The best laid plans of mice and me

So, today's long run turned into the shortest run ever. In fact, I'm not sure making it to the end of the road and back even counts as a run. It easily surpasses my previous 6-minute record for brevity.

I made the mistake of leaving it too long after waking up to head out. This took me into the no-man's-land of hungry, but not wanting to eat before I ran. My grumbling tummy was moaning loudly before I left the house and manifested itself in an abject lack of energy. Displaying my usual levels of commitment and will-power, I immediately gave up and came home for poached eggs on toast instead.

Unfortunately, I won't have time to run this afternoon as I'm heading off for the week, but the good news is I'm heading to Devon. That means I can do my long run tomorrow in the countryside and give my lungs a much-needed airing. Another brilliant plan. What could possibly go wrong?

(Stats are too short and sweet to report today.)

Born to lose but built to win

I don't know what that means.

It's written on the label inside my new hoodie. I suspect it's nonsense. But then, I have just learned the crushing news that I was way off a PB for today's parkrun.

It's not a surprise. My legs felt like dark matter and I frequently seemed to be running in slow motion. A lot of effort for very little reward. On the plus side, I did manage a sprint finish. And at least I didn't trip over a dog like the man behind me. I didn't see it, but it didn't sound too good for either man or dog.

Pottered over to the ladies' pond after for a quick dip and learned two new tricks: 1) Don't hang about on the ladder, just plough on in. What you lose in acclimatization, you gain in reduction of fear. 2) Stay in the pond until the pain subsides. It took about five minutes but, once I'd regained the sensation in my hands and feet, I had a very pleasant swim indeed.

(Stats: 5k/3.10 miles; 27.03 minutes; 8.43 minute/mile; pond temp: 9 degrees celsius.)

(Pic: The wisdom of the hoodie.)

What not to eat

It may be okay to go to work on an egg, but it's not a good idea to go for a run on a vanilla cappuccino and a bag of crisps.

Last night was running club night. About an hour and a half pre-run, I was feeling peckish so tucked in, figuring there was plenty of time for the food and drink to settle. I was wrong. Three-quarters of the way into the run, I was feeling so nauseous I had to resort to singing 'Top of the World' out loud to distract myself. I imagine this made for a rather odd scene, but was preferable to throwing up in a bin on Park Lane.

Unpleasant as the experience was, I'm mindful you never know how you're going to feel on 'marathon day'. At least I now have a bit of a strategy for running with sickness. Should the situation arise, let's just hope my fellow runners like The Carpenters.

(Stats: 6.53 miles; 1 hour 6 minutes 27 seconds; 10.10 minute/mile.)

The long run on a Monday

I've just run 8 miles. If I can always do my marathon training 'long run' on a Monday that should set me up for the rest of the week. I appreciate this plan is work permitting, but when I do have the time I think it's an excellent strategy. Especially if all the long runs go as well as today's.

After thinking about it for a mere three weeks, I ran down to Regent's Park. Even on the greyest of days it's a lovely place to run. Lots of flora and fauna, including two reindeers, two zebras and a giraffe having his breakfast. The occupants of London Zoo had best get used to my red face because they will be seeing a lot of it.

I also (almost) take back all the bad things I've said about Nike+. I gave it a third chance today. Preparation turned out to be key. First I checked that the 'Pause Workout' buttons were switched off, then I set the screen to 'Landscape' so it would be easier to read mid-run, then I removed 'Learn French the Easy Way' from my playlists. 'Good news grammar' would not be interrupting my running flow again. 30 minutes of fannying around later and I was ready to leave. But the fannying had paid off. Apart from when the GPS signal was lost and the encouraging voiceover started slurring, the Nike+ worked perfectly. Well, I say perfectly. I'm not entirely sure all of the statistics are accurate. I can well believe that, at my slowest, I was doing a 14'39" mile. But apparently, at my fastest, I was doing a mile in 6'02". Even downhill that seems rather fast. Hey ho, maybe I should be aiming for a sub-two-hour marathon after all?

(Stats: 8.89 miles; 1 hour 32 minutes 10 seconds; 10.22 minute/mile.)

(I downloaded The Very Best of the Chairmen of the Board for today's run. It's very good.)

Another small victory

I did my second parkrun this morning.

It was on Hampstead Heath again, though a different route to the previous one I'd run. They sometimes change it to accommodate other events. As such, I had a small panic when I arrived because there didn't seem to be anyone else there. Had I got the wrong place? Did everyone else in the world know something I didn't? No. All was fine. I was just early.

And yet I was still caught on the hop when the 'starting pistol' went. It's tricky to run while trying to tie a sweater around your waist. I just did my best not to get run over in the pack. That's when I overheard the lady next to me: 'We've got stuck with the fast runners, let's slow down.' I looked around and realized I'd made the same mistake. Everyone was running very fast. I decided I'd try to keep up and see how it went.

It went downhill (metaphorically speaking) pretty quickly and I was soon making the same noise as an accordion with a hole in it. I don't think my lungs are as fit as my arms and legs. I slowed to relieve the wheezing and, at the half-way stage, a man shouted: 13.16. I assumed it was my split-time. If I could maintain that pace, I would beat my last run.

Unfortunately, I'd been giving it my all for the first 2.5k and didn't feel I had much 'left in the tank'. Thankfully, that's when I spied a rather handsome distraction a little way ahead. I soon forgot about my empty tank and focused on chasing him up the hill. This worked excellently and, even though he quickly disappeared into the distance, it was just the boost I needed to get to the finish. I think being chased by me was just the boost he needed too.

On a scale of one to 10 my face was as red as a Beefeater's uniform. I'd found it really hard work. But, for all that, I am delighted to report I beat my previous time by 44 seconds. Hooray! I have to confess, given how difficult it was, I had been hoping for a bit more distance between my last run and this one. However, at least I got a new PB. Plus, I went for a quick swim in the ladies' pond afterwards. In your face Sports Billy.

(Stats galore: 5k/3.10 miles; 26.44 minutes; 8.37 minute/mile; 34th out of 71; 8th woman out of 32; 1st in my age category (out of 5) woo hoo! And finally, pond temp: 10 degrees.)

(Pic: The London Cross Country Championships were also taking place on the heath today. Following last year's cross-country 'success', I had no desire to join them.)

There's always time to enjoy the view

I left the house at 9 am this morning and returned four hours later. I'd packed my rucksack for the trip: swimming stuff, purse, phone etc as I'd decided to run to Regent's Park and, after several laps, would head back to the heath for a swim.

I got as far as Primrose Hill.

On such a beautiful morning, it seemed a shame not to sit down and enjoy the amazing view over London. Unfortunately, once sat down, it was difficult to get up again. So I didn't. I stayed on the bench, chatted to a small dog, then phoned a friend.

Suitably rejuvenated, I wandered into Camden for a coffee and a blueberry muffin. And after an hour of magazine reading, I was ready for the walk back to Hampstead. Well, the walk to the tube anyway.

I still had good intentions to go for a swim. The pond was a 30-minute walk away, so I went for the second-best option. The nearby leisure centre.

That's when I discovered that getting into lukewarm water is no easier than getting into cold water. In fact, when I emerged 20 minutes later, I was freezing.

What's lovely about swimming on the heath is that when you get out, you feel nice and warm. Or, at least, you think you're nice and warm because the water is so blooming cold. It's one of things that makes swimming at the pond such a joy.

There was no joy at the leisure centre.

It was packed and I nearly got run over by an old lady. She had a very aggressive stroke that created a sonic boom every time her hand hit the water. Several times I had to take evasive action to avoid her fist impacting with my head. It was so terrifying I got out. That doesn't happen at the pond.

(Stats: 2.5 miles; 25.53 minutes; 10.21 minute/mile. Swimming: 20 laps; 500 metres/0.31 miles; 20 minutes; 64.30 minute/mile (really??!!!))

(Pic: A lovely spot for a bit of a sit-down.)

Better running backwards

This weekend, instead of marathon running, I have been marathon eating. My parents came to visit and I now know what it feels like to be a French goose.

This evening I attempted to redress the balance.

Forcing myself out into the bleak winter night, however, proved to be a bit of a struggle. London currently resembles a dark dank cellar. Not that I've been in any dark dank cellars, thank goodness. Which I hope remains the case, unless it's to choose a nice bottle of red, of course. Anyhow, I digress. With thoughts of marathon failure in mind, I stoically ditched my work gear and sought my running attire.

This was when I discovered all of my running leggings had disappeared. I used to have about three pairs. I was down to one. And now they had gone too. Maybe they'd left me for someone who spends less time talking about running and more time running about running.* I'd also mislaid my only long-sleeved running top so put on an old khaki jumper instead. This gave me a slightly odd appearance. Odder than usual, even.

The final touch was my 'new' pair of Avia trainers. They look pretty scruffy, but they're hardly used and the tread on them seemed grippier than my Brooks'. (I'm mindful of the hazards of wet leaves.) The Avias had sat at the back of my wardrobe for three years and it did make me wonder briefly whether trainers go off? They smelled okay so I decided to risk it.

I'm aware that in order to get the most from running you should mix up your routes. So I did my usual run, only backwards. This turned out to be the best move ever. It meant the first mile and a half was downhill, then it was flat for another mile, a gentle hill for about a mile, then a bit of a steep slope into Hampstead. By then I was on the final furlong so the psychological battle was won. It was so much nicer than doing it the usual way round! And, as I confidently pounded the last hundred yards, I pondered how I'd feel to be told I had another 21 miles to go. I decided I felt pretty okay about this. I should add, I felt pretty okay about being told I had 21 miles left to go. Whether I'd manage said miles is another question. One for next time, I think.

(Stats: 4.26 miles; 42.39 minutes; 10.00 minute/mile. I have reverted to trusty stopwatch and mapping my run. Less stressful than fiddling about with armbands and iPods.)

(Pic: My 'new' Avia trainers. I don't know much about Avia. For some reason, I'm having flashbacks to being 12 years old and wearing 'Nicks' trainers. Haldon Market's finest.)

(*Thanks to the friend who made this amusing, and accurate, observation last year. I think he'd agree that the amount of time I spend running has increased. However, I admit that the amount of time I spend talking about running has increased exponentially more.)