Injury!

18 comments

swollen_ankle.jpg

This is what the countryside did to me, I used to have an ankle, now I have an elephant’s foot.  This never happened in London.  Stupid countryside.

Still, after Sarah suggested soaking a cloth in apple cider vinegar, putting the cloth around my ankle and wrapping it in clingfilm, today I woke up with it feeling 1000 times better; still swollen but I can now walk up the stairs without Shaun laughing at me I should be saved from having to have any physiotherapy.

Result.

(sorry about crap photo, my pc is broken and I’m on an old version of WordPress and don’t know how to upload the photos properly)

Stats:
Elephant’s feet: 1
Ankles smelling of vinegar: 1
Crap photos: 1

 

He hasn’t deserted us, Chief Juneathon is back!

10 comments

I can’t run.  I have a very swollen and bruised ankle because of the stupid countryside roads without pavements.  I never fell over in the marshes, oh no.  I did fall over a football during my first 10k but that was nearly three years ago and since then, except for wine based unbalancing acts, I have stayed upright.  Until I moved to the flipping stupid poxy waste of space countryside.

So, today, instead of running I played on the computer and was speaking to Joggerblogger (or [rich] as he likes to be known these days) on Twitter and I asked him if I should take over Juneathon or was he going to do it?  And he said I should take over, as he’d feel a fake as he can’t run.  So I said but you can draw everyday and he liked this idea and hurrah, our leader is back and going to post up the new run, exercise or draw Juneathon 2009 rules shortly.

Yippee.

Road 1 Me 0

6 comments

As yesterday’s run was more of a run a bit, take photos of sheep, run a bit more, take photos of lambs and run a bit, take photos of cows kind of run, today I decided to be a proper hardcore runner and go for a run without my camera and not stopping to look at the cute farmyard animals, especially as, since I cancelled my gym membership, either my scales are lying or I need to do more exercise.  And obviously eat less crisps (and somehow cakes have crept into the fridge) but one thing at a time, eh?

I spend most of the morning procrastinating as usual before putting my trainers on and I even excel in my usual procrastinations by wasting time looking for cat poo, as the cat and I moved in on Saturday and she hasn’t been in her litter tray yet but has weed on the rug which Shaun was really pleased with.  At least, I think he was, as he marched into the living room with a brush and a bucket full of disinfectant and I know how much he likes cleaning, so she did him a favour really.

As I put my Garmin outside to get a signal, the cat makes a break for freedom and I get her back in the house and she meows at me and I shut her in the house and run up the road and when I turn the corner I see some old people with dogs and an old lady says hello and I try not to make eye contact in case she has magical powers and turns me into a countryside person and I mumble hello and look at my feet and in a field is a bunny and I think aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah, cute bunny and then there’s a baby bunny and I think AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH, CUTE BABY BUNNY and he runs off and then there’s another baby bunny sitting with the lambs and I wonder if it’s the same bunny? and how come it’s scared of me and not scared of the lambs? and then I’m on the road with the corners and I get to the bend I didn’t like the most yesterday and I go further to the edge and my ankle ends up in a hole and the rest of me ends up in the road and I think ouch and I want to get up off the road before I get run over and I stand up and a tractor goes past and then three cars behind it and I take a few steps and my ankle’s not that bad and I carry on running and I think I’ve gone past where the cows live as I didn’t see any and didn’t see any fields I recognise as being the one they live in and I must have been too traumatised after falling over to notice them and I think that I’ll have to either a) give up running and get fat; or b) move back to London where we have PROPER PLACES TO RUN IN and then I see the sign for Headcorn and I don’t remember seeing the other sign that says it’s a mile and a quarter away and then I think I’m on the road that turns into a pavement in a bit and then it does turn into a pavement and I get round the corner and walk up the hill to get over the trauma.

Stats:
Distance: 2.34 miles
Time: 24:59
Pace: 10:41 m/m
Calories: 207
Cats weeing on rugs: 1
Old ladies with magical powers: 1
Bunnies: 1
Baby bunnies: 2
Cows: 0
Roads fallen onto: 1
Twisted ankles: 1
Londoners moving back to London: 1

Baa, moo (learning the language of the country)

8 comments

I moved to the countryside on Saturday and I was going to go for a run yesterday but it looked a bit windy, so I stayed in instead, trying to remember the new systems of the house, such as cold drinks go in the cold drinks cupboard and hot drinks go in the hot drinks cupboard, unless they’re unopened cold drinks, then they go in the hot drinks cupboard until they’re opened, then they go into the cold drinks cupboard.  And also there is a specific space for tinned tomatoes in the cupboard and I need to learn how to close curtains properly.  And I thought he was an easy going kind of chap. 

But today I thought I would be brave and venture out and try not to get run over by a tractor or a sheep or run over by anything really and I decide to be sensible and not take my iPod so I can hear the cars coming as I’m going to have to run along those stupid roads without pavements things but I am unable to get out of the door without it and I decide to be semi-sensible and take it with me but have it on low and I can’t be bothered to wait for my Garmin to get a signal and I think it will probably be a lot quicker round here anyway so I start without it and hope I can remember where I need to turn off and after a little while my Garmin gets a signal and I carry on running and I see a turning and I think I need to go down there and I cross the road and there’s a car coming and Shaun said there wouldn’t be any cars but I don’t think he’s to be trusted anyway, as he could have told me about the cold drinks/hot drinks thing before I moved in and discovered he had OCD and then I could have stayed at home with my cupboards that are in disarray with hot and cold drinks happily intermingling and I could put the tinned tomatoes anywhere I feel like it, maybe in the hot drinks cupboard if I’m feeling particularly rebellious and then I get to a field with nothing in it

and I think what’s the point of having a field with nothing in it? there should be sheep in it and I wonder when I’ll see some sheep and just up the road there’s some lambs chasing a pigeon

and I think aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah, cute, and across the road are more sheep

and I think I’m bored of sheep now and I want to see some cows but I’m not up to where the cows live yet, but there are some more lambs playing with some hay or straw or something

and then I see an escaped lamb

and I wonder how he got out and maybe I can steal him and take him home with me, as he’s cuter than the ugly sheep at the bottom of the garden and then I get to where the cows live but they’re a bit far away

and so I leave the far away cows and carry on running and then there’s another road and I don’t remember this road being here when Shaun took me out on Sunday to show me the route and I wonder if I’ve gone the wrong way and I carry on going left and don’t recognise anything because it’s all just green and looks the same everywhere and no burnt out cars or shopping trolleys to act as a landmark and seven cars come down the road and I could have sworn Shaun said I wouldn’t see any cars and I’m getting fed up of getting out of the way of cars and I can’t see round the corners and I think if a car comes round the corner I’m going to get squished and then a car does come fast round a corner and I nearly fall into a ditch full of nettles and I think I want to go home to London and run round the marshes and I don’t like the stupid countryside with its stupid pavementless roads and nowhere to run and then I’m nearly home and back on a pavement and there’s a squashed dead pigeon with no head and I wonder where its head’s gone and I get home without being run over.

Route

Stats:
Distance: 2.4 miles
Time: 31:00
Pace: 12:43 m/m
Calories: 222
Boyfriends with OCD: 1
Lambs: lots
Sheep: lots
Far away cows: lots
Pigeons with no heads: 1
Roads with pavements: 1 and a bit.

 

Everything looks like a cow

10 comments

For some strange reason, although I was up early yesterday, spent the day out and about or inside packing, and completely knackered by the evening and falling asleep reading my book in bed, then I couldn’t sleep and kept waking up and was even woken up by the cat being sick and the bread machine doing it’s thing and so at 6:30am I get up before my fake sunrise comes on and before the bread machine has finished doing its thing and as I’m not aching after yesterday’s pitifully slow three miler, I decide to do another run.  Woo, get me, Miss Finely Tuned Athlete.

I clean up the cat sick and go into the bedroom to get changed into my running gear and I realise that yesterday when I carefully picked out enough clothes, including running gear (on the assumption that I’d do two more runs this week) to last me until Saturday as I packed away all my other clothes (two bin bags full for the bin, four bin bags full coming with me), I didn’t keep out any running socks and so I’ve got to wear normal socks to run in and then I’ve got to decide whether to wear the ones with monkeys, sheep, cats or cows on and I decide on the ones with sheep on and my Garmin gets a signal in record time and I leave the house at 7:30am hoping the postman doesn’t come in the next half an hour as I’m expecting three more parcels of stuff I bought via eBay and I hope I don’t have to wait all day for the postman as I need to get to the sorting office before 1:00 when it shuts to see if they’ve had my parcel from Saturday returned there yet and I don’t want my tenant getting all my parcels and parading around in my new sunglasses, whilst drinking out of my new cow mug and making jewellery with my new beads.

Ladybird Book of Farm AnimalsI go to the marshes via the boring way first this time and as I go towards the bridge another runner’s coming towards me and I think, aah, another hardcore runner, running early in the morning, I bet he says hello to me, the hardcore runners are usually the friendliest and he does indeed say hello to me and I say hello back, so he knows I’m also a hardcore runner and not just a red-faced shuffling thing and I get through the bridge and I think I see cows and then I think no, they’re not cows because a) the cows aren’t due back until July; and b) they’re horses and I think I’d better get the Ladybird Book of Farm Animals before I move so I don’t go up to horses and say moo and look stupid in front of the Country People.

And then I’m back to thinking about what to pack next, as I’ve still got a desk to sort out and the entire contents of my kitchen to pack and I think I could pack all my dishes and stuff and just use one plate and knife and fork and wash them up every day and then I think HUSH!  WHAT AM I THINKING? DO MY OWN WASHING UP? I don’t think so and then my thoughts turn to Juneathon and I wonder if Joggerblogger/[rich] will mind if I take over if he can’t do it this year and Hauling My Carcass has asked what the Rules of Juneathon are and so here’s a quick rundown and I will be reminding everyone later in the month and cracking the whip then.

Juneathon rules
Run or exercise every day
Blog about it

Easy, huh?

And then I get home and my hair’s all over the place and I think maybe I should get a hairband like the new doctor in Eastenders wears when he’s out for a run (which seems to be most of the time) and I think no, he looks like a dork.

Stats:
Distance: 3.03 miles
Time: 34:20
Pace: 11:20 m/m
Calories: 255
Cat sick: 1
Fresh loaves of bread: 1
Pairs of sheep socks: 1
Hardcore runners recognising me as a fellow hardcore runner and not a red-faced shuffling thing: 1
Horses: lots
Cows: 0
Plates I’m going to wash up myself: 0
Rules of Juneathon: 2
New dorky looking doctors in Eastenders who do nothing but run all day: 1
Music:
Foo Fighters
Duran Duran
Electric Soft Parade
B52’s
Cardiacs & Affectionate Friends

Back to the beginning

14 comments

I am so unfit.  I ran the Saturday before last, just a slow three miles, and then was aching for days afterwards.  Oh dear.  I didn’t think my little 20 minutes most lunchtimes effort in the gym counted for much although it obviously did as I am turning into a bit of a bloater, even if the scales this morning did show me as 9st 3 which, although isn’t too bad, is still the wrong side of 9st for my liking.

But as I had to cancel my gym membership, due to me now being unemployed and a lady of leisure (although I’m waiting for the leisure bit to kick in,  hmm, I think I’m waiting for the lady bit too), I’m going to have to up my training on the running front and so last night I thought to myself, I’m going to go out for three miles first thing tomorrow morning, but then I remembered that I had to go to the Post Office to collect a parcel and they’re only open in the morning and also I had to go to the letting agents to give them lots of money and also needed to buy a disgusting lampshade fit for a tenant (or more to the point, a lampshade that will fit over a Fire Angel Smoke Alarm) and so I thought to myself I’ll just have to get up early and so this morning I got up at 6:50 and only waste an hour on Facebook and I wonder whether I need a long sleeve t-shirt or will a short sleeve one do and I go to the drawer where all my running and gym stuff is crammed into and I pull out what I think is my long sleeve red t-shirt but it’s my little Helly Hansen top and I think I’ll wear that, it fits nicely and at least I’ll look ok from the neck down and I wait about three years for my Garmin to get a signal and I leave the house and after a little while I want to stop and walk and I feel like I’m a beginner at running again and I look at my Garmin and it says I’ve only gone .5 of a mile and I think oh dear and a little bit later I wonder if I’ve gone a mile yet and my Garmin says I’ve gone one mile exactly and then I see a train heading towards Liverpool Street station and I think ha ha ha, I’m not on that train and I don’t have to be on that train again, hurrah, and then I think I wouldn’t be on that train anyway as I wouldn’t be leaving for another half an hour and I wonder if all the people on the platform who I used to see every day but never talked to will realise I’m not there anymore, people like Fred Perry Tattoo Neck Man; Mr & Mrs Minger; Noel Gallagher Lookalike Man; Andy from Corrie Lookalike Man; Short Black Girl and the Really Annoying Talking Woman and I wonder if they had a name for me and I think it’s probably best I don’t know and I go under the bridge and a cyclist makes me jump and I struggle up the slope really steep bit and there’s an old man with about sixteen dogs and he says morning and I say morning back and I hope he doesn’t call an ambulance as I sound like I’m about to do a Heather in Eastenders and collapse with an asthma attack and my Garmin gets to 1.44 miles and I think come on, just another mile and a half, that’s nothing and I’m going so slowly I might as well be walking and I think it may well just be another mile and a half but I think it’s going to take me three weeks to do it and I eventually get home and bloody hell, I’m knackered.

Stats:
Distance: 3.01 miles
Time: 33:54
Pace: 11:16 m/m
Calories: 261
Jobs: 0
Gym memberships: 0
Music:
Foo Fighters
Levellers
Faith No More
Hole

Flora London Marathon 2009

2 comments

I didn’t run the Flora London Marathon this year (or any other year for that matter), I entered the ballot for the first time ever but I was a reject.  Although that was possibly for the best, as my training for the Kent Coastal Marathon last year only consisted of a week’s training, which was promptly ditched when I found out that a) the first half of the course was hilly; and b) I couldn’t wear my iPod.

So congratulations to Adele and all the other nutters runners who ran yesterday and who were probably a bit surprised to find out that it was a gorgeous sunny day with nothing but blue skies and no sign of the grey cloud and heavy showers that the wonderfully inept BBC weather website had predicted only the day before.

And with that in mind, if I ever get onto the Virgin London Marathon website and manage to enter the ballot for next year (which is looking unlikely as apparently due to unprecedented demand [i.e. they forgot that it gets oversubscribed by about 120,000 people each year, duh] the website is down), with the weather forecast being so unreliable, I’m going to have more sartorial dilemma’s than Leighsa when she went to the physio.  What running gear do I wear?  Shorts and sun visor?  Tracksuit bottoms, reject’s fleece and golf umbrella?  Maybe I’ll just stick to being a pantomime horse.

Name and shame: CIS (Co-operative Insurance Services)

5 comments

Since the age of about 30, I have tried to be a responsible, law-abiding citizen (yes, ok, so I’m a late developer to the responsible, law-abiding citizen thing) and so I ring my mortgage company to tell them I’m moving and putting tenants in my house and do I need to inform them? and the man on the phone says yes, you need our consent and it will cost you £225 and you also need to change your insurance to a landlord policy.  So I ring up my insurance company and say hello, I’m moving house and putting tenants in and need to change my policy.  I’m asked for the policy number of the insurance of where I’m moving to.  Huh? I want to change the policy of where I’m moving from, not to.  Woman on the phone says I need to have my insurance with them at the place I’m moving to if I want to have landlord insurance on my current property.  Huh?  Can you say that again please?  She repeats what she just said and I say but it’s not my property, the insurance there is nothing to do with me, I just want to change the insurance on my property.  She says I can’t, unless where I’m moving to is insured with them.  But it’s not my property.  She says it doesn’t matter, you have to have insurance with us at your main residential address if you want our insurance on another property you own.  BUT THAT’S CRAZY I say.  She says that’s their policy.  I say well I’m going to have to cancel my insurance with you then.  She says yes I will, and she’ll cancel it from now.  BUT YOU CAN’T CANCEL IT FROM NOW, I STILL LIVE THERE I say.  She says ok, when do you want to cancel it from?  I say I’ll call you back.  I phone my bank and say can I have some landlord insurance please and the nice man says yes you can and it sounds like a pretty reasonable price too so I get my insurance with them and phone the crappy CIS or The Co-operative Insurance or whatever they’re called now and say stick your insurance up your arse you idiots.

Stats:
Insurance companies who are idiots: 1
Nice banks who gave me insurance: 1
Blog posts about running: 0

 

These boots weren’t made for walking

4 comments

This time last year, I was just about to leave my job and start a new job and get sacked from the new job three weeks later (obviously I didn’t know about the getting sacked bit this time last year).  When I got the sack, I decided not to mope about but to find something new and different to do and what I found was a Facebook advert asking me if I wanted to climb up and down three mountains in three days and I thought to myself, do I want to climb up and down three mountains in three days? and I thought no, not really, but I might meet some fit men, so I signed up and then read the things to buy list which at the top was walking boots and so I went into Blacks and Snow & Rock looking for some sexy walking boots and came away with the impression that sexy walking boots do. not. exist.

This impression was further compounded by this video about Keen Sandals which has been brought to my attention.  I should have had alarms ringing just by the mention of the word “keen” and the word “sandals”.  Can it get any worse?  Can the image of middle-aged men be any stronger?  Still, I watched the video and they sound quite impressive with their toe protectors which apparently stop your toes from getting bruised, which I certainly could have done with after three days going up and down mountains and they’ve even got a recycled sole for all you tree-huggers out there and they have an alternative to leather which are salt water resistant so you can, um, go swimming in them or something but the only thing that appeals to me is the bunjee cord instead of a normal lace, as for some reason I have the dexterity skills of a two year old and can not do my laces up so they stay done up for more than about an hour.  Still, the man on the video says they’re a design classic, and who am I to argue?

A fashion guide to the countryside

3 comments

As you may have noticed, I haven’t blogged for a while and you also may have noticed that the last time I blogged it was about how I didn’t run the Reading Half Marathon, only turning up for the important bit, i.e. the drinking beer and eating pizza bit.

As you may also know, I have a move to the countryside coming up and whilst thinking about things like letting my house out to women with kids (kids?  In my house?  Eek.) and telling the mortgage company and the insurance company and the TV/broadband/phone company and the Inland Revenue and the gas and electric companies and countless other companies (do I need to tell the man in the local off licence to tell his kids not to expect any Christmas presents this year due to Santa’s profits being hit?) it occurred to me that I’m going to need some posh new running gear so people in the countryside don’t think that Londoners are a bunch of scruffs.

So what do I buy to impress the countryside people?  Do they even care?  If I buy green will I look like a tree and run the risk of having a dog wee on me?  And what size do I get?  I’m going to have lots of running time on my hands (or should that be feet?), so will I run so much I’m going to shrink to a size zero?  Ooh, I hope so.  Or maybe I should get a size 14 as, as well as having lots of running time, I’m also going to have lots of time to explore the new fridge and its plentiful supply of chocolate that I know lives in there.   Or maybe some hi-vis gear due to the fact that I’m going to have to run on the road (or lanes or whatever it is countryside people call that three foot wide long bit of concrete they drive down) and risk getting run over by a tractor.

Maybe I’ll just stay here where it’s safe and there’s less likelihood of being weed on by a dog or run over by a tractor.  But then where would my excuse for buying new clothes come from?

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