run in 2:00:58. I’ve run two races that were longer than a half marathon and shorter than a marathon – Race The Train (about 14 miles) and Trimpell (20 miles).

I’ve run in two relays, five PECO cross country races and three Yorkshire Vets races. For some absurd reason I’ve also ran seven fell races – just the short ones ranging from 3.3 miles to 7 miles. Add in a couple of trail races and a seven mile road race and that’s my running year.

The only personal bests this year have been at distances I hadn’t previously run, though I did equal my 10k PB. I guess I’m in decline, but difficult to quantify as marathon training (and recovery) meant I haven’t really gone for it in the shorter races.

Too much of a good thing

It’s no great surprise that I seem to have developed some sort of eating compulsion; I just give into it so it’s not so much constant craving as constant grazing. No matter whether it’s sweet or savoury, I just can’t seem to pass up the chance of nibbling any food that’s around. This is not the most promising start to my marathon training programme. On the plus side I’ve not consumed much alcohol yet.

I felt reasonably well prepared for the Chevin Chase having run on both days prior to the race. I ran from home onto the chevin and jogged the middle section on the Friday and followed that with a good effort at parkrun on the Saturday chasing Andy Scott home, crossing the line in 6th (my highest finish of the year).

Conditions for the Chase this year weren’t brilliant being nowhere near as bright and crisp as last year. We seemed to set off without any warning or ceremony and there were an awful lot of people ahead of me heading up the hill out of Guiseley. I was determined to run a measured race and not get carried away so let the elves and angels fly past while I kept at what I considered to be a sustainable pace. Commiserations to the poor guy from Abbey who lost his Christmas dinner on the Miller Lane section; at least he was going well past the first gathering of spectators. I got a little worried that I might have set off too quickly when I overtook Sally Malir after a couple of miles as she’s faster than me at all distances, but had the comforting sight of Mick from Eccleshill ahead of me right through the wooded section.

I was 124th when we passed the marshal at East Chevin Road. Although it’s a useless piece of information, I like to know what position I’m in part way through a race and would appreciate this at all races please. I had to walk bits of the two remaining hills and was overtaken by stronger runners. I made up a couple of places heading back to Guiseley and finished 135th in 51:57.

I got really cold cheering in fellow club runners and appreciated the tea, hot water bottle, gloves and hat from Jaz and Tess. The three Elvises (Elvi?) were looking fine but sounding awful (Blue Suede Shoes) when they came in. I couldn’t fathom the seven to ten minute stile delay reported by runners towards the back of the field. I didn’t really remember the stiles, just threw myself over/through like the runner ahead of me and the runner behind. Apparently they got iced up.

Anyway, that’s marathon training started; sixteen weeks to get the bod into shape to tackle 26.2 miles. Pass the mine pies.


Photo - Thanks to Ian for braving the cold and capturing my finishing burst.
http://www.justgiving.com/LizJones1

A lean and hungry look

My marathon training programme starts on Sunday with the Chevin Chase and I have acted on my intention of not racing since the Abbey Dash. I put the effort in at the second PECO cross country race last week. I latched onto Mick Hogan again and he dragged me round the course. I felt ok and I’m sure that a few weeks rest has done me good.

I’m carrying some timber though - I’m just over 5kg heavier than I was when I ran the London marathon last year and that’s before the Christmas excess. I got a 5kg bag of spuds out earlier this evening and gave it a hard stare. I ought to move a bit quicker if I can shift that lot.

I’m beginning to feel that I’m from a lost generation. I read an article in g2 earlier this week that purported to state what threads the middle aged man should be seen in. According to this article, the paragons of middle aged chic were none other than Take That. Their ages range from 36 to 42. Where does that leave us fifty somethings? In Greenwoods I suppose.

I ran Chevin Chase last year and although I enjoyed the race, the performance wasn’t memorable. I was just coming back from injury so knew I wasn’t in good form so wasn’t going for a time. It was on a Saturday and I ran a fairly quick parkrun before the race (given the icy conditions of the path) and got my top finish of the year – 6th. I told myself that the parkrun 5k was a good warm up and set off as quick as I was able and hoped I could hang on – I couldn’t. My legs went at four miles and I dropped over 100 places as a whole stream of sensible runners went past.

I’ve had a couple of reasonably long walks and a slow club training session this week. Haven’t recorded times or mileage as I was just ticking over really. I’m about to jog over to the Chevin and run round the middle bit of the course (the beastly hill in two sections; if the first bit doesn’t kill you the second one will).

I may not be able to achieve the sartorial look, but the next step on the way to a lean and hungry look starts here.

http://www.justgiving.com/LizJones1

For charity itself fulfils the law and who can never love from charity?

In common with most of the rest of the runners in Leeds, I haven’t trained much this week. I’ve spotted a few hardy souls trying to negotiate slippery and uneven pavements, running on the road and generally risking injury or worse. The unpleasant running conditions fit in well with my need for rest so I’m not too frustrated by the inactivity. I enjoyed a good club intervals session on Tuesday in the underground car park so that will do for me.

There’s going to be a charity aspect to my London Marathon 2011 run. I must confess I feel a bit of a chancer about this. I’ll be running for Age UK, the same charity that Liz is supporting. She has to raise £1,500 for the privilege while I just have to show up so I’m not trying to get anyone to sponsor me – give it to Liz!

My motives are less than honourable; primarily, it’s the massage and being looked after following the run. I stiffened up almost as soon as I crossed the line last year; by the time I’d retrieved my bag and wandered over to the meet and greet area I was virtually immobile. After a quick snack and a photo session, I stumbled off for a couple of pints. The walk to the tube station was horrendous; all the kerbs seemed unnecessarily high and the roads dangerously wide.

An instant massage and some TLC and I should be ok for cheering Liz in at the end of the race and bundling her into a taxi so she can have a kip. If I play my cards right I might be able to swing a second massage when I wander back in with Liz.

The charity aspect is what makes the race, but it’s the emotional side of it that’s also a bit scary. When running a mass participation event it’s best not to look at the photos/messages on the backs of runners in front. If they’re wearing a charity T shirt chances are it’ll have a photo of some much loved family member who has died from some horrible illness before their time. These events tend to be highly charged and it’s not easy to keep your focus if your skriking and blubbering about someone you didn’t even know. Some people can push this a bit too far though. At the Great North Run this year I was running behind someone who had a photo of what must have been a nonagenarian Yoda-type on their back and a message about missing a recently departed Gran. I initially chuckled at this apparent act of postmodern irony before realising that they were probably serious. Come on people, missing Gran is perfectly understandable but do we really want a cure for dying of old age? Nobody wants to live forever do they?

In order to qualify for the post-race rub down I won’t be able to run in my club vest which will make me impossible to spot. It seems like little old bald guys have been cloned and sent out to run marathons, there are thousands of us. I’ll be doing my own Yoda impression on the way round. May use one of his expressions when the going gets tough, “Try not. Do or do not. There is no try”.


So here’s a link to Liz’s Just Giving page http://www.justgiving.com/LizJones1. May the force be with you.

He's mad that trusts in the tameness of a wolf

Is 2.00 p.m. too early for a snifter? Just a small tot of Jamesons for its miraculous recuperative properties? I think it’s justified as my quads are singing. Not singing like a heavenly choir but more a tortured Trent Reznor wail. I guess barrelling through snow is tough on the quads. On the plus side the calves and hamstrings are quiescent.

My run wasn’t the speed session I needed, but a steady snow plough along the road and through the fields. How come minimal back lift is a good thing in cricket and football but not so desirable in running? No danger of my heels hitting my arse as I shuffled along today. I chickened out of a run round Headingley with some clubmates as I didn’t fancy the drive out and back. I couldn’t justify curling up on the sofa with Trisha and Jeremy so headed out to Golden Acre park and then round Eccup rezza and back. This is a regular training run (or at least it would be if I trained regularly) and gets me out into the country (and untrammelled snow) pretty quickly.

There were very few people about so just my bad luck to have to scamper away from some sort of devil dog that was unmuzzled and unleashed. I like dogs. I like some dogs. I like very few dogs. I like mongrels and dogs that make good pets. In my view when a breed of dog has been selected over generations to bite or kill other animals or humans then that dog is not going to make a good pet. Some dogs were bred specifically to nip at the forelocks of livestock or tear the throats out of small mammals or bait badgers. These are not the kinds of dog I want to bump into on my runs. Rant over (until the next rant).

I’ve only once been bitten by a dog. It wasn’t a happy experience and due to the circumstances I don’t feel I got the sympathy I deserved. It was a few years ago when I was on holiday on Skye. For some reason I went for a stroll on my own one evening. It was the evening before some sort of local celebration and as I wandered up a country lane, I heard someone practicing on the bagpipes. It was a dreadful cacophony with a mixture of screeching and groaning. This din was coming from a small farmhouse set about 50 yards back from the road. As I passed the entrance four border collies trotted out of the farmyard and started to “round me up”. I beat a hasty retreat, but as I was shooing one of them away another one of them dashed in and nipped the back of my leg. I went for them trying to put the boot in, but didn’t get anywhere near. I did feel some empathy as I assume they were driven mad by this terrible noise that they had to put up with. Bagpipes may have been ok on a faraway battlefield to scare the bejapers out of some poor blighter trying to defend their country, but they have no place in our modern world. Anyway the damage was done and I’m not quite as blasé about loose dogs as I used to be.

I don’t know how long I was running for or what my average speed was. Quite a while and not very quick. I wasn’t wearing a watch as I wasn’t running for a good time just running for a good time if that makes sense. There is something uplifting about running in the snow especially when the hedgerows are alive with Fieldfares and Redwings and such like. When trotting past the lake in Golden Acre Park I wanted to get my skates out and get on the ice. This is unlikely to happen as I don’t have any skates and on the occasions that I’ve hit the ice, I’ve usually hit the ice. Eccup rezza looked anything but inviting. Just really cold. Plenty of wildlife though and I was as filled with joie de vivre as much as someone of my nature can be.

The quads are singing again; where did I put that bottle?

What wound did ever heal but by degrees?

Bored, bored, bored. Resting because I’m all raced out is tiring and tiresome. Recurring calf and hamstring niggles over the summer and autumn led me to the decision that I’d only do light training and no racing between the Abbey Dash and the Chevin Chase. Trouble is the Abbey Dash went really well. Spurred on by Abi I managed to equal my 10k PB of 40:36 and started to question the need to take a rest. Fortunately, none of the races over the next four weeks have any particular appeal for me so the temptation to just carry on isn’t as bad as it might have been.

I tried to get my racing fix at the end of last week by booking into future races; Thirsk 10 & Stockport 10 for Liz and Dewsbury 10k & Liversedge Half for the both of us. Booking online is dreadful. Almost as tiring as running the blooming races. Why don’t they have a button that allows you to pay for two people together rather then going through the whole thing twice? Why can’t the darned thing remember my details like it’s supposed to?

I’ve had a couple of reasonably long walks over the Chevin during the week but no training. I chugged around in the snow on Saturday morning for a respectable parkrun time of 21:49. I even warmed down and offered my aching legs up to Ned for an excellent post run Sports Fix massage.

I’m doing what I can to arrive at the start of marathon training in as good a condition as I can. Stretching at home, working on upper body at the gym and not putting the calves and hamstrings under any strain. I’m fiddling with my marathon training plan and trying not to look forward to the Chevin Chase too much.

Still bored.

For you and I are past our dancing days

It was the last of the Yorkshire Veterans’ Athletics Association Grand Prix series on Sunday and I turned up to run with the other has beens. Actually, you don’t have to be that old to be classed a “veteran” in the athletics world – 35. Must seem pretty ancient when you’re young, but most of the runners in this series don’t look like veterans to me.

I hadn’t really expected to run having tweaked a calf on the previous Sundays’ PECO cross country. I didn’t run at all in the week that followed but set off tentatively for the Saturday parkrun and found no pain at all. I was in full winter gear having expected to go slowly so had to hastily remove gloves and rain jacket when I found I was moving freely. I picked up the pace and provided a thorough test for the legs by the end. Managed just over 21 minutes from a pedestrian start, so was pleased with that.

I’d enjoyed the PECO race, but didn’t really consider it to be cross country. This was more like it though; squelchy mud, gates, stiles and narrow tracks. We started by running one and a half laps round an athletics track and even I’ve learned that this means that the organisers want to get the field spread out because there are some narrow bits coming up. I headed off as fast as I could and arrived at the first bottle neck reasonably far up the field. Not so far that I was killing myself to keep up, but I wasn’t frustrated by being held up either.

For the second race in a row, I settled in behind Mick from Eccleshill but it was pretty clear that this wasn’t the Mick of last week. No longer the mild mannered gentleman he’d turned into ….. The Hoganator. When he took off and dodged past other runners I held my ground as his pace was too hot for me. I maintained a steady trot and only had one brief moment of anxiety; after twenty five minutes the faster runners came bombing back towards me and I had a horrible thought that maybe it was an out and back and the race was further than I’d thought. Perhaps I should have looked at the map in registration. Turned out to be just over five miles and I came in about 50th in 38:33.

Was I first lady home? Nah. I’d bumped into Karen Pickles before the race so all bets were off. If I can get within a minute a mile of her then that’s the measure of whether I’ve done ok. Came in one place ahead of Marisol though so things are looking up.

'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful

My usual way of finishing a race is wheezing and spluttering and looking close to death. I surpassed myself at the first cross country of the season by adding a ludicrous limp and a pathetic keening noise.

It’s been mixed running fortunes since last I blogged. Apart from a couple of desultory training runs I’ve completed two races. I think that because I have no real concept of pacing and I’m a slacker I tend to look for someone else to take me round at a good clip. Consequently, since starting to run in2008 I’ve identified likely pacemakers and tried to hang onto them in a shamelessly parasitic fashion. Unfortunately, since twanging my hamstring at the end of June the usual suspects have been too quick for me so I’ve just run as fast as I think I can without risking injury.

I’d been feeling pretty chipper of late so decided that for Guy Fawkes 10 I’d aim for 1:15 and try to trail round after Marisol. In the six races we’d both run in prior to “the twang”, I’d finished ahead of her; in the six races we’d both run afterwards, she’d finished ahead of me. Keeping up with her would be an indication that I’m getting over the injury (she’s very consistent).

I overtook her after a couple of miles and the body seemed to be in decent shape. The first hill was horrible; I had to walk the second half and Marisol went past me just before the summit. I got my breath back at the top and went past her. Same story on the second hill, only I couldn’t get past her, just had to dig in and follow. At the third hill I decided not to walk and was just congratulating myself on a noble effort when a bend in the road revealed we were only halfway up the hill. I walked the second half. She got away from me and though I made up some ground, she finished 17 seconds ahead. This was a good result. She’d whupped me by ten minutes at the Bradford half so I was happy with my Ripley run.

There’ll be pressure on at the PECOs this year. Last year we unwisely got promoted and we’re in danger of being the West Bromwich Albion of the PECO league. At the first PECO at Pontefract I decided I had to go as fast as possible as we’ll need all the points we can get. The only tactic I can think of is to chase Russ round. Last year I’d mostly followed Deadly Hedley; by “followed” I mean start just behind him and then watch the gap gradually widen as the race unfolded. He was usually about a minute ahead of me at the end. This worked well last year apart from the race where I lost him at the start. I panicked and desperately went faster and faster trying to catch him up only to be overtaken by him after three miles. The last two miles were a nightmare as a procession of other runners went charging past me as I gasped and wheezed my way to the finish.

At Pontefract Russ set off with Abi and I tucked in behind them. I’d rejected the option of using Abi as a pacemaker as he’s too ……. flighty. When he overtook me at Bradford at mile seven he was running backwards and still finished seven minutes ahead of me. Russ made steady progress in the first couple of miles, regularly passing other runners and I was struggling to keep up. When he went past the familiar figure of Mick from Eccleshill I decided enough was enough and changed horses mid-stream. I swung in behind Mick with the intention of staying there as long as possible. This turned out to be until the top of the last slope about 500 yards from the finish. I was just considering revealing my amazing kick and sprint finish (so far this is just a concept, but one day it may happen) when my calf tightened and I watched him race off. Five other runners overtook me as I hobbled my way to the line in a comedy Long John Silver fashion. My fellow club runners were waiting at the end to cheer me in (there seems to be more of them finishing ahead of me than there used to be) and I must have looked a pitiful sight as I limped over the finishing line.

Bugger. Just recovered from the hamstring and now the calf starts to s play up. On the whole, this isn’t a major concern as the calf has tightened a couple of times a year for the last three or four years. Rest it for a week or so and submit to brutal torture from Tony’s healing hands and I’ll be back in business.

So, Pontefract was a race of mixed fortunes, but on the whole a success. Granted, the finish was pathetic, I picked up an injury and was unable to train for the following week. On the positive side I was closer to Mick than I’ve been in ages and I was first lady home (i.e. none of the ladies finished ahead of me, another measure of whether I’m on form).

I have bought Golden opinions from all sorts of people.

What on earth is happening at Runners World? At the moment, I’m running races but not training so decided to get my running fix through reading. We used to subscribe to Runners World but cancelled because we decided that there was nothing really new, just a re-hash of articles we’d already read. About three weeks ago a running friend told us there was an excellent article on Race The Train, a race that we’d run in the summer so off I trotted to pick up the November issue. Why do magazines do that? Publish the November issue in the first week in October? It’s not just Runners World, they all do it; I just can’t understand why you would publish a magazine three to four weeks before it is supposed to be due to be released, anyway, back to “What’s happening at Runners World”? If they cram anymore words on the front cover they won’t have space for the photo of the barely dressed model. Have they muddled up their priorities? They’ve cut her down to size and squeezed her in between a plethora of empty slogans.

There are thirteen separate messages on the front cover telling the browser about some not-to-be-missed article inside. From a design, marketing and running perspective this is a shambles. Isn’t there anybody on their editorial team who can take a step back and say “We’ve gone too far, our front cover is bobbins”. The photo is too small to attract the pervs and the messages are too many and too unclear to appeal to runners who want to improve. They’re just SHOUTING at me with their meaningless headlines. The only purpose of this cover is to win a competition for a magazine that can cram thirteen meaningless slogans and a pervy photo onto one cover; I don’t think such a competition exists.

What the f*** does “Think Your Way To A New PB” mean anyway? Why have they misused capital letters in this way? The article barely fills a page, has unforgivable typos and could have been written by a four year old. It does not provide me with the tools to improve performance. There is absolutely no science in this article, not even “bad science”. You could not accuse the authors of being charlatans as they don’t make exaggerated claims, it’s just filler.

“Beginners Run Off Road”, is just the same. Fewer then 500 words on running trail races. There are so many brilliant, inspiring, horrible, frightening trail races that you could easily fill a couple of pages with anecdotes and advice, but this article is just bland and instantly forgettable.

And on it goes. If I was an advertiser, I’d be really disappointed that the journalism and editorial professionalism was so poor. The quality of the advertising copy far exceeds that of the content of this magazine. I don’t have an axe to grind; I would genuinely like to read articles that are inspiring, thought–provoking and inspirational. The closest Runners World gets in this issue are the articles by Paul Groves on re-running his school cross country race and the Race The Train article by Warren Pole.

As ever, the “Rave Run”, where a reader describes their favourite run is hugely disappointing. There’s a brilliant photo and a story that demands at least a thousand words but it’s crammed into a two page spread. The photography on this article is consistently superb and the chosen subject invariably has a story to tell that is worth reading. But the article does not tell that story. Even when they have stumbled onto a winning formula, the editors manage to screw it up.

That said, they’re better than the opposition. Come on; feed me! There’s a readership out there that wants good quality journalism and the current offerings don’t meet that need.

O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain!

As I registered for my race on Sunday I bumped into a vastly experienced local runner who trots along at around the same pace as me. “What’s this one like”? I asked. “Not sure” he replied, “they all blend into one after a while”. This was a little puzzling as he has previously demonstrated encyclopaedic knowledge of almost every race I’ve turned up to. I thought no more of it and took up a position towards the back of the field as I was feeling some way short of my best. After all, in a seven mile race I could always go past people if I was feeling strong. Wrong! In this particular race the tactic is to get as close to the front of the field as you can and leg it as soon as the starter shouts “Go”! If you can then run like the clappers for the first half mile you’re almost guaranteed a victory over your rivals.

There were almost no opportunities for safe overtaking in the next five and a half miles and runners got bunched up as slower runners became slow-moving road blocks. With a record entry of over 400 those of us in the middle and towards the end of the field were stopping and starting and reduced to a walk as we climbed the first two miles.

When we eventually got onto the moor, it was no blessed relief; the organisers had forgotten to tell us that they’d borrowed Grimpen Mire for the morning for us to slog across. I will long remember the sight of two mud-splattered runners desperately tugging to release a fellow runner from a particularly foul smelling part of the bog. She’d wandered ever so slightly off path and was up to her waist in gloopy, black ooze. Once it was clear that she was no longer in danger, the whole incident cheered me up no end. I’d been slipping and sliding all over the place and had decided I was the most unfortunate and unstable runner on the moor. Three runners effortlessly overtaken and all three of them considerably dirtier than me. Result.

After some break-neck downhill sections we were faced with a short spot of rock climbing (from memory, I would grade it as Mild Very Severe) before a short stretch of track where overtaking was possible. I managed to get past a few runners in the final mile, but I didn’t have anything left by the end.

Whilst gasping for breath like a beached John Dory, my colleague from earlier (looking rested and refreshed) cheerily asked “What kept you”? From now on I think I’ll set off as close to the front as I can get away with at all trail, cross-country and fell races.

We have seen better days

In the spirit of the times I’m undertaking a Comprehensive Running Review over the full term of my two London marathon runs, past and future. Recent results show there is a record deficit between my actual race times and the performances required to bring me home at London Marathon 2011 in my target time of 3 hours and 15 minutes.

The review will be guided by the principles of freedom, fairness and responsibility. It will include my coalition partner Liz and will be a clear indication that we’re in this together. This wide ranging review will consider deficiencies of the previous administration – overeating, undertraining, running when injured etc) as well as providing a blueprint for future behaviour.

Deficit
5k deficit between best and current 1 minute and 30 seconds
10k deficit between best and current 5 minutes
10 miles deficit between best and currnet 10 minutes
Half Marathon deficit between best and current 15 minutes
Marathon deficit between best and current estimate 30 minutes
Chart 1A

Chart 1A shows a widening gap between current performances and times for races in late 2009/early 2010. As I was way off target at VLM 2010, I need to find about 45 minutes from where I am now to where I want to be in April 2011.

Tackling a deficit of this scale requires urgent action. The reason for the downturn in my running fortunes is, I believe, injury based. For the next six weeks I will not attempt to train when injured (I’ll still be racing, obviously, as I’m committed to protecting frontline activities). This will be the first step on a long road towards restoring good management of the running body. Mileage will be reduced in real terms with the intention to limit as far as possible the impact of running on the most vulnerable parts of my body (dodgy hamstring).

I won’t be able to achieve a step change in performance until I have fully rested the hamstring. From Abbey Dash until Chevin Chase I will be just jogging at selected events – namely the Saturday parkruns and the second PECO cross country race. This should provide me with a platform to consider new and radical approaches to increasing mileage in the New Year. From then, the bulk of the deficit reduction will be achieved through increased, focused training combined with improvements in healthy eating and in stringent portion control.

Christmas and the New Year will be particularly challenging with some tightening of belts as we fight inflation. In the New Year we will need to put austerity measures in place but I’m viewing this one week period as a winter recess.

The support of Liz will be vital to build our collective understanding of the issues, ensuring support for the overall principles and approach and discussing cross-cutting issues. We will need to work holistically together across traditional boundaries. We’ll test and challenge our plans and ensure that they respond to external engagement. These deliberations will be informed and supplemented by detailed conversations with our marathon running coalition colleagues.

I remain confident that we can build the foundations for strong and sustained growth. It will be a hard road that will lead to a better future.

Target Event Date
5k Target of 00:18:59 at Lancaster in summer 2011
10k Target of 00:39:59 at Dewsbury in Feb 2011
Half Marathon Target of 01:27:00 at Brass Monkey in Jan 2011
Marathon Target of 03:14:59 at London on 17th April 2011
Chart 1B

Chart 1B shows my PB target races for 2011. By undertaking a programme of key reforms I believe I can deliver this vision.

I can confirm that our plans have not been audited by the OBR (Office for Blogging Responsibility).

Though this be madness, yet there is method in't.

Anyone got a winning marathon training programme? Not one to make me win because frankly I don’t think that’s going to happen. Perhaps if I’d been born in the Rift Valley in 1986 with a modicum of running talent and a “can do” approach I might be in with a shout. Being born in Skipton in 1956 with no sporting prowess and a penchant for feeble excuses it would be a big ask to come home first in VLM 2011. I strongly suspect that I won’t even get an invite to the elite start. No, a training programme to enable me to give it my best shot is all I want.

Being a slacker, I thought I’d just filch someone else’s programme and adapt it ever so slightly. Where better to start than the VLM mag? They’ve got three in there aimed at different abilities. I’m flummoxed. They’re 13 week programmes, but which 13 weeks? There’s no taper built in. Is tapering old hat? I liked tapering last year as I was absolutely knackered and couldn’t possibly have just gone from full bore training to running the race. Am I supposed to invent my own taper programme and add that on at the end? Two weeks? Three weeks? What?

On to Runners World website then. They’ve got three, but there’s a problem; I want the target time promised by the Advanced programme (sub 3:30), but I’m only prepared to put in the effort of the Intermediate programme (5 days, 32 to 48 miles). I’ll mix and match. Excellent. It’s a sixteen week programme that takes us nicely from Boxing Day to Race Day.

Now add in all the races that I want to run. Blimey, there are loads of them. Three club cross country races that I don’t want to miss. I want to run some twenty milers and Trimpell and East Hull appeal. From the experience of last year, running in proper races is a good way to get in a long run; it’s pretty dull doing a solo run. I could do with race organisers firming up on dates, especially Dewsbury 10k as that will be one of my four “A” races for 2011. Baildon Boundary Way a week before VLM – is that pushing it with an off-road half? Sod it, I’ll give it a go if I can get in. I’ll have to try and do something creative with the Saturday morning parkruns though. Anyone got any bright ideas for how I can make them a useful part of marathon training?

I feel better now tackling the marathon with a proper plan. I won’t stick to it of course. Probably be backsliding after the first week. Planning and blogging are going well; if I keep this up I might manage to avoid doing any running at all.

Lord, what fools these mortals be!

Did your London Marathon rejection magazine crash onto your doormat the other day? Have to sign for a ludicrous garment you’ll never wear? Not me. I got in. Thing is, I’d have been disappointed but relieved to receive the rejection mag. I did my bit last year and that was enough for me. Two entries into the ballot and two “wins”; I can’t claim any special talent or ability it’s just the way it is (although I think in some way I must be cleverer or more deserving than those of you who weren’t successful).

Due to a not-unexpected Royal Mail cock up Liz and I received our ballot news on different days. Neither of us really wanted to run London Marathon 2011. This sounds somewhat ungracious, but I did see 2010 as a one-off, never-to-be-repeated piece of madness. I only entered for 2011 to make Liz feel better about applying. She applied on the grounds that she wasn’t ready yet, but she would be one day. It was no great surprise then last Thursday when my magazine with happy, smiling faces on the front arrived. I was out on Friday when Liz got her notification, but when I got back I found a rather crumpled magazine with saddo, loser faces on the front thrown on the floor next to the most unflattering, ill-fitting “rain jacket” I’ve ever seen in my life. I tried it on and couldn’t decide if I looked more like Fred the master butcher off Coronation Street or that fat bloke off Dinnerladies. Watchdog should investigate and find out if Branson ordered a job lot off some child slave labour gangmaster from Manila.

Liz put on a brave face for the first couple of days, and said she was happy to take her chances with the club draw. Discreet enquiries revealed that this would take place at the Christmas do and I could see that she’d need something to take her mind off it pretty quickly. She must have felt that way too because she set up the ironing board and announced she was going to “make a patchwork quilt”. I have absolutely no idea what this is and hadn’t been aware that my life was somehow incomplete without such a thing, but hey, if it occupies mind and body while she gets over the disappointment, then I’m happy with that.

I blame our eldest. We’d dropped him off at Uni the week before and Liz now has a first-born shaped gap in her life that needs filling with something. Sunday evening comes around and she’s surfing the net looking at charity places. By Monday morning I get a call from Liz saying Age UK has offered her a place. So now we’re both going to turn our lives inside out in order to get fit enough to run for 26.2 miles next April.

I’m really delighted that Liz is running London as well. Trouble is, I was planning on going into denial until the New Year. The training and preparation will become an obsession; everything will be centred on the marathon. All our hopes and plans will be aimed at getting into prime condition and then running to plan. I was kind of hoping to put it on the back-burner as it’s a long time to maintain that level of determination and paranoia.

But it’s already started. Liz announced that her marathon training starts next Sunday with the Woodland Challenge; I pointed out that (a) she entered the race in May, before she’d even thought about London 2011; and (b) she’s only entered because of the legendary goody bag and man playing with his organ in the woods, neither of which are particularly athletic or noble reasons. She mumbled incoherently at this, which is usually my preserve.

I’ve tried to get distracted; the Tory party conference has provided a minor distraction as I go from guffawing (Boris) to apoplectic rage (Gove, Osborne, anyone) depending on which buffoon is on stage. The Commonwealth Games have failed to take my mind off the marathon so far. This may change though as any sports aficionado will tell you that these multi-sport events don’t really get going until the beach volleyball starts. A man who is tired of beach volleyball is tired of life.

So here we are starting six months of marathon based torture. Sometime soon those of you fortunate enough to have received your loser mag and jacket will be tucked up comfortably in bed while I’m hauling my sorry ass round some freezing, god forsaken field. I won’t be feeling so cocky then.