Category: Races

Nike+ Sportband review

13 comments

Contrary to popular belief, I haven’t retired. I have been resting. Resting my finger that is, and my finger needs resting because last Saturday I had a few friends round for dinner for a celebrate-me-getting-a-new-job thing and while I was being the hostess with the mostest, instead of rinsing the rice, I rinsed my finger with boiling water and then it looks like this:


Ouch.

I ice it with the runner’s obligatory ice-pack-in-freezer and after that goes warm, it’s replaced by a packet of frozen Quorn mince. Then, ignoring my friends’ pleas to go to the hospital, after dinner I drink more wine and watch Sex and the City and then my finger feels better. Until the next day when it hurts like fuck.

I eventually get myself down to the Minor Injuries Unit at Barts after work on Monday (yes it was two days later but I’d rather walk around with a huge blister than go and sit in A&E and queue up for 5 hours behind 20,000 immigrants who are using it like their local GP’s practice) and my blister gets drained and dressed and then I look like some weird alien pointing thing. Cool.

And that is my excuse for not having run this week. Although I did run last Saturday morning but haven’t blogged it yet due to it being necessary to incorporate a review of a cheesy 40 minute workout MP3 I was sent which will mean having to listen to it again to remind myself of it and I haven’t been able to bring myself to do that yet because – unsurprisingly perhaps – it contains no Bobby Conn or Cardiacs, only the likes of the Birds Eye Peas or whatever they’re called. [Update – it is blogged now, see post below]

So this morning I decide to have my comeback. And I decide to ditch the marathon training and concentrate on getting my 5k and 10k speeds up. This has nothing to do with the fact that londonjogger is getting seriously speedy and we’re going to be doing the same 5k soon. Honest.

Also motivating me to get out of the door and stop being a fat bloater is the Nike+ Sportband that I was sent to try out


and as I’m getting dressed I realise my trousers are Nike, as is my t-shirt. If anyone had told me a couple of years ago I’d be wearing head to ankle Nike, I’d have laughed. Then punched them.

As I am only head to ankle Nike-clad, and not head to toe, I haven’t got any of those Nike shoes with the holes in so, following the lead of Joggerblogger, I undertake the Joggerblogger bodge job and tape the Nike+ link to my shoe and now with my weird alien pointing finger and a running shoe covered in masking tape I am going to go outside and look like a freak.


I am slightly disappointed by the fact that I seem to have been sent a sub-standard Sportband that only shows half the display but undeterred I go outside and press the button down for 3 seconds and it tells me to walk so I do as I’m told and I walk and after a few seconds it’s ready to begin recording and I press the button again and start to run. I have already been confused by how it can know how far I’ve gone without GPS and even though it goes by footstrikes, how does it know how long your stride is? I quickly realise that it’s going to need calibrating when, after my Garmin (which I have faithfully strapped to my left wrist) says I’ve gone half a mile, the Sportband reckons I’ve done almost a mile. Oh. As the Sportband ticks over 5k, I glance at my Garmin and it says 27 minutes. Ha ha, very funny. The Sportband is obviously lying.

After my week of eating pizza, chocolate and crisps, not visiting the gym or going running, I am feeling very fat and unfit and the wrong side of 9 stone and this is reflected in today’s run which has me stopping after my dubious 27 minute 5k for a bit of a walk. And there was me thinking I was going to come out today to break all land/speed records. Ho hum.

I walk/run the rest of the way and as I’m going through a particularly deserted bit there’s a young lad by the railings crouching and looking at his phone. I’m deciding whether to be scared or not and I decide not to be scared as it’s a gorgeous day and loads of people around and he walks towards me and I think he’s going to ask me the time or something and I must have my worried look on my face (in fact, I think that’s probably my usual look) and he puts his hands up and says “it’s ok, don’t be scared” and I smile and say “it’s ok, I thought you were going to say something” and I carry on walking/running and I get home after doing the slowest 10k ever (although the Sportband has registered this as 7.2 miles) and I’m going to need to speed up as I’ve got a 10k race in about 3 weeks. And a 5k in about a month. And it’s about time I managed a 5k in less than 30 minutes.

 

Back to the Sportband. Did I like it? Hmm, yes and no. The display is small and a bit hard to read, although this is because the band is small and cool, unlike my Garmin which takes up half my arm and is neither small nor cool. Also, because I am so used to the Garmin telling me on one screen my distance and pace, having to press a button on the run to scroll through the different units might take a bit of getting used to. Saying that though, distance is the default and that’s the only one I’m really interested in while I’m on the move so I’m probably being picky.

Set up was easy as was uploading the data. Stick the link in a USB port and you’re done. Your run gets automatically uploaded to the Nike+ website and there you can view some pretty graphs and get the code for a widget on your blog/website/social networking page. There’s lots of other ways to waste your time on the Nike+ website too that I haven’t fully explored yet.

Pros:
No need to stand around for three hours waiting for a satellite signal
Looks cool
Doesn’t take up half your arm or make you look like a Star Trek extra
Can get pretty graphs from the Nike+ website

Cons:
Needs calibrating
Small display
Fiddly button while on the move
Need Nike shoes or pay extra for a pouch or use masking tape and look like a freak

Summary
Looks cool, might work well when calibrated, probably won’t be taking over from my Garmin but would wear on a treadmill

Stats (Garmin)
Distance: 6.22 miles
Time: 1:15:14
Pace: 12:05 m/m
Calories: 601
Huge blisters: 1
Weird alien pointing things: 1
Nike+ Sportbands: 1
Fake 27 minute 5ks: 1
Stats: (Nike+ Sportband)
Distance: 7.19 miles
Time: 1:15:14
Pace: 10:28 m/m
Music
 Jeff Buckley
Secret Machines
The Ruts
Jamiroquai
Muse
The Go! Team
Lush
Jane’s Addiction
Marc Almond
The Cooper Temple Clause

Running commute #12

11 comments

I admit it.  I have been slacking.  I bailed out of running altogether at the weekend, not even thinking of doing my 15 mile cross country race or even doing a long run by myself, due to the fact that after a load of wine, chocolate and crisps the night before I was feeling decidedly ropey.

Monday morning sees me back at work after my two week break, the first week of which I spent looking (successfully) for a new job and I tell my boss I was offered another job while I was off and that I’m leaving.  He says that’s nice, well done and that I’ll be missed as I do a good job.   And I tell the agency I’m leaving on Wednesday 30 April and does the new firm want me to start on Thursday or can they wait ’til Tuesday 6 May after the Bank Holiday?  I cross my fingers while I wait for him to get back to me that they don’t mind waiting.  The agency emails and says the Tuesday will be fine.  New job, more money, time off before I start the new one. Result.

This morning I’m feeling the effects of being in the pub all evening the night before without eating and only getting five hours sleep but I have resolved to do a running commute tonight and so a running commute I shall do.

I head off for my commute and I’m glad I won’t have to do it for much longer as soon I’ll have a new commute to do, the route of which I’ve already printed off and it looks like most of it takes me a different way entirely although it still brings me to Murder Mile and as I get to Murder Mile today I see a man and I’m looking at him as there’s something not quite right and I realise it’s because he’s wearing a tie and looks very out of place and it’s still light and I cut through Millfields and decide to go through the marshes and as I get to the stables there’s a man walking through without a dog but I decide he’s just on his way home, same as me, and as I get towards the footbridge there’s a young lad with a dog which would  usually make him more trustworthy in my eyes but as he is drinking a can of Tennants Super and has a pitbull he’s looking more untrustworthy the nearer I get to him and so I speed up over the bridge and back to the safety of the street and cutting through the marshes seems to have knocked almost a mile off my running commute.  Cool.

Stats:
Distance: 5.56 miles
Time: 1:06:44
Pace: 12:00 m/m
Calories: 528
New jobs: 1
Men wearing ties in Murder Mile:  1
Young men drinking Tennants Super with pitbulls: 1
Music:
The Ting Tings
Rollins Band
The Cult
Hole
Faith No More
Plain White Ts
The Killers
U2

Roding Valley Half Marathon race report

10 comments

HILLS!!! There were hills. No one told me about the hills. Loads of them. And mostly uphill ones too. Did I mention the hills? Fuck. My shins are never going to talk to me again. (And yes they did used to talk to me, before you say “what? You have talking shins?”. And no, I can’t tell you what they used to say. A conversation between a girl and her shins is confidential.)

Anyway…

Actually, I need chocolate. To be specific I need a Peanut Butter KitKat Chunky. I have had pizza, garlic bread, twister fries (or whatever they’re called), wine, beer, Deep Heat, more wine, a hot bath, voltarol, more wine, procastination in the form of Scrabulous on Facebook and now I’m going to procrastinate some more before writing this blog in the form of going to the shop in the quest for a PBKKC.

Yah.

I think I need some crisps too.

Angela is harassing me on Facebook to write my blog.

I’ll be back.

In a minute.

After the Peanut Butter KitKat Chunky and crisps emergency.

I am back but Peanut Butter KitKat Chunky-less. Bah.

Right then, proper race report time.

I get up mega mega mega early at 5:30am (that’s 5:30 IN THE MORNING ON A SUNDAY, you know, the time people are getting out of clubs, pah) and look in my Ladybird book of How To Be A Finely Tuned Athlete and it says on race day to eat 800 calories for breakfast. WHAT THE FUCK? 800 calories for breakfast? I don’t even eat 800 calories a day on a non pizza day. Blimey. I decide to go against the grain of the not doing anything new on race day rule and have some toast and peanut butter and also an energy bar and then I think fuck, if there’s a don’t do anything new on race day rule then I might as well have gone out and got pissed last night as I can’t remember the last time I did a long run without a hangover, bollocks.

And then I waste some time on Facebook and check my emails but of course no one is emailing me at 5:30 IN THE MORNING ON A SUNDAY so I mooch around for a bit and check the bus times and I decide to go for the 7:13 bus to Leyton and I leave the house at 7ish and the bus is early and there’s no traffic and it zooms me down to Leyton and I get to the tube and it says the next Epping train will be in 17 minutes. 17 MINUTES? What the fuck? Blimey. I do have lots of time but I don’t really want to be standing around in the tube station for 17 minutes so I play on Facebook and check my emails on my phone but still no one is up because it’s only 7:30 IN THE MORNING ON A SUNDAY and the tube eventually comes and I get on it and get to Woodford and the girl opposite me is wearing running gear and looks like a proper runner to me and I reckon she’s doing the half so I wait for her to get off so I can follow her and she gets off so I follow her but she stops outside the station and I can’t see any other runners about which thwarts my plan of following everyone out of the station so I ask the lost looking girl if she’s doing the half and she says yes and she says do I know the way and I say no, I was hoping to follow you and she says I think it’s this way and so we walk off the way we think it is and there’s two guys behind us following us as they think we know where we’re going and we do find the playing fields and the clubhouse without getting lost and she goes to get changed and I go and sit in the corner and hide and hope no one outs me for being a fake runner and then I think hang on a minute, I’ve got this far and I’ve trained for this, I’m not a fake runner, I’m just a bit slow, and I venture out of my corner but only make it to the next chair and I sit down and hide again and I don’t know if I can leave my stuff here and I’m looking around and can’t see anyone with an iPod and I wonder if it’s a no iPod race and then I remember that I did read the race pack carefully and there was no mention of no iPods and I go to the loo and there’s a woman queueing with an iPod and I say ah, I’m not the only one with an iPod then, I thought I was and she says no, you’re not the only one and I say I thought maybe they weren’t allowed and she says why wouldn’t they be? and another woman behind her says because they’re dangerous and you can’t hear the marshals and the traffic and stuff and I think ooooooooh nooooooooooooooo, it’s one of those anti-iPod people but then I realise she’s also wearing an iPod and I’m pleased to be around kindred iPod spirits and I go outside and wait for my Garmin to get a signal which, being in the countrysideish, only takes a few seconds as opposed to being in the West Endish where it takes a few hours and I see the iPod wearing woman so I go over and say hello and she says I can run with her for the first few miles and I say cool, when actually I’ve just come out in a cold sweat at the thought of running a few miles in a race with someone else but I don’t want to look unfriendly so I stick with her and I say my name’s Cathy and she says she’s Gill and then I go to ask if it’s with a G or a J and then I think if I do that she’ll ask me if my name’s spelt with a C or a K and it’s just going to get complicated and it doesn’t really matter anyway and we make our way down to the start line and Gill says we have to do a lap of the track first, then there’s a smaller lap of about a mile and then there’s two big laps of about six miles with lots of hills and I think LAPS? HILLS? can I go home now? Fuck.

The gun goes off and Gill says to me that if I want to go faster than her then to feel free to just leave her and I say it’s fine, you’re faster than me anyway (having already had the what time are you looking at conversation in the toilet) and we do a lap of the track and then go to go outside the gate where already there has been a collision of runners, leaving three of them on the ground but they don’t look badly hurt and we continue for the first small lap and then there’s a hill which is the first of many and Gill says there’s a lot of hills and I think DON’T TELL ME THAT, I DON’T DO HILLS and about three miles and twenty six hills later Gill says what do you think of the hills and I say they’re not that bad really, not as bad as I was expecting and she says you must be better at hills than you thought (as we’d already had the I don’t do hills conversation) and I’m just thinking that I’ve just done a really slow 5k and I decide I want to speed up a little and just listen to my iPod and I leave Gill and feel a bit bad but think I need to run this race for myself and not be at another person’s pace and especially not for 13.1 miles and so I go off on my own and there’s no water for miles and miles and I’m glad I’ve got my sports drink although it is almost gone seeing as I drank most of it on the way there and I’m quite impressed for getting the hang of using the squirty top thing and that’s another don’t do new on race day thing that I’m doing and the sun is shining and it’s bloody roasting and a few miles later I’m going up ANOTHER HILL and a there’s a woman with a little girl and the little girl has a banner saying GO DADDY and I think aaaaaaaah, sweet and she’s going towards a man and a bit later I go past the 11 mile marker that I will see on the second lap and it reminds me I’ve got about 7 miles to go and I think fuck and I go to go past the man who’s daughter had a banner and he says hello how’s it going and I say I could have done without seeing that 11 mile marker, two miles I could cope with, I’m not sure about another 7 and he starts chatting and I say was that your daughter with the banner? and he says no, she was for someone else, I have all sons and I say ah, I thought she was yours, it was sweet and then I think oh shit, he might think I’m checking him out for kids and eek and I don’t want to run and chat to him for another seven miles and I’m wondering if I can lose him and I get my chance when he says hi to another runner and I speed off and the laps gets to the finish and I think shit I’ve got to do that again and there’s eventually a water station and I grab a bottle of water as my sports drink’s about to run out and there’s ANOTHER HILL and I think that’s unfair and there’s a girl walking and I wonder if it would be patronising if I try to give her some encouragement but she catches my eye and I give her a big smile and say come on and she starts running and we’re chatting and she tells me she left her proper running shoes at work and had to borrow some trainers from a friend and I think ouch and I ask her what other races she’s done and she says this is her first and I think ouch and I ask her if she’s done lots of training and she says a bit here and there and I think ouch and she says she’ll let me go as she’s had enough and wants to walk again so I leave her and go UP THE HILL and these bastard hills are killing me but then I get to the nice scenic downhill bit and my Garmin ticks over the 10 mile mark at 1:45 and I think fuck that’s quick for me and only three miles to go but at 11 miles my shins are burning like someone’s set fire to them and I don’t think I can carry on but I am determined to NOT WALK AN INCH OF MY FIRST HALF MARATHON and so I carry on and I get to the bit where the lollipop marshals stop the traffic but the lollipop marshal doesn’t seem to be stopping the traffic for me and I’m a bit dazed and confused by now so I go up to the marshal and he says just cross when the cars slow down and I think AREN’T YOU GOING TO STOP THE TRAFFIC FOR ME?  DON’T MAKE ME MAKE MY OWN DECISIONS.  Fuck.  And so I have to cross the road on my own and I manage this without getting run over and I’m looking at my Garmin and it’s going so so slowly and I think my shins are going to leave me and get a taxi home and then at 12:9 miles I’m stuck behind two pensioners on crutches and there’s railings on the side of the pavement and I can’t get around them and I think fuck can I kick their crutches out from underneath them? and I think probably not and I eventually get around them and back to the playing fields and Ben, Sheila and Eleanor are there and they give me a big cheer as I get round the corner and I don’t know where the finish line is so I keep going and then I think I’ve finished and I hear someone call me and I look round and it’s Bernard and I think yay my friends have come to see me and I stop and say hang on a minute and I go and get my medal and my goody bag and then I go back down to see my mates and inspect my goody bag which consists of a bottle of sports drink and a Mars Bar and I have hated Mars Bars ever since I had one when I was five years old and promptly threw up afterwards and say who likes Mars Bars? and Bernard and Eleanor both say I do at the same time so I give it Eleanor what with her being 12 and that and then we try and find something to eat while I try to walk and we fail hopelessly at finding something to eat due to it being Mother’s Day and everywhere being booked and I fail hopelessly at walking due to my shins having left me and getting a taxi somewhere around mile 12, so we end up at Ben and Sheila’s eating delivery pizza, garlic bread, twister fries and lemon drizzle cake.  Yah.

Today’s route

Racing bling

Stats:
Distance: 13:15 miles
Time: 2:19:44
Pace: 10:37
Calories: 1272
Hills: Twenty six million
Mars Bars: 1
Shins leaving me to get a taxi: 2
Music:
The Twang
Hole
Faith No More
B52s
Bobby Conn
Arctic Monkeys
The Music
Muse
The Damned

A slight change in half-marathon plan

4 comments

I am tempted away from going to my personal trainer open evening by an offer of wine and pizza so this morning I get up not very bright and not very breezy after four hours’ sleep and think oh shit I’ve got to do a running commute tonight and before I leave for work I email the organisers of the Brentwood half as I haven’t got my number yet and I’ve heard from others that they have so I ask them if they’ve all been sent out and if so, can they check I’m entered and I keep checking my email and I get a reply from the organiser who says that they have no record of my entry. Fuck. But I’m sure the cheque has been cashed and will have to check on the cheque situation when I get home but in the meantime I decide to enter the Woodford half instead which is on 2 March. As in A WEEK ON SUNDAY. Oh my god. It’s only a week before Brentwood but I’ve been following my training schedule diligently which finishes on race day which is 9 March not 2 March and it also means I’m going to have to drop out of the Heathside 5 but I must be destined not to do the Brentwood half as first I had problems entering online and now my postal entry has been stolen by a postman with a half-marathon postal entry form fetish. Just my luck.

And while I’m at work muttering “bastard half-marathon postal entry form fetishistic postmen” a lot, an email comes through from HR asking if anyone’s interested in getting corporate gym membership and I think hell yeah, and I email Kate and say woo hoo, I’m getting free or cheap gym membership although I really really don’t want work people in the gym when I’m there and she emails back and says yes, I wouldn’t want to have to make polite chit chat first thing in the morning and I email back and say yes and apart from that, I really really don’t want to see people I work with naked, seeing work people with no clothes on is JUST PLAIN WRONG. Very very wrong indeed.

5:00 eventually comes around and I go to get changed and go to do my running commute and my right knee and left shin are niggling a bit and I think why niggle now? you’ve been fine for two days and I’m hoping they don’t get any worse and my running commute is uneventful apart from nearly getting run over by a motorbike when I lose concentration due to turning up my iPod to an ear-bleeding volume when David Bowie starts asking is there life on Mars and when I get home my right knee and left shin are no more painful than when I started out and I think yay and I check out the chequebook situation and the chequebook is new and the first used cheque is dated after I would have sent off my Brentwood entry and I think shit I can guarantee I would have thrown away the stubs from the old chequebook and so I go online to check my bank statements but the website is down.

I am jinxed.

Oh and Phil aka sorelimbs is back in blogland, hurrah. Go and check him out.

Stats:
 Distance: 6.31 miles
Time: 1:10:12
Pace: 11:07 m/m
Calories: 593
Changes in half-marathons: 1
Postmen with a half-marathon postal entry fetish: 1
Motorbikes nearly running me over: 1
Music:
Courtney Love
Plain White T’s
David Bowie
Faith No More
Graham Coxon
Scissor Sisters
The Strokes
Black Wire
Charlotte Hatherley
Elliot Smith

A (relatively) pain free 12 miles

5 comments

I am woken up from my dream about being in New York by a text message saying have a good run and I think oh, it must be Saturday and I’m wondering if my right knee and my left shin are up to it as I’ve been resting since having to bail out of Tuesday’s running commute (which was actually two-thirds and not three-quarters so maybe after my creative writing course has finished I should do one in basic mathematics) and I haven’t even been to the gym and I am feeling like a fat lardy cow due to having been out drinking and eating pizza again this week and yesterday’s overconsumption comprised of having two lunches and troughing a whole malt loaf in one go and staying up late watching telly and drinking wine and eating chocolate and crisps in between icing my knee and applying voltarol to it and so I’m hoping I’m up to a 12 miler as per my schedule and I take control of my iPod and choose what it’s going to play instead of letting it randomly choose for me like when I’m cooking dinner and pretending to be a domestic goddess whilst trying to retain an air of cool sophistication when a six minute long Grease mega-mix comes on and any illusions of street cred I may have once thought I ever had rapidly disappear and I’m scared to go out in case it hurts but I eventually get out the door and head off and I think hmm, it’s a bit ouchy, and I reassess how I run and I realise I run very flatfootedly and if I put my heel down first it cushions the impact a bit and my shin hurts less and I think I will take it easy and go slowly and see how it is and after a mile I get to my favourite bridge and I stretch a bit and I get to the pub by the river and I look under the bridge to see where it leads from and I think I know where and I decide I will try that way next week and I get round Hackney Marshes ok without my leg falling off and I’m going over the boardwalk in Walthamstow Marshes when twins pass me and they must be in their 60s and they have an identical hairstyle and are dressed identically in the same scarf, coat and shoes and I think oh my god, they must have been like that their entire lives and will probably die after never having had their own identity and then I think I see the cows but realise they’re dogs and I think I seriously need glasses and I remember I’m going to go and buy some on Wednesday and Tracey’s coming with me to tell me how crap I look as glasses don’t suit me ever ever ever and then we’re going to drink free Budweiser and on Thursday I’m going out for beer and pancakes for Gary’s birthday and then I’m giving up drinking as I need to reassess my drinking habits and get fit and do a course in sports nutrition and I’m pretty sure drinking doesn’t feature very high in sports nutrition and I get to Tottenham Marshes and I think shall I stop off at the shop and buy a flapjack as I haven’t made any bread and I’m starving and I won’t be able to have any toast and I decide to carry on as I’m not thirsty and don’t really need to stop as I feel fine and anyway my half’s in three weeks so I only have today’s long run and next weekend’s to train and there will be no stopping to buy flapjacks in Brentwood and so I ignore the pictures of the ice cream at the shop and carry on and get up to the bridge at the end of the marshes and come back down the other side of the river and two people on a tandem go past me and I get to ten miles and I’m feeling a bit tired and I think only two miles to go and I get to eleven miles and I’m feeling a bit feeble but there’s only a mile left and I get home and my race number for the London Heathside 5 in two weeks is there, hurrah.

Stats:
 Distance: 12:36 miles
Time: 2:17:54
Pace: 11:09 m/m
Calories: 1,107
Old lady twins: 2
Tandems: 1
Stopping at shops to buy flapjacks: 0
Race numbers: 1
Music:
Courtney Love
Plain White T’s
Faith No More
Graham Coxon
Scissor Sisters
The Dude
The Strokes
Black Wire
Charlotte Hatherley
Elliot Smith
Divide & Kreate

I am not amused

3 comments

I hear about Niketown’s running club which goes out on Mondays and Tuesdays at 6:30pm and I think that is exactly what I need, although Monday is sexist night as it’s for ladies only and the longest run is 4.5 miles, but on Tuesdays it’s for everyone and the longest run is 7.5 miles.  Don’t they think girls can run 7.5 miles?  Cheek.  But I try all day to ring them to see if they’re still doing it and I can’t get through, all I get is a recorded Yank telling me to press 1 if I want to know the store times.  Bollocks.  I don’t want a wasted journey going up to Oxford Street for no reason as I know I’ll never get out the door when I get home if there’s no running club and so I go straight home and try to leave the house without opening the post or checking Facebook or my email and I manage one of the three and I’ve received my race pack for the Serpentine New Year’s Day 10k and it says STRICTLY NO HEADPHONES and I think they must really mean it as not only have they written it in uppercase but it’s also in bold and underlined and they say if anyone is found to be wearing headphones they’ll have their race number taken away and disqualified and I think well, you’re welcome to take my race number as you’ve given me number sixty fucking nine which is SO NOT FUNNY.  And I’m looking at my race number and I think I can’t wear that, people will laugh at me and I turn it upside down but it still says 69 and I think well, it would do really wouldn’t it, and I think why can’t they just leave out number 69, like Americans leave out floor no. 13 and I don’t want to wear my race number and I think maybe I’ll go out on New Year’s Eve after all.

I eventually leave the house after checking Facebook but resisting the urge to check my email and head off on my five mile route and as usual there’s too much traffic and having to stop every two yards to cross the road is seriously pissing me off and then I’m wondering what the song is that’s just come on my iPod and I run out in front of a car and I think oops, maybe the race organisers have a point about the headphones and I say sorry to the woman who nearly ran me over and I carry on and I get to the corner of the High Street and I think to pass the time I’ll count how many kebab shops and takeaways there are between here and the station and then I go past the Vic pub and they’ve got a sign up saying they’ve got a roof terrace and I think since when? do they just mean you can sit on the roof? and I think I should investigate, maybe on Saturday and then I realise that I am so intrigued by the Vic’s roof terrace that I’ve forgotten to count the kebab shops and I was up to 13 and then I’m going down Lea Bridge Road and there’s a power cut on the side of the road I’m on and it’s not making me feel any safer and there’s a tower block which is completely unlit, except for three windows which have lights flickering in them and they must be sitting in candlelight and then I’m back on a bit which has lights and it’s not like the 70s anymore and then I go round the corner and a hoodie comes along and leans over and says something to me but I can’t hear what he says and I think well, there’s a plus point for my iPod but then I think I probably wouldn’t have been able to understand him anyway, even if I didn’t have my music on and then I’m nearly home and I think I need to change my route and find a quieter one as an hour to do 5 miles is really shit.

Stats:
Distance: 5.10 miles
Time: 1:00:13
Pace: 11:48
Dodgy race numbers: 1
Cars nearly running me over: 1
Power cuts: 1
Unintelligible hoodies: 1
Music:
Baby Teeth
Devo
Elysian Fields
Edie Sedgwick
Editors
The Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster
Eminem
The Electric Soft Parade

The week that was

6 comments

This is the week that saw me do absolutely fuck all and not wanting to face the world.  So I didn’t.  But Saturday mornings are for thinking what did I do this week and why is my house so untidy as my house being untidy isn’t a good sign and so Operation Get My Shit Together (Part 2) will have to begin.  Starting with getting out of the house for a run.  So I did.  Plus I was spurred on by the fact that I could wear my  Robin Hood t-shirt and as it mentions the full marathon people will clearly think I’m a finely tuned athlete and not think that I did the fun run that it also mentions.

I went up to the park and just as my Garmin kicked into action I could see a girl running on the path towards me and so I thought FUCKING BOLLOCKS and turned round and went in the other direction and there were a load of people on the path and so I thought I’d go up to the sports field and I as I get there I can see a couple of people up there and I stop and wonder if it’s going to be too annoying and I decide it probably won’t be that annoying as it’s only a couple of people and if I can’t even handle two people in a big fuck off field then I am in trouble and so I run round the field and I look at my Garmin and it says 6 minutes and I think 6 minutes? fuck, it feels like 6 hours and I feel like stopping but I think I can’t stop at 6 minutes and I carry on but a few minutes later I do stop and I walk to the end of the field and get back onto the street and I think surely I can run the rest of the way home and so I start to run again but after about six feet I stop and turn off my Garmin and go home to continue with Operation Get My Shit Together (Part 2).

Stats:
Distance: 1.19 miles
Time: 13:56
Pace: 11:40
Calories: 107
Music:
Devo
The Cure
Sex Pistols
Primal Scream
Hard Fi

Tottenham Marshes 5 Run the River race report

14 comments

My leg had been hurting after my 6 mile run/walk/stop to take photos on Saturday in the same way it’d been hurting on Wednesday after my 8 mile treadmill extravaganza on Tuesday but it felt ok on Sunday and I’m not one to waste my race entry fee and miss out on a post-race piss-up so walked the three miles to the start of the race and everything was fine until I got to 2.5 miles and I thought oh no, my leg is hurting, I’m going to have to stop and walk the last 2.5 miles and then a girl overtook me and her shorts were falling down and showing her bum crack and I though oh no, I can’t look at her bum crack for 2.5 miles, I’m going to have to either speed up or slow right down but I can’t speed up as my leg’s hurting and I carry on and she falls behind and I get to 2.9 miles and the path turns to grass and I think oh shit, nobody told me I’d have to run on grass, I don’t like running on grass as it’s all soft and lumpy and bumpy and it’ll do my leg in more but at 3.3 miles it turned back to path so yay, and at 4 miles I think my leg’s going to fall off and I walk for a few seconds and Bum Crack Girl overtakes me but luckily she’s pulled her shorts back up by then and at 4.4 miles I have to stop and walk because my leg is seriously hurting and I think I’m going to be limping over the finish line and then I think am I fuck limping over the finish line and so I start running again and I get to the finish line and my Garmin tells me I’ve done it in 50:27 which is my fastest time ever. Yay. But I don’t get any of the brownies or muffins because Bear fails to tell me that they were there but we walk a mile back down Tottenham Marshes to the pub and just as we’re about to order lunch, our table gets invaded and invaded by smokers nonetheless which, as a non-smoker, impresses me not, so we go through Walthamstow Marshes and and try to spot the cows that are still lying down, the lazy bastards, and go to the pub by the river which is overrun with screaming and scabby babies and then we go to another pub and by the time we leave we are a bit pissed. And I am a bit sunburnt.

Stats:
Distance: 4.98 miles
Time: 50:27
Pace: 10:07
Calories: 484

Lardathon Day #8
Lunch/dinner: Spinach and ricotta cannelloni with salad and garlic bread
Lard based confessions: Shitloads of beer
Exercise:
Running: 5 miles
Walking: 8 miles

Lardathon Day #9
Starting weight: 9 st 4
Current weight: 9 st 2
Breakfast: Muesli & soya yoghurt
Lunch: Quorn ham slices and salad sandwich on granary bread
Dinner: Thai flavoured mushroom stroganoff with golden rice
Other: Apple, nectarine
Lard based confessions: Few squares Green & Black’s Dark Chocolate, wine, beer
Exercise:
Walking: 1.5 miles
Rowing machine: 20 minutes
Elliptical trainer: 10 minutes

Lardathon Day #8

5 comments

It’s 7am on a Sunday morning and I haven’t got a hangover.  That can only mean one thing.  Race day again.  Why can’t they have more races on a Saturday?  Would be far more civilised.  And why can’t they have more races in Central, East or North London?  Still, I suppose the more races they have that I can get to, the less Saturday nights I have to stay up late partying.   Today’s race is in Tottenham and I haven’t even decided how to get there yet.  Think it’s going to be a three mile walk up there, then after the race, a walk down to the pub for lunch.  Yay.

Crisis Square Mile Run race report

17 comments

I really wasn’t looking forward to last night’s race due to me not being fully recovered from Tuesday night’s excesses and having a stomach ache all afternoon and hoped the walk up to St Paul’s would wake me up. I got to St Paul’s station and met up with my fellow racers Gary and Kate, and Bernard the official bag lookerafterer.

We checked in, got our red t-shirts and me and Kate went to the pub to get changed and bumped into Al at the bar who was supposed to be meeting Kate outside in the square but who had obviously got his priorities right by getting himself a beer first.

After what seemed like about two million years the race eventually started. After crossing the start line at about what also seemed like about two million years later, I got about ten yards down the road when I saw Ben standing at the railings so I stopped and went over and said what are you doing here, why didn’t you come to find us outside Corney & Barrow and he said he’d just finished work. I said oh, are you going to be at the finish line, Bernard and Al will be there, they’re outside the pub at the mo and Ben said maybe, where’s Gary and Kate? I said they’re running. Ben said well you’d better get a move on then and stop standing here, you can’t let them beat you so off I went hoping to overtake and leave for dust catch up with Gary and Kate and for the next half mile it was practically at a standstill with thousands of runners and narrow roads and steps to go up and down and it was at a standstill at London Bridge with everyone trying to crowd into the steps there.

And I’m running and running and running but I still can’t see Gary or Kate and I’m thinking they’re going to beat me but I have an excuse in that I stopped to talk to Ben and then I get to the Millennium Bridge which is just before the finish line and I’m running up to the finish line but I can’t see Gary, Kate, Bernard or Al and I think where is everybody? I finish in 33:08, yay, but there’s no-one here and I’m thinking how will I find them, Bernard’s got my bag with my phone in it so I can’t ring anyone so I walk down to watch the runners come over the bridge and I see Kate coming and so I clap and say yay, go Kate but she doesn’t see me so I wander up to meet her and bump into Al and say oh, there you are, where have you been and he says I didn’t expect any of you to finish for about another 20 minutes and we go and find Kate and I say well done and a couple of minutes later Gary comes along too and then Bernard turns up and says oops, I’m in the doghouse now, sorry I wasn’t there at the finish line but we didn’t think you’d be back yet and I say we are finely tuned athletes and we’ve been here for ages while you couldn’t be bothered to leave the pub to come and cheer us over the finish line.

We wander back up to the square to get our goody bags and have a goody bag inspection and the general consensus is that they’re pretty shit really and Kate says that she was expecting more for all that effort and inside the goody bag is a pink transparent raincoat kind of thing which is an exceptionally sexy little number and I will post a photo of it later. I’m going to wear it all the time because it will undoubtedly make me more attractive to members of the opposite sex. Yeah right.

We go off to the pub for the obligatory post-race piss-up pint and Gary says apropos of nothing that pandas don’t like to have sex with other pandas and Bernard says who do they like to have sex with then and I say probably not middle-aged men so I wouldn’t get your hopes up if I were you and after our intellectual debate about the sexual preferences of pandas we go off to another pub and argue about who’s getting the drinks in and then we go to get pizza, yay. We then go to the pub which only has the fact that it’s open ’til midnight going for it and stay there until we realise that we’re about to miss the last tube and I want to go to Liverpool Street so we get on what the destination board says is a Circle Line via Liverpool Street train which turns out to be a complete lie as we don’t realise we’re on the wrong train until we get to Whitechapel and so I have to go to Mile End and get on the Central Line to Leyton and get a taxi from Evil Cars but I decide I’m sober enough to walk further to the nice cab office and I eventually get home, yay.

Oh yes and I said to Kate did you enjoy the race and she said yes she really enjoyed it and I said I’m doing a race in Regent’s Park on 21 July, do you want to do it too, it’s only 5k, less than we’ve just run and she says yes. Yay, I’ve got a convert 🙂

I will update later with stats and maps and stuff.

Oh and in case you think I’m wimping out of today’s Juneathon, I’ve brought my gym stuff in with me and shall be making a trip to the gym at lunchtime. I am indeed a finely tuned athlete.

Juneathon day #8 update

I have been to the gym so today’s Juneathon is completed and I can spend the evening vegging out in front of the telly and hope I don’t accidentally watch Big Brother. I have resisted so far.

Gym stats:
Treadmill: 15 minutes between 8.6 & 10kph
Rowing machine: 15 minutes
Cross-trainer: 2 minutes

I had felt energised after being on the treadmill and was fine on the rowing machine, but after 2 minutes on the cross-trainer, realised that I was actually quite knackered so went to get my lunch instead.

1 2 3 4 5