Nike+ Sportband review

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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

Kara Goucher’s Endurance Boost review

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I am asked to review a Nike+ mp3 workout and am given the choice of

Kara Goucher’s Endurance Boost; or
Serena Williams Spontaneous Speed; or
Lance Armstrong: Run Longer Coaching Mix.

After listening to clips of two of them (the Lance Armstrong one didn’t work), I decide the one I hate the least is the one featuring Kara Goucher.

I’ve never heard of her so I have a look on the official Nike+ workout website and she looks pretty so I hate her already.

With just a little trepidation and a sense of foreboding, I load Kara onto my iPod and take to the street, wondering exactly how far into the 38 minutes and 42 seconds I’m going to lose the will to live.

I press play and off she goes. “Let’s get it started in here” some annoying woman starts to sing, sounding not unlike the Bodyform advert, closely followed by an annoying bloke singing “and the bass keeps running running”. Kara comes on and tells me how she’s going to improve my cardio endurance and strengthen my muscles so I can run further and faster with less effort. Hurrah.

I’m told we’re going to start off with a five minute warm up, followed by four sets of four minute intervals, alternated with a four minute recovery period. Gulp.

Kara asks me if I’m feeling good and to release the energy from, amongst other body parts, my face. My face? What the fuck is she going on about? I’m not sure I have an energetic face. Still, I continue running wondering how to release the energy from my face and then the song changes into something only marginally less annoying and Kara comes back and says everyone knows I’m a tough, no nonsense running machine but there’s no need to prove it just yet. I think that fuck for that. I’m not sure I’m quite up to proving I’m a tough no nonsense running machine just yet.

Kara tells me to pick up the pace and to go fast enough that I can’t sustain a conversation. I think hmm, that’d be about 11 minute miles then. She tells me to stay strong. She tells me to try and find a rhythm I can maintain for another three minutes. I think I could probably try and maintain a walking pace for another three minutes. I don’t think I’m going much faster than I was on my warm up pace but I don’t want to let Kara down and I try to push myself. We’re halfway there and she tells me to stay strong but not to get carried away with visions of glory. Ok, I’ll try.

I’m trying really hard to hate the music but actually it’s not that bad and I’m even on the verge of enjoying myself but I’m hoping the four minute recovery bit is coming soon as I think I’m going to faint in a minute. Kara tells me to stay focused, just 30 seconds left. Hurrah.

Kara says great work, that was hard but I rocked it. Yay. She continues, slow down and take the next four minutes to recover, but don’t slack off too much. Me, a slacker? Never. Damn cheek.

Aarrgghh, there’s Keane or some such shit like that playing now. I want to die. I’m stranded over the marshes with only Keane on my iPod. Nightmare. Keane are just so unnecessary. Almost as unnecessary as Coldplay. In fact, I think Keane are probably more unnecessary than Coldplay. At least Coldplay wrote Shiver, and Keane wrote what? Just a load of shite, that’s what.

Two minutes left to recover I’m told, stay nice and relaxed. Relaxed when Keane are on my iPod? Oh you mad Yanks and your crazy sense of humour. My second interval is right around the corner I’m told. Hurrah. Hopefully it doesn’t involve Keane. At last Keane stop being Keane and Kara says party time is over and it’s time to ramp it back up. I’m not going to any party where Kara thinks Keane is appropriate music but she redeems herself with the next track which is the Fratellis and I try to go faster and Kara says I’m doing great and to try and think positive and stay on pace. I’m trying but I think I’m dragging my heels and probably still going at my normal pace and I think maybe coming out to do intervals wasn’t such a great idea after almost two bottles of wine last night and I’m still enjoying the Fratellis’ track and am almost over the trauma of having to listen to Keane when Kara tells me I’m halfway there and to think about how strong I’m getting and soon I will be invincible and I think yeah, I quite fancy being invincible and the track’s changed and I don’t know who it is but it’s waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay better than Keane, because let’s face it, anything is, but I’m still looking forward to my next four minute recovery bit and Kara says one minute to go and to keep those legs turning over.

Kara says nice work, that’s two intervals down and just two to go, ease off a little and steady your breathing during this four minute recovery. I think it’s Beck playing now and I’m not sure I can do another two four minute fast bits and I slow right right down and I want to walk but I think no, I’m not going to walk, I’m going to do the whole 40 minute workout thing without stopping. I am hardcore. And invincible. It must be true, Kara said.

Kara comes back on, you’re two minutes into this segment, have you calmed your breathing? Think zen, Think yoga, or just calm down. Zen? Yoga? I think I’m going to take the just calm down route.

I’m told to enjoy this easy pace for another minute and start to mentally psyche up for the third set. Stay at that same intensity for another four minutes, let’s really hit it. I’m feeling guilty at plodding along at my usual snail’s pace. Should I be feeling guilty towards someone who made me listen to Keane? If I’d have known that Keane would be on the playlist I would have said the deal’s off.

Now she’s saying good effort, get off of those heels and onto those toes. Hmm, I run pretty flatfootedly and not sure I can change the way I run now. Slap slap slap, that’s the sound I make when I’m running, which is another reason I run with my iPod. “This is the halfway mark, focus on your goal, not fatigue, you have the rest of the day for that, right?” Well, actually Kara, no, I don’t have all day to focus on fatigue, I have to go and shower and wash my hair and tidy up and cook a nine dish Indian meal tonight for friends, you may have all day to think of nothing but fatigue but I don’t. Sheesh.

“Keep those arms pumping, you’ve got just 30 seconds before the break.” Arms pumping? I don’t think I’ve ever pumped my arms. They’re just sort of there. I’m looking forward to the break though. “Awesome job, just one more interval to go, now slow down and recover at your easy pace, I’ll let you know when it’s time to step on the gas again.”

And since Keane fucked off, the music’s been ok, in fact, more than ok and I’m thinking I might even do this again one day and actually it’s quite a good idea, despite my initial reservations and then Kara says I’ve got 2 minutes left to recover, try to conserve my energy for the last speed challenge. Speed? Challenge? I was supposed to be going fast? Oops. Must have missed that bit of the instructions.

“30 seconds to go, commit yourself to doing the best on the final interval.” Ok, I will. “This is it, your last four minute challenge, it won’t be easy but you’ll thank yourself for it later.” “Doing great, only three minutes left.” What, to live? Probably. “Stay tough, imagine that I’m schooling (? – what does that mean) your biggest rival.” Um, I don’t actually have a rival, biggest or otherwise. Oh shit, the music’s gone shit again. Not as shit as Keane, but shit, nonetheless. Still, I think I’ve been let off quite lightly musicwise and there’s not long to go now. “Just 30 seconds left, find a landmark up ahead and focus on it until the finish.” I focus on a lamppost and speed up, in my not very fast speeding up style. “Congratulations, you did it, the hard part’s over and now it’s time to cool down, your favourite part I’m sure if you’re anything like me. Take the next five minutes to slow down to your warm up level and think about everything you accomplished today.” Um, I accomplished getting out of bed and making a cup of tea. That counts though, right? “This was a tough one but you’re boosting your cardio and building stamina, I’ll check in with you as we finish up.”

At last I hear the words “Your workout is over but be sure to stretch and to drink lots of water so you’re ready for your next run.”

Thanks Kara, I enjoyed that.

Apart from the Keane bit.

Next time (and there will be a next time), I will try harder.

Stats:
Distance: 3.73 miles
Time: 38:21
Pace: 10:16 m/m
Calories: 356
Kara Goucher mp3 workouts: 1
Music:
Let’s Get It Started (Black Eyed Peas)
Don’t Phunk With My Heart (Black Eyed Peas)
Timebomb (Beck)
Say Goodbye To Love (Kenna)
Somewhere Only We Know (Keane)
For The Girl (The Fratellis)
Lay Down The Law (The Switches)
Where It’s At (Beck)
The Middle (Jimmy Eat World)
Sorry Sorry (Rooney)
Come To You (Carina Round)
Chase The Light (Jimmy Eat World)
Stop Stare (One Republic)

Fame at last

23 comments

At the last London Blogger’s meet up, I get interviewed by a journalist and a few days later an email from the meet up’s organiser arrives to let us know that the article’s due to appear in this morning’s Metro, but there’s none left at the station and I’m wondering if I grab one out of someone’s hands will I get a slap and I decide I probably will, so I wait until I get to Liverpool Street and grab one there and flick through it to see if it’s time for my 15 centimetres of fame and woo hoo, there I am (or at least my name is) in the middle of the paper which is the nearest I’m ever going to get to being a centrefold, then like a complete saddo I go and grab three more copies, who for I don’t know, as I won’t be giving one to my mum because then she will read my blog and then she will tell me off for drinking and swearing. 

 

And as I’m walking to work, I’m wondering if fame will change me and how soon will it be until I’m offered interviews on late night chat shows or maybe even my own chat show and shitloads of cash and there’s a girl walking along carrying a Metro and I resist the temptation to tap her on the shoulder and say “oi, I’m in that” and I’m thinking that as I’m quoted as saying people have said I’m an inspiration, then I’d better inspire myself and do my running commute home, although I am also quoted as saying I decided to give up smoking and run a marathon when at the time, my ambition was simply to get round the block without collapsing in a heap after coughing up a lung.

While I’m at work hoping that the annoying bimbo in the office next door hasn’t read the Metro this morning and developed a sudden interest in jogging blogs and found out that I called her an annoying bimbo, a girl who is also leaving comes over to me and asks if I want to have a joint leaving drinks thing.  Uh oh.  I was planning on making a quiet exit and would rather have rusty nails hammered underneath my fingernails then spend my lunch hour with some of the annoying fuckwits in here, so I say yeah, great, when? I can’t do Friday and she says on Monday, her last day and I say cool.  Bollocks.

I set off for my running commute and as I’m going down Essex Road I pass a pub that has a sign outside saying pizza two for one.  FREE PIZZA?!  Woo hoo.  I must investigate as free pizza sounds almost as good as free alcohol and outside the pub is a man smoking in a wheelchair and it reminds me that on the way to the Post Office this morning there was a man smoking in a wheelchair and it occurred to me that I didn’t think I had seen anyone in a wheelchair smoke before and wondered how he got into smoking and then I wondered why I wondered that and why shouldn’t people in wheelchairs smoke and maybe he started smoking before he was in a wheelchair.    

And all the lights are on red this evening so I get back quite quickly and I see the same man walking over the marshes that I saw last time but he didn’t murder me last time so I assume he won’t murder me tonight either and my assumption is correct and I get home without getting murdered.  Hurrah.

Stats
Distance: 6.13 miles
Time: 1:07:28
Pace: 11:00 m/m
Calories: 616
Claims to fame: 1
Men smoking in wheelchairs: 2
Leaving drinks arranged: 1
Music
Jesus & Mary Chain
Cardiacs
The Mission
Primal Scream
PJ Harvey
Jamiroquai
Nine Inch Nails
The Cribs
Foo Fighters
Devo

Sticking to my schedule (for once)

2 comments

After an all-afternoon email conversation revolving around beer, wine, tequila and Bulgarian vodka (and, um, a partridge that’s allergic to trees and went to live in a caravan in Greenland – don’t ask…), I undertake an exercise in steely resolve and keep reminding myself that I’ve got a 13 miler in the morning and so I go home and drink nothing stronger than Options hot chocolate (Belgian chocolate flavour if you really want to know).

And this week I managed to do 3 runs in a week for the second time this year. Wow. I’ll be entering marathons next. Oh, I already did. Hmm. Next week, however, I’m only going to be able to fit in one mid-week run due to going out to be criticised by my mother on Tuesday for such heinous crimes as not having a bigger house, not having a clean enough house, not having a boyfriend, not having a good enough job, and – the worst crime of all (after being vegetarian which she still reckons is just a phase, albeit a 15 year long phase) – why haven’t I provided her with any grandchildren yet? And if I ever had any doubt as to where I got my sarcasm from, I was reminded by our latest missives. Here’s an excerpt:


Mum: Can we make it Tuesday and we’ll take you out to dinner?

Me: Ok, if there’s a free dinner in it then I can make Tuesday.

Mum: I really meant we would drive you to the restaurant. I didn’t say anything about paying. I thought you could use some of the money you’ve saved by not coming up to see us.

Tsk, 73 year olds should be crocheting or something, not sending sarky emails to their offspring.

Wednesday I’ve got my evening class and on Thursday I’m going to the opening night of a new bar (yeah, I know, I’d go to the opening of an envelope if I thought there was free food and alcohol on offer), which only leaves Monday for a running commute which will only happen if I don’t go to watch the FLM tomorrow and then end up in the pub after getting trashed. Who, me? Never.

Still, I head out for my 13 miler and the first runner I see makes me feel extremely underdressed as she’s wearing a long sleeved hoody, a top underneath that and a scarf. A scarf? Blimey. Anyone would think it was Winter or something. My attire of choice today is three-quarter length leggings and a short sleeved t-shirt. I decide she’s probably training for an RfL, maybe even the City of London one on 1 June that I’m doing. In fact, all the cool people are doing that one as London Jogger will also be there, although at her current speed, I have a horrible feeling that she’s going to be finishing quicker than me. I’m not sure this can be allowed.

I go through the marshes and onto the street and run through the grassy bit that according to my sense of direction (ha) takes me towards Victoria Park and I run over a bridge that overlooks a dual carriageway and once on the other side my sense of direction leaves me and I don’t know where I am so I head in the direction I think the park is then decide that doesn’t go anywhere so I turn round and go the other way and after not too long, hooray, I see the park and on the Victoria Park & Tower Hamlets AC’s clubhouse is a sign that says “Race HQ” and I think shit, I hope the race that was postponed the other week due to inclement weather (i.e. a bit of snow) isn’t happening today instead but I can’t see any runners so I carry on going round the park, telling myself I’m not going to stop to take pictures of deer today but then it occurs to me that the deer will be bigger by now and I wonder what they look like but because I have a will of iron I don’t go and take pictures of the deer and this really is because I have a will of iron and not just because I can’t remember where they are and then I come to a lake with a fountain and I have to stop and take a photo as it’s so pretty.

I stop taking photos of pretty lakes and fountains and continue on my way and once I’m back in the main part of the park a man in a wheelchair whizzes past me, followed 30 seconds or so later by some more people in wheelchairs whizzing down the path and I’m thinking I must have run into the middle of a paralympic training session or something and then a few minutes later on her own is another wheelchair racer and I resist the urge to point and say “they went that way” and I tell myself I’m a bad person and carry on and I’m looking for the gate I came in and I eventually find it and as I get back on to the street someone’s slashed the rain clouds with a Stanley knife and I get soaked and I try to find the bridge overlooking the dual carriageway but I think I’ve gone the wrong way or I’ve already passed it and I come to a bridge going over a canal and I think that canal must lead me to familiar territory eventually if I just follow it in the right direction so I go down to the canal and hurrah, it’s not long until I know where I am again and I’m back in Hackney Marshes and there’s people playing football and they’re playing right on the edge and I think shit, how am I going to get past them? and so I run through the middle of the field and hope no football incidents occur and then I’m on the path in the foresty bit and a tall cute bloke runs past and says morning just as I’m shoving a handful of dried fruit into my mouth and I try and give him a smile but decide not to speak in the fear of spitting dried fruit over him which I’m pretty sure isn’t the best flirting technique in the world but then I’m thinking I’ve just run 9.7 miles anyway and am pretty sure I’m not looking my best and I carry on towards Walthamstow and a man in bare feet runs past me and I wonder if his running shoes got nicked over the marshes or if he likes to run in bare feet and he doesn’t look like he’s just been mugged, in fact he looks very happy and he says hi, and I decide he likes running in bare feet and he must save lots of money running in bare feet, what with running shoes being about £100 a pop, so then I decide that he’s just a cheapskate.

Today’s route

Stats
Distance: 13.12 miles
Time: 2:24:40
Pace: 11:01 m/m
Calories: 1,309
Schedules stuck to: 1
Fountains: 1
Tall cute blokes: 1
Men in bare feet: 1
Evenings of criticism approaching: 1
Music
Jesus & Mary Chain
The Levellers
Cardiacs
The Mission
Primal Scream
PJ Harvey
The Prodigy
Jamiroquai
Nine Inch Nails
The Cribs
Foo Fighters
Devo
Ween

A long running commute

7 comments

As I have resolved to do another running commute tonight, this morning I look at my marathon training schedule and it says to do 8 miles. What?!!! Yikes. 8 miles mid-week? I’ve only ever done 6 miles mid-week and I don’t have an 8 mile route and I don’t know if I’m marathon training yet or what anyway. But I take my running stuff to work with me and at lunchtime I’m trying to eat my lunch in peace and read the internet but those noisy annoying twats in the office next door are being noisy annoying twats so I mutter loudly under my breath “shut the fuck up” and hope they can hear me and I grab my iPod and go to go out for a walk but my boss is back from court and in his office and he’s got his pissed off face on and calls me in and starts going blah blah blah and hassling me and I go back to my desk to do something for him and the noisy annoying twats are still being noisy and annoying and I go to leave again and my boss apologises for going blah blah blah and hassling me and he says he’s stressed and asks if I’m going to the gym and I say no, those idiots are being annoying, I need to go for a walk and escape and he says yes, good idea, go out for an hour or so, I’ll see you later and I think bollocks, in my new job I bet my new boss won’t be telling me to go out for an hour and I go for a walk up to Waterloo bridge and I wonder how far the river is from my new job and I think it’s nearer than it is now and I go back to work and my boss has gone back to court and the door is shut on the annoying twats’ office and I think you shut the door after I’ve gone? you tossers, and the day is going so so slowly and I just want to go home and do my running commute and my boss comes back and says I can go home on time today and I think hooray, as for the last two days I’ve left late and I leave to do my commute and while I’m at the bus stop waiting for my Garmin to get a signal I think how warm it is and glad I’m wearing a short sleeved t-shirt as I haven’t even started to run yet and I’m roasting already and when my Garmin eventually gets a signal I head off and I’m still trying to decide whether I should start marathon training now as, although my new schedule started last week, I had already made myself a schedule that doesn’t start ‘til May and my brain isn’t prepared to start training yet but I don’t want to appear ungrateful for the new schedule and I give myself until I get to the Angel to decide whether this is the start of my marathon training or not and I get to the Angel and I still haven’t decided and I get to Essex Road and a woman cycles up a side road and I’m sure it’s the same woman from yesterday who was getting sworn at by a very angry man for cycling on the pavement but she doesn’t seem to be harmed so maybe she wasn’t beaten into submission although she is now on the road instead of the pavement so maybe she learnt her lesson after all and all I have to say on the cyclist v pedestrian v cars debate is CYCLISTS: KEEP OFF THE FUCKING PAVEMENT.

And as I’m going down Essex Road, I’m remembering to look out for a chemist that Londonjogger said there’s a Banksy on although I wouldn’t recognise a Banksy even if Brian Sewell dragged me over to one by the hair and said “This is a Banksy” but I eventually find a chemist in Essex Road with some graffiti on the side of it and I’m assuming this is what you meant LJ?

The rest of Essex Road remains Banksy-less and cyclists-on-pavement-less and I get halfway home and think oh no, I’ve got to do another five miles but a schedule is a schedule and a resolve is a resolve and more to the point a marathon is twenty six point two miles long and it seems that my brain has decided for me that I am marathon training now after all but I still haven’t decided how I’m going to add another two miles on in the marshes and I get to the marshes and when I get to the first bridge I decide to not go over the marshes but to run alongside the canal on the other side and rejoin the marshes at the marina which a) means I don’t have to be stuck in the middle of the marshes on my own but can run alongside the houses and feel safer; and b) it’ll make a change as I haven’t run that way before. And as I’m running alongside the canal the area has a nice feel about it and I start looking at the houses to see if any of them have a for sale sign on them as I quite fancy a house overlooking the canal and the marshes and then I see one and make a note of the estate agent and think I will investigate and see how much they are and then I can live opposite the marshes and hope my cat doesn’t fall into the canal.

I get to the rowing club at five and a half miles and it’s a mile to the street then a mile and a half home so that will bring me up to 8 miles and I think that was just about a perfect route and when I’m going back along the street I look over the wall at the train tracks and there’s a sign there I’ve never noticed before that says “7” and I look at my Garmin and it’s on 6.99 miles and I think that’s spooky or maybe I’m hallucinating and I finally get home and I’ve got to write this blog and hope I’ve managed to intertwine all the answers to the questions that were in the comments from yesterday’s post and have a shower and wash my hair and have some dinner and do my washing and get my stuff ready for the gym tomorrow lunchtime and my new journalism evening class tomorrow night and between doing that and going to work I’ve somehow got to fit some sleep in too.

Today’s route

Stats
Distance: 8.26 miles
Time: 1:33:38
Pace: 11:20 m/m
Calories: 823
Annoying twats in the office next door: 4
Days ’til I leave my job: 21
Banksys: 1
Marathon training schedules started: 1
Music
Jesus & Mary Chain
The Levellers
Cardiacs
Hard-Fi
The Doors
Electric Soft Parade
Eminem
Franz Ferdinand
The Gossip
The Killers
The Kooks
Manic Street Preachers
Pulp
Modest Mouse
PJ Harvey
Sleeper
Sex Pistols
Ween
The Who
The Wombats
Ash
Charlotte Hatherley

Bicycle rage

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After having the hangover of all hangovers on Friday, I have an abstemious weekend without a drop of alcohol passing my lips, only leaving the house to undertake such exciting activities like go to Sainsburys to buy fruit, muesli and soya milk.  So when Monday morning arrives, I bounce out of bed the second my fake sunrise comes on full of the joys of spring and skip into work looking forward to a running commute tonight.

Back in the real world however, I spend all day thinking why have I told myself I’m running home tonight?  But run home I do and as I get to Essex Road there’s a man shouting at a woman on a bicycle.  On the pavement.  Boo hiss.  He’s shouting and swearing at her and pointing to the road saying “there’s the fucking road, this is the fucking pavement” but I can’t hear what she’s saying so I turn my iPod off so I can be nosy but she’s got an annoying squeaky voice like the bimbo in the office next door so I turn my iPod back on to drown out Mrs Squeaky Voice Pavement Cyclist and the man’s still shouting and swearing at her and usually I wouldn’t condone a man shouting and swearing at a woman in a bullying and intimidating manner but she’s cycling on the pavement and therefore deserves everything she gets.  I decide to leave them to it in case the police are called as it is getting rather heated and I resist the urge to kick one of her wheels before running off really quickly and continue with my journey which remains uneventful and I’m going to try really hard to get three runs in a week from now on which only leaves tomorrow for me to do another running commute – which according to my marathon training schedule has to be extended to take in 8 miles – as my new evening class starts on Wednesday and on Thursday Gary’s coming round to be beaten at Scrabble and partake in some unabstemious behaviour involving beer and pizza and Friday’s the day before my long run and so I can’t run home that night and it would be nice if someone could invent some more days in the week please.

Stats
Distance: 6.16 miles
Time: 1:07:25
Pace: 10:56 m/m
Calories: 615
Bicycle rage incidents: 1
Days in week: Not enough
Music
Hole
Faith No More
David Bowie
The Cult
Franz Ferdinand
Jamiroquai
Sleeper
The Twang

Little birdy

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Thursday evening sees me at a pre-launch party for a new vegan restaurant in Shoreditch where there was a free bar.  Ouch.  I get up Friday morning still drunk and stagger into work, remembering to take a picture of this bird that lives round the corner from Liverpool Street station.

I sober up around lunchtime and am left with a vicious hangover, a hangover so bad it actually puts me off drinking that night.  However, this means that I wake up Saturday without a hangover and I look at the marathon schedule Bear sent me and I think it says that I have to do 15 miles today but as usual his schedule confuses me but anyway I think  bollocks to doing 15 miles and decide to go out for maybe 10 as I’ve been a bit of a slacker recently although not as slack as some people but I think I need to build my mileage back up slowly and I do 9 miles round the marshes and I upload my stats and I look at the last few months’ runs and I’ve only once this year managed to do three runs in a week and I think that’s going to have to change when I start training for the marathon in September which is only five months away.  Eek.

Stats
Distance: 9.22 miles
Time: 1:40:36
Pace: 10:55 m/m
Calories: 877
New vegan restaurants: 1
Free bars: 1
Little birdies living in the City: 1

Music
Hole
Rollins Band
B52s
Beastie Boys
Young Knives
Five Iron Frenzy
The Doors
Babes In Toyland
Sleeper
Jamiroquai
Muse
Graham Coxon
Bobby Conn
Plain White Ts
Muse

Running commute #12

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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

Return of the Shuffle

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Last night I meet up with my anonymous friend as we’ve arranged to go to a blogger’s meet up where there is free alcohol, which my anonymous friend can write about on her anonymous blog. We listen to an interesting talk on the legalities of blogging (basically if you think you’re safe writing about something, you’re probably not), drink free alcohol and we get interviewed by a journalist from the Metro and my anonymous friend tells her about her anonymous blog and I tell her about this blog and also about my new anonymous blog (there’s no link there, stop clicking). And I get my Shuffle back. Hurrah.

I remain distinctly sober, a fact which doesn’t remain unnoticed by Bernard and Dez who join us after their Nightwish gig, and undoubtedly helped by the fact that I am under strict orders not to drink wine and so stick to bottles of Corona whilst being taunted by my anonymous friend who drinks wine all night. Bah.

And because I remain distinctly sober I get up in the morning and decide to take my newly reacquired Shuffle out for a run and to see if I can redeem myself slightly after yesterday’s feeble effort.

I decide to do my six mile route and head off to the marshes and past the marina and I manage to do a mile without stopping unlike yesterday and I go over the bridge and Saffron from Republica starts singing You’re Drop Dead Gorgeous and I’m trying to remember what her surname is and I decide it’s probably not Walden and then I’m in Hackney Marshes and going through the Middlesex Filterbeds or whatever they’re called and I can see smoke and I think oh no, I don’t want to be where people are making fires, they might burn me to death or something but as I get there there’s quite a few worker types doing some kind of grass burning thing so I decide they’re probably allowed to be there doing some kind of grass burning thing and I get through to the football fields and there’s a man walking towards me and he hasn’t got a dog and he looks weird and there isn’t anyone else around and for some reason he’s scaring the living daylights out of me and I look at my arm and remember I didn’t put my alarm on and he smiles and I don’t know whether to smile back or not and he gives me a kind of wave and says morning and I give him a kind of half smile but my internal weirdo radar is bleeping like mad and I want to get away asap and I carry on running and keep turning round to make sure he’s not following me and I feel bad as he could be a perfectly nice bloke just out for a walk and I get to the edge of the marshes and carry on going round and get to the other side and there’s another man walking across the football fields and he hasn’t got a dog either and I’m thinking I don’t want to go into the foresty bit, he might follow me and I carry on running on the grass and keep turning round to see which way the man’s going and he’s going the other way from me so I turn off through the bushes and onto the path in the foresty bit and fuck me, the man who scared the living daylights out of me on the other side of the field is there leaning against a railing and I think how the fuck did he get there? that’s not the way he was going and he isn’t scaring me any less than he did before and I do a quick u-turn and go back the way I came and then I think shit, which way am I supposed to go now, I don’t want to go back the way I came as it’s all isolated and deserted and I’m getting very paranoid now although I’m aware it’s probably just because I’ve had nearly two weeks off work and have had no contact with the general public and now have hermity paranoia disease and I’ll have to go back by road and I haven’t got any money on me for the bus so I’ll have to run and I don’t know the way and then I remember that I went that way by road last year and so I head off down the road and I think I’m about three miles from home and I hope it’s not going to take too long to get back as I’d put a potato in the oven before I came out and I haven’t just narrowly escaped being murdered by a weirdo over the marshes just to get home and find out my house has burnt down but I manage to get home without getting lost and without getting murdered and my house didn’t burn down either. Result.

Today’s route

Stats:
Distance: 7.25 miles
Time: 1:22:05
Pace: 11:19 m/m
Calories: 689
Weird men: 1
Potatoes: 1
Music:
Faith No More
Stereo Total
Manic Street Preachers
Devo
Franz Ferdinand
Heaven 17
Jeff Buckley
Koop
Black and White
Maximo Park
Modest Mouse
The Prodigy
Republica

Quite possibly the most feeble run ever

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Saturday’s planned 8 miler was postponed due to it being a wee bit breezy outside.  In fact, we had the whole range of weather on Saturday.  Wind, rain, hailstones, snow and sun.  I attempted to go to the shop twice but each time only got as far as the front gate.  I did, however, manage to make it to the pub later on in the evening.  Funny that.

I get drunk enough to not remember getting home nor the bet I apparently lost, leaving me in debt to Dave for the princely sum of 3p but I think he’s lying as he still hasn’t told me what the bet was for although I have a vague feeling it has something to do with the Spongmonkeys.

I am too hungover on Sunday to make up for Saturday and I spend the day eating square crisps and I’m still feeling like shit on Monday and I tell myself it doesn’t matter as Sunday is my official rest day and Monday is a Bank Holiday and Bank Holidays are officially rest days and today I get up reasonably early and decide to go out for 6 miles but my big iPod decides not to work today and I’m not getting my Shuffle back until tonight when me and Tracey go out for free beer at a geek thing and I only have 45 minutes’ worth of songs on my phone and they’re not even songs I want to play and so I turn on the radio on my phone but the reception is shit so I’ll have to listen to the songs on my phone and I think I’ll just do the 3 mile route and see if I can get round it in 30 minutes and I get outside and I go .98 of mile and I want to stop and I think shit that’s no good and at 1.07 I do stop to walk and I think bloody hell, that’s feeble, and I decide to turn round and just go home and I’m hoping Amazon haven’t tried to deliver my new saucepans while I’m out being really feeble and I’m wondering if the agencies will phone today with various job offers which isn’t really likely as I’ve only been for one interview, which did go well but isn’t the job I really really want as the agency said that they’re still discussing the geek job and deciding whether to offer it to someone like me or to a proper geek and I think they really really want to offer it to me and I walk most of the two miles I’ve been out for and I think I can probably forget about Saturday’s 15 mile race.  Oh dear.

Stats:
Distance: 2.33 miles
Time: 30:53
Pace: 13:14 m/m
Calories: 214
Music:
Five O’Clock Heroes
Rollins Band
Kate Nash
Devo

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