Don't forget to breathe

Technically, I don't have to post today, because it's a "rest day". I like rest days. We should have more of them. Wednesdays generally should be "rest days". This may become law once I am voted in as dictator. (Don't start again with with "dictators don't get voted in" pedantry. I already had it from a thread I posted on Facebook, the one about the special carriage for sick people on trains. Once people realise that they like being told what to do, they'll vote me in). Well, that was until I realised that actually, Wednesday lunchtime is my pilates class. Now, I love pilates. I've been doing it, on and off, (subject to finding a class) for going on 10 years. I especially love my current class. I'm not just saying that because I sent the URL of my blog to Anita, our teacher. You know I wouldn't just be nice about someone because I thought they might be reading this, right? Anyway, I suddenly thought, I haven't cleared this with Sal. She told me to have a rest day. But it's pilates... fortunately I was able to ask her in the office, and she said it should be fine, as long as it wasn't too energetic.

Laughably, Anita agreed with this sentiment. She says (and I usually believe her, because she, like Sal, gives an air of talking knowledgeably about this stuff) that you can do pilates every day, like that breathy exercise moustachioed-Chris does (he runs a session at 8:45 on Mondays. I'm usually still in bed then). Now, I actually don't doubt that there are lots of pilates exercises you can do every day. I just don't think those were the ones we did. There was the plank, which is agony, and then then the thing where you do the plank but also raise your diagonally opposite arm and leg (this caused me to collapse - my hip flexor still hurt from yesterday); then there was those exercises with both legs off the floor on your side, and the single and double leg lifts. And at one point, she totally tricked us into moving from a reverse curl to a jack-knife and then into a teaser. Let me tell you about teasers. Like practical jokes, there is nothing funny about them when they happen to you. I'd already explained about it being a rest day, so by now, Anna and I were just muttering "rest day" at each other and laughing sardonically.

One lovely thing about pilates is that Anita is at pains to point out that we should breathe. "Don't forget to breathe" she reminds us. It's one of the things the body does that is autonomic - it's independent of the conscious mind. I suppose that's why I find it funny. However, of course, the bottom line is, people do hold their breaths when they are concentrating on something tricky. But I think I also find it funny because it reminds me of Dave Barry, an American columnist and comedian, when he's talking about the birth of his first son. He describes how him and his wife went to ante-natal classes for weeks, but during the birth, as he puts it "I'm not naming names, but I kept up my side of the deal. 'You should breathe.' I told her, or 'Don't forget to breathe!' - She, on the other hand, was unusually cranky....". So maybe its the echo of that which makes me laugh. I usually lose concentration entirely and collapse giggling when Anita comes out with it.

Anita showed me a step exercise to do to help my shins. But then she also told me to get some proper running shoes. I think she'd get on well with Sal actually. I love my pilates classes - it's such a good break from work, it's like a complete unwind. But then you have to go back...

"And breathe".

Roll of Thunder, Hear my Cry

That may be a slightly over-dramatic title to have used for going for a jog, in which the most dramatic event was in fact, the roll of thunder. Today's event was supposed to be a 45-50 minute jog, although in reality was a 40 minute jog. We'd already added one loop onto the run, and well, it was kinda wet. Nigel and I did debate just running the last bit really, really slowly to make it up to 45 mins, but decided that it was better to go with the spirit of the task than achieving the letter...

It was just me and Nige out today, although we later found out that Puff was out too, he must have set out ahead of us, as he was on the way back as we set out. It got me to thinking that already, by day 3, the blogosphere is probably thinking Nige is my best friend. This is not actually the case, lovely as it would be to have a best friend (I'm kidding, I love you), and lovely though Nige is (and Mum, if you're reading this, NO. He's married.). So moving swiftly on, the task included the run to be, and I quote, at "conversational" speed. So clearly I needed to talk for 45 minutes as well - fortunately that's never been too much of a challenge. I welcomed Nigel back, as for the past few weeks his physio instructed that he had to only run on grass (we all suggested this would do more damage because the ground is uneven and so parched it's been hard as iron, but he was well programmed to follow instructions (where did he get that? Need you ask. Boy's been coached proper... by Sal). He said, and again, I quote: "After Sal broke me." Well, that had to go in the blog. "I'm putting that in my blog." I told him. "I retract that" he said hastily, "it was nothing to do with her". "I'm putting that in too...". Nigel got his own back by dropping into conversation various delights I have to look forward to in my training, especially the hill training (always something of a challenge in Peterborough).

I'm rather proud of Nigel who accompanied me on my extra loop, as I didn't think Sal would be impressed with a short run today; I only kindof laid on the guilt, pointing out that I would run back past the Key and the Lido, and not up the canal path because there were likely more people, poor frail woman that I am. And even though it was about then that the first heavy drops started, and he could have got back in 5 minutes, he stuck with me. What a gent. When the thunder groaned across the sky and I called out "Roll of Thunder, Hear my Cry", we established that Nigel hadn't read the novel of that name by Mildred Taylor, although he confused me by saying he's heard the expression. When I outlined the plot (I haven't read it either) he said, "Oh, I've seen The Color Purple". So, Mississippi, Georgia. Still the Great Depression, eh. Book, film, whatever. Reminding me that my friend Linda tried to interest some "youfs" in Taming of the Shrew, and when they said "what's it about then?" she had the presence of mind to say "Have you seen that film, 10 things I hate about you? Well, that's based on this play". Which was rather clever of her. Although the cynic in me still thinks if they come and see it on that basis, they may be disappointed.

Well, it did truly bucket down with rain, to the point that I hailed some other certifiable lunatics runners because I thought they were colleagues of ours, as I could see nothing through my rain bespecked spectacles. Luckily they thought we were harmless, and exchanged damp grins (with us, not nervous ones with each other). I asked Nige to take a picture of me, so you could share how I suffered for my art, but there was something of a user error on the camera (maybe water on the lens), so this this is the best I can do...

So, Sal was in the office today, and didn't kill me for her honorable mentions in my blog so far. She even seemed kinda pleased, which was good. There aren't that many people who are pleased to be called a fitness freak, but you've got to take compliments where you can get them. Also I did plug Fit Naturally, which got brownie points (score). But she's lent me her Garmin, which is a device that straps round my heart, and shocks me when she remotely presses a button. No, it measures my heart rate, and uploads so she can see it. Frankly, this terrifies me.  Either Sal's going to find out how unfit I  actually am, or she's going to make me work much harder. I don't know which scares me more, but I think the latter....

Ah, this story just gets better and better.

Training: Day 1

So, Sal sent me swimming today, she said I should swim for 40 minutes. Only problem is, the regional pool is closed, and I'm a bit of a wuss about cold water. But she thought the Lido would be fine. And who am I to argue, it is the hottest day of the year, when else would I use it? (I actually made that decision 2 years ago, the first and only other time I've used it... never). But like I said, there's something about Sal. So off I went.

Anyway, I get in **free** because I spend an unnecessary amount on a gym I don't use. So first thing is, I have "the wrong card" but happily, she let me in anyway. I'd have been very cross if she hadn't. I have to say, there were a lot of faces that suggested the only reason they were tolerating that water was because they'd just paid £4.10 to get in...).

As I got into the pool (brrrr) some Asian guy and his pals grinned at me and said "Hello, how are you?". Now usually, I'm very friendly, but I just got into some recent difficulties with a misunderstanding about what we mean by smiling nicely, so I'm a little cautious. Also, is this someone I know, or a massive flirt waiting for me to get hard nips in the water? So I try to give a non-commital but not too unfriendly "Ok thanks". Then I got into the water, and bearing in mind my audience, was relieved not to utter any profanities, although it was a near thing. ("--ing Cold" as Pratchett would say. "I added the prefix" said Nigel). "Cold, isn't it?" I said through gritted teeth I was hoping would pass for a grin (I didn't want them to start chattering themselves). "Yes, Ready for Curry" said my new friend.

It still took me two lengths to figure out which restaurant he worked at. This shows, scientifically, how cold stops my brain from working: I only ever go to one, The Bombay Brasserie. I have established, during my lengths, that he doesn't know how to swim (why, why? The Lido, of all places to visit?), that Jimmy Spice is the new rival (he thinks), and that he believes Marcus Yeo has defected there. He said to me, "Where is that man? I haven't seen him?" I assumed he meant my colleague Keith, who eats at Bombay Brasserie most weeks, but has been traveling a bit recently "Keith? He's in Wales. He'll be in later this week, I'm sure". "No, not that man, the other one". Me:"Er, you're going to have to help me out a little....". "The one that doesn't drink". It didn't really help, but Marcus is often in the Bombay. I can't offer any reasons as to why he hasn't been seen there since February. "Maybe he's going to Jimmy Spices, you think? But Bombay is best, no?". What can I do but concur. At least, my head was going up and down.

But it could have been the shivering.

Starting out.

Let me introduce you to the cast. I say this because I'm in a play at the moment, (opening tomorrow night - you should come!) so I have a theatrical turn of phrase at the moment. It won't last. Well, there's me obviously. I'll be the one doing the running, and whatever else Sal has in store for me. And there's Sal. She's a colleague of mind who is what you might call a "fitness fanatic". Well, I don't know about fanatical. She never actually made me do this. Maybe more "freak". If you want to find out more about Sal as a fitness coach, you can follow her on Facebook, she has a a page called Fit Naturally. Some of the healthy food options actually look really tempting... and she has the nicest, sweetest voice you can imagine, and she's very pretty...

But, well, there's just something slightly scary about her. After I'd got the idea to do this half marathon thing, I asked Nige (we'll meet him in a minute) how one goes about making a plan to do "training", and he suggested two options: look on google, or ask Sal. Now, I foolishly thought the latter would be easier. Let's just say, if Sal tells me to do something, I'm going to do it. Probably. So I asked her how to start my training, and before I'd got the 20 m back to my desk, she had set up a shared spreadsheet in google reader with boxes for me to fill in when and how far I run, and how much it hurt.

There's also some folk at work who call themselves "Natural Runners". This is a play-on-words, or pun, about my organisation, which is called Natural England. I am the only "Unnatural Runner" who goes out with them. Although we do have Puff the Magic Dragon, or Tom, who likes to get back FIRST. Also, Chris, who always sends us encouraging emails, other (moustachioed) Chris, and Dave, when he can make it.  And there'll be Nigel (of course) once his physio lets him out with us again. There's a few other folk who also run, but not with us. When we get back, there's only one shower. This causes some tension.

Right, that'll do. I'll have to do what Shakespeare does, and introduce the rest of the cast as they occur to me. ("Ah-ha, Vincencio, my father, Welcome" - that would be David if it were true. But I don't think he'll be making much of an appearance). But do expect the odd appearance from Frank, the cat. He doesn't come running with me, but I'm sure he'll find a way in here. Even if it means getting into my sports bag.