But we'll move swiftly (unlike my running style) on from talk of a lack of training to a whole day of talking about training in London. Yesterday saw me getting up at silly o'clock and boarding a train to head down to the British Heart Foundation headquarters. There was a lot of important information to be taken on board yesterday but the most important information I need to communicate to you is not about how awful heart disease can be, about how you must stop smoking NOW, or how I really, really need to get more training in and stop eating cake but is, in fact, wait for it..... that first class train travel is BRILLIANT. Seriously! I've never travelled anywhere, by any modality first class ever but it was only £2 more per ticket when I booked my journeys a couple of months ago and it was so worth it. Big, comfy seat; warm, quiet carriage; free wifi and tea/ coffee; nice big table all to myself. Perfection. I really enjoyed it. Did stick out like a very sore thumb (or thighs in my case) in my running gear and shabby trainers however!
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| Ready to leave. Note my little supporter all ready to leave at 06:55 also. |
Anyway, I'm meant to be talking about the training day and not the luxury travel I enjoyed. There was so much covered that I'm going to have to leave some for another time but the funniest part was definitely having my gait analysis done. Cor blimey, that sounds posh don't it?!
Gait analysis involves taking your trainers off and running up and down whilst trying to land a foot on a special pressure sensor pad. Generally they need 3-4 good strikes for both feet. The first couple of laps I managed to miss the pressure pad completely as my little brain freaked out and thought "don't land on the pad- what if they decide you run like a chimp with a limp" and I took a gazelle-like leap and missed it entirely. Now that's how to look like a class A plonker. Once my neurones had decided to relax I managed to actually land on the pad a few times but it's really hard to run "normally" whilst bare-foot, being watched by others waiting to be analysed and with a woman on her hands and knees staring at your running style. I felt compelled to launch into some kind of ministry for funny walks effort but thankfully controlled my urges. The other thing I was dead nervous about was getting out of breath doing the gait analysis! Seriously, the strip was maybe 10metres and I ran up and down it easily 12-15 times. Thankfully the training is paying off as didn't so much break a sweat. What a relief!
Then the very serious lady takes a look at what trainers you've been running in (mine are about as old as God and definitely not designed for running, let alone long distance running) and in my case, sighs, rubs her forehead, frowns and exclaims "these have zero support, and will be doing nothing for your foot arches, which incidentally are really quite high, and don't have anyway near enough cushioning". Oh good. I can feel a large sum of money for new trainers is about to leave me.
Then we had a good look at her fancy computer program which was actually really interesting. Turns out I run all bouncy and on the balls of my feet (who'd have thought it- me being bouncy and enthusiastic? Surely there's been a mistake...!) with hardly any pressure through the heels. This style is suited to the new craze of bare-foot running. I laughed when she mentioned this. I live in and therefore run around Aspley. I can't remember the last time I didn't see broken glass somewhere on one of my routes so it looks like barefoot is out then. So I now have a new pair of Adidas something-or-other trainers on order which I'm assured are going to improve my running efficiency, decrease my aches and pains and make me zoom around those 26.2 miles, Marvellous. Do they have attached wheels and a motor then?
Then it was time for the training run with all the other marathon-ites. This is where it started to go wrong. A gentle jog from headquarters to a running track at Regent's park at conversational pace. I am quite sure that there is no such thing as moving any faster than walking at conversational pace. However, the tall, lean, athletic girl in matching expensive running gear who regularly runs 15 miles at a weekend and decided to run with me is very happy to jog and chat. Turns out, I'm good at jogging and listening, along with the occasional two-word question (to keep her talking so I don't have to waste precious breath on words) and an emphatic "hmmm". Once we got to the track we were introduced to the fresh torture that is Threshold training. In short, this is running for short bursts (3 mins for begginer numpties like me and 5 minutes for scary, running girl and the like) at 80% of full potential and then resting for 90 seconds and then repeating 4 times. Hideous. I was overtaken by a balding, overweight, middle-aged man. I thought I might die.
Now as you're all aware if you've been reading this, I'm running this stupid marathon in memory of Mark. I thought I might die during this threshold run business and quite frankly, two wrongs don't make a right. This was the kind of "Stop running NOOOOOWWWW" thought that was going through my head whilst gasping for breath and clutching my side with a terrible stitch. I've not had stitch before but I really hope I never have it again. OWWW.
Anyway, once I'd managed to get some blood flowing back to my head and regain control of my ludicrous thoughts, we had to jog back to the headquarters. Things improved here. I met a lovely girl who's also running London and is new to running. And guess what... I can run a bit better than her!! Extraordinary. She was walking (slowly) back to HQ so I stopped, walked with her for a couple of mins, persuaded her to run again and ran along beside her and it turns out that at slow-new-girl to running pace rather than scary-keen-serious runner pace, I can chat whilst jogging! I was doing the talking, she was doing the listening and "hmmm"ing and afterwards we had a good giggle about just how useless we are at running. I'll be looking out for her on the big day. 22 weeks away and counting.....
Next time: marathon nutrition (sadly, no cake)
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