JogBlog running blog

I was home off work with a mystery illness on Friday and wasn’t feeling much better on Saturday, so decided not to run on Sunday.  I had also decided to stay in bed and get the train later and meet up with the others (More To Life Than Weight, The Red Bucket, I Run Because I Love Food and Tracy) but Shaun begged and pleaded with me and put on his little disappointed face until I relented and said ok then, as I was up already, even though it was only 6am (5am in real life, with the clocks going forward) and I was ill and should be in bed and so at about 6:45am we go out into the freezing cold and drive to Reading and we get to Reading at 8:30 and I’m thinking the only time I’ve ever seen Reading at 8:30am is at the festival when I’ve still been up taking acid and drinking cider and we walk up to the stadium and I’m surprised at how small football pitches are and we go to the start line and although the little foldy out Reading Half Marathon information thing clearly states no urinating in Green Park, the path is lined with men pissing although there are plenty of portaloos and Shaun finds his spot with the other blue runners and the race starts and I decide to wait and see if I can see Leighsa and Tracy pass me before going back to the stadium and two people in horse costume go past and then a man decides to piss about three feet away from me and he’s so close I can even hear it and I think you dirty peasant and I move away and I’m thinking I must have missed Leighsa and Tracy as it’s been ages and if I hear the man on the tannoy say one more time that the bad news is you’re not even at the start line yet I’m going to take his microphone and shove it somewhere painful and then Leighsa and Tracy come over and make pitying noises because I’m not running and Leighsa goes to the toilet  in a portaloo and doesn’t piss on the path like all the men have and when she comes back she sees the sweeper van and says oh, we’d better run and so off they run and I go back to the stadium and get a seat directly in front of where the runners will come in and I think hmm, I had only planned to watch the winner come in then go and get a cup of tea or something and come back for Shaun’s intended 1:48 time but if I leave, I’m going to lose my seat and a woman sits next to me and we start chatting and she says she’s called Coral and she’s come up from Dorset to support her step-daughter who’s running and she says she’s never seen anything like this before and the winner comes in at 1:02 and what a surprise, it’s a Kenyan, and I stay and watch more runners come in and think watching fit men’s not a bad way to spend a Sunday morning really and the woman on the other side of me stands up and starts shouting Shaun! Shaun! and I think eh? he can’t be in yet and then I think oh, it’s probably someone else called Shaun, duh, and Coral says I think someone called Shaun has just finished and I say my boyfriend’s called Shaun, I got a bit confused and her Shaun’s faster than my Shaun and she says ah, but your Shaun will be faster than lots of other Shauns and I say yes, that’s true and I think what a sweet thing to say and at 1:52 clock time Shaun finishes and I say bye to Coral and go off to the meeting point to meet Shaun and I’m standing there for ages and freezing and shivering and he eventually limps over and we walk back very slowly to the car park and he gets changed and we go into town and go to  Superdrug for some painkillers and some Cold Heat or whatever it’s called and then we go to a strange pub which is covered in beer mats and doesn’t allow people to talk on their mobiles and has an outside toilet and then we go to the restaurant to meet up with the others and I get a pizza which surprises no one and it’s just as well I didn’t run as they all came in with great times and I would probably be finishing around now.

My Reading Half Marathon race pack came yesterday, the first four digits of my number being the phone number of the house I  was born in, grew up in and lived in until I was 19 when I escaped the confines of parental control and aggressive alcoholics and gained my independence by living in a 6′ x 10′ room in Walthamstow.  Phone numbers aside, my race number confuses me as it has no colour on it  to signify my starting place and I’m sure Shaun said his was blue and he rings me and I say I’m confused, my number has no colour, unless there’s a white start? and he looks at the race info and says yes, there’s a white start, it’s 2:25+ and I say what? I wouldn’t have put my time down as that slow, have they been reading my blog and put me in the appropriate place with all the other slackers? and this morning I wake up to the aroma of freshly baked Sainsbury’s Cheese & Onion packet bread mix and the sun is out and I want to get out early as I have an urge to make some jewellery and I think I’d better have some jelly beans to power me and I have Hawaiian punch flavour and peachy pie flavour and I’m out of the house by 9 and as I get to the marina there’s a boy wearing a purple jumper that looks like a school jumper and then I think maybe it’s navy blue and I decide it’s indigo and I wonder why there’s a schoolboy over the marshes on a Saturday morning and I go over the bridge that’s not shut anymore and is now a not very nice shade of green and yellow and it’s quite windy but not as windy as when I did my 18 mile jelly baby duty cycle ride and  when I get to three miles I think I could turn round and go back the way I came as I haven’t done that before and it’ll be a change and I only want to do six miles today anyway and maybe it will energise me a bit as I’m struggling a bit on this run and feel quite heavy and I turn round but it’s windy so I turn back to carry on going and I think how am I supposed to do another ten miles on top of this next Sunday and I think bollocks and all the training has (not) been done now and whatever I do next week isn’t going to make any difference and I can’t do any running commutes next week anyway as my running commute days of Tuesday and Thursday have been reserved for pizza eating, drinking and seeing bands instead and the days after have been reserved for recovering so it looks like Shaun was right when in his supportive boyfriend way he told the journalist from the Reading Evening Post that I’m going to hate it as I haven’t done any training.

Stats:
Distance: 6:35 miles
Time: 1:08:24
Pace: 10:46 m/m
Calories: 549
Race packs: 1
Sainsburys cheese & onion packet bread mixes: 1
Jelly beans: 3
Journalists told that I’m crap at training: 1
Music:
Associates
Nirvana
Joy Division
B52s
Blur
Arctic Monkeys
Power Station
The Killers

I get up at 6am – two and a half hours before I need to leave for work – and have a productive morning, then get to work to be unproductive and, because my boss isn’t in today, I spend the day doing a bit of work, a lot of browsing the internet and no being sworn at.

And because it’s a lovely sunny day, in order to not get too lethargic in the afternoon thus thwarting my plans for a running commute, at lunchtime I go for a walk along the river, a walk cut short when it’s looking very likely that I’m going to get trampled on by the 22,000,030 runners along the Embankment, so I cut my walk short, cross the road and go back to the office to carry on my boss-isn’t-here-so-I’m-going-to-have-a-long-lunch-break thing.

2:45 comes and I’m eyeing up the energy bar on my desk.  Shall I eat it now or wait a bit?  I ponder this for about three seconds and five seconds later the energy bar is no longer on my desk but somewhere inside my digestive tract.  Or on its way there.  Biology was never my thing.

Also in preparation for my run, I’d bought some Gourmet Beans from The Jelly Bean Factory that I’d been eyeing up in WHSmith over the last few weeks, as they proudly state “gelatine free” which means they’re not made of bones and hooves.  Oh no, they only contain shellac which apparently is insect secretion and The Vegetarian Society says to treat it like honey (i.e. leave it up to your conscience whether you want to eat it or not) so if The Vegetarian Society says it’s ok to eat insect wee, then it’s ok with me.  Yum.

At 4:00 I’m bored so I decide to play “guess the jelly bean flavour” (which isn’t just an excuse for gluttony.  As if) and sample some beans and I can’t guess the flavour (I’m also crap at guessing smells; someone was eating Kentucky Fried Chicken in the office the other day and I thought it was fish) but mmmm, they’re very nice and I manage not to eat all of them and at 5:00 I do my boss-isn’t-here-so-I’m-going-to-leave-early thing and then I’m trying to cross the road but a cyclist goes through the red light and I try again and another cyclist goes through the red light and I think OI CYCLISTS, STOP GOING THROUGH THE RED LIGHT AND LET ME CROSS THE ROAD YOU WANKERS and I get to Angel and I get dust in my eye again and I think why do I keep getting dust in my eye when I get to the Angel? and I think ah, it must be angel dust and maybe it’s lucky dust and I go past Foxtons and have a better look through the window at their fridges and I can only see Coke and water and I think maybe I won’t go in there and pretend I can afford a house in Islington then if I’m not going to get any free wine or beer and then I see a trampy bloke pick up half a cigarette off the pavement and I think aah, poor trampy bloke and I go to get a cigarette out of my rucksack to give him then remember I don’t smoke anymore and I run past Hackney Downs station without wimping out and getting on a train and then I’m waiting to cross the road and I see the steep bit and I think I need a jelly bean to help me up the steep bit and I don’t know what flavour it is but it’s very nice indeed and I get up the steep bit and through Murder Mile and I think, do I deserve a jelly bean for getting through Murder Mile without getting murdered? and I decide I do and I recognise it as coconut and think this one’s not so nice and I’m wondering if it’s light enough for me to cut through the marshes and I decide it is and I go to cross the road and the lights are taking ages to change and I think hurry up lights, or it will get dark and I eat more jelly beans while I’m waiting for the lights to change and I go through the marshes and I can see a man on a bench up ahead and he seems to be doing some sort of push up thing and I think why’s he doing that there? and I wonder if I should go back onto the road but I decide to be brave and I go past the stables and I think the horses will save me if anyone tries to murder me, perhaps even Champion the Wonder Horse himself, although he’s probably been dead for about 50 years and I think oh shit, I’ve got to go through the bread factories now, I didn’t think of that and I get to the factories and there’s people working there and I think hooray, maybe I won’t get murdered after all, the bread people can save me, perhaps even Mr Hovis himself if there was ever a Mr Hovis but even if there was, he’s probably been dead longer than Champion the Wonder Horse and I’m wondering who the modern day heroes are and maybe a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle will come and save me but wouldn’t it be a bit embarrassing being saved by a turtle, especially a mutant one? and I decide to save any embarrassment, I just won’t get murdered.

Running stats:
Distance: 5:00 miles
Time: 59:21
Pace: 11:52 m/m
Calories: 435
Productive early part of mornings: 1
Productive later part of mornings: 0
Bosses swearing at me: 0
Energy bars: 1
Cyclists going through red lights: 2
Trampy blokes picking up cigarettes: 1
Jelly bean flavours recognised: 1
Music:
Rollins Band
Jeff Buckley
Foo Fighters
Nirvana

A lot of miles!

No, I didn’t run them all.  I ran – um, I correct myself – I trudged through 9 miles yesterday with my miraculous self-healing knee which was hurting so badly on Friday I was limping all day, but yesterday woke up like I’d dreamt it, not a twinge at all.  What cured it?  The cheese, mushroom and shallots omelette?  The Nutrageous bar?  The Deep Heat and stretchy bandage?  Who knows.  Still, nine miles sort of done.  Hooray.

Then today, Shaun announces he’s going to do 18 miles for his London Marathon training.  He further announces I’m going to accompany him on jelly baby duty on the mountain bike.  Hmm, ok, I think, how hard can it be, all I’ve got to do is sit there and pedal a bit sometimes.  FUCK ME HOW WINDY WAS IT?  It was proper windy.  Windy enough to necessitate the use of capital letters and the word ‘proper’ anyway.  Even windy enough to necessitate the use of the ‘C’ word by Shaun.  Oops, naughty.  And in front of a lady too.  (Yes, that’s me.  Before you ask.)

God, I was glad to get home.  To a cup of tea and some chocolate Hob Nobs and then a massive lunch.  Cooked by me.  Oh yes, I am a domestic goddess and finely tuned athlete rolled into one.  One what, I don’t know.

Running stats:
Distance: 9:05 miles
Time: 1:45:32
Pace: 11:40 m/m
Calories: 840
Cheese, mushroom and shallots omelettes: 1
Nutrageous bars: 1
Miraculously self-healing knees: 1

Cycling stats:
Distance: 17:42 miles (set off before the Garmin got a satellite)
Time: 2:31:08
Pace: 8:41 m/m
Calories: 612 (someone PLEASE tell me cycling burns off more calories than this?)
Use of capital letters: 1
Use of the ‘C’ word: 1
Cups of tea: 1
Chocolate Hob Nobs: 3
Massive lunches: 1
Domestic goddesses and finely tuned athletes rolled into one: 1

My boss hasn’t been in the last couple of days and as a result, I  haven’t had much to do and today I have mostly been trying to keep my eyes open and I go for a walk for a couple of miles along the river at lunchtime in the hope that it will energise me but the afternoon is just as bad and I’m falling asleep and I email Shaun and say it’s raining and I can’t keep my eyes open, do I have to run home? and can I eat the energy bar anyway? and he emails back and says yes you do have to run home and if you don’t, then no, you can’t eat the energy bar and I say too late, I’ve eaten it and very nice it was too and it gets to 5 o’clock and I think ok then, I’ll run home and I get changed and get outside and FUCK, IT’S COLD AND WINDY and when did the weather change? and why did no one tell me it got cold again? and where did this wind come from? and I get to Sadlers Wells and my Garmin gets a signal but before I can show the people of Islington my athletic prowess, I’m stopped by a French man who asks me if I know where King’s Cross is and I think hmm, yes, I do know the general direction but not sure how to direct him and I say errrrrrrrrr, yes, but you’ll get lost if I attempt to give you directions and he says ok then and I say sorry and I decide to walk until I get past the Angel and then a big gust of wind blows and it blows something in my eye and I keep blinking and tears are running down my face and I can’t see and I want to rub my eye but I’ll smudge my make up and look like a panda and my eye’s hurting and it eventually gets better as I get to Foxtons which has got to be the coolest estate agent ever, as it has fridges with beer and wine in it and I must remember to go in there one day and pretend I can afford to buy a house in Islington so I can get free beer and wine and I eventually start to run and my legs feel heavy and I’m cold and wet and I get down the end of Essex Road and I’m feeling grumpier than I have been all day and I thought running was supposed to de-stress you and I’m just feeling MONUMENTALLY PISSED OFF and I realise I’ve forgotten to put my alarm on and I think oh well, it’s not like anyone ever gets murdered in Hackney, is it? and I’m still feeling pissed off and I think I can’t be arsed with this, I’m going to get on the train at Hackney Downs and I get to Hackney Downs station and I haven’t got my glasses on and I can’t read the departure board and I don’t know what platform to go to and I squint my eyes and eventually the numbers become a bit clearer and hooray, there’s a train in 3 minutes and I go up to the platform and the people there look at me in a funny way and I think, what? haven’t you ever seen anyone in luminous yellow hi vis running gear before standing on the platform looking a bit cold and soggy? and I think no, they probably haven’t and the train comes and mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm, it’s nice and warm in here and 99.9% of the other passengers are wearing black and I wonder if I’m standing out in my luminous yellow hi vis top and I think I probably am but I also think I don’t really care.

Stats:
Far too embarrassing to put on here.  Let’s just say it wasn’t very far or very fast.

After an overwhelming response to my competition, mainly responded to by woodworm who came from a freeloaders’ forum (Adele was spot on when she commented on how many people come out of the woodwork when there’s something for nothing on offer), I have adjudicated and conferred and all the other important stuff one has to do when judging a competition, and my winners are:

1.  Mr Tom Roper.  For using the word peregrination which I had never heard before and so had to look up and then go and have a long Facebook status conversation about it.

2.  Miss Strumming, Running &  Drinking.  For taking the piss out of me and making Shaun laugh.

3.  Mr Sore Limbs.  Because the huge amount of email, Facebook messages, late night phone calls, bricks through the windows, aeroplanes trailing banners flying over my house, all containing the message GIVE ME THE BOOK is quite frankly getting a bit embarrassing. And I hate to see a grown man cry.

So, well done you three, email me your addresses and I’ll get the books sent out to you.