All’s well that ends well

I’m not really a panicky kind of person, but in the days before the run I’d become resigned to not getting round at anywhere near my best. In retrospect I think my taper was a week too long. I was ready to go the weekend before Marathon weekend, so I really gave it the maximum effort at parkrun and my calf felt tight and twangy all week.

We had a good journey down on the train with Jaz and Tess. They went on to stay with a friend of Tess while we stayed in Southwark at the same hotel as Kay, Nicky, Vicky, Kara and John. I was quite sanguine and a little subdued the evening before the run and the lack of expectation probably helped me to relax. I considered running with Liz (much to her horror), but decided that if we ran together and my calf went then it would become her problem as well as mine and not something she should have to suffer on her first marathon. Also, I’ve not trained to be on my feet for five to six hours so wouldn’t feel confident with that.

I wasn’t chasing the carbs on the evening before, just had a relaxing, civilised meal, including a large glass of wine and an enormous flapjack followed by an early night.

Liz came with me on the train to Blackheath and we walked down to her Red start together. I went through the Blue start. After standing in the loo queue for ten minutes I heard the announcement that the baggage lorries would be going in eight minutes so had a quick dash to drop my stuff off. Bumped into David and Emma who were looking pretty relaxed and confident. When I went back to the loo queue I found that there wasn’t one as everyone had gone to the start. Heard the four minutes to go announcement as I left the loo and somehow got very close to the Blue start.

I seemed to be starting with a large group who were aiming for 3:15 to 3:30 so decided to just give it a go and see what happens. We got off to a decent start with no hold ups, and I settled into a fairly consistent pace to get round in 3:15. At this stage I was just crossing my fingers and hoping I’d get far enough round at a quick pace to be able to walk the rest if the calf did go. I was pretty much “in the zone” right from the start and could have been running anywhere. With a marathon, I’m trying to get round as quickly as possible and haven’t managed to incorporate sight-seeing and looking out for friendly faces. It would be nice to run it at a slower pace and take in the atmosphere and the sights, but I wasn’t ready to do that this time.

I went through half way in 1:38:41 which gave me an outside chance of getting round in 3:15. It started to get warm and I kept telling myself that this is England in April – it really isn’t that hot. I didn’t fully convince myself as I was pouring a fair amount of water over my head to try and keep cool and I’ve not done that before.

I lost it completely between 23 and 24 and walked for five minutes. I always walk up steep hills when I’m racing (and not so steep ones on the Calderdale Way Relay) but this was my first walk on the flat. It seemed to work though as I picked it up and kept running to the line to finish in 3:27:42. They put signs out every 200 metres to the finish starting at 800 metres and it’s the longest 800 metres in the world.

My post race wind down was much better this year than last time. I had my chip removed and eschewed the photo of me posing with the medal on the grounds that I wouldn’t buy it anyway. Picked up my bag and dogged off the bottle of water that was in the goody bag. Ate the Pink Lady (this is an apple, not a euphemism) after getting a passer by to scrape off the sticker ‘cos I was too tired to do it myself. I kept walking and linked up with another runner wearing the Age UK vest. We headed off to a nearby pub which Age UK had taken over for the day. Liz’s brother in law was already there, so I dumped my bags with him while I “enjoyed” a welcome massage. Both calves and both feet kept cramping up, but after a few minutes I was feeling more human. A large plate of chilli and rice with a side order of chips and a pint of Strongbow completed my recuperation.

Went out to mile 25 to enjoy the atmosphere at the Age UK cheering point. Cheered in some very tired runners before Liz came past looking in remarkably good nick.

So, that’s mission accomplished in terms of getting round in a decent time. The “Good For Age” is faster than I can manage, so I can’t see me going out of my way to enter other marathons. The exception would be Chicago, where Liz has some friends.

Splits were as follows:

5k 23:22; 10k 23:08; 15k 23:18; 20k 23:40; 25k 24:04; 30k 25:06; 35k 26:00; 40k 27:17; 42k 11:47.

The second half was ten minutes slower than the first half, so nowhere near a negative split, but not bad considering I had a poor last three miles.

Let the recovery begin.

The time is out of joint

Damned strange place London; some things seem wildly futuristic to my simple Northern eyes while other things seem to be outdated. The newer buildings, the fashions, the speed at which everything moves are most strange, yet I can’t remember the last time I saw the Hare Krishna mob out on the streets of a northern city, but there they were down that London like it was 1970 again.

That’s not the only contradiction either. It’s so urban, yet wildlife seems to thrive. We were sat having a coffee amidst a maelstrom of human activity yet above us a pair of Peregrine Falcons were going through their courtship rituals as if they were on the remotest of moorlands.

It’s so expansive, but I always seem to see familiar faces. If you know as few people as me, you wouldn’t expect to see anyone you know whilst casually wandering around Westminster surrounded by trillions of strangers, yet out of the blue there was Becky Hall.

The big build up is underway now that the registration thing has been done. Liz collected my number last year so this was my first experience of the Expo; it was OK, but nothing special. I used to be pretty good at acquiring freebies at exhibitions, but I came away with very little of any worth.

Travelling across London afterwards was bizarre. Usually everyone assiduously avoids eye contact, but there was a strange tribe out and about today. We identified each other by our red bags and although there wasn’t exactly bonhomie or conspirational nods, there was at least some acknowledgement of other human beings.

Traipsing round London was darned tiring and I’m feeling a wee bit trepidatious. I’m glad to have had the opportunity to collect the race number and chip and then put the marathon out of my mind with another day at work. I should be able to better keep the growing anxiety under control before returning to our wonderful capital city.

The abstract and brief chronicles of the time

A strange thing happened to me on Saturday morning. I was coming down the stairs without a care in the world when I suddenly realised that I was coming down the stairs without a care in the world. This was strange because for the last few months sometimes I’ve come down stairs favouring my left leg and sometimes I’ve come down stairs favouring my right leg. Sometimes I’ve said “ouch” on each and every step and sometimes I’ve said “ouch” only on every other step. Always I’ve come down slowly and made a conscious effort not to exacerbate a minor pull or niggle.

I’m not sure if the carefree descent has been happening for some time and I wasn’t aware of it until Saturday or whether Saturday was a breakthrough. I took it as an excellent sign that my legs had recovered from the overuse I’d given them and that tapering actually works. Armed with this carefree movement I then went out and ran a PB at parkrun in my 114th run taking eleven seconds off my previous PB.

I’m back to coming downstairs very slowly saying “ouch” on every other step and favouring my right leg, but hey, that’s marathon training.

So quick bright things come to confusion

I’ve done my last long run now so along with all the other marathon trainers I need a taper. This marathon training seems very strange; what would I want with an odd-toed ungulate? Doing a long slow run today seemed like a good idea before I set off. The legs were feeling less fatigued that at any time since East Hull, the weather forecast said rain and wind from tomorrow and everyone else seems to have run their last long run at the weekend. So, having listened to Liz and David (and Emma via David) I decided that a run along the canal from Silsden would be a fine way to finish my endurance training. My plan was to run an out and back, turning round somewhere between 10 and 12 miles from Silsden. Within the first couple of miles I’d decided that this would be at 10 miles as the running wasn’t as easy as I’d thought it would be. It’s not as if I was trying to go too quickly as I settled into a nine minute mile pace at the start and didn’t deviate from this the whole way. I guess I’d run hard on Sunday and I wasn’t as recovered from that as I thought I was. I looked for distractions all the way, but there wasn’t much variety; perhaps it was one of those rare occasions when the ipod would have come in useful.

Still, it’s done now – twenty miles in three hours. Finished with a raging thirst. Partly slaked this with a pint of shandy (don’t laugh) in the Bridge Inn in Silsden. One of the distractions along the way was imagining what would be my beverage of choice in each of the numerous canal-side hostelries between Silsden and Shipley. Just my bad luck that the one in Silsden is a pub dying on its arse. Great selection of hand pulled ales (but I don’t drink beer) and absolutely nothing else going for it. That’s not just my opinion either as the place was deserted. Was sorely tempted by the ice cream barge in Saltaire, but it was doing a roaring trade and I couldn’t wait in the queue.

Unless I’m totally confused by the concept of the taper (again) I believe I can just lounge around on the sofa eating buns and just rock up on marathon day. Can’t wait.

An improbable fiction

I’ve had a busy morning; not only did I run a 10 mile race, but while running it I may well have stumbled on key information that will clear up a mystery that has baffled the authorities and the British public since 30th December 1993. At around mile three and a half I made an unconfirmed sighting of Archie Brooks who many people think died in the Beckindale Air Disaster of that date. Of course his body was never recovered and ever since there has been feverish speculation as to what happened to Emmerdale Farm’s only worthwhile character (sorry Tony, but it’s true). The bugger came loping past me bold as brass. I didn’t have the oomph to set off after him and confront him with the evidence as I’d started a bit too quick and had just climbed the only significant gradient on the run. Perhaps others on the run saw him and can confirm my sighting?

One of the side effects of running at various speeds slower than normal is that I no longer recognise the group of people that run at the same pace as me. This is a handicap as with no specific time to go for I like to just join in at the appropriate pace set by familiar runners. I’d decided that a 70 minute run would be OK, but I’d like to go a wee bit faster. The only way I’m going to achieve this is to either run with someone or race against someone.

I’d bumped into Mick before the start and the 65 minutes he was aiming for was going to be too quick for me so I tucked in behind him on the starting line and thought if I kept him in sight then he’d gradually pull away and I’d get round in a good time. Within the first couple of hundred yards that plan is scuppered as he’s away and I’m involved in a mad scramble with a large group. I run the first two miles at 65 minute pace and Mick is so far ahead I can’t see him. A little way ahead of me is a guy with a pony tail who I’m fairly certain finishes races at about the same time as me. He looks at his watch at two miles and picks the pace up. I slow my pace down and settle in behind Liz Wood who stormed past me in the closing stages at Trimpell. James sidles up alongside me; he’s also aiming for 65 minutes but with a negative split. He’s soon away and I spot Frank a couple of hundred yards up ahead and decide to let Liz Wood take me forward, but it’s not working. Frank is just as far ahead at mile 4 as he was the previous mile. I pick up the pace and find myself behind Leopard-Skin-Bra Lady. Go through mile five in 33:30 and we’ve caught up to Pony Tail Boy but we’re no nearer Frank. I push on again and go past him just after mile six. I’ve nobody familiar to run against now, but it’s OK as it’s one of those races where you run up the road as the faster runners run down it. This provides a great distraction looking out for people I know. I see everyone I know who’s in the race but somehow miss Archie Brooks; perhaps someone else has recognised him and he’s had to make a hasty exit.

The last two miles feel tough but are downhill. I’m dragged along by a couple of blokes from the same club who are racing each other and hanging onto them is a good distraction from thinking about how much the legs hurt.

A sharp left and a sprint for the finish and it’s job done in a chip time of 1:07:10.

This other Eden, demi-paradise

I’ve not felt much like running this week so decided to take myself off for a long walk yesterday. The three peaks, but with a cunning twist. I decided I wanted to avoid the long slog across Black Dub Moss that lies between Pen y ghent and Whernside. It’s the least interesting bit of the walk and in weather like we’ve had recently, the only bit where proper walking boots are required. After consulting my Bradshaws it was clear that if I got my timing right, I could “do” Pen y ghent and return to Horton to catch the 9.58 train to Ribblehead. There were several unknowns in the plan including time spent dicking around before setting off and on arrival, the number of slow moving vehicles on the A65 to hamper the drive to the start and the timings for getting up and down Pen y ghent.

I slept longer than planned and was only held up by one slow moving vehicle (trailer delivering hay – Skipton to Hellifield). This gave me sufficient time to worry about whether I was going to be underdressed as the temperature gauge headed steadily downwards.

I parked up at Horton at 7.45 and it was a bit of a route march round Pen y ghent going up the accepted three peaks route and returning on the Pennine Way route. I had 15 minutes to spare to wait at Horton station, by which time it was clear that I was overdressed and it would have been advisable to pack the sunscreen. I must have worn out the sunscreen-responsibility gene by slavering the kids up with factor one million when they were bairns. I’d thought about it before setting off and concluded that only an idiot would take sunscreen for a walk in the north of England in March. Besides, I couldn’t find the sunscreen. Every winter we pack away our supply of sunscreen and by Spring we can’t remember where we’ve put it so buy a new tube. At least twice a summer we get somewhere and look expectantly at each other and one of us says “I thought you were packing the sunscreen” and end up buying another couple of tubes. At the end of every summer I spot a bargain and buy a reduced price tube. When I eventually find our sunscreen it’s like a trip down memory lane with a bewildering selection of half full (half empty?) tubes.

I got back to the car at 3.45 having scaled the remaining two peaks, consumed two litres of tap water, three Mars bars, four clementines and a generous portion of cold chilli con carne and rice (the ambrosia of the walking gods). I’d supplemented this with a pint of ice cold Thatcher’s Gold at the Old Hill Inn. I’d thought long and hard about the nature of genius (at least three minutes) and had at first concluded that the inventor of Zip Offs was the greatest inventor of the 20th century. I wavered later on when considering the inventor of the Spork, but held firm to my earlier conclusion. I tried to do some of that Communing with Nature bollox, but found that nature wasn’t very forthcoming. You see a very restricted range of birds and animals in the wilds and the only ones doing any communing were the frogs. There were zillions of them in all the little ponds communing away like crazy. If there’s a national shortage of frogs then I can confirm they’re all up Whernside having a great time. I saw my first butterfly of the year (small tortoiseshell) and was treated to some stunt flying by some loon in a WWII aeroplane. I spoke to one miserable old git (“I remember when you had to wade through bogs to get here. You could climb Ingleborough in your carpet slippers nowadays”) but saw remarkably few people all day. Although not the full three peaks, I still managed to walk over twenty one miles and climb 6,800 feet.

I have no idea whether my jaunt will have enhanced or damaged my marathon performance; I suspect it will have no effect whatsoever. It was a bloody good day though.

Go home, And show no sign of fear.

Four weeks to go and everything seems to be coming together for getting to the starting line in reasonable nick. I’ve certainly got running distance on roads at about the same time on a Sunday as the London marathon ingrained. I ran my third twenty mile race on successive Sundays at East Hull and for the third time everything went more or less according to plan. I was aiming for 8 minute miles for as long as possible and then going for a burst at the end just to see if I could pick the pace up. Got caught up in the hurly burly at the start and found myself alongside Michael Hern from Pudsey Pacers. He was aiming to run the first five at 7:45, then the next five at 7:30, the third five at 7:15 and the final five as fast as possible. That was too swift for me, but tagged along with him for the first five, which seemed to go in no time. I slowed it down a bit and then fell in behind a group of three who were running at about 8 minute pace and chatting away quite happily. They provided a useful windbreak for the section of the course when the wind picked up and was coming straight at us. I pushed on for the final four miles and came in at 2:36:19 according to my Garmin.

Preparation for the Sunday run was less than ideal again. I ran a little faster at parkrun than was sensible and then hung around to cheer on the kids who were running 2k in the park. A dash across the Pennines for lunch and back for the live performance of Frankenstein’s Wedding at Kirkstall Abbey. For those of you not used to performing live on national TV, I can confirm that it’s not as glamorous as you might think and there’s a load of hanging around. We were standing around for four hours gradually getting colder with the bar, food and toilet facilities inaccessible. If I’d put on an overcoat, packed the hip flask and borrowed a colostomy bag then it would have been an excellent evening as the event itself was top class. It really was a marvellous night for a moondance. A fish supper from Midgeley’s was probably not a feature of anybody’s list of how best to prepare for a twenty mile run, but we were famished.

So where have my three twenty mile races got me? I know I can run twenty miles and not die. From Trimpell, I know I can run twenty miles at faster than marathon pace. From Spen I know I can run twenty four miles at nine minute miles and have plenty left for the remaining 2.2 miles. Nothing much new from East Hull, but the knowledge that I can overcome my in-built Yorkshireness and eschew the free Lucozade gels (which are truly horrible) for the bought-with-hard-earned-money Torq gels (which are delicious). I can highly recommend both the Rhubarb & Custard and the Black Cherry Yorghurt flavours. They also do Strawberry Yoghurt, Orange & Banana, Forest Fruits (with Guarana) and Banoffee (with Guarana). I have no idea what Guarana is, but I’ll give it a try.

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank

I rounded off training this week with a moonlight run on Otley Chevin expertly organised by Nikos. We parked up at the Shawfield Plantation car park and met with between twenty and thirty other runners and organisers. The run was two laps and pretty straightforward with minimal turns. The “supermoon” wasn’t obvious at the start as we were in the trees with only small patches of ground lit up by our headtorches. Running in the dark is strangely discumbobulating – had no real idea of pace, just tried to hang onto the runner ahead. So, maybe not that different from running in the daylight then.
As we took the first right turn and ran up into a clearing it was breathtaking, and not just because of the steepness of the slope either. How can I have lived for 54 years and not known that the orbit of the moon is not circular? This weekend the moon is closer to Earth than that it has been in more than 18 years and the biggest full moon of 2011 will occur on Saturday. Not sure why I can’t remember those big moons of eighteen years ago – oh yes, tortured by broken sleep patterns, smelly nappies and Barney, that might explain it. I’ve learnt a new word too – “perigree”; the point in its orbit that the moon is closest to Earth.
Personally, I felt comforted by the presence of a big fat moon in the sky and the light it shone on my path. No bad moon rising or worries of anything ill met by moonlight here, but not so when we got back into the trees again. The downhill section was decidedly tricky and taken very cautiously by me.
I hope that any obstacles in the way of this becoming a regular parkrun can be cleared as it certainly provides something different from city parks. I could probably trundle along a bit faster in daylight too. Nikos mentioned a possible midnight run, which sounds like a fine idea. Let’s swim to the moon, let’s climb through the tide …..

On the windy side

I don’t suppose anybody goes to Cleckheaton for the health giving climate or to take the waters or expecting anything other than miserable weather. Certainly it had rained on all three occasions that I’ve run here in the last year. No surprise then to get there on Sunday for the Spen 20 and find wind and rain.

I was running with Tom who wanted to run twenty four 9 minute miles as part of his preparation for the Comrades race in South Africa in May. This fitted in very nicely with my plans to build up mileage and to reduce speed. We’d run just over three miles on the track before the runners were called to order so when the race started we more or less churned out twenty nine-minute miles. Whilst getting round twenty miles is always going to be hard work, this was probably the easiest way to do it. We chatted to various runners (everyone seems to know Tom) and stopped for a leisurely cup of water or two. Made a nice change from the usual frantic dash with little opportunity for conversation and the madness of the drinks station where half the liquid gets spilled on the ground and half of what’s left gets slopped onto your shirt. Passing the water stations was a bit like one of those Scooby Doo cartoons where they’re constantly going past the same bit of background. On the face of it, there were three water stations, but in reality it was the same one three times.

I set off in hat and gloves as it was still chilly and drizzling, but soon ditched these (oops, sorry Kev). The sun broke through, but not in a “where’s the sunscreen” kind of way. It turned into a very pleasant morning and a fine day for a run. Despite the slower than normal pace, it still felt tiring towards the end and if there had been the need for a change of pace, then I may not have been able to find another gear (except reverse). It was very hilly, but with no need to hurry I really can’t remember any specific hill. The 0.8 of a mile we did after finishing the race (to take us to 24 miles) was a bit of a stretch, but at least it was on the flat.

If you’re looking for a step up in distance in a race environment prior to a Spring marathon then I’d recommend Trimpell over this race. If you’ve already got your confidence and you’re looking for a really stern test then this race would provide one. Although they can’t guarantee good weather, this was a well-organised race and just as friendly as the other three races I’d been to at Cleckheaton/Robertown/Liversedge or wherever we were.

The memento is certainly unique – I thought it was an ash tray at first, but is a small engraved plaque. Pride of place in the trophy cabinet then (small cardboard box in the garage).

To bed, to bed, to bed

This has been an exhausting weekend. I’m cream crackered. Training this week stayed on track despite a hamstring twinge on my long run last Sunday. I went to club training on Tuesday evening and after a tentative start was able to give it a good go at the intervals session. I’m really looking forward to getting back to the park on lighter evenings and running the 1km intervals. Ran 10 miles in just short of eighty minutes on Thursday with no ill effects. Had a massage on Friday when Tony reported heavy bruising on the left hamstring and a very tight right hamstring. On the Saturday morning I was torn between taking an easy parkrun and giving the hamstring a bit of a testing. I ended up running a little faster than was sensible, but again the hamstrings were ok. I really enjoyed the events that Tom/Leeds Uni put on with the paralympian athletes, really humbling, uplifting and inspiring. Pity the weather didn’t do its bit.

Today was the Trimpell 20 and it turned out to be a perfect day with warm sunshine, though a bitter wind when clouds skipped across the sun. Mick Hogan kindly agreed to keep me company. He’s not running a marathon this year, but is supporting Dawn in her bid for London glory, so he wasn’t committed to running at any particular pace. Having decided to run at about my intended London Marathon pace of 7:30 I went off a little too quickly and was three minutes up at the half way mark. The second half was a lot tougher than the first and I seemed to really struggle, but came back at marathon pace and held onto the three minute gain from the first half. I was really surprised at this as it felt like I was running on half-chewed Thornton’s Special Toffee for the last five miles. I dropped maybe fifteen places in the last five miles, so there must have been a good few negative splits in there to compensate for my “run of two halves”.

The body felt pretty much ok once I stopped running except for my feet. These feel like Mr Shifter has parked his piano on my feet and wandered off for several mugs of PG Tips. Time to take the weight off my feet and sleep the sleep of the righteous.

Eye of newt, and toe of frog, wool of bat, and tongue of dog …

OK. I admit I couldn’t get hold of any of those ingredients, but now I’ve started on longer runs they are being followed by consumption of some strange brews. The base is something called “Pharma whey”, which sounds like something a milkmaid may cry out in a moment of passion, but is nowhere near as much fun. I believe some people just mix it with water and down it after a run. I tried it that way once and almost gagged. The trick is to put a couple of scoops in the blender, lob in a banana (and anything else that’s been hanging around in the fruit bowl for a while) add water and yoghurt and whizz it up.

I took out a mortgage and bought a big tub in preparation for London last year and still had half left so I had to enter this year just to use the damn stuff up. You need to proceed with caution though. After one particularly gruelling run last year Liz made up a potion using frozen fruit. The resultant ice cream headache from dogging it off too quickly was so intense it made me weep.

I ran further today than at any time since the marathon last year. I was aiming to run sixteen eight minute miles but I felt a hamstring twinge after four miles so slowed the pace right down as I really needed to get a long run in, irrespective of the time. Ran out to Golden Acre Park, out the back to Eccup, across the A61 to Shadwell, short stretch on the ring road and back up Harrogate Road to Eccup. Threw in a lap of the rezza and ran back past our house to the Dyneley Arms to get the mileage up. 18.69 miles in two hours and forty minutes. Confidence boosted by getting in a long run, but worrying that the hamstrings and calves might let me down.

It was a cracking morning with loads of runners about getting their long runs in. I’ve got three twenty mile runs planned for the next three Sundays and none of them are solo runs, so it feels like training should be more enjoyable from here on in. Not planning on doing anything excessive for the rest of each week, just keep things ticking over. For one thing I couldn’t face more than one whey based smoothie per week.

Barren winter, with his wrathful nipping cold

I haven’t put the miles in this week – I’ve been feeling under the weather. I was worn out from the national cross country championships in the early part of the week, but felt that a run might perk me up. I was wrong. On Tuesday I ran from home to The Edge for our running club session and then trotted round with group 3. Seemed like I made the right choice of group as group 4 had what sounds like a challenging run. I ran just short of 13 miles in two hours and it wore me out. I’ll need to get a decent long run in this weekend if I’m to give of my best at Trimpell a week on Sunday. Longest run to date is fifteen miles as a combination of poor weather, the nationals, a lunatic driving her car through my front wall and now a dripping cold have put paid to my training schedule.

I thought I’d try some other exercise as I wasn’t up to running. You know what it’s like when everyone else uses a phrase, but you haven’t a clue what it means? Cross-training is something that I wasn’t familiar with until recently. For me a cross trainer was one of those elliptical machines in the gym that you do Nordic skiing style movement on. Leaves you completely knackered after about three minutes. Couldn’t really figure it out when someone said they were going swimming as they fancied a spot of cross training. I’ve got it now, and I think I may have done some cross training this week. I’m not up to cycling or swimming though – just walking. I’m not sure whether you use different muscle groups when you walk rather than run, but I’m not safe on a bike and the sight of me in my budgie-smugglers would clear the pool, so walking it is.

Thought I’d go up a couple of hills and go at a fair clip just to make sure some calories got burned. On Thursday I climbed out of Settle up to Attermire Scar and then back to Settle via Langcliffe. It was a gorgeous afternoon, and if I’d known that Friday was going to be rainy, I would have extended the walk. I walked 4.25 miles in 1 hour 15 minutes, including stopping to admire the views from time to time. On Friday I parked in Horton and did a circular walk of Pen-y-ghent. Just over 6 miles in 1 hour and 50 minutes. Plenty of stops to get my breath back and clean my glasses. It was low cloud and I could see bugger all from about half way up. I was going to walk either Whernside or Ingleborough, but there was no point as the visibility was so limited.

Feeling much better now. On with the training.


http://www.justgiving.com/LizJones1.

O horror, horror, horror

Both my kids assure me that I said “Never again” shortly after completing my only marathon to date, the 2010 London Marathon. I find this hard to believe as (a) I always had it in mind to run a marathon with Liz and (b) I felt I could get a faster time than my 2010 effort. On completing the National Cross Country Championships I definitely did say “Never again” and meant it.

I must go around with my eyes closed and a beatific expression on my face. Either that or I have some sort of selective hearing problem, as I was completely unprepared for the scene that greeted us when we arrived at Alton Towers for the cross country. A sea of mud as far as the eye could see. Each year they show clips of Glastonbury on TV and I mumble things like “What kind of an idiot would go there and call it fun” and there I was up to my ankles in mud, about to have my own “fun”.

The first sign that something was not quite right was the fleet of ambulances making their way from the site. The news that St John Ambulance had requested a delay in the programme as they were struggling to keep up with the high number of incidents caused by falls on the course and the cold weather added to the frisson of excitement. A section of the course to which first-aiders and ambulances were unable to gain easy access was eliminated leading to a revision of the course for the later races. Ours was shortened from 12k to 10k in order to ensure the programme was completed before the light began to fail.

The delays were hardest on the girls under 15s as they were stood around for ages waiting for their race to start. Well done to Ellie and Bex for giving it their best under trying circumstances. After their race we got changed ready to run. The time I’d spent the previous day cleaning up my trail shoes so they’d look their best for the nationals was time completely wasted. We found a decent spot towards the top of a hill and cheered on the ladies. This was the first time I’d seen top class athletes live and they’re different from us plodders. How can they function without any noticeable body fat? It was good to see some familiar vests and cheer on runners from the Yorkshire clubs.

I didn’t really get a feel for just how difficult the course was until we set off on our race. There was no escaping the mud. I set off at what I considered to be a sustainable pace only to find I couldn’t sustain it. I was soon clarted up and regretting my little bimble round parkrun in the morning. After a long slog I finished in 1,082nd place in a time of 59:10. Thanks to anyone who gave me a cheer along the way, didn’t recognise everyone, but maybe our vest is becoming known as well.

Oh well, I’ve just read a report stating it was “a course that many runners called the muddiest they had ever experienced”. Maybe “Never again” was just obiter dicta, soon to be forgotten and not to be taken seriously. Where are the nationals next year? Pass me my diary.

The man that hath no music in himself

I appear to have added a new exercise to my training; dancing. Well, not exactly dancing as that would be well beyond my capabilities; more moving to music. Along with a few running buddies, we’ve signed up to “perform” in a version of Frankenstein to be “re-imagined” at Kirkstall Abbey in March. It’s going to be live on national television – well BBC3 anyway. We’ll be part of a 2,000 strong set of wedding guests dancing with the happy couple. Liz had a look at a video clip of the dance and announced that it was “straightforward” a couple of others posted on Facebook declaring it “easy”. When I had a look at it I thought it was about as comprehensible as a Bobby Fischer chess gambit. This different way of looking at things is a clear case of what my friend Simon would call “bird logic” (he’s divorced now).

We rolled up for a dance workshop yesterday afternoon and went through the routine. There was a really effective warm up, which I wish I could remember as it did the business. Another guy then de-constructed the dance in a way that even I could follow (mostly). We now have to practice until the performance on 19th March, so I’ve tacked it onto the end of my stretching routine. Yes, I know; if I only do the dance when I stretch then I’ll probably only do it twice between now and the performance. Because I have no “feel” for music and I’m so useless at dancing it’ll make me do the stretching as well as the dance. The only downside is we have to dance to this dirge-like torch song by someone called Adele; apparently she’s ditched her second name. It’s probably one of those songs that some people have as their favourites, but I’m sick of it already. At least she doesn’t strangle every note like Whitney and Celine (I’m getting into this single name thing).

I had my first run since Sunday today. Eight miles steady at eight minute miles. Felt a bit stiff, but ok. It was a gorgeous morning with woodpeckers drumming and skylarks larking about, so a good day to be out and about. I want to get a longish run in tomorrow so it’s out of my legs for Saturday when we’re running at the national cross country championships which may be a somewhat chastening experience.

No enemy but winter and rough weather

If you’d told me three years ago that I’d spend a cold, wet, miserable Sunday morning in February running around Hartshead Moor Services I would’ve wondered where it’d all gone wrong. Yet today that’s exactly what I did and I had a great time.

I was so keen to run Liversedge half marathon I entered the race three times; senility not so much creeping as galloping along there. There were extenuating circumstances, but they weren’t that extenuating. Wonder if anything else extenuates? I’d run from Roberttown before and if memory serves me well it absolutely chucked it down on that day as well. The weather was nowhere near as bad as had been predicted and it was fine when we set off.

My objective was to run as close to 1:30 as possible, but I had no real strategy about how to do that. Caught up to Claire from Eccleshill after the first mile; she usually beats me when she’s on form but her heart wasn’t really in it today. She still won the first prize in her age category mind. I pushed on and I just kept trying to hang on to the group ahead. I saw a fairly familiar club vest ahead; what may look like a great design in a catalogue looked like a jesters outfit to me and who wants to be beaten by a jester? You may as well run with a target on your back. I guess I’ll try and use anything to keep the motivation going and overtake while I’m still able. At 4 miles I remembered that I hadn’t plastered up my nipples. Nothing I can do except look forward to an uncomfortable few days.

After crossing the M62, there was a vertiginous downhill to the mile 5 marker and I really leathered it down the hill in the certain knowledge that we had to run back up later in the race. I got up the “hill from hell” without needing to walk; I must have kept up a decent pace as I didn’t think about walking and nobody went past me. I found myself on familiar territory – sixth leg of the Calderdale Way relay. Mixed feelings as I enjoyed running with Adrian, but I was by some way the weakest member of the team.

Keep myself concentrating by looking out for the mile markers and clicking the lap counter on the Garmin. Everyone else seems to have their Garmin programmed to automatically record mile/kilometre points, but I haven’t figured that one out yet.

There was a long slow drag from mile 9 to 10 that was really sapping and I get overtaken by a few on this bit. More or less downhill from there, but the wind seemed to be holding me up. I really struggled for the last couple of miles. I was only slightly apoplectic (can one be slightly apoplectic?) at “The Gray Ox”. Misspelling a pub name is just not acceptable and using an American spelling is even worse. The sign looked more like a pig than an ox until you got to about three inches from it. Definitely porcine (geddit)!

I felt like I was standing still for most of the last mile (I felt like I was going backwards for the rest of it). I picked my feet up for a dash up the cruel hill to the finish line. Thanks to Jo for being kind enough to say it looked like a strong finish.

I came 61st in 1:34:55. By one of those strange quirks I ended up with a prize for finishing 3rd in the MV50 category. I was over ten minutes behind the guy who finished 2nd in my category so I did feel a bit of a fraud. It was good to see Chris T out in a Hyde Park Harrier vest putting in a terrific performance in his first half. Thanks to Mick and Rob for their support around the course (and for looking after my yukky cap).

It’s a year since I started to blog about my first attempt to prepare for the London marathon (http://chrisdoeslondon.blogspot.com/). I feel a lot better prepared than at this stage last year, despite slower times at Brass Monkey and Dewsbury 10k. No races for a bit, I just need to get a couple of long runs in prior to the three local(ish) 20 milers.

Here’s a link to Liz’s Just Giving page http://www.justgiving.com/LizJones1

We that are true lovers run into strange capers

Well, we didn’t make the cut for the Great North Run this year. I got an e-mail from Liz’s brother-in-law saying he hadn’t got a ballot place either so why not enter the Great Langdale half instead? Result. We ran it the year before last and it was a mighty strange running caper. Breathtaking in more ways than one. I managed 1:38 last time, but not sure I can match that again, I’ll have to get in some serious hill work as there are loads of ups and downs and not many straights. Seem to remember joyfully overtaking lots of other runners in the final mile last time and repairing to the pub that overlooks the finish line for a couple of well-deserved pints. Half way down the second pint I recognised a group of runners I’d overtaken so smugly; they’d run it twice and were just finishing the second lap of their full marathon. Chastened.

It’s good to get my head out of the marathon trough and have a look at some running later in the year. I’m back in harness with marathon training with no pulls, strains or niggles to report. The cynical side of me would describe my current state as being between injuries, but let’s make the most of it. Had a tough club training session on Tuesday evening. Rick decided that Kirkstall Hills wasn’t sufficiently testing so had us running all the way up several of them and then carrying on up over two road junctions to give us some long slogs rather than the “normal” short, sharp ascents. Finished off with a two mile charge back to base trying to keep up with some improbably quick youngsters. 7.7 miles in 70 minutes – seemed a lot harder than that.

Wednesday was a day off, but had my running fix by going to a University of Leeds lecture delivered by the Brownlees and their coaches with Tom as compere. They came across as humble and laid back, but very hard working. Didn’t feel inspired to widen my athletic exercise to incorporate swimming or cycling though.

Thursday was a gorgeous winter day so I cleaned up the trail shoes and headed out over the fields to Cookridge and then back on a circular route via Pinfold Lane. Took it steady (4.23 miles in 37 minutes), but pleased with that considering I had to slow down for about a zillion stiles. Also did some trip-trapping around the boggiest bits and pussyfooting around those open gateways where the cattle have trampled it into a quagmire.

Feeling good for the Liversedge half – not sure if a hilly half is ideal preparation for a flat marathon; people I race against finished between 89 and 92 minutes last year so it can’t be that bad can it?

I'll put a girdle round about the earth in forty minutes

…. but I may never manage to run a 10k in that time. Maybe girdling the earth is a cake-walk and any fool could do it in their sleep. I keep telling myself that the marathon is my only “A” race this year and that all other races are at best training and at worst a distraction. When I felt the hamstring tighten on last Monday’s loosener I did think “For Puck’s sake, there goes any chance of a PB at Dewsbury” and so it turned out.

I didn’t run all week and offered the leg up for three painful massages. I tested the hamstring at parkrun on Saturday and I could feel it from start to finish. I set off tentatively and gradually got quicker, but knew that I couldn’t go full throttle. It was my 100th run at Leeds parkrun (my 105th overall) and in a week of free running goodies I collected my black parkrun jacket and technical T shirt.

Given my inability to attempt a PB, I’d decided to aim for 43 minutes and run with clubmates Ali and Ellie. It didn’t work out that way as the wind was a killer. Was on track with Ellie for the first 4k with Ali some way behind. By the turnaround we were off the pace and Ali was a little way ahead. Despite being one of the least interesting of runs, I really like the out and back nature of Dewsbury, you get a chance to admire the running styles and sheer determination of the fast runners and to cheer at (and be cheered by) runners you know.

The wind didn’t seem to behave itself or blow logically. There was a definite head wind all the way out and then either a cross-wind or a swirling head wind on the way back. Perhaps I’m psychologically programmed to only register conditions when they’re unhelpful. We struggled between 6k and 9k but came home in under 46 minutes. I was so intent on keeping a decent pace going and cursing the wind that I didn’t think about the hamstring at all and it seems ok after the event.

The marathon training has lost momentum this week with four rest days, no long run and mileage down. There’s enough flexibility to get back on track and I don’t suppose there’s such a thing as a perfect plan that is precisely executed.

I’ll come back to having a go at a forty minute 10k when the marathon is done and I’ve had time to recover. Maybe I can do some race specific training for the Abbey Dash. Some track sessions would help. I think I can improve at all distances, just need to focus on one at a time instead of the current shotgun approach.

A kind good-night to all!

I’ve returned from the adidas marathon evening with an armful of goodies and I don’t appear to have signed up to anything. I did fill out a form for a draw to win an adidas miCoach, so unless that was a cunning plan to get me signed up for an unwanted time share, I think I got away with it.

They gave over fifty pairs of shoes away and each of us ran over a scan mat to check out whether we were pronators. I ended up with a pair of SNova Sequence road shoes. They rabbited on about “adaptive midfoot support” and “improved flex zones” and I just zoned out after a while. I like running shoes, but I don’t really want the science bit, especially as I suspect it’s mostly made up.

We had a talk on marathon running and preparation from Andi Jones who was very good and really humble and a talk on nutrition from a Lucozade sports scientist, who covered her area of expertise adequately. I didn’t stay for the physio lady to talk about sports injuries as I’d just abandoned the car in a shady area.

Missed the Latics thrashing Hartlepool, but most matches don’t live long in the memory whereas I suspect the marathon and the preparation for it will stay with me for a good time.

The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together

Usually the day after a race I take a rest day, but this week I wanted to get my long slow run in early so it would be out of my legs for the Sunday race. I thought there was an off chance I might manage a PB at the Dewsbury 10k so I wanted to give myself the best possible opportunity.

I went for a slow run round the fields close to home, but instead of the legs getting looser as I ran they got tighter. I had to walk/hobble the last mile as my left hamstring was giving me some grief. 5.4 miles in 56 minutes.

Gave my Monday gym session over to a massage (which was agony) and have been icing on and off all day Tuesday. I was going to miss club training this evening anyway as the mighty Latics are taking on Hartlepool. At the last minute I got what sounds like a better offer (not difficult, I know). It was one of those phone calls that started “Do you remember entering a competition…”? Of course I didn’t, but apparently I’ve won a pair of FREE adidas footwear and an invitation to a marathon coaching evening. When the e-mail duly arrived I scrutinised it to find the catch, but there didn’t appear to be one. Even the small print was only a statement that I was only entitled to the one free pair. I guess “FREE adidas footwear” could be almost anything and may not be the kosher, top of the range running shoes that I have in mind. Still, I’m from Yorkshire so am a firm believer in “owt for nowt”. I’ll stick my shorts on under a tracky and see if I can blag a free massage.

Of course it means missing the football. This may be something of a relief as our current team has developed this habit of taking the lead, marmalizing the opposition for most of the match and then panicking in the last quarter and conceding soft goals. We’ve managed to let slip one 3 goal lead, three 2 goal leads and six one goal leads so far this season. It will be a first for my eldest though; the first match that he’s gone to and I haven’t. Something of a coming of age, rite of passage type of thing. Not for him. For me. It feels like I’m out on licence from my life sentence of watching the dross served up in the third tier of English football.

All I have to do is keep my wits about me at the adidas store; I have an awful vision of coming away with a pair of flip flops and a time share for a chalet in Cleethorpes.

I’ll give thee a wind

Blimey, is it any wonder I never win any races when they pit me against such giants. Maybe they should have a separate race for those of us who are not yet fully grown. Thanks to Ellie Dooley for providing incontrovertible evidence that the dice are loaded against me.

I’ve had a curry on the Saturday evening preceding a race for the third Sunday in a row. If I’d thought about this at all it would be that it’s probably not the best preparation for a race. Life has a tendency to get in the way though and for whatever reason curry seems to have been the meal of choice for the last three Saturday evenings. It certainly hasn’t been a deliberate ploy to power me round the course and probably falls into the more-harm-than-good category. I’ve made a mental note to make sure pasta is served on Saturday evening at Chez Jones prior to the Dewsbury 10k next Sunday.

The race today was another “proper” cross country with lots of mud. If the Eskimos (Inuit?) really do have eighty seven words to describe different types of snow then I wonder if there’s a nation with a similarly ludicrous number of words for mud. There were several types of the slimy stuff on the course today – the squelchy type that oozes through your shoes and socks, the claggy one that sticks to your shoes and makes every step feel like you’re wearing lead boots and the smelly stuff that lurks at the bottom of the brook that you do your best to avoid, even if it may have dubious healing properties. I managed to clear the water jump on both occasions and had a very satisfying romp round finishing in 55th place.

I’d “helped” to mark out the course yesterday so in theory should have been able to apply some local knowledge to assist me in the race. Unfortunately, we only marked out the middle bit of the course so I didn’t really know what was going on most of the time. I abandoned my usual tactic of latching on to Mick from Eccleshill and decided to take responsibility for setting my own pace. This often ends in disaster, but today seemed to work out pretty well. I set out hard and had settled into a comfortable pace when we’d done the running-round-the-field-to-get-us-spread-out nonsense. I was a little way behind clubmate Russ and was soon overtaken by Mick Brearley so tried to keep pace with those two as best I could. I was hanging on a bit at the end, but I felt pretty strong all the way round. Four point eight miles in 33:12, which is pretty good for me.

I’ll miss the final PECO race, so this draws to a close a really enjoyable series of cross country races for me. Had curry for tea again this evening (thanks Jaz), so maybe my windy days are not yet complete.

Still I have borne it with a patient shrug

Does anyone understand the science behind recovery runs? How far should you go? How fast? How is “recovery” measured? These questions are all too difficult for me and I suspect there are no hard and fast rules. I do like the idea of getting out and turning the legs over though, so off I popped this morning on a familiar short run that I haven’t done for some time. It’s a route that is too boggy after rain in the winter and in late summer the nettles are as high as an elephant’s eye for a crucial fifty yard stretch. What marks it out as special for me is that it’s always quiet.

Out the house and up the main road, stiff little climb up to the Fox & Hounds and then up Old Lane for two hundred yards. Then it’s all off road. The only hazards over the last two years have been the very real danger of being mown down by a Brownlee Brother and the imagined threat from the taciturn, shotgun-toting farmer.

When I get to the first corner I almost collide into a dog-walker who hasn’t heard my approach. He almost jumps out of his skin as I sidle past. His dog must be mutt and jeff too, as it scampers away in a panic. Could do without the obstructions but can’t resist a small chuckle that I managed to startle them both.

Through the boggy bit with the icy water seeping through my old trail shoes. Is it unreasonable to hang onto a pair of favourite shoes on the basis of the magical properties of the laces? I think not. Into the second field and I’m held up by a group of five geriatric ramblers (about my age). Why are they on my path? Next it’s two women walking their ponies. Could they possibly take up any more space? Could they not just ride the ponies? Good job I’m going for a slow one.

Through the sinister farmyard where they’re always watching you (whoever they are) and into the field. Three young men and a scrambling bike. They look furtive and shifty as they guard the fire they’ve got going in the corner of the field. Through the final field, but not through the stile onto Harrogate Road as it’s just a short one today.
Turn round and head back and brace myself for going past the same obstacles, but they’ve all evaporated. I have no time to savour my solitude though as I’m soon dodging flying debris as a different farmer has got a flail going on the hedgerow. Past another set of ramblers (Rats! This path must have made it into a walking guide) and back into downtown Bramhope. Four and a quarter miles in 39:11. Legs feel good and ready to take on the weekend.

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow

I’m beginning to get into this marathon training lark with my third long(ish) run in the last nine days. It’s beginning to take over with more and more contrived plans around finding varied and interesting routes to run. It’s not just the training either, I can also face up to confectionery demons without fear of temptation. No longer do I slink past the dreaded aisle in the supermarket or avert my eyes from the dastardly placed point of sale crap they put next to the checkout. I can now stride purposefully up to the chocolates and sweets and recognise them for what they are with their hideous garish wrappers and mischievous slogans. Shelves filled with preservatives and chemically enhanced colours. Bah. I’m still partial to a red Bounty mind.

I’m feeling quite smug as I’ve done my long slow run for the week and marathon training is back on track after a slight wobble last week. I set off today with several alternative routes in mind. Trouble is I didn’t know how far I wanted to run so we came up with a number of options of circular runs of approximate distances. With too much detail in my head I decided to obey the Great God Garmin and just run past Eccup rezza and then turn round and re-trace my route when I’d reached a point I was happy with. This turned out to be at seven and a half miles at somewhere called Tree Tops Community Centre. Whilst this conjures up images of a wonderful feat of architecture with verandahs and a luxury room on stilts in reality it’s just a large hut that overlooks a scruffy football pitch.

There is an argument that an “out and back” route is boring, but I’ll have none of it. I had not one but two opportunities to look for kingfishers on Kingfisher Way and plantations on Plantation Gardens, but I was unsuccessful with both. Also plenty of time to ponder how much filthy lucre must have changed hands to secure planning permission for some of the monstrosities on Wigton Lane. Goes to show you can’t buy taste.

Also added a new pub we could walk out to on an evening in summer – The Dexter. Apart from bearing the same name as my favourite fictional serial killer, it didn’t seem to have anything else going for it. Maybe not one to walk out to then.

So a pretty uneventful long slow run. Fifteen miles in two hours and ten minutes. No murmurings from any of my sleeping injuries. No aches and pains that I didn’t have before I set out, just a little chafing and the feet a bit more battered than they were before. Just as well as I’ve got another run to plan for tomorrow … and one for the next day …and the day after.


http://www.justgiving.com/LizJones1

A charge too heavy for my strength

It was great to get out yesterday and run in the daylight in the country. My two main runs of the week were both urban runs on dark evenings. I rested on Monday following exertions at the PECO the day before. I’d arranged to meet up with fellow Hyde Park Harrier Andy for a six miler prior to run club on Tuesday evening. We reckoned that a steady twelve miles with four days rest would be good preparation for a fast half. We ran through the city centre out up Meanwood Road, left at Shaw Lane and then back into the city down Otley Road. Finished off with a bit of running round the Uni to take us up to six miles. When we lined up outside The Edge I was nicely warmed up and not too fatigued. We split into groups and we agreed a steady six miler with group leader Rick and the other group four runner. By the time I’d put my empty water bottle and gel wrapper in the bin, four had become twelve as we’d joined in with the group five boys and girl to make one joint group. They’d also agreed that we’d run the Kirkstall hills rather than the steady six miler. Kirkstall hills is a challenging run in that you run as fast as you can up each of seventeen streets off Kirkstall Road, with a slow jog back down each of them making your way back towards the city between streets. Not only that, it’s also a darn sight further to get to and from Kirkstall hills now we’ve changed running base. A quick review of my options revealed that I didn’t have any – group three had already set off and Mike our group leader was so enthusiastic. Eight and a half (tough) miles later and I was back at the Edge absolutely worn out.

By Thursday evening I felt I’d better do something just to get the legs moving again. I aimed for a six mile recovery run up the A660 towards Lawnswood roundabout and back. Despite the clear evening, the Garmin took an annoyingly long time to find a signal so I set off anyway. It was an interesting discovery (probably blindingly obvious to everyone else) to find that the darned thing records the time from when you press go and the distance from when it finds a signal. My aim to run out exactly three miles and then turn round instantly scuppered. I was also underdressed for a cold evening, particularly in the hat and gloves department. I ended up running a bit further than I’d intended and a bit faster too.

A gym session on Friday was more or less given over to a massage. It seems that when I overdo training the right calf tightens up, the knee aches and the hamstring swells. I can still run, but if I try and push the pace it feels like something is going to give. By Saturday my legs still felt shattered so I set out on a slow parkrun. We have it easy in the middle of the field; it was carnage towards the back as some sort of collision had several runners ahead of me stumbling and crashing to the ground. A trot round with Geoff’s friend gave me a good workout without putting the legs under any pressure.

By Sunday morning all thoughts of a PB on a fast, flat course were gone. I’d gone for a PB at the Brass Monkey the previous year and had run out of steam. Maybe one year I’ll train specifically for this race and give it my best shot. We arrived at the same time as several hundred other runners and it was chaos. The queuing system for number and chip was incomprehensible and the signage so small you had to barge to the front to find you were in the wrong queue. That said, it all seemed to get sorted out very quickly.

Despite a large number of Hyde Park Harriers, I lined up on my own and I set off with no real plan other than to get round as quickly as possible, but to back off if the leg started to give me any gyp. I caught up with Andy after about half a mile and as he was looking to run at 7:30 pace I decided to tag along with him. He was feeling no ill effects from Tuesday’s session, but was looking to improve on the 1:48 he’d run at his only previous half marathon.

We more or less kept up a consistent 7:30 pace for the first half and went through half way in forty nine minutes. We picked it up a little towards the end and Andy must have got sick of me chirruping in his lughole all the way round. I had enough left for a fast finish and a negative split. I have to say I really enjoyed the run, was relaxed all the way, wasn’t disassociating or counting down the miles like I do when I’m going for a time. I finished in 1:36:29.

Lots of clubmates and friends got PBs and there was a good buzz about the place. This was a satisfying training run for me, overall running comfortably at 10 seconds per mile faster than my intended marathon pace. It was way beyond me to run a PB, but a good step forward towards running a VLM PB.

Thanks to Rich Kennington for the photo

http://www.justgiving.com/LizJones1

Strive mightily, but eat and drink as friends

Today was the third of the PECO cross country series. We all met up at Bramley Falls Woods and watched the juniors set off on their race. People were casting suspicious glances at a particularly steep ascent and whispering nervously that we had to run up this hill three times in our race. I decided to treat this as an unsubstantiated rumour and chose to believe those who said that the hill wasn’t even part of our course.

I seem to have a lot of difficulty working out cross country routes. There was an aerial map of this particular course along with a scanned-in map that had been clearly marked up. I couldn’t really marry the two up and neither seemed to bear any resemblance to the real life site. Even though I knew it was three laps with a fiddly bit at the start and another fiddly bit at the end, I still hadn’t really got it sussed before we set off. My lack of understanding regarding where we’re going isn’t really a problem when it comes to following the correct route, more that I don’t know where the finish is, how far away it is at any point in the race and therefore how much to save so I can attempt to see off any fast finishers. Let’s face it there are always going to be plenty of runners ahead of me for me to slavishly follow. On the rare occasions when I find myself isolated I either speed up and tag along with the runner in front or (more usually) hang back so the runner behind can get ahead of me.

I made quite a brisk start today without really meaning to and was going past the start area in six and a half minutes. I know it was six and a half minutes ‘cos I looked at my watch and got a bollocking from Sam for not concentrating. I couldn’t figure out how I could be passing the start area so quickly if there were three and a bit laps of a five mile race.

Tom came past me after about eight minutes which was a pretty clear indication that I’d set off too quickly. Mike flirted with overtaking me a couple of times, but I kept what I thought was a reasonable pace and gradually went past a few runners until I tucked in behind Mick from Eccleshill. I shamelessly dogged his footsteps for the next ten minutes round a “proper” cross country run that had a few muddy bits a couple of nasty inclines and a beastly bank. When we were on what I thought was the last lap I went past Mick and chased after a lady from Chapel Allerton who I thought might have been the leading lady (she wasn’t). She pulled up lame and I followed a couple of Abbey runners until what I thought was the finish area when I went past them. It wasn’t the finish area and the realization that I still had some as yet indeterminate distance to run was a bitter blow.

Both the Abbey boys came past me as I carried on as best I could in the certain knowledge that Mr Hogan was breathing down my neck, but didn’t get overtaken by anyone else. We repaired to the Abbey pub after packing Shane off for medical attention – he’d gone yonderly and looked like he’d been through the washing machine with an extra helping of Daz. He’s OK now though.

The pub was packed and Kirkstall/Abbey had laid on a marvellous spread. We had a couple of bevies and discussed our performances and there was an excellent spirit between runners of different clubs. Not surprisingly with two of our alpha males crocked our male team finished 7th with our female team coming home 3rd.

An excellent event with terrific support from non-running Hyde Park Harriers and their families, the Stott family and enthusiastic marshals.

Sir, I shall not be slack

Liz has put me to shame over the last few days by doing a running commute on Thursday morning and then a twelve miler on Friday afternoon. I’ve been feeling somewhat lethargic. I ran a slowish ten miler on Wednesday afternoon with clubmates Andy and Helen. Ran from the Edge into town then out up Meanwood Road, along the ring road and back down Otley Road. 9.9 miles in 92 minutes.

I didn’t feel like running on Friday, but hauled my sorry ass round a regular training run of three miles. I followed that up with a gym session to give the upper body a proper workout. There was a real danger I wouldn’t be able to lift my wine glass in the evening. I just managed to be resolute and avoid drinking from the bottle through a straw.

Started slowly on the parkrun 5k and ran the first 2k with Leroy who’s in my age category and usually about my speed. He’s been out for a couple of months and is just getting some miles in for Brass Monkey. Pushed on and chased after Gwyl who was pacing at 21 minutes. We then had an excellent breakfast chat at the Refectory before heading off to Sweatshop York to select my free running shoes. I ended up with a pair of Asics Gel Nimbus which I will use sparingly over the next couple of months and should be nicely worn in for the London Marathon.

Rounded off the day with a curry at Prashads in Bradford. Not the best presentation for PECO. Still feeling lethargic, but I’ll give it my best shot.



http://www.justgiving.com/LizJones1

The better part of valour is discretion

It’s been a frustrating few days and I haven’t got the miles in as planned. The twelve mile run early on Sunday morning never happened. A look out of the window was enough to send me straight back to bed. The streets of Bramhope were covered with a thin layer of black ice. Although this was patchy all the people who walked or ran past the house were having a hard time of it. This far out from the marathon I’ve got time to re-schedule a run for later in the week when there’s less risk of injury.

I was committed to a four mile run on Monday morning as I had arranged to drop my car off for a service and MOT in Horsforth and then run back home. There was still some black ice around, just enough to have me running all tensed up ready to hit the tarmac. I don’t think I run enough miles or run at sufficient speed to qualify for “junk miles”, but this was a pretty rubbish run.

Postponement of football matches has led to a fixture backlog so I’m going to miss a few Tuesday evening run club sessions. I’ll have to run some interval sessions on my own in order to ensure I get an intensive training session in each week. In the morning I jogged down to the rugby field and ran four times four minutes with a minute and a half recovery. These were supposed to be 1km repeats but I haven’t mastered the Garmin yet. Think I need a tutorial with someone who knows Garmins.

In the afternoon I jogged the four miles to Horsforth to pick up the car. Although I was tired from the morning effort it was still quicker and less fraught than the reverse run of yesterday.

Got a slowish ten miler tomorrow evening weather permitting, then a couple of shorter runs before the next PECO cross country. With all the melted snow and plenty of rain forecast we could be in for a muddy one.

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Cakes and Ale

I think we’ve managed it at last – “eaten up”. All the stuff you get in for the Christmas break that you wouldn’t give house room to for the rest of the year. The stuff that’s left over and then shared out after the office “do”. The unmissable two for one offers on crates of booze. The Christmas cake that my Mum makes for me. The great slabs of cheese to accompany said cake (it’s a Northern thing). It’s taken a great deal of effort and commitment but we’ve managed to get through in two weeks what it takes the population of Lesotho to consume in a (good) year. Despite upping the training I’ve still managed to add another half a stone to the bulging waistline.

I’ve had two days off from running following an increase in both volume and intensity earlier in the week. I’ve not been completely idle though; did a six mile walk on Thursday and then failed to scale both Pen y ghent and Ingleborough on Friday. We set off up Pen y ghent but common sense prevailed and we hurried home before the snow set in.

Back on the running today. The intention was to run a brisk but not flat out parkrun with clubmate Ali as she was looking to run something close to her PB of 21:35. Unfortunately the course was not ideal for running as there were patches of compacted snow and slush. Started off very conservatively and then picked up the pace as I found my feet.

Just found out that I’ve been awarded Runner of the Month at Leeds parkrun so I’ll have to get over to York to collect my free running shoes. I’ll definitely get some new road shoes for the marathon. I haven’t yet thrown out any old running shoes since staring running two and a half years ago on the basis that you never know when they’ll come in handy. Maybe now is the time to ditch my first two pairs of road shoes that now have paper thin soles.

What's to come is still unsure

Have you set your running goals for 2011? Along with the soon-to-be-forgotten New Year resolutions, a couple of years ago I added the setting of running targets to my out-with-old-in-with-the-new routine. Although these targets have been quite specific, they all more or less boil down to the same thing; run faster over a range of distances. Last year for no apparent reason I adopted a new target in about May to try and be “Racer of the Year” for my club. This is an award at the end of the year for the idiot who has run most often in the year. Unfortunately, Dave was also keen to win the award so I nearly killed myself running any race that I could get to in the autumn. There’ll be none of that nonsense this year. The only specific target I have is to run the London Marathon as quickly as I am able.

I think I “spread myself too thinly” last year and certainly didn’t give myself time to recover from the April marathon. Why is it that we meticulously plan for every minute of every day for the sixteen weeks leading up to the marathon and then don’t have a plan for a single day post-marathon? I’m going to bimble round at club training, be a 25 minute plus pacemaker at parkrun and enter not a single race in May this year.

There’s a fab 10k race in June “The Two Castles” that I can look forward to as my comeback race. As I’ll be running it with Liz’s brother-in-law it will be preceded by the consumption of copious amounts of vin rouge and a huge meal. It’s not a PB course in any case so time will be immaterial.

In my build up to London I’ll be running at a variety of races from 5k through to 20 miles. If I’m in good nick and the training is going well then who knows, I may run a PB or two. If not, c’est la vie.

To sleep and feed

I may have got hold of the wrong end of the stick here, but I’m sure that Tom said that these are the key ingredients for marathon success. That’s good then, because these are definitely two things at which I excel. Toms’ marathon talk was most informative and the time just flew by; if only time went by that quickly when actually running a marathon.

It’s been a day of time flashing past. Ran 10 miles with Helen in the afternoon and we seemed to be finishing before we’d even started. Training with someone else is just so much easier than training alone. Not too shabby a time either – 10.14 miles in 84 minutes. We ran most of the Leeds Half route which was new to me as I haven’t run that race yet.

Today marathon training seems to have started in earnest. I must admit that although I’m only in the second week of the sixteen week programme I’ve already gone off plan. I’m running more often than I’d intended. I’m taking it as a positive though it hasn’t been a conscious thing, it’s just happened.

We had a really intense club interval session on Tuesday evening when everyone seemed in good spirits. Running again today means I’ve run on six days out of the last seven.

Maybe this won’t be the low mileage preparation that I was planning. Oh well off to sleep and feed now as it’s counting towards my training.

Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood

Running on four consecutive days may be all par for the course for proper runners, but it’s left me fair jiggered. Today was a 10k cross country run in Sheffield; four laps of Graves Park. There were eight Hyde Park Harriers, with five running and three supporting. By the time we got there a whole load of races for the young ‘uns had been run and the event finished with a combined race for the u20 and senior women followed by the same for the men. Ali set off in a small but select field for the ladies and from where we were stood it looked like a pretty flat course. How wrong can you be. Ali had a right battle in her race and finished well up the field.

We lined up alongside some serious looking runners from the main South Yorkshire clubs. When I got to the back side of the course I found that the ground just fell away and then climbed back again. Undulating. Bugger. I settled into a pace I was happy with and just tried to maintain an even pace behind the guy in front. The whole field got really spread out and there was virtually no overtaking in my part of the field; one guy came steaming past after about two miles and I found out later that he’d arrived a few minutes after the race had started and was working his way through the field. I overtook one runner and when the guy I’d been following peeled off to complete the three lap u20 race I was in my own bubble.

I came home in 43:24 which I was really happy with. I can recommend the race though as the marshals were terrific and the guy with the tannoy (egged on by HPH supporters) was a character.

Looking forward to a day of rest and recuperation tomorrow though.

Since brevity is the soul of wit …. I will be brief

Christ, I’m blogging twice a day. If only I could train twice a day I might get somewhere. Thing is, I just hit the send button on my earlier blog without stopping to re-read and reflect. I forgot a couple of things about parkrun that I wanted to say.

As Sam announced to the gathered runners that this was my 100th run, I felt a tap on my shoulder followed by some down to earth irreverent banter from a 70 year old who frequently finishes ahead of me and is always top age grade performer. When we were chatting at the end of the race a youngster demonstrated the Swiss Army Knife he got for Christmas. Blimey, those things have moved on; there’s a gadget for just about everything including the obligatory tool for removing boy scouts from horses hooves. The point is that you make friends with people from all age groups. Of course there is a downside to that; I haven’t decided which irritates me most, being beaten by an ankle biter or by a coffin dodger. Both are equally galling if I’m going to be honest.

Before and after the run you get chatting to both the super speedy and those who hang around at the back of the field. You get to recognise and chat to runners of all abilities and share experiences over a coffee. You have a common interest that cuts across ability and social background. I have no idea what most people do for a living; they’re just runners.

For me and Liz, parkrun was a gateway to joining a running club and doing sufficient exercise for it to be demonstrably beneficial. I know we’re not alone in gaining the confidence to join a running club as a result of running at parkrun. Of course we think our club is the friendliest running club in the area, but there are some really welcoming folk from other running clubs. We don’t see so much of the Eccleshill mob now they have their own Bradford parkrun, but they’re a top group. We’ve also become friends with some of the Valley Striders and Horsforth Harriers runners who also value the social aspects of parkrun.

Finally, I forgot to acknowledge Helen Turton for the use of her photo. Not the Swiss army knife, though I’m sure she could make it look more interesting but for the 118 photo last time.

So. Not that brief then.

How poor are they that have not patience!

Well, it’s another year over and a new one just begun. What a great way to start a new running year with my 100th parkrun. It’s not all wine and roses though, there is guilt as well; I was supposed to run my 100th with club mates Jaz and Linda on 1st January, but Linda ran the abortive Santa Dash parkrun so fell one behind. Jaz did the decent thing and missed a run so they could reach the milestone together, but I lack that level of altruism. Running my 100th on 1st January has been a target since I first realised that if I didn’t miss one then that would be when it fell.
I ran my first parkrun on 23rd August 2008. I’d started to run in public the previous month for the first time for thirty years. In the old days (not quite black & white) it was just football training and I don’t recall running anywhere but round the pitch. So at 9.00 a.m. for 100 out of the last 124 Saturday mornings I’ve run a free, measured 5km time trial. I’ve volunteered on several of those missing occasions when I’ve been injured, in need of a rest or because they were desperate.
The attraction is all of the usual suspects – it’s free, it’s always on at the same time each week, all I have to do is turn up, it’s the same course every week so I can make meaningful performance measures. The real clincher though is the people who both run and organize the events. What a great bunch of people.
Then there are all the things that give each parkrun its own unique identity. For Leeds, it’s the special events which take an awful lot of preparation and promotion – step forward Sam Dooley; the development of the students who grow in confidence and then make their own mark - Ned and Fraser; the post run coffees and chat about how we did it and what other runs we’ve got planned.
Now for the stats: I’ve run 95 of my runs in Leeds with 4 in Bradford and 1 in Coventry. On 41 occasions I’ve been first home in my age category and I’ve been “first lady” 31 times. I’ve proudly worn the orange jacket of pacemaker on four occasions and have been an unofficial pacemaker on a number of other times. I held the record for my age category at Leeds for a single week (thanks Bernie!) and for 12 weeks at Bradford. Both records are now an impossible dream.
So sorry ladies, I just couldn’t wait.