Nippier than normal

Proof, were it needed, of the pond's 'parkiness'. Well done, lifeguards: Ham & High - woman rescued from Hampstead Heath pond

Getting ready for winter

When I was about six, I went to school with a boy who could dislocate his shoulder at will. Which he did, frequently. It looked revolting, but was quite impressive to my six-year-old eyes. I thought of him yesterday when I was trying to remove my new Adidas sports bra. It's a one-piece affair that involves stretching it up over your head. It's tricky enough to get on, but getting it off when you're hot after running is a near impossibility. It probably didn't help I was trying to undress in the damp changing rooms at Hampstead Heath ladies' pond. At one point, I feared I'd have to ask for help. Thankfully, after several minutes of wriggling, I was free, but so shattered I nearly couldn't swim. The 13-degree water woke me up. After the warmth of swimming in the Med on Thursday, this was more of a shock than usual. One girl said her friend had had to be rescued last week as she cramped up so badly. Maybe time to don a pre-swim layer of goose fat. Which might also help with the sports bra removal.

(Stats: Run: 3.1 miles; 29.45; 9.35 minute/mile. Swim: 10 metres; about two minutes - three, at the most.)

A very nice surprise

A strange thing happened on Sunday. I ran the final 10k in the Regent's Park summer series - and I got a pb.

I attribute this to two things:

1. I rested up and ate a lot of pasta for the two days preceding the race
2. For the first time ever, I had a plan - I was aiming for a pace of 5'40" per km and kept an eye on my stopwatch to maintain this speed

Actually, there was a third thing: I got to the start line early and positioned myself near the fast runners. I was hoping some of their glory might rub off on me. And indeed it did.

A month ago, my 10km time was 58'15". My aim was just to breach the 58-minute mark. So when I saw the final result, I was so surprised, I thought there'd been a mistake.

Stats: 10km (6.2 miles); 53.48; 8.40 minute/mile.

Pic: The tastiest finish-line flapjack of the season.

Get set. Go!

As a time-keeper at today's parkrun, I got to start the 'race'.

This would have been more exciting had I not been quietly shitting myself about getting everyone's times wrong.

Ridiculous, especially given there was another lady doing the same job so I wasn't even alone in the first place.

All I had to do was press two buttons on a large stop-watch:

- Button A when the run started
- Button B every time a runner passed the finish line.

That was it. Yet I got the massive fear. I kept imagining accidentally pressing button A, therefore stopping the watch prematurely, mucking up everyone's times and becoming a parkrun pariah.

Thankfully, this did not happen.

All runners were correctly clicked in and I only pressed A again when the tail-runner (no. 127) entered the finishing tunnel. ("Runners this way, please. In the tunnel, thank you. Well done.")

So, all's well that ends well. Huge relief.

(Pic: The finishers' tunnel of love.)

"Are you here by yourself?"

"Yes."
"Why aren't you sitting on the social table then?"
"Because I'm not feeling very social."

I've just returned from a week's activities holiday in Greece and it was brilliant.

Tennis. Running. Cycling. Swimming. Sleeping. I did all of these things with the addition of the spa.

Ah... the lovely spa: scrubbed, wrapped, moisturised and massaged, if not a new person, I'm certainly a much better version of the old one. I'm even ready to be sociable again. Time for a holiday!

(Pic: One of the many, many beautiful sunsets over Manos beach, Lemnos.)

A little light night running

6.22pm on Saturday I, and a couple of hundred fellow runners, set off across Dartmoor. Well, we set off from South Brent village hall on the way to the moor. It was dark and we all wore head torches. I had two, along with a small red light on the back of my head ("Careful, Lou; you don't want to blind the tail-runner" said my rude brother before sprinting off.) There then followed five miles of steep uphill, muddy fields of cow poo and a wobbly descent down what was either a stream or a flooded path. Entry to the race was a Christmas present. Actually, I was entered into the 10-mile but I got the fear last week and insisted on a transfer from wild night run to mild night run. It was a decision I did not regret. By lowering the bar, I could thoroughly enjoy the race and get back to the village hall before the longer-distance runners. That meant I could get in first with the brilliant physio for a very painful, yet very beneficial leg massage. Two days on and I only have a few minor twinges. There is nothing finer than running across the silent countryside and rinsing your lungs in clean country air - albeit it rather poo-ey. If you fancy something slightly different, I highly recommend the wild night run. It had a lovely friendly atmosphere - and a very fine post-race lentil stew. Might go for the ten, next year.

Pic: The brighter, the better.

(Stats: 5 miles; 1.02.36; 12.31 minute/mile [I walked up a few of the steeper inclines so can only assume the barely controlled fall down the other side balanced out the overall speed])

Age shall not wither her

In Haruki Murakami's book 'What I talk about when I talk about running' he voices the pain of seeing your fitness lost to your youth. Until recently, I shared this fear, but turns out my fitness was lost not to my youth, but to my laziness. Something I've taken pains to address.

Since Christmas, I've run at least once a week and yesterday I managed my fastest parkrun time since June. It's still a minute off my PB (the glory days of April 2012), but two minutes faster than recent averages. Age wasn't withering me. Inactivity was.

Stats: 3.1 miles (5km); 26.26; 8.47 minute/mile.

(Pic: It may be pouring down today, but it was beautiful at Dyrham Park, near Bath, last Sunday. Highly recommend a visit if you're nearby.)

Just passing through

On such a beautiful Saturday, it seemed a shame not to do the heath parkun. So I did. Very gently and with a pair of high-grip trainers to ensure, this time, only my feet would make contact with the ground.

After the run, I noticed the trees were dotted with lots of birds. I'm not sure whether they were on their way to a warmer climate (apparently many head to South Africa for the winter - very sensible) or we were the warmer climate: some fly to us from Russia for our slightly 'balmier' weather. Which just goes to show, in the end, everything's relative.

(Stats: 5km (3.1 miles); 29.54; 9.38 minute/mile.)

(Pic: Tree dotted with resting birds and one healthy-sized pigeon that's just taking flight.)

A minor slip-up

And when I say minor, I mean major. And when I say slip-up, I'm not speaking metaphorically.

This was the week my running gained so much momentum I fell over.

It was Wednesday and I was just south of Regent's Park when I lost my footing on the side of a wet pavement. A huge overfilled rucksack rendered my attempts to stay upright futile and I crashed to the floor bonce-first. In fact, I hit the pavement so hard, my head bounced back up again.

As cranium audibly met tarmac, a kind lady ran straight over to help. In retrospect, I think she was more in shock than me. Anyway, I got up, walked for a bit. Then realized I felt fine so ran the remaining two miles or so to work.

I was less fine three hours later when my face resembled a baboon's bottom. At this point, my colleagues dispatched me to hospital where I was poked and x-rayed and, very fortunately, declared fit enough to head home with an A4 sheet on 'caring for minor head injuries'.

And so, my plans to conquer Hampstead Heath parkrun tomorrow may be put on hold. I feel okay and the doc said I could run if I felt like it. But I also have whiplash, so maybe I'll wait and run gently on Sunday. I still can't believe it. I got running gloves for Christmas. Maybe I should've asked for a helmet instead.

(Stats: 5 miles (3 miles - short break as I lay on the floor just north of Baker Street - 2 miles); timewise, not sure, around an hour?)

A gap in the clouds

I have started a running club. In my house.

Today we went for our first club run. Two miles to Hampstead where we found a cafe and had a nice rest.

We then walked home.

It's an infinitely civilized way to combine three of the best things in the world: running, chatting and drinking tea. I highly recommend it.

(Stats: 1.91 miles running; 2 cups of tea per person; 1.91 miles walking. Until our club has progressed, the activity will remain un-timed.)

(Pic: Polly's, lovely little coffee shop on South End Green.)

It's on

My brother's Christmas present to me was entry into a 10-mile night run across Dartmoor on March 1st. Not sure what I've done to upset him.