Commitment

This is exciting, you're going to like this.

I bought a Garmin! My very own one! I gave Sally's back to her, she needs it for her real clients. And I handed Nigel his one back too (I'd borrowed the heart monitor). I never really liked the 305 because it is a bit clumpy and not very girly, and I got Garmin Envy of Dave's, which is a Forerunner 405, so I decided I'd buy one. While I was still debating buying one, Nic asked me why I wanted it, and what it would achieve that I couldn't do without. "It'll make me go running," I said. She raised her eyebrows in a way only Nic can do, and said "There's your answer then".

I had a great indecision about whether to get one new or second hand. I thought if there was a good mark-down I'd go for a second hand one, but then on balance thought, I'd be safer with a new one, because if it went wrong, I'd want the warantee. But then I found that there are very few second hand ones anyway. There simply weren't more than 3-4 on Amazon Marketplace, and they were only £40 less than the new ones. Some of them even had parts missing. This was the same on ebay. I put a cursory bid on one, and lost it. It went for £124. It made me think that for there to be so few available second hand, it must be quite a good product.

THEN. People, you are going to learn things from today's lesson! Then I learned about a new thing. It was Heather that put me onto it. "Have you heard about the Sniping Tool?" She asked me. I hadn't. It puts a bid in for you automatically, in the last 10 seconds of the auction. This is genius. It isn't really unfair, either, because if someone has put a really high bid on the auction before you, theirs is going to win; it's essentially like putting a sealed bid in. However, if you put a sealed bid in at a price you are willing to pay, it will come in ten seconds before the end of the auction, and steal the bid by the nominal price from the highest bidder. This finally makes sense. Everyone who has beaten me, at odd hours in the night, by 20p in the last few seconds... they weren't sitting watching it. They were just using something like that. Brilliant. Don't tell anyone, right, we don't want everyone using it.

So, I won my Garmin. There was still a slight worry that it would be crummy, but when it arrived, it was BETTER than it said. It was brand new. All in bags and packages. Instructions in French, but hey, that's what the internet's for, right? And it was charged, and all set up ready to go, anyway. Very happy. It had its inaugural run with Chris - moustachioed Chris. It should have been with Dave, but he couldn't make it. We have a little getting used to each other, the Garmin and me, but it was good to have, you know, someone else in charge again. Heart rate going, and that.

Oh, and while I was waiting on that, I got a swim in. After all, there's hills to think about. I've got to get the cross-training in.

Moral Support

I shall now say a few words about Moral Support. I think this is pretty important. I get some from the Running Crowd at work, and in fairness, plenty from other friends who give words of encouragement, in the office, through facebook, and so on. However, I'd like to acknowledge that people coming with me is a proper treat. I have learned to enjoy some music, but the truth is, I still find running by myself a tad boring, music or not. I still enjoy finding out which music peps me up a little, and which I run a little steadier to, shall we say. And I love the irony of jogging to "Sex and Drugs and Rock and Roll", my favourite line of which is now "Here's my tailor, he's called Simon, I know it's going to fit".

So anyway, after my couple of short slow(ish) runs, I decided to head out for the rowing lake. I went to recruit the usual suspects, but they refused to come. So I went out alone, AND it was raining. I was impressed, I hope you are too. Furthermore, I remembered to bring spare pants with me. This is a minor detail, but I have been running in the rain before, and sitting in the office all afternoon in wet pants isn't good. I hope I got away without the telltale water mark on my clothing that time, although I can't remember (in all honestly, I assume that because I can't remember, I did get away with it, because the scars of embarrassment tend to stay with me for longer than that). Anyway, that aside, I saw a couple of other known runners on the route, JNCC Richard, and Stuart. In fact, I didn't recognise Stuart until I was about nose to nose with him, because I had rain all over my glasses, and I wasn't expecting to see him. The words "hello" didn't start to form on my lips until well after he'd gone. Fortunately, I was able to relay this to him subsequently by telling Chris later in the office (although in fairness, i have no idea if she passed it on).

I managed to post this run onto Facebook, which seemed to have mightily impressed Erica, who thought that for day one of my running program, 5.33 miles (even on the flat) was a good score. It seemed unnecessarily slow to me. We established that Erica is aiming to finish the half marathon alive, whereas I am aiming to finish it in sub-2 hours. This will entail quite a bit of hard work on my part, because at the moment I'm not feeling I could complete the Great Eastern Run in sub-2 hours, never mind a feckin' great hill like that.

Still, in a spirit of achievement, I went on (apparently) - no, actually, I do remember this - to run 8.12 miles that weekend. I ran up the canal to the Minnellium Bridge (as I like to call it), and back round Stanground. It's a route I'm finding increasingly boring, although this wasn't why I only made it round in 10:51 minute miles. I simply cannot believe that I ran the half marathon in 9.5 - 9 minute miles any more. It seems like an unachievable dream.

By the 23 Jan, I managed to muster some more Moral Support in the office. Actually, I can tell this, just by dint of the fact I was running on the 23rd, as Runkeeper tells me (fortunately not out loud) that the Millenium Bridge run was on the 22 Jan. The only reason I'd have gone running on 23rd would be Dave (yes, you remember, that's Running Dave) insisting on it. This also tallies with me doing 10 min 36 miles, as he also seems to coincide with the pace being kept up. In all honesty, THIS is what I need my colleagues for.

Miracles

The fact of the matter is, I have given a lot of thought to what I'll write in the blog, while running. And in all honesty, I haven't done a lot of it, so I don't want you to "run away" with the notion that you are missing out. But you have. I've deprived you of , ooh, I'd say seven, running adventures.

So, "Miracles" didn't have a lot going for it. Sometimes I only think of the title, then wonder what I'd actually write. The miracles thing was when I started running again in, ooh, let me consult Runkeeper (AKA the Talking Lady): 13 January. But I decided I could double up for the run on 16th January. They were both shorties, you see. And I didn't really feel up to much, but I got on and did them. I got out there. I was running by myself, and I did some short circuits, in what the locals call "the Fengate Run", which is 2.65 miles. I actually ran a bit further on the first day (3.86 miles), by extending it up the canal, but apparently saw the error in my ways the second day, and curtailed it a bit.

The reason why I was going to call it miracles, my thinking was, that it may not be very impressive, but I was in plenty of time for the half-marathon, and I didn't need miracles, I just needed a proper training program. And I needed to stick with it.

Ha ha ha. That's funny. I do need a miracle, I don't have Sally any more. I'm flying solo. (although in fairness, I asked her if I can still pester her, and she agreed. She even said I can come out to Stilton and go running with her. This was at my request, because I'm very scared about the whole hill thing. More on which, later).

How life is supposed to be.

Well I know you all - OK, both of you (I notice readership has fallen a little since the end of the race, when I slacked off blogging) - are wondering how it was to restart the running. The important thing, as it presents itself to my mind, is that I restarted running on 31 December. This was critical to me, and I'll tell you why. I hate New Year's Resolutions. I mean, I really hate them. I have never successfully kept a New Year's Resolution, and the period that elapses between making and breaking them has varied, over the years, from a couple of months at best, to hours, at worst. The long and the short of it is that New Year's Resolutions do nothing but make me feel like a failure, and I hate them. A few years ago, I made my mind up to put myself out of this mental anguish, and stop making New Year's Resolutions, sometime back in 2003. Ironically, it was, in fact, a New Year's Resolution. Distressingly, I broke it two years ago in 2010. I resolved to write a poem every month for my poetry group, Pint of Poetry (OK, that's an old link - find us on Facebook). What a stupid resolution! I was bound to fail, and I did fail, about 2 months in. Confirming my notion that New Year's Resolutions make you doomed to failure. And, by making it, I had failed to keep the only resolution I've ever kept for more than a year. (I'm reinstating it for 2012, although I'm no longer sure of its validity.)

Anyway, that was quite a long way of pointing out that it was absolutely mission critical to me, and my long-term strategic success as a runner, to not start running again in the New Year. Not even if I didn't officially say it was a New Year's Resolution, because it might be thought of as one. So, I'd gone for a run just before Christmas, admittedly partly to get out of the house, but also because my cousin Erica proposed that I run the Hastings Half marathon with her on 25th March, which I agreed to. I realised that there is only one way I will continue with training, and that is to have a goal that I at least think I may enjoy. I am already terrified of this however - Hastings is really a lot more hilly than Peterborough. This is the profile for Hastings:

The profile for Peterborough you can find somewhere online, but essentially it is just a horizontal line. I also realise that I told Jeanette, in a moment of exuberance, that I would run the Coniston 14, but in fact this is on 31 March. I may have to consult the Oracle on whether it is a poor idea to run (a little more than) a half marathon only a week after running a different race. I mean, clearly it IS possible - if Eddie Izzard can run 43 marathons in 51 days, we can assume it is possible for me to run a half marathon after a week's rest - but you know, I take Sal's advice very seriously. Except for when she says "of course you can".
Anyway, I'm seriously digressing. The point was, I have an aim, and I started training before New Year. That was simple, right? But I had plans to be up in Manchester for New Year, and in a grave effort to not overpack, and suspecting that, realistically, I wouldn't actually have time to go running, I unpacked my running stuff (having found that my overnight bag wouldn't close). THEN on New Year's Eve, during our plans to take a trip to Dunham Massey, found that two of my friends were wanting to run there! Of course I agreed to go too, even though Sally would have shot me if she'd known which shoes I ran in. Doubtless they were the reason I was the slowest. Anyway, it was three miles there, and I have no idea what speed we were going at, but Mikey and Seirian had to hold back somewhat to allow me to keep up. This is OK. I learned at an early age that some people run faster than others. I've enjoyed being an adult so much more since I found out that it doesn't matter. When we arrived, we reunited with the others, played with the kids, and went and found a really tasty bowl of soup for lunch. Then followed it up with a massive scone, with cream, jam and a pot of tea.

Mikey, Seirian and I then ran home again, and I'm happy to report that the cream tea appeared to slow them down somewhat. It was either that, or the somewhat more perilous route we took back, along the edge of a canal, which was particularly muddy. My shoes came into their own. Right before we left the canal, it started to rain. Which was refreshing. I came in third, again, but happy to have acheived a 6.5 mile run before the New Year.

I can't see Sal incorporating this into her training programmes, but I think stopping for a cream tea is definitely the way to go with running. It's the way life was supposed to be.

**Interim**

Well, first off, apologies. I've let you all down. After the amazing vote of confidence I received on Facebook, where if memory serves me correctly (and it's stretching the little grey cells by several months now) at least 18 people voted by means of hitting **like** on my status, that I should carry on blogging. No one seemed remotely concerned about the running.

But I was concerned, and I'll tell you why: politely, most people have feigned not to notice (once again, my mother stands out as the exception here) but over the past few years, I've been carrying at least a stone of extra weight. I know, it's my height, I hide it well. But it's bothered me, on and off, especially when trying on clothes.

Now, happily in this instance, (although the times when it is a blessing is actually pretty limited) I have an aversion to throwing stuff away, and this applies moreso to clothes than other junk (although it certainly isn't in any way restricted to clothes). This is in fact, my mother's fault - she has never thrown away anything that "still wear in it". My sisters appear to deal with this childhood trauma of understanding that throwing away clothes that still have wear in them, by donating their clothes to my mother. But I'm not so crass.  I keep all mine. This has been fab, because over the passed few months it's dawned on me that I can actually fit into clothes that I bought over 10 years ago. Woo-hoo!

And then Christmas arrived, when the average person eats 6000 calories in one day. And I'm no average person.

So, to keep you in the picture, I think I went running about twice between completing the Great Eastern Run and Christmas. And I failed you all by not blogging either of them. But I'm back. New strategy. New race.... welcome to the Hastings Half.

Cycling...

I had good intentions of running... Dave told me that Fridays generally were good for him, so I brought my running stuff in on Friday, but he forgot. Then the girls decided to go out for lunch, so I thought since Dave wasn't going, I could do that. Then it became apparent that shopping was going to be more productive (food shopping, don't get excited. I didn't pass the shoe shop), so I did that instead. I wondered about maybe doing a run on Saturday morning, before business kicked off, but frankly, I needed a moment of calm, and didn't feel that running was really going to cut it.

On Saturday, I had to make my way down to Sussex for a work meeting. In the past, I've taken the bike down, because it is about 8 miles from Horsham station, and is generally a nice little stretch on a bike. I tentatively suggested this to Chris, who was coming with me, and at first we both dismissed it because of the poor weather forecast, but for some reason, she suddenly changed her mind on Friday afternoon. This was mildly inconvenient - she has a fold-up bicycle, but I need a bike reservation on the East Coast, without which they will not let you travel. I tried to get our work ticket system to acquire me a reservation, but they claimed it wasn't possible, despite having done so in the past. This meant a sudden last minute dash to Peterborough train station on Friday night, which was more than a little inconvenient, as I had folk coming to dinner. However.

While I was waiting on the platform on Saturday, I noticed that my back tire was completely flat. Somewhat to my consternation, I realised that the rubber was cracked all the way around as well. It was also bald. There was no two ways about it: I needed a new tire. Hopeful, as ever, though, I thought a pump-up might suffice for the journey at hand. I mentioned it to Chris, who asked if I had any puncture repair kit with me. I didn't. I'm not sure if it was something she'd thought about on the journey, or if itwas just when she clapped eyes on my bike (AKA "Deadly Peddley"), but she suggested that I might take it to a bike shop and get a new tire right away. "It'll delay us quite a bit" I said. "I'm sure it'll be OK". As I tightened the valve, though, I had grave doubts: somehow, I'd managed to bend it, and it no longer tightened properly. I used iPhone magic and ascertained that there was a store nearby actually called "Cycle Surgery". We thought we'd look in, and find out how busy they were. By the time I'd cycled the 300 yards up the road, my tire was flat again. It was the answer I was looking for. They were not only not busy, they were extremely helpful, and changed my tire in considerably shorter time than I could have dreamed of doing it, and had a weekend discount going on.

They did, however, tell me that my rear wheel needed realigning, and pointed out what they meant. The wheel was practically touching the frame, the mudguard, and the break block, on one side. They said it was damaging the frame. I can only point to one occasion when the rear wheel has been removed... Ian may have saved my life by replacing the broken spindle, but it looks like he may be damaging my frame. Tuh. Some good deeds... This did in fact prove to be slightly problematic, as I could hear a light hum all the way, over and above my broken front mudguard, which clatters continually. Possibly it might be a good idea to have a proper "service" on poor old Deadly.

So, a few weeks ago, I joined Chris on a cycle across London, and I blamed her speed on the fact that I was on a Boris Bike, which is very heavy and has three gears, and I couldn't get any speed up. I realised on Saturday that actually it was more like Chris was on the other bike and is considerably fitter than I am. Let's face it, she is on a Brompton, with 6 gears and tiny wheels. Whatever wonders of modern technology that bike has (and the chain design is very complicated with additional cogs and stuff - so I think that must help), I had a Claud Butler, with 21 gears (admittedly, 14 of them don't actually work) and proper wheels. So I should have had a massive advantage. But she just flew off up those hills...

So we whizzed across London - always fun - and missed the train, owing to time lost on the wheel repair. Our later train meant that we arrived in Horsham at about 5pm. It was pretty dark by then. Also, I last did the cycle ride a year ago, and never at night. "You do know the way, right?" Chris wanted to know. "Yes! Probably..." wasn't the answer she wanted to hear. Horsham itself was OK, because despite the traffic, it was well-lit, but as we progressed outwards, it became rather darker. Chris seemed a bit nervous of the unlit roads, as well she might... with wheels that small, you don't want to hit a pothole. Anyway, there was almost a moon, behind the cloud, and you could kind of see the white line down the middle of the road.

So we got there, and Chris was very impressed overall, but really wanted to see the route on the way back, so on Sunday, we set off with good time to catch the 4:42 train. At least, I thought we did. It seemed that actually maybe we didn't. And Chris was encouraging me by cycling into the distance with her little flashing helmet light (newly acquired at the cycle shop) disappearing gradually. We somehow did make the train, and we somehow did get back across London with enough time to catch the train I was booked on.

That's where it all started to unravel. We actually had time enough to get ourselves a sandwich and a cup of tea, but once I dropped my cup of tea, I knew things were doomed. The train didn't get in until 9 minutes to 7 (due out at 7) and I stood by the guards van, waiting for someone to open the doors. No one came. I sortied up the train, but couldn't find any staff who weren't outright rude. Then a lady came down to close the doors, while the train announcement noted that anyone not wishing to travel should get off the train. I asked her to open the guards van, and she told me it was at the front end of the train. She advised me to cycle up to the front end, to put my bike on. "I'm hardly going to make it, though, if you've closed all the other doors?" I queried, but she just said "You can only try". So I did, but I only got halfway when I met the train guard, a short, young Asian guy who looked as if he'd undergone too many training courses, but not enough on customer services. "You can't put that bike on the train" he snapped. "I have a reservation to put this bike on this train" I told him, helpfully waving it. "You can't put that bike on this train" he said, with some lack of imagination. "I can, if you open the guard's van door" I told him. "If you try to put that bike on this train, I will call the transport police, and have them throw it off". My thought process was not fast enough. My gut feeling was if he had time to do that, surely he had time to open the door? What I didn't think was, "he'd have to do it at the first stop... in Peterborough", so I should have just got on the train behind him, and obstructed the carriage, instead of behaving like a good citizen, and taking it. I estimated I had about 30 seconds to get up to carriage C and let Chris know I wouldn't be joining her (it was the older train, that had pull-down windows). Then a lady blocked my way, took my arm, and more or less shrieked at me "You are not allowed to board this train!" My goodness, they are people of one idea! "I KNOW!" I shrieked back, "THAT'S WHY I'M NOT BOARDING IT! NOW KINDLY GET OUT OF MY WAY". I cycled up to the top end of the train, and banged on Chris's window. I think they had just locked the door by the time I got there, because I'm pretty sure Chris would have dragged me onto the train if they hadn't. She's more confrontational than me.

On the way back down the platform, I took the name of the officious lady who **assaulted me**. I learned this later: it's illegal to put your hands on a member of the public. I will mention that I won't be pressing charges in my complaints letter. Frankly, I'm more affronted that I was threatened with the police, but I guess that the guard knew he couldn't actually stop me getting on the train, unlike her. He didn't realise he was addressing someone who is such a rule-keeper that there is no way I would have taken my cycle into the carriage of the train, because it is against the rules. **Sigh** it's hard being me. Anyway, I was able to persuade the guards on the Newcastle train to let me on, which I did largely by dissolving into tears when they asked if I had missed the train I was booked onto.

Overall, I suppose there was no real harm done, apart from distressing several of my friends by posting on facebook that I was in tears at Kings Cross station. And the cycle ride certainly counted as an adventure, even if not a full exercise programme....

Keeping it up

Hello again people. I know, I know, there was all that stuff about whether I should carry on the blog or not, and I was overwhelmed with the number of people who thought that I should keep blogging. In all honesty, the blogging does take a lot longer than the training ever took, but now that I'm no longer training per se, I may limit the blogging as well, and try to find some happy balance. So, you've basically all been thinking that I've been a quitter, haven't you? It's a fair point. I haven't been running since the half marathon on 9th October. Until yesterday.

There were reasons why it took so long, however, which were beyond sheer laziness. Remember the whole "being ill" thing I had going on around the race? Amazingly, the running with a virus neither killed me, nor made me feel any worse than I expected to feel at that point of an illness. In all honesty, if anything, I felt better. Notwithstanding this, however, I did progress on, as one does so often, into a chesty cough. And frankly, I felt that an athlete deserves a break after a race, so the two things coincided nicely.
Yes, folks, yesterday I got the trainers on again. I primed Running Dave the day before, knowing that I'm a good runner but pretty useless in terms of going by myself. Interestingly, I gave the garmin back, so I was technology-free. This was disconcerting, so I had to get updates from Dave on our speed. We ran around the rowing lake, which is 5.5 miles, and ran a good speed of 9:30 minute-miles. This is actually faster than I ran my 10k race, and almost the same distance. No wonder my lungs were hurting. Dave is back in training (although in fairness, he wasn't really "in" training for the half marathon) for the Hereward Relay Race, which goes from Peterborough to Ely. He's got to run a leg of 7 miles, so he's keen to keep up a good speed. They also have Tim who is a very fast runner, Sal, and moustachioed Chris.

My running gear caused something of a frisson among the running community in the office. "Oh, are you keeping it up?" people generally wanted to know. The non-runners (well, Richard) asked if I usually wore those clothes in the office, an equally rhetorical question, I presumed. I explained that I was waiting for the shower to be free. Sal wanted to know if I was going in for the London Marathon, so I filled her in on the thinking around this to date. Oh go on then, as long as you're here.

I emailed Arthritis Research UK to ask if they had a charity place, so I could run for my mum, who has Polymyalgia Rheumatica, and who gave me such a fearsome glare when I told her I was running the half for someone else's mother. They ask you to raise £1800 to take part. Then I found out while on a Finance for Charities course that technically speaking, if a charity says you can't compete unless you raise the money they have asked for, that it ceases to be a donation and you can only claim gift-aid on donations. They were pretty blase about it, and said that the Inland Revenue are aware of this, and frankly have better things to do, but I'm kind of anal in a law-abiding way, and don't want the IR to have anything to stick on me. This put me off the whole idea of running in a charity place. If you get a place yourself, you can obviously still donate to charity, and then you don't have an additional stress of trying to raise a set target. There are other marathons... Brighton, Edinburgh...

I also had the ridiculous notion placed before me to run the Norway Half Marathon, which excited me because it is so insane, and also because you might get to see the Northern Lights, which would be magic. I'd think of it less as a race and more as a survival exercise to brag to other runners about. I certainly wouldn't be overly concerned about my time, for example. It was Summer who suggested this lunacy, but then backed out and said that unfortunately she had reckoned without her family's travel plans. She is still hopeful for another year though. Incidentally, if you don't know where Tromso is, it is here.

Paul overheard my discussions with Sal, and and immediately suggested three races (only one of which Sal had already got in) which were a 15km, a 20km and a possible 20 miles, depending on which marathon I plumbed for. There seems to be a general acceptance of the fact that as I like racing, clearly entering races is the way to keep me motivated. Dave suggested that I talk Sal out of her place in the relay. I hadn't intended on doign this, as it seems to me that fair's fair - she got in first. However, it came up in conversation anyway. "Why aren't you doing the Hereward Relay?" Sal demanded. "Um. Well, there's four places..." I said. "Have mine! You should run it. Go on. Just do it" She said. I panicked a bit: "But that's only three weeks away". We've kind of left it hanging...