Go forward, go forward...

I still can't believe A) I did it and B) it's already in the past.

That's the thing with time isn't it. It just keeps moving whether you like it or not. The hardest thing about long term goals must be that you spend months, weeks, days, hours, minutes and seconds counting down until you're so close to the event you can hardly breathe. And then you're on the start line and the gun goes but before you know it (even in a 90km race) you've crossed the finish line and it's already sailing into the distance leaving you with memories, sun burn and really sore legs!

So here, if you'll indulge me, I'm going to steer away from the traditional race report because Comrades for me wasn't about my performance on the day, or in fact the time. It was about re-finding the non-mummy in me and having a challenge that I actually wasn't sure I could complete.

For those of you who don't know. I completed it. I ran from Durban to Pietermaritzburg. It was nothing short of amazing and I could definitely have given ye olde Cheshire Cat a run for it's money because not only did I do it but I did it with the biggest grin on my face from beginning to end.

But I cried.

A lot.

I cried in short bursts along the way and I did it many times.

Here's why...

I was leaving my babies behind for the longest I ever had. I always said that through all of the training I was running away from them. Actually I missed a bit out. I was running away from them to keep them closer to me.

And so when I got this picture the night before the race I cried... not sad tears, just tears. 

And then I got to the race start and was in the pen with our mate Ben & as Shosholoza (a bit like us singing 'Swing low Sweet Chariot') struck up and the sound of 19,000 native South Africans with their velvety low, beautiful voices started singing. I cried again. Holy Moly, I was on the start line. I was elated and emotional and couldn't wait to get started.

A rough translation of Shosholoza is:

Go forward

Go forward

from those mountains

on this train from South Africa

You are running away

You are running away

from those mountains

on this train from South Africa

I was running in the dark (I cried) and I was running when the sun came up (I cried) and I finished just before the sun went down (I cried). I was out there for 10 hours and 11 minutes. It took 7 minutes to cross the line so my chip time is 10 hours and 3 minutes. I took every minute of those 10+ hours in and I lived completely in the moment, it took my breath away. 

I ran with Ben for about 2 hours and then he started struggling due to a virus he'd had. I ran the next 8hrs on my own and they passed so incredibly quickly. I wanted to stop time and savour it but the kms were just disappearing before my eyes and when I got to 30km to go I couldn't believe I only had 18 miles left to run. I saw Tom (I cried). I thought about the kids (I cried). I was bloody doing it (I cried). I reached 27km to go and then my legs started to cry! I was still keeping to my run/walk strategy and I was still grinning like a Cheshire Cat but at 27km left to go there was a marked change in how my legs felt. Here we go I thought, this is what Comrades is all about. And so I glugged down more CocaCola (which had fuelled me the entire way) and just cracked on. I high fived the kids, I smiled at the spectators, I cuddled my husband, I even phoned my mother while I was running (I think she was worried I might die doing it). I poured water over my head and I held ice in my hands and I just kept moving forwards, never stopping, always forwards. I was still running and I was always conversational. I knew if I elevated my heart rate and my body overheated I'd be doomed. So I walked the majority of the steepest parts of the climbs and I ran the second I crested them. I ran on the waves of the Shosholoza singing groups and cried and smiled as their tribal chants urged me onwards.

The last 10km... wow, what a complete bastard!

I hit 3km to go and saw Tom, his Dad, Lexi and Eleanor who had spent all day chasing their tails to see me at various points on the course. I was nearly home and dry and I could hear the cricket oval where the finish is in Pietermaritzburg going wild in the distance. I was almost there and I truly couldn't believe it. I ran past the last aid station and listened to the crowds and the cheers and as I turned into the Oval it was like being an Olympian. The roar and the smiles and the cheers of the spectators were like nothing I've ever experienced. As I ran around the oval and neared the finish line I heard the PA announce me about to finish. I'd only gone and bloody done it. 

I crossed the line, got my medal (I cried). Someone shook my hand and congratulated me and I just beamed at him. And then while I walked from the finish line to the International Tent I cried a bit more.

I've had an eventful journey to Comrades that actually started when I had our babies and I felt like I'd lost a part of me. I've made (for me) a necessary change to regain some of what was missing and that feels great. Thanks to you all for being part of my journey. I could feel the love and support of you all every time I crossed a chip mat.

What more can I say except if you want to know what it feels like to run 90km, sign up. 

"Go forward

 Go forward..."

H x

Comrades 2015 

10hrs 3mins 52 secs

Tantrums - 0

Tears - lots

Thanks again everyone. x

The time is now...

The time is always now... unless it was 'then' and if I reminisce about 'then' I realise just how far I've come.

I'm also pleased that the time 'then' has gone.

'Then' was a dark place.

'Then' was hours of being glued to the same sofa in our tv room basically with one boob out (don't try and picture it, it's not pleasant).

'Then' was no sleep.

'Then' was running for ten minutes and looking and feeling like Bella Emburg.

'Then' was not being able to decide whether 'now' we are running Comrades or 'now' we've changed our minds and we're not.

'Then' was a time when there were two fat Comrades and 'now' there's definitely only one (but his time will come x).

And 'now'.... well...

'Now' the amount of time I sat my 'then' big beeeee-hind on the sofa in the tv room I have equalled in running and my beeeee-hind is not so big and I no longer get any boob's out, in any configuration and the postman doesn't have to hand over any of our post too large for the letterbox and stare at the wall behind me when I've answered the door feeding Aston. Oh. My. God...our poor postman!

'Now' I actually do get some sleep. Sometimes I'm treated to blocks of 4hrs at one time, never two in a row though, because that would be greedy.

'Now' is running for miles on end and four days later running for miles on end again on sore legs.

'Now' I also know Comrades is the rightest wrong thing I ever decided to do.

When I think about how hard I found the beginning of this whole process it makes me feel a bit funny. I was definitely looking at the edge of a very dark hole and although initially I felt like I was pushing myself further into that dark hole the further it took me the more I got out of it. The turning point being the last long run before Manchester Marathon and actually feeling okay. Then Manchester was great and my confidence grew and my runs were being backed up and I was having fun and I was loving the challenge and before I knew it I'd moved far, far away from the edge of that dark hole and travelled back into the light. Without Tom and my amazing friends I wouldn't have/couldn't have done this.  I definitely couldn't have done this if my mate Hannah hadn't have spotted the importance of getting me out of the door, something she really helped me do in more ways than just looking after the kids for me. In-debted forever and eternally grateful pet, thank you lots.

So, all I have to do now is run 56 miles. The nice thing is I have no performance goal other than to finish it and my plan is to stick with the 11hr 'bus' as they call their pacing groups. So as I said to my friend Paula today, "...if you're tracking me and I'm running faster than 11hr pace, get yourself a gin and call me a complete eeeeeeejit. If I'm not with the 11hr 'bus' get yourself a gin because I'm being sick and poo'ing by the road side. If I am with the 11hr 'bus' get yourself a gin and pray I can stick with them to the end. Basically, drink gin!"

We fly out on Thursday night. Wuhoooooo, a train journey and a flight without: Children, Peppa Pig, wiping backsides, hand luggage that doesn't have 15 changes of clothes, nappies, creams, snacks, wet wipes, colouring in equipment and an Elsa doll. I almost feel like I could get away with just packing my trainers. Ah the bliss of travelling light.

Time to log off as I'm actually typing into my 4hr block of possible unbroken sleep.

Next time I blog I'll be on the 'other side' whatever that means. I do know though that whatever the outcome the process has got me back to who and where I wanted to be. Winner, winner, chicken dinner. Let's get these 56 miles done shall we! Thanks so much to you all for your kind words, support and general loveliness.

H x

Ps: In case you need a magnifying glass to see the my number in the picture above it's 24737

I would never have said...

... I would never have said ten weeks ago that I would actually start enjoying this process, but, here I am actually looking forward to running Comrades. Here's why...

1) I can now run further than 15 miles before feeling like I've never run before.

2) I really enjoyed Manchester Marathon.

3) I followed Manchester up with a 20 miler four days later.

4) The week after that I ran 30 miles, my longest ever run and could still run the next day.

5) This week I was struck by a nasty sickness bug which floored me but today me and three mates skipped off into the hills and 'ran' the 3 Peaks.

All of these things I could never have imagined enjoying when the going was really tough in the early weeks. I still believe that entering Comrades was a ridiculous thing to do and it wasn't right with the circumstances of how busy our family unit is BUT now that I'm lighter, fitter and enjoying the process I can really say that I'm really glad I persevered. Whatever the outcome of Comrades (hey, it's no 'gimmee' that I'm going to be able to cope with the heat and run another 26 miles further than I ever have) but I'm fitter and happier for being fitter.

Running is still very much a way of getting 'me' time where I can throw my own food and drink over myself while I'm running instead of the kids doing it for me at home. The thing about kids is that they don't give a damn how far I've run when I've returned and the second I walk through the door it's full on 'Mummy Mode'. How nice will Comrades be when not only will the flight be child free but my nights sleep will be free from the kids many interruptions and after Comrades I don't have to be a 'Mummy' again until we get back to the UK!

Game on I say! One more long run to do and then I can do no more.

H x

Short and sweet...

Number of full night's sleep since August 31st 2014 - About 3...zzzzzzzz zzzzzzzzzz.

Number of tantrums since August 31st 2014 - (About 40 for me. Tom, he's working too hard to have time for tantrums. Rosie on the other hand... about 400. Aston, bless him, none).

Number of times I've changed my mind about Comrades - About 16...thousand.

Number of negative thoughts - too many to count.

Number of positive thoughts - growing thankfully and that's down to good mates and a chat with Ros Moore (who ran Comrades last year) thanks Ros.

Longest run - 26.2 miles on Sunday at Manchester Marathon (last minute entry) 3:53:18

Corners turned - One, and a massive one. After really enjoying Manchester on Sunday and being over the moon to have gone under four hours, not broken my legs and got the qualifying marathon in the bag to make sure I can actually do Comrades, I'm even more pleased to have followed Sundays 26.2 miles up with a 6 miler (pushing Aston in the running buggy) on Monday. A 6 miler on my own on Tuesday. A rest day yesterday and 20.4 miles today. Get in!!!

Comrades I'm coming to get you and I'm even (dare I say it) starting to look forward to it.

Who'd have thought lol!

Lastly... Sending mahoosive positive vibes to everyone running VLM on Sunday, especially you Hannah...go get the time you deserve.

H x

And then there was one...

Errrrrr... I'm really not quite sure how this has happened!

Let me quickly re-cap for you.

When TOM & his DAD planned to run Comrades in the year of 2015, I was NEVER in the picture for anything other than spectating. I was pregnant with Aston and knew by the time May 31st 2015 came around he would still only be 8 mths old.  Tom tried his hardest to persuade me and I resisted... actually I didn't resist, that's a bare faced lie, I definitely didn't want to do it thank you very much.

Fast forward to Aston being born and at approximately 4 weeks old Tom spoke to me in his persuasive tones about having a goal and it being fun and how we could all run together. Imagine Little Britain's Kenny Craig...

... and being in a fog of hormonal craziness, sleep deprivation and general post pregnancy yukdom I looked into his eyes, looked into his eyes, the eyes, the eyes, don't look around the eyes, he clicked his fingers and I was under... ["Oooooo Comrades would be such a great thing for you to do with me and my Dad"] 3, 2, 1, you're back in the room.

And there I was signing up for the craziest, most untimely event that I could have possibly popped into my calendar like I was signing up for a local free, weekly timed (do-able) 5km around a park somewhere. BUT, I was signing up with TOM and his DAD and also with our great mate SAM. All four of us skipping up the hills on our way to Pietermaritzburg from Durban, oh what fun those 56 miles would be.

Then Sam got injured. Then Brian (Tom's Dad) got injured. Then I had a melt down about how ridiculous this all was. Then Tom had a melt down about how ridiculous this all was. Then we both went out on a long run together to decide once and for all how ridiculous it all was and I confused most people with our clear as mud decision (which for the record was we were going to do it) and then finally one of us saw sense and said, "...no, this isn't for me". And I said, "do you mind if I still do it?"

And so here I am wondering WTF is going on, I've been hoodwinked into running 56 miles on my own lol! It's definitely the right decision by Tom not to do it. Work is crazy, crazy, crazy and time is precious when he's home. I'm happy he feels relieved that he's made the right decision. So that leaves little me and the matter of 56 hot, hilly miles. Jeefus! I don't know if my runs are long enough to get me round 56 miles. For my weekly long runs I've been running no shorter than 20 miles for a good few weeks now. I ran 22 miles last week, 20 miles this morning and in a couple of weeks I'm going to run the Yorkshire Three Peaks with my mate Hannah which should give me time on my feet and some good hill training. Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek!!!!!!!!!

So there you have it. In seven weeks time that'll be me, on me tod, running past Tom and his Pa while they eat ice-cream and cheer me on with knotted hankies on their heads. This wasn't quite how I saw this adventure panning out lol!

I looked into his eyes for too long I reckon ;)

H x

I should be in bed; but a decision is made ...

I should be in bed.

If I don't do this really quickly right now though the man that goes around stealing time will be back and another day will have gone when I should have posted something.

I have nine minutes.

This will be short.

I have been running.

I have been short running and I have been long running.

I have had one enjoyable long run and all the rest have been great big steaming piles of horse poo; but none the less I have 'long runned' my legs up to 21 miles so far.

The man that has been stealing my time has also been stealing my sleep, my patience, my energy and my ability to refuse cake.

There is no man, only Tom and his time management is much worse than mine.

Yesterday Tom and I ran together and we both said we were going to pull out of Comrades.

This was at mile 10.

By mile 15 we had talked each other back into it.

By mile 20 our run was more of a shuffle but we did it.

There are 4 minutes left to tell you that my children are being gigantic pains in the arses.

Rosie has decided that 'tantrumming' is the new black (again).

Aston has discovered the art of projectile vomiting and making a really annoying noise to get my attention.

Neither of my children show any regard for the small requirement that to get to sleep one has to actually close ones eyes.

I'm about to go and close my eyes.

The second Aston hears my eyelids drop onto my face he will wake up with the hunger of a starved wolf.

I'm pleased we made a decision.

It's not the right decision.

It pleases me even more that we made the wrong decision.

Good night.

H :)

Good week, bad week, good week... life on a Yo Yo

Firstly apologies for my last blog entry. It wasn't meant to be such a sombre read and reading it back I can see that I was caught in the intensity of a hard core four days. Like most things, once I was out of the other end and with some amazing advice and comments from you I could see the bigger picture. So before I waffle on let me answer the two burning questions that I left hanging in the balance of the last blog...

... Yes, I did my 18 miler the next day. I ran with my lovely friend Nicky and some Harrogate Harriers, my legs fell off at 14 miles and were broken by 16 miles but I plodded on to finish it and was happy I did it. Running with people made a HUGE difference.

... No, I haven't made my mind up about Comrades, although if you were to ask me my gut feeling right now I would say I'm probably going to do it... but it's not going to be pretty. In fact I'm more concerned that the other 'Fat Comrade' in the house isn't doing enough training to be able to run it with me!!!

Since #PoxPukegate I gathered mine (and your) thoughts and had lots of conversations about it. I didn't stop running and not running for four days had no real impact on anything other than my mental fitness. I ran because I could, not because I had to and I suppose that's how I'm going to approach Comrades. If at any point it all becomes too stressful on either myself or Tom (who barely sees his trainers these days) we've said we won't do it. Normally I need a definite goal but I think this one is easier to manage if I know I can jump out, mainly because I think it will have the opposite effect, I'm stubborn to the very core. Last week I managed a 53 mile week, all but 21 of those miles pushing Aston and thankfully the 21 miler was a lot more comfortable than the previous weeks 18 miler. Today I was meant to be running 22 miles but #PoxPukegate2 has hit the house. Aston is covered from head to toe in the pox and I was hit by the most hideous 24hr bug yesterday which floored me completely. Weirdly I don't have the same negative feelings towards Comrades even though I'm in a fairly similar situation (Tom's in Wales). At the end of the day it's a run, no one (let alone me) is going to lose an eye if I don't do it.

So, who knows what the weeks ahead will bring. Hopefully no more spots, we've had more than our fair share thank you. I'm going to stick to my little running routine (where kids and time allows) and keep adding a couple of miles on to my weekly long run and before you know it we'll be on the start line in Durban ready for the task ahead ;)

Thanks again for the support. I'm going with the yo yo of life.

H x

Lots of running, no running, the pox and honesty....

What a difference a week makes. Last blog I was full of beans, full of life and full of running having clocked two really good weeks and feeling like finally I was getting somewhere. Carrying on from the last blog where I'd just done 16 miles I went on to run another 7 times consecutively before hitting this Wednesday. I never was a massive fan of rest days so unless I'm either really tired, really ill or have broken legs I just have easier runs. I had none of the above choices this Wednesday as Tom wasn't here so a rest day it was. By late Wednesday afternoon it was clear that my planned runs on Thursday, Friday & Saturday were also in jeopardy. With Tom working away in Cambridge (he's still there now) and Rosie coming down with a nasty dose of chicken pox I watched my independence and running freedom sail off into the distance. Three very, very broken nights sleep (or if you prefer, none at all) later and I'm seriously questioning wtf I'm doing?! I mean let's face it, the reality when you've got kids is that this sort of stuff is going to happen. I've not run or slept since Tuesday, I've got a really sore throat, a headache and a poorly little girl who inevitably will have passed on the wonder of the pox to Aston who has now got a snotty nose, a snotty eye and a chesty cough.

I always said that if I couldn't do the training justice I wouldn't do Comrades. I have absolute respect for the distance and am under no pretence (even with the wonder of oblivion) that it's a very long way and it requires a consistency of training that I just don't think I can seriously budget for right now. I've had a really good two weeks of running (and what I would say the real start of training) quickly followed by a non running week and my head just doesn't cope with that inconsistency very well. With the probability of Aston's pox yet to come I've spent the last few days at home wondering why I'm putting myself through the stress? I wanted a challenge, tick. I wanted to do something I've never done before, tick and I wanted to do something with Tom, tick. I didn't want to do something that would cause more stress and eat into family time that is already difficult to have with Tom being so busy.

Writing this I actually sound like I've made my mind up and I honestly haven't but right now while I'm housebound and have effectively been in my pyjamas for the last four days I can feel my motivation slipping away. Maybe that's just my fatigue, sore throat, headache and cabin fever talking but the prospect of tomorrow morning's 18 mile run having not run since Tuesday doesn't fill me with the excitement that it would have done if everything else was in place. I know that Rosie can't go to nursery on Monday & probably Tuesday so there's another two days I can't run and then it's Wednesday when she doesn't go anyway so is this not a little bit like pissing in the wind? I had a brief chat about it with close friends and a very short conversation with Tom. The answer being I shouldn't make up my mind quite yet but isn't the alternative (which is to train for something not so heavily taxing on time and energy) a better idea? I realise that regardless of what I train for, having kids and a busy husband is going to impact on my ability to get out every day but when Tom gets home tonight we both have to juggle tomorrow's long runs which inevitably means we still don't see each other. This isn't starting to sound like cricket to me anymore.

This blog was always going to be an honest one. These are just my thoughts over the last few days. Maybe tonight I'll have a great nights sleep and feel wonderful tomorrow and tick off an 18 mile run and everything will be well in the world but I'm just wondering if what I've actually just had is a reality check?!

All thoughts welcome.

H x

Independance, a hard run, a terrible long run & thanking the Lord for still being oblivious.

I'm freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!

Week two of freedom is mine and it feels good. What is this teeny tiny thing that has helped my running move on in just the space of nine days and couldn't have come at a better time? ...

... Behold the running buggy. We dusted it off, pumped up the tyres and like a Formula One (more like 100) driver biting at the bit in the pits I was off and there's been no stopping me since. I can't even begin to tell you how much better I feel about my running, about myself and the fact that Comrades might even be a possibility (there's the oblivion again lol).

Since having Aston and therefore not being able to run when I wanted to I was finding running more frustrating than enjoyable. It bit into my day and it bit into Tom's day and it was stressful trying to get out of the door and back again so as not to impact too much on everything and everyone else. Tom would tell me the times of any spare window he had so I could get out. If said window didn't fit with Aston's feeding times then I would watch my running window get smaller and smaller. More often than not my run was reduced from an hour to thirty minutes and when I got back Tom would literally be waiting for me at the front door to hand Aston back so he could go back to work. It wasn't the best way to have a whole thirty minutes of me time I tell you. But now that Aston and I have wings (snail speed ones with wheels) we don't need any window except one that fits with us and I feel so much happier. All hail the mental positives that come from independance, worth it's weight in gold I tell you.

So what mileage have I been running and how's it actually going. I mean seriously, while I was on holiday and not even running the bear minimum I did think we actually might not do Comrades. Now, I feel like I'm actually getting somewhere and all it's taken is a 49 mile week and a running buggy.

Tom put together a basic training plan which is on here somewhere. Other than the long runs I haven't even looked at it. My basic week of training will barely change other than the long runs I would have thought. Last week (my first buggy running week) I did the following:
Monday: 6 miles (buggy)
Tuesday 7 miles (buggy)
Wed: Forced rest day as had Rosie and Aston & no Tom
Thursday: 6 miles (buggy)
Friday: 10miles (buggy)
Saturday: 6 miles (including a hard parkrun, more of this later) no buggy
Sunday: 14 miles with Tom (no buggy-Grandparents!)

The only thing about running with the buggy is I'm slow with it. Carrying two massive (but slowly shrinking milk jugs) and a lot more weight than normal means that when I hit an incline I really, really feel it. Hopefully though an increase in mileage and a decrease in feeding Aston now he's discovered real food will mean that I might start getting smaller top and bottom, but hey who cares, I'm out there pounding the streets and I'm loving it.

On Saturday my mate Hannah who has helped me immeasurably both mentally and physically over the last 6mths came over to pace me at Harrogate parkrun. When we were in San Fransisco I ran their inaugural parkrun and was really pleased (considering how little running I'd done) to run 22mins 52 secs. Tom promptly told me it might not have been accurate in distance (thanks for that Tom). Anyway I wanted a short hard run at Harrogate and was totally encouraged to do this by Hannah. Tom said he'd be impressed if I ran 23mins 59secs on that course. So there it was, the gauntlet, thrown down. I'm not sure who wanted me to get it more, me or Hannah. I didn't quite hit 23:59 but I did do 24:09  which is pretty close. I couldn't have done it without Hannah telling me to dig to the bottom of my milk jugs (not sure I'll ever forget this motivational quote Hannah!!) and Tom then said he thought it validated the time I'd run in San Fran (cheeky bugger). I was so pleased with my effort and the time yet at the same time can't believe that I'm still a whole 4 mins away from where I was and that 4 mins (at the mo) feels like it might as well be 44 mins. Small steps, small steps. I'm making progress and that's all that matters.

Visiting my parents in South Shields on Sunday, Tom and I took the opportunity to get out and do our 14 miler together. I made a string of errors in my preparation. Having had a late lunch on Sat I wasn't hungry for dinner on Sat eve so didn't bother. I got to bed at 10:30pm but Aston woke up for a feed at 2am, Rosie woke up at 3am and Aston woke for another feed at 5am, after which I didn't go back to sleep and got up. Stupidly I didn't have breakfast either as I ran around sorting everything out to make looking after Aston and Rosie as easy as possible for my Ma & Pa. Consequently I wanted to die and eat my own feet (all at the same time) at about 8 miles. We ran all along the coast which is beautiful and bimbled about the riverside winding our way through the dry docks and random piers and all I kept saying to Tom was, ..."How far have we done now?" My legs were tired and heavy and I was hungry. The whole thing was such a slog. When we got home I ate the entire contents of my Mothers cupboards. Runs like this make me scared because hey I can't be oblivious about the fact that I would still have the tiny sum of 42 miles left to run on the day, eeeeek!!!! Thankfully though I still have no real idea how far 56 miles (very, I hear you say) is going to feel so I'll hold onto my oblivion for now thanks.

So there you have it, it's happening, the running is well, running. Today (Weds) while Tom's Ma & Step Dad are here I took the opportunity to let them have time on their own with the kids... actually who am I kidding... I took the opportunity to escape from my kids and ran 16 miles and enjoyed it all. I'd had sleep and breakfast so although I'm a little snail ticking along, I was a happy little snail.

And this little snail needs some sleep so it's time to hit the pillows. Everyone else here (except me) is filling the house with zzzzzzzzzzzzzz's. It's time for me to add my own.

Night all.

H :)

An off road half marathon, poo and a bonk...

So my mate Debbie (above left) was round for a cuppa and a catch up on Saturday and she mentioned she was running The Harewood Half Marathon today. How much nicer is it to run an organised event where the route is going to be brutal but beautiful and you get to do it with your mate? A million times better than to bimble out 12 solitary miles is the answer. It was a no brainer. With the power of Facebook and a nudge in the right direction I was lucky enough to acquire a number by 8pm last night.

I actually can't remember the last time I safety pinned a number to my chest, it really has been that long. Standing in that cold field this morning listening to people's pre race murmurings and the stamp stamp of people's feet as they tried to keep warm in their pens I realised just how much I have really, really missed it. The lovely thing about today's run was there was no plan, there was no time goal and there was absolutely not a drop of pressure. Debbie didn't have any particular goal other than to enjoy it and get round and that's (nearly) exactly what we did. Having not run that long in over three weeks and not really done what you would call 'training' while we were on holiday I did wonder how hard I might find it. The terrain was rough, muddy and technical and as we chitted and chatted the miles just whizzed by and I felt great. We both ran at absolutely conversational pace and met up with another mutual friend Nicky and so we ran as a three. In fact I'd go as far as to say we gossiped for at least the first 8 miles and then things changed. I needed a poo (sorry if this is too much information). Humour me and I'll explain why this is important to point out. In the past on any given race I only ever have to consider myself and the things I need to do to get me there etc. Now that I'm the proud owner of two beautiful children I have three of us to sort out which always means I never quite get time to think about me. A pre race poo you will sympathise (surely) is of high importance on said morning. Unfortunately, not when you're feeding two hungry monkeys, both at the same time. So as Aston had boob and I helped Rosie finish her porridge my allotted loo time disappeared. And then it came back.. just after mile 8, with much more urgency than I'd have liked. How lucky I was that the whole course was in an environment that was full of fields and enormous trees and rather than pooing my pants I had to poo behind a tree. Not quite how I'd envisioned this point of the half marathon. Debbie ran on and as I caught her up I soon realised that she was starting to bonk. I felt for her. We were out in the middle of nowhere and without a spectator in sight for much of the race I could see she was sniffing out sugar. A few jelly beans (from a kind runner) later and the rest of the run became about putting one foot in front of the other. Fast forward to the end, a bacon sandwich and a cup of tea later and all was well in the world. Tom had been super Dad with the kids and I had a whole 13.1 miles of running where I didn't worry about anything other than enjoying the fantastic scenery, not pooing my pants and Debbie not fainting.

The time 2hrs and 19 minutes. The slowest half mara I've ever done. The hardest half mara I've ever done in terms of terrain. And the easiest half mara I've ever done in terms of effort. Time on my feet is the only thing that is going to help come Comrades.

Thanks Debbie and Nicky.

Ps: Debbie eat more breakfast next time ;) x

H

Tick tock time o'clock

It’s 1:04am as I write this on Saturday 'morning'. No, I haven’t been out to dinner with friends, I haven’t been out partying and I haven’t even had too much coffee. I’ve got jet lag. In fact scrap that, I haven’t got jet lag. Aston, our 23 week old baby boy has jet lag and I’m downstairs with him while he goo's and ga's and gums everything he can in sight and is generally just wide awake. I have so much time right now (he woke up at midnight and is going to be awake until at least 4 or 5am) but none of it I can use to get any much needed running in and I can’t tell you how frustrated that makes me feel.  If I could chuck him in the running buggy right now and get my run in I would but I feel like absolute death. The importance of sleep (of which I learned so much more about in this great podcast about just that) shows me how silly I would be if I did just this. It also answers why a lack of sleep makes us heavier and less tolerant (two things that are really bothering me right now). 

What then does this mean for Comrades? Two things are important to point out here. Firstly I’m not stupid enough to not respect the distance. I will not go if I don’t get the training in and right now I haven’t done anywhere near enough training towards the end goal. However, I’m a stubborn, determined person and  I will not give in easily, which means I’ll do my absolute best between now and the big day to train ‘smart’ and if I had to put money on it I’d say I will be on that start line, but holy moly it’s going to take a turn around of epic proportions and from where I’m sitting right now in my dressing gown (having not had a full night's sleep since August the 29^th 2014 (jesus that’s a long time) and being the most sleep deprived I’ve ever, ever been in my whole life, I’ve got a long hard slog ahead of me.

It’s now Saturday evening and between starting this at hideous o’clock this morning and writing this little bit more at what is currently 20:23 I’ve had the grand total of three hours sleep. I couldn’t run today because I couldn’t keep my eyes straight in my head never mind being capable of co-ordinating my legs in a forward motion. Don’t worry all is not lost, tomorrow I’m going to run the Harewood Half Marathon. It’s a really hilly off-road beast apparently. Considering I only ran about six times on holiday, all of which were 30min bimbles tomorrow is going to be ‘interesting’. But hey, God loves a trier and I did say I was an all or nothing kind of girl. Tonight’s amount of sleep is all important for tomorrow. I couldn’t give a flying fig how long it takes me as long as I enjoy the scenery, move my legs forwards and complete the distance. Sleep deprivation dependant my training in anger starts tomorrow. I’ll do a little post tomorrow night (seeing as this one is a week late already) and let you know how it went.

Even though I feel as unfit, heavy and as far removed from me as I possibly ever have in my entire life right now, I do feel positive that I can make the changes I need to return some of me back to myself. Aston is a week away from being six months old. I’m going to start weaning him off me and on to food and onto formula. He can also go in the running buggy now which means I can be independent enough not to have to always rely on Tom being able to look after him or my marvelously wonderful friends coming over so I can run giving me some much needed ‘me time’.  Having this independence makes me feel like there is light at the end of my unfit, unme tunnel. Come on!!! Comrades, your ass is mine J

H

Adaptation and fear.

I'm learning how well (or not) my body can adapt to twelfty million different situations all in one go. 7hr car journey (tick), long haul flight of 11hrs (tick), one tantruming 3yr old (tick), one hungry, hungry 5mth old (tick), lots of travel on holiday arrival (tick), jetlagged children (tick), sleep deprivation (tick), a car full of travel sick puke (tick), thankfully, copious amounts of daytime fun (tick) oh and a couple of runs (tick). Comrades you say?! Surely that's the easy bit? Training properly...what's that??? The kids are asleep so let me expand...

Before we had kids time was free and easy. Now we've got kids time is precious and sparse. We're on holiday, you would think fitting one run in a day should be easy peasy??? So we arrived in LA on Tuesday at 6.30pm (local time) 2.30am (UK time). Staying with our good mate Steve who now lives in LA we thought the kids would adapt pretty quickly, especially after we kept them awake for longer than normal in the hope that they'd be tired enough to sleep. Wrong, wrong and wrong again. For four nights in a row Aston was awake from 2.30am and Rosie was awake from between 3-4am. Basically this means that neither of us ran while we were in LA because neither of us could actually see out of our broken eyes never mind run. Now those of you who know me will know that I'm an all or nothing kind of girl. Open a packet of biscuits and I'll eat them all or I'll have none at all. Train for something and I'll do it properly or not at all. And this is where the whole learning to adapt has had to come in, something I've never been any good at. When I'm motivated (and I am) I barely let anything stop me from running/training. This means that I've had to really fight to keep myself motivated but able to adapt the training to A) suit my sleep deprivation but keep me moving and B) not allow running to take president over our holiday (this is our family holiday after all). Once we left LA and started to travel towards San Fransisco I was starting to get antsy. I hadn't run for four days and was starting to make bad food choices which (for me) go hand in hand with being exhausted and demotivated. The pendulum that was swinging in Comrades' favour having run 14miles easily for the first time in over a year just before we left was starting to wane. Thankfully, hitting San Fransisco was the best thing that could have happened. We headed here because there's lots for the kids to do and see but also they had their inaugural parkrun on the Saturday that we arrived. Located on Crissy Fields which basically bask beside the Golden Gate Bridge how could that not kick start my motivation?! I've never ever been anywhere where exercise is so popular. No wonder folk don't say good morning to each other over here, they'd never shut up if they did, you pass that many runners/roller bladers/cyclists it would be impossible to say hello to them all. It really is a sight to behold. A wonderful, casual happy place full of normal looking people exercising. Wonderful. So with a parkrun under my belt I was re-energised and looking forward to getting out again. Ideally I would be running for much longer than I am while I'm out here but we're on holiday and the kids (more-or-less) have to come first so early morning on Sunday I got out but only for 30mins. This morning (and here comes the fear I mentioned in the title) we were up too early for me to run outside (that's kids for you) so I went into the hotel gym to do an hour on the dreadmill. Oh. My. Word. The hour wasn't hard, the pace wasn't hard, the monotony wasn't hard but the heat in there nearly killed me. How on earth am I going to manage in Comrades if after 7 miles on a treadmill in a hotel gym I feel hideous?! Eeeeeeeeeek!!!

So there you have it. I'm learning how to adapt to my situation like a big girl and not stress over distances or days when I just can't get out to run. I am however going to have to work out a plan to deal with the heat better. Answers on a postcard please.

H

Always against the clock...

... and here I am again (more battery life in my computer this week) but unfortunately no more battery life in me and no time to spare. It's 22:13, Aston's asleep and although my eyes are open I'm not sure technically I can be classed as being awake lol!

I've had a great second week of easing myself (ungracefully) into consistent running and have loved every run that I've done. With the help of amazing friends who get their fix of Aston/Rosie cuddles/tantrums while I plod my way around the streets of Harrogate I've managed to run six times, two of these runs being a 10 miler and today a 14miler. I know I'm highly motivated at the moment because the weather has been nothing short of foul and it hasn't stopped me. When I'm woken up at 4:30am by the hungriest baby in the world I see a window of running opportunity that doesn't impact so much on Tom's day and I throw my running kit on with gay abandon imagining I'm as light footed as a gazelle. In reality I thunder my way round the windy, rainy, dark, streets while everyone else sleeps but I enjoy my freedom and the feeling that I'm doing something to get myself fit again. As much as I hate being at the opposite end of my usual fitness scale I do enjoy the process of feeling like every run is making a difference and slowly but surely my legs will stop complaining and my fitness will return. Who knows, maybe Comrades is even gong to be possible to do lol!

While running with my really good mate Hannah (who is also a mother and uses running to keep her self sane) she asked about my actual thoughts about Comrades and how I was mentally approaching the concept of 56 miles. It's a good question. The simplest answer... oblivion. Seriously. I've never run 56 miles before so how on earth can I possibly imagine how hard it's going to be?! Am I fazed by it? Not really (I am totally oblivious though).  Am I afraid of how far it is?  Not really, I'm training, it's going to be hard, but I'm still oblivious. This oblivion is (sometimes) a wondrous thing. I would never have done Ironman if it wasn't for my oblivion and I certainly wouldn't have considered having kids because people tell you things are hard, hurt or are ridiculously difficult but until you experience these things yourself there is a certain degree of this oblivion. The thing that worries me the most about Comrades isn't the distance it's the heat. I fall apart in the heat. The heat has been my downfall in all but one Ironman. The only Ironman that I actually had a great day in (in Germany), the weather was variable. Cool and a bit drizzly for the swim, warm on the bike and overcast for the run. This turned out to be the perfect conditions for me to be in. If it's really, really hot in Comrades I've got to keep an eye on my fluid intake and not push myself too hard or I'll spend the majority of the run puking by the kerbside and trying to find a loo. I'm not oblivious to how hideous this experience is and this is what worries me the most about Comrades. I can't do anything about that though so all I can do is train the best I can to make sure I'm fit and in good nick on the day and then monitor the heat and how to deal with it.

I'd love to write a little more but my eyelids have become heavier than my backside and with Aston currently having what I can only describe as an insatiable appetite (which translates into my world as immense sleep deprivation) I really need to get some zzzzzzz's. I was up at 1am, 4am and 6am feeding Aston and I've run 14 miles. I'm good for nothing except sleep.

Thanks for your comments and kind words. It's great to be blogging again & even better to be running again.

Night all :)

H

Got to start somewhere...

...and I'm starting here. I have 22% battery on my computer, the power cable being the least of my worries as my desire to get to sleep as soon as possible being paramount so as I carry our 19wk old little boy, a 2 litre bottle of water and some washing up the stairs to start 'the bedtime' routine, the power cable was just one thing too much.  Oh how my life has changed!

However, I wanted to post today to kick the blog off but it will be brief. Hey, there's 20 weeks of my blurb to read so keeping it brief today is a good thing.

Let's dive straight in. Why Comrades? Can I really do it with a demanding 3yr old (and she is a force to be reckoned with) and a 19wk old baby? The answer to why Comrades is simple, my husband said it was a good idea. Is it possible? - my husband said it was. For those who haven't met Tom, he's persuasive. Very persuasive. But more than that, I need to find myself again. I don't want to live in the past and start training 25-30hr weeks like I did when I was Ironman training. I do so many more hours than that picking up Rosie's toys and working out how to prevent a melt down when her banana snaps in half but this is precisely why I needed a challenge that would be a challenge. I know I can run a marathon, I know I can do an Ironman, I don't know if I can run 56 miles in one go though...although Tom's already told me I can, and hey, he's never wrong right?!!!! My children are amazing, love them to bits, the best thing that could have ever happened etc etc. But somewhere among the snot, tears, tantrums, dirty clothes and baby puke is me. I'm somewhere in there surrounded by this cloak of mummyness. When I run (and at the moment it's ungainly, slow (for me) and hard) but it's time out. No Aston swinging from my boob every hour and no Rosie swinging off my legs. Basically I escape. I run away from the house. I run thinking about all the things I need to do in the house. I put one foot in front of the other and eventually I end up back at the front door of the house where my kids are overjoyed to see me. My mental balance is restored and a tiny part of the old me (albeit heavier) emerges with every run that I do. This morning I ran ten whole miles. The furthest I've run in over a year. Lordy it was hard but oh my it was good to be out on a Sunday morning doing (for me) a long run.

It's time to clock off however, 8% battery life, my little girl is snoring in her room and my little boy is fast asleep on my left, my husband fast asleep on my right. Time for me to hit they hay too, I have one very hungry organic alarm clock that will promptly wake me between the hours of 2/3am.

Let's see what the next 20 weeks have in store shall we?! I think it's going to be an adventure.

H (the currently, bigger boob'd, bigger hipped version).

Welcome to our new blog...

This is where we will write every week about our journey...