This week one event achieved two running firsts....
Popping my running face-plant cherry
Scott clearly didn't find me too irritating on our last run so I was delighted when he suggested another bimble round the Chevin (unless he really is looking for somewhere to bludgeon me to death and ditch the body) - and it finally gave me a chance to try out my new Merrell's :-)Things were going really well, I'd completed a full kilometre at 10:05 min/mile pace and still feeling pretty good when, it finally happened - I struck a tree root and suddenly decided to pay the floor some close-up attention. Fortunately in my case it's true what they say about trail running, the landing is softer and the view on the way down more scenic than running on the road, so all I suffered was a couple of bruised knees and hip. I didn't even notice I was bleeding for another couple of miles.
I'm not sure why it should be that lying face-down in the dirt should be the thing that finally made me feel like a runner - but it did. In my mind I felt like I could proudly pronounce that I do adventurous and dangerous (sort of) stuff, and now I have the bruises to prove it!
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| the immediate aftermath |
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| a couple of days later, the bruises coming out nicely (good job midi dresses are in this season) |
Whilst I found flirting with breaking various bodily parts fun and exciting, something else happened this week that would fill me with fear and dread...
As I have mentioned previously, I do not exactly have what you would call an illustrious athletic career behind me. In secondary school, where team sports was more of a popularity contest, I often ended up being chosen after the kid with the limp (I'm hoping this was equally due to being rubbish at sport as to not being in the "popular" clique), I don't really remember doing any running, except being sent out on the local park as "cross-country" once a year (I only remember the year I finished last, after numerous girls who already at that point had a 10-a-day habit). Sports day itself was voluntary and I can't say the teachers ever bothered me about entering.
Junior school, bizarrely, was a very different matter, there were weeks of heats in the run up to sports day, where we would spend PE lessons running various distances up the school drive (looking back it was great hill training) to determine who was going to run the actual races on the day. Those who didn't make it in were dumped in the ball-and-hoop team race, where we were encouragingly told that we all got a point just for taking part. Even my 8-year old brain could work out that we could all just not take part and it would have no affect on the House scores. Needless to say I was in the ball-and-hoop team every year.
Clearly this has left me mentally scarred as when Scott decided I was going to take part in the local Parkrun on the 31st, the Fear started. Watching the Leeds and York 10k I thought that possibly I could do that, there's lots of people who are not necessarily runners but are doing it for charity and a worst case scenario I know I could walk 10k within the cut-off time and not be noticeably at the back. But these are people keen enough to be up and running round the local park at 9am on a Saturday morning - I barely even know Saturday HAS a morning! Having spent an hour avidly checking previous results I have ascertained that I'm going to be somewhere in the last 10, and if it's even a fairly quiet week - most probably last (Scott is adamant that I will run better than usual but I have no idea how that is meant to work...). I'm sure everyone there is a lovely bunch, but the truth is I am ashamed of level of fitness, I know I should be able to run better than I can. I'm not overweight, recovering from a heart attack, or 103-years old. I pretty much have the build of an olympic swimmer (long legs, broad shoulders, small boobs) - if that olympic swimmer had spent 8 hours a day for the last 13 years sat behind a desk rather than down the pool. Seven months in and I should be able to run 5k by now, rather than being grateful if I manage to wheeze my way to a mile. The shame of the poor volunteers having to hang around waiting for me to cross the finish line, when they could be off getting a coffee and a bun is weighing heavy on my mind...
Clearly this has left me mentally scarred as when Scott decided I was going to take part in the local Parkrun on the 31st, the Fear started. Watching the Leeds and York 10k I thought that possibly I could do that, there's lots of people who are not necessarily runners but are doing it for charity and a worst case scenario I know I could walk 10k within the cut-off time and not be noticeably at the back. But these are people keen enough to be up and running round the local park at 9am on a Saturday morning - I barely even know Saturday HAS a morning! Having spent an hour avidly checking previous results I have ascertained that I'm going to be somewhere in the last 10, and if it's even a fairly quiet week - most probably last (Scott is adamant that I will run better than usual but I have no idea how that is meant to work...). I'm sure everyone there is a lovely bunch, but the truth is I am ashamed of level of fitness, I know I should be able to run better than I can. I'm not overweight, recovering from a heart attack, or 103-years old. I pretty much have the build of an olympic swimmer (long legs, broad shoulders, small boobs) - if that olympic swimmer had spent 8 hours a day for the last 13 years sat behind a desk rather than down the pool. Seven months in and I should be able to run 5k by now, rather than being grateful if I manage to wheeze my way to a mile. The shame of the poor volunteers having to hang around waiting for me to cross the finish line, when they could be off getting a coffee and a bun is weighing heavy on my mind...
WEEK 6 - a 4 run week - GO ME!
18m 05s. 1.5 miles. Average Speed 4.96 mph. Average Pace 12:05 min/mile
3:21r / 1:30w / 1:23r / 5:00w / 1:39r / 1:00w / 2:06r / 1:00w / 1:06r
As I was leaving the flat to go for this run, two of my neighbours were also clearly heading out for a run. Fortunately I took the long route off the street and they took the shorter option, meaning I was behind them and able to witness them running off into the distance in beautiful smooth harmony, while I wheezed and wobbled behind. But I'm not jealous, not at all, honest.....
Come to the conclusion my right achilles is generally just a miserable little tendon. Getting out of bed this morning I was walking like a pirate (i.e. wooden leg, not swaying from too much drink, although that is equally as possible), but although I was aware of it whilst running, it didn't feel too bad.
Not the best run of late, as well as stiff calves I also spent a fair amount of time walking, trying to find my way back home. Seriously, I really should wear my contacts if I'm going to try a new route.
Tuesday 13 August (late afternoon)
14m 10s. 1.26 miles. Average Speed 5.32 mph. Average Pace 11:17 min/mile
4:50r / 2:15w / 1:40r / 1:00w / 2:33r / 0:33w / 1:19r
This was my regular short route along Morris Lane and up through Morris Wood. Still a fair bit of walking involved but only on the uphill sections so I'm feeling pretty happy with this.
Thursday 15 August (afternoon)
38m 43s. 3.12 miles. Average Speed 4.91 mph. Average Pace 12:13 min/mile
5:20r / 2:00w / 1:36r / 1:59w / 2:16r / 1:00w / 1:33r / 5:00w / 1:23r / 1:11w / 1:59r / 2:35w / 1:17r / 2:00w / 1:32r / 1:00w / 1:32r / 1:00w / 1:45r / 0:45w
Living on a hill that seems to run in at least 3 different directions at once, I thought heading down to the canal would provide me with a nice flat-ish run, so I was disappointed to have to start walking so early. I don't know if it was a result of the massage yesterday but my legs felt really tired, and despite there being a lot of cloud it was surprisingly warm. At one point a runner and his dog flew past me. As they passed me again in the opposite direction (probably having run another 5 miles before turning round), and shouted kind words of encouragement I managed a grimace and made a mental promise to myself that if he passed me again I was throwing my trainers in the canal.
Disappointed at the time, and disappointed I finished by walking the last set but by the time I got to my virtual finish line (the doorway of the Vesper Gate Inn) I honestly thought I was going to vomit, and my complexion was a still a disturbing shade of puce half an hour later.
Saturday 17 August (early evening)
15m 06s. 1.35 miles. Average Speed 5.37 mph. Average Pace 11:11 min/mile
6:17r / 1:32w / 2:19r / 1:01w / 3:12r / 0:45w
Another day another dubious stomach, but ravioli on toast and I was good to go an hour later. This was my regular little jaunt along Morris Lane and back through Morris Wood (although somehow it always seems to come out at a different distance when I map the route afterwards - another reason for a nice shiny GPS watch methinks...).
Rain and nettling aside I was happy with this run (although still too fast).
WEEK 7
36m 59s. 3.1 miles. Average Speed 5.03 mph. Average Pace 11:55 min/mile
6:28r / 2:00w / 1:12r / 2:00w / 1:47r / 2:00w / 1:02r / 2:00w / 2:02r / 1:01w / 2:09r / 2:30w / 1:04r / 2:00w / 1:39r / 2:01w / 1:38r / 1:00w / 1:27r
A nice sunny day, not too warm and with a pleasant breeze so another 5k run along the canal. I set off with the aim of not allowing myself to walk for more than 2 minutes at any point (apart from the massive hill two thirds of the way round) and I had to run for at least a minute per set. The only problem being that I managed to end up having to run up the locks. Calves felt a little tight but otherwise I'm relatively happy with this, managed to knock nearly 2 minutes off my last canal run and finished feeling pretty good.
Tuesday 20 August (evening) - my longest (in speed and distance) and slowest run to date
1h 08m 34s. 4.26 miles. Average Speed 3.73 mph. Average Pace 16:05 min/mile
The now infamous Chevin "bimble"...
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| trust me - it's hillier than it looks |
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| don't think that 2nd split was too bad considering I was lying down for some of it |
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| I'm pretty sure this isn't really a path.... |
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| another hill.... |
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| ....and the rest of it |
I have to say that although I felt like I was dying for a lot of the time, it was just the best fun. Obviously just having company alone is so much more enjoyable, but the difference between trail and road running is like the difference between a chocolate hobnob and a rich tea biscuit. Time flies by, and although it's hard, it feels so much less like the seemingly endless slog that road running can feel like.
Friday 23 August (evening)
13m 31s. 1.17 miles. Average Speed 5.18 mph. Average Pace 11:35 min/mile
2:39r / 2:00w / 1:23r / 0:20w / 1:01r / 1:00w / 2:25r / 1:30w / 1:13r
Finally feeling like I could move something vaguely like normal after Tuesday, and the fear of an impending Park Run in a week's time, I headed out for a short run. I'm glad I did it, although it wasn't the greatest success, and I felt exhausted from the start. Made me feel better about the 4 pints I then went on to consume that night though.
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