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?