Mea culpa

First night I've missed running club for weeks. Easter Egg consumption is muffling the guilt, as is the promise that I will definitely do a good few miles tomorrow morning. I was tempted to get my kit on and have a quick run by myself, but I'm really not in the mood. You know those people who force themselves to put their trainers on and, once they're out, they run for miles. I'm not those people. Last time I tried that, I got as far as the police station one hundred yards down the road and skulked home. A night off. And start again tomorrow. Because as they used to say at Weight Watchers: 'Yesterday is as over as the Crimean War.' Bizarre choice for analogy for a slimming club, but true nonetheless.

A break from the old routine

Much like the rest of London, I fled my home this weekend. Off to a friend's house in the countryside. An excellent opportunity to run somewhere new, away from the busy roads of the city. Heading out yesterday morning, I didn't intend to run far. My sense of direction is appalling and I feared being lost in the maze of local villages, never to be seen again. Fortunately, my hostess's instructions were very good (turn right, run forward, turn around, run back) and I was soon wallowing in 17th century cob-walled cottages and dandelions. Not sure whether it was the last minute coffee or the fresh air, but running was lovely and even hills (proper hills, not slight gradients) were easy. I kept running until I realized I'd been gone for half an hour and decided I'd better turn around and retrace my steps. I'd say it was the first time ever that at no point did I feel out of breath or achy. I'd eaten an awful lot of bbq food the night before, so perhaps the sheer volume of protein in my body needed working off. Whatever it was, I am hoping it happens again. (Stats: 5.3 miles; 50 minutes; 9.26 minute/mile.)

Is that right?

Last night was club night and I was determined not to let a stubbed toe prevent me from running. 'Stubbing' may not sound like much of an injury, but it was on a very sharp, loose paving slab and resulted in a small pool of blood on a Hampstead back road. As I hobbled home, leaving half my toe blowing around north London, I feared I might not walk for a week. Let alone run. Suffice to say, 6 hours and one large plaster later, I decided to crack on. I could always drop out. But it did make the result all the more surprising.

As it was another beautifully balmy evening (and I had a career-threatening injury) I opted again for the shorter run. I do like the way running in the heat warms up the muscles and by mile 3, I actually felt quite good. In fact, I felt so good that I decided to up the pace for the final stretch. Which meant I did 4.3 miles in 39 minutes, working out at 9.04 miles/minute (pace calculator cararuns.org). Can that be correct?! If it is, then it's by far the fastest run I've done for ages. I'm delighted.

I've now made a conscious decision that future runs will be either farther or faster. I cannot do both. It's been an interesting learning curve. My headless chicken approach to training might not be pretty, but I feel it is finally becoming a bit more effective.

Inspiration

I went to watch the London marathon yesterday. I didn't feel motivated. I felt terrified. Thank god I only have to run half that distance.

Lowering the bar continues apace...

It's another rather warm day so once again I had to play a few mind games to trick myself into my trainers. Go out. Run slowly. Very slowly. So I did. 4.18 miles in 41.50 minutes. A personal worst. (10 minute/mile.) It was fantastic. Hot and humid = warm muscles. It was like London had transformed into one big heat chamber. And when I finished, I felt as if I could have happily kept on going. Running is fun again. My aim this week is to start upping the distance, but not to worry too much about speed. If I can do 8 or 9 miles regularly, then - when I'm comfortable - I can start to up the tempo. In the meantime, I shall enjoy the sunshine.

The secret to running well

It's called 'lowering the bar'.

Last night I was late for running club. This gave me the ideal excuse to abandon the longer runs and return to my favourite (which is also the shortest and the one all the beginners do). The first 9 minutes were spent coughing up a rib as usual, but it soon became quite enjoyable and I was even able to chat to my friend for pretty much the entire way round. My legs didn't feel like lead and my lungs seemed to function normally (unlike last week, when they felt like small acorns).

I even had enough energy to go to the pub after for a post-match beer. Now, I still want to resume the longer distance runs, if only because they make returning to the shorter ones so much more enjoyable. But at least now I know I'm not completely unfit (and I can cancel the doctor's appointment I'd made as I'd hypochondriacally decided that if running was this painful, then there must be something badly wrong.)

(Stats: Forgot my stopwatch, so no idea on time, but I did 4.3 miles, one half of bitter and several potato wedges.)

Why did the chicken cross the road?

To get away from the track training session before anybody spotted her.

So, last night I spent 30 minutes travelling to a stadium in north-west London for my very first proper coaching session. From what I can gather, the hour's coaching would involve several runs around the track, interspersed with resting and stretching. Interval training, I guess. And it came highly recommended if I wanted to increase my fitness and speed.

As I walked up to the sports field, I was reminded of my first cross-country event last October. 'How hard can it be to run 6 km?' Those were the innocent thoughts going through my head, before I quickly discovered exactly how hard it can be: uphill, downhill, in mud and against people who can do all this and still achieve a 6 minute mile. Me and my body were in shock. I even considered throwing myself in a ditch. Not good times.

This memory loomed large as I regarded the track and the array of athletes, who all looked considerably fitter than me.

So I ran away.

Could a marathon ever be run in under two hours?

Great article asking this very question on the BBC website: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-12933932

Maybe I should recommend Haile starts a blog for motivation. He'll be gutted the name's already gone.

Distance over time

Today's run was a walk in the park. And I mean that literally. I woke up with sore feet and the front of my ankles were hurting. As a great believer in listening to my body, I decided that my body was saying very loudly - do not run today, instead take a leisurely stroll into town through Primrose Hill and Regent's Park - and you should probably stop for an ice cream en route. Good clear advice, whichever way you look at it. (So, the stats: 5.2 miles in 2 and a half hours, including 30 minutes lying atop Primrose Hill, 10 minutes eating a mint Cornetto and 15 minutes peering at ostriches and camels through the fence around London Zoo.)

Cherry blossom contact lenses

It's a hot, hot day. And my legs still feel like they're reluctant to leave too much distance between my feet and the ground. But for all that, it was a very enjoyable run. Time wasn't brilliant (4.18 miles/41 minutes (9.49 minute/mile)), but that does include a 4-minute break while I extricated a piece of cherry blossom from my eyeball.

Notes for next time: must buy a proper running armband for my iPod. I've been making do by attaching the iPod to the top of my leggings. It just ends up creeping round the waist band, resting around my bottom and dragging my leggings down at the back to reveal too much information for anybody behind me. Also could do with some proper sports earphones.

Running with music, I've discovered, can be quite a contentious matter. MP3 players are disallowed on my club runs (understandably, as it's not sociable and English Athletics' rules don't allow the use of electronic equipment). I completely appreciate that, but I also know that being given an iPod 7 years ago was the catalyst that I needed to take up running.

Afraid I don't yet have the mental stamina to run all the time 'au naturel', though maybe listening to that new song 11 times in succession was a bit ill advised. I don't think I ever need hear Lead the Way by Carlos Jean ever again.

Preparation is everything

As part of the 10-step process it takes for me to go from thinking about running to actually leaving the house, I'm currently downloading some new music for my ipod (Carlos Jean/Lead the Way). I know it's been said millions of times before, but getting to the start line (or, in this case, to the front door) is definitely the hardest bit. Especially after enjoying a little too much sun (and Prosecco) yesterday. And the day before. Thankfully, my Orange wifi connection has a similar lack of urgency, so while it thinks about importing my new tunes, I will get my lenses in and try to locate my p.e. kit. It's 10.53 now and this process began at about 9.30. ETE (Estimated Time of Exit): 11.30.

If you can't stand the heat... (I'm not sure I can)

So, today's temperature reached a mighty 20 degrees. Hot enough for me to reconsider doing tonight's club run. Then I remembered my half-marathon is in the middle of June. Hmmm... best get used to the heat.

This week's aim was 7.2 miles. We set off in pace groups. My group turned out to have one member. I pootled along at the back of the pack with the aim of keeping the small gaggle in front of me in sight. On a couple of occasions I caught up with them (as they stood waiting for traffic). But with crushing inevitability the lights would change on my arrival and they'd sprint off. No rest for me.

I have to say, I was not the best version of myself tonight and I'd like to apologize to all the kind people who dropped back to offer encouragement and were met with a brick wall of resentment. I blame the lack of oxygen.

In a nutshell, I did the 7.2 miles in 1.06.11 (9.28 minute/mile). I am struggling a bit at the moment. I do hope it's a prelude to a breakthrough.

A gentle jog in the right direction

That gentle jog I mentioned yesterday. Well, I thought about it for 24 hours and I've just been. 3.34 miles in 33.37 minutes. (9.58 minute/mile). Not speedy, but effective. I stopped off to buy some contact lens solution and milk, which necessitated the wearing of a running rucksack (an Osprey Raptor 6). Once I'd tucked in the many, many, many straps and tightened the various belts to suffocation levels, I found it very good. It didn't wriggle about or rub - even when filled with my shopping and Heat magazine. Delighted to report the run has also alleviated some of the painting-related aching that had afflicted my lower limbs and forearms. Running club tomorrow night. Interesting to see if I manage to get round without turning magenta this week.

Rest days: Update

Following extensive research, I can confirm that Paula Radcliffe does, indeed, have a brother.

(http://www.paularadcliffe.com/book/50.php)

Rest days

So, after a promising start, I didn't manage any more runs at all last week and my one rest day turned into four. That said, there was nothing restful about helping to paint a house. My legs and arms are aching more now than the last time I did a 20k. Who'd have thought that brandishing a roller could take such a toll?! I very much doubt you'd find Paula Radcliffe ditching her training in favour of hanging off the scaffold of her brother's house. (If she has a brother? Don't know.) Anyway, that might be where I'm going wrong. Hopefully a gentle jog this afternoon will get me back on track.