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
Saturday 28 February 2015
Wednesday 18 February 2015
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 :)
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 :)
Sunday 8 February 2015
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
Saturday 7 February 2015
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 29th 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
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 29th 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
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