A sad anniversary

We'll get the training update out of the way and done with. It's still awful. It's getting worse. I really didn't think it could get worse but with every added mile, it just gets tougher and tougher. I thought that once I was able to run 10 miles, it would all somehow magically get easier and I'd reach a running double-digits nirvana. Alas no. Far, far from it.

I went for a 5 miler with my brother in Felixstowe. Not too bad. He reckons I'm not quite as useless as I say I am (high praise indeed....). Here he is:

My "little" brother out for a run with me around Languard. Check out one the many container ships that visits Felixstowe daily in the background.

A very tiny part of the Port of Felixstowe

Friday was my worst run in a long time. I set off with the target of 11-12 miles in my mind and was trying to be positive. After 4 miles of feeling like I was really struggling and the occasional very short walk and pause to cross the roads, I got stitch. Now, for those of you who don't know me, I have nearly 12 years of medical training behind me and yet, whilst doubled over with agonising pain in my side worsening with every breath, I had to google "what is a stitch?". And it seems no-one is really sure. Great. So this hideous pain which stopped me in my tracks is apparently a bit of a medical mystery. Which means no-one is really sure why you get it and, more importantly, how you can prevent it. Even better.
After a bit of cursing under my (laboured) breath, along with a bit of walking I was able to resume my stumbling towards Wollaton park.

At mile 7, I had a tantrum. Proper, foot-stamping, crying, throw yourself on the floor, angry tantrum. Well that's how it was in my head. In reality I was a bit too worried about the deer/ dog/ duck poo on the ground and so didn't roll around yelling "Get me a taxi home now!". I did, however, sit on a bench, fling my earphones down, turn off my up-beat, motivational music with an angry index finger jab and have a mental break down. My legs were aching, I was tired, it was hot and yet windy and I wanted to be curled up in my comfy bed. A sympathetic dog wandered over to see what the fuss was about and I was so angry with running that it was all I could do to restrain myself from giving it a swift kick.

After I'd pulled myself together, I decided that there's no rule saying I have to run the whole marathon so made the decision that walking is better and set off to purposefully walk the rest of my planned route around the park. Those two non-running miles were brilliant.

Unfortunately, it couldn't last forever; I still had another 3+ miles to do which felt like a marathon in itself, so it was back to running as I left the park. Managed another mile or two of running (by which, I mean jogging really slowly) before I gave up again and pretty much walked the last mile to our church cafe. I rang ahead and forewarned Matt that I was on my way, in a strop, to the cafe and that he was going to make it better by buying me lunch and then driving me home and that this wasn't up for debate.

12.2 miles. A miserable experience. Tired, painful legs. A few angry tears. And an appalling time of 2 hours and 25 minutes.

And do you know what's really feeble about all of this? My legs were fine the next day. Just proves that I was able to, and should have, pushed myself harder and found some strength to continue running that bit further.


There are a lot of people that I know have experienced similar emotions over the past year.

Anger. Disappointment. Sadness. Stabbing pain for no apparent cause. Frustration. Confusion.  A feeling of such weighty heaviness. Feeling like it's a real uphill struggle. Short periods where things seem ok but knowing deep down that it's going to get worse and more painful again soon. Times where even short distances last forever.

My 12.2 miles took under 2 and a half hours. The desperately sad, desolate emotions of losing Mark have been with his family and friends for one year and a day now. That's proper pain. Not a pathetic loss of motivation, stamina and strength as displayed by me.

There are times when I almost forget that Mark has gone; when I can hear his loud, fairly high-pitched laugh in my head; when I can have a conversation with his ever-present Suffolk accent; when I think "Mark would really laugh at this". And yet he has been gone for a year.

Mark meant a lot of different things to different people. To some, like Matt and myself, he was the best of friends, a best man and to Matt, an additional brother. To his colleagues, he was dependable, solid and so enthusiastic in his commitment to work with Ambassadors in Sport. To his sister, he was an only sibling and a fantastic uncle to her sons. To his parents, Mark was a great son who was such a good example of their steady, reliable, calm love. To his friends, he was the most useless host who never had anything in the fridge other than bottles of Coca-cola. He was the provider of Phase 10 and DVD marathons. He was a golf buddy. He was a prayer partner. He was brilliantly disorganised and lost a lot of Robbie Williams concert tickets. He bought vast amounts of chinese take-aways for his friends. He was a passionate football supporter of his beloved ITFC and England but an even more passionate Christian.

And a year on, that's not fading.

I'm sure that, with time, there will be a gradual acceptance of the loss of Verz. That those awful, tear-you-apart emotions will ease and that stitch-like agony will go away. But the memories of who he was to us won't fade and that is testimony to his life.

Please sponsor me as I continue to battle with my training:
www.uk.virginmoneygiving.com/longrunlizzy

Thank you.

Here is a short video that was made about some of Verz's work with AIS. It might help you understand if you didn't know him.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-a-0ZpW2bNQ

Confessions of a 30year old

Happy birthday to me,
Happy birthday to me,
Happy birthday dear Lizzzzyyyyyy,
Happy birthday to meeeeee!!!!

Yep, that's right. I am now officially another year older but not wiser and definitely not any fitter or physically closer to running a marathon. Time is marching on and I sadly am no longer in my 20's and today has marked the 9th anniversary of my 21st birthday. I can barely bring myself to say I'm 30- it's so, well, adult! I realise that when I look at my life it would seem that somehow I have morphed into one these strange and peculiar species of "adult". I am married (for a huge 9 years this summer- Matt deserves a medal), I am a mummy to a toddler, I own a car, I live in a sensible house, I'm a doctor and allegedly responsible for the care of several patients. I pay bills and moan about pensions. I can't remember the last time I went dancing in a nightclub and frankly, I'm not sure I can be bothered with all that anymore. All decidedly adult. I'm convinced I still live with my Mum, being moaned at for not doing piano practice, not studying a huge amount for my GCSEs and working in a hotel part-time at weekends. How can that possibly be 15 years ago? 30 is very adult and old!!!

But age is all relative, right? 30 is ancient to a 4 year old.
Budia Singh was 4 years old when he ran a marathon.
30 is child-like when viewed by a 100year old.
Fauja Singh is the oldest person to ever run a marathon. He was 100.
(I presume they're not related and part of a huge marathon running dynasty.)
Let's hope that 30 turns out to be a good age to run a first marathon.

It's now exactly 9 weeks until the big day. In fact, in 9 weeks time I am expecting to be in a whole world of pain with legs that don't work but with a serious sense of .... Pride? Satisfaction? Utter relief that that I never, ever have to run again!

Time most certainly is marching on and training is going very badly again. After the last 10.5 mile effort, you remember- when I was chased by a deer, ran further than anyone should in sub-zero temperatures and returned home to be locked out (oh, how I love running), it snowed. Then it froze. Slippy, slidey, icy paths are not for running on so frankly, I haven't bothered. And somehow a whole week disappeared beneath the ice.
Then last week we went on holiday to Cornwall. My trainers very much enjoyed their holiday and were reluctant to go out at all. I dragged them out for a 2.5mile trip along the cliffs and whilst I was absolutely prepared to run a further 8miles, my trainers refused to climb any more hills or clamber over inconvenient boulders and so they took me home. Damn those lazy trainers.

I certainly wasn't prepared to go for a run on my birthday. After all, birthdays are designed for cake and not running. Have I mentioned my love of cake before at all? My bottom is especially fond of cake it would seem as cake always finds a way to settle there. Lovely.

So, new decade, new start (when I typed that I initially missed the "s"- I quite fancy a new decade of tarts, I might even substitute the odd cake for a tart). Back to training tomorrow. Honest. But I'd better finish my birthday cake off first. Happy birthday me!

Next time: A year is a long time when it's without a best friend.

A renewed hatred for running

Right. Let's get one thing very clear (again). I hate running.

I hate running in the heat. I hate running in the wind. I hate running in the cold. I refuse to run in the snow.

I hate running 1 mile. I hate running 2 miles. I hate running 10miles. Fairly sure I'm going to hate running more than 10 miles but haven't actually experienced that torture yet.

I hate running slowly. I hate running fairly slowly. I can't run fast.

I hate the pre-run dread. I hate the during-run misery. I quite like being in the bath after a run but let's face it, going for a run is a not a mandatory pre-bath activity.

I hate the fact I haven't lost any weight for 3 weeks. I hate that I can't remember the last day that my legs didn't ache a bit, or even a lot. I hate the sight of me in my awful running leggings.

I hate the fast, skinny runners that sprint past me when I'm out dragging my feet behind me. I hate the amused walkers that chuckle at my luminous face. I hate the dogs that try to chase me.

I hate mud that makes me slip. I hate uneven paths that make me trip. I hate pavements that make my joints ache.

And I really, really, really despise hills.

I think we've got that clear.

I had to work five days this week (I know most people manage this every week but I'm now used to my slacker part-time hours) which in combination with evening meetings for Matt, a late finish for me and music practices has meant I've only done two runs. One was my usual 4 mile loop of the oh so picturesque streets of Aspley. The other was yesterday in minus 5 degree temperatures.

It should be illegal to run in temperatures that are sub-zero. 

I'd set myself the task of running between 9-10miles and with the forecast of snow on it's way I had to get on with it yesterday morning despite the freezing conditions. (Like I said, I ain't doing no running in that cold white stuff EVER. End of discussion.)

I set off and headed for Wollaton Park again. It really is very beautiful around there, especially with such a hard frost. Everything had a blue hue to it and was quite stunning. As I lumbered around the edge of the golf course, I bumped into these guys......

The locals

Can you see just how unbelievably cold it was?! It was so cold that it made the skin on my tummy sting beneath my clothes. It made my nose run (shame it didn't help my feet run) and my face burn. Also, no matter how far I run or how warm every other part of me is, my bottom is always absolutely freezing. Must be because it's so far behind me.

Incidentally, later on a group of deer came hurtling out of the woods I was running past and made me leap a meter in the air in fright. I stopped to watch, thought I'd better carry on running and then a smaller group ran towards me- literally a couple of meters away. For a brief moment I thought I might have to learn to run an awful lot quicker but happily they decided to re-join the rest of the herd.

Here's some more pics....

Deer chilling on the golf course

Frozen lake and Wollaton Hall



When I took the above photo, I thought I'd take a pic of me to prove my running presence. Seemed like a good idea at the time (any excuse to stop walking and pause for a minute....) but retrospectively, I can see that my hypoxic brain hadn't thought through the image of a make- up free, sweaty Lizzy but hey ho, here it is......

Not at my best it's fair to say!

So ultimately Saturday morning saw me run a total of 10.5 miles which is pretty huge for me. I say "run". I mean run/jog/walk a bit/feel sorely tempted by all the benches in the park for a short lie down. I haven't given in to the call of the bench yet but it's a tough one. Felt absolutely shattered at the end of it and arrived home to find I was locked out and the darling husband (?!) hadn't thought to leave a key hidden and wasn't answering his phone. Did I mention it was minus 5 on Saturday morning? MINUS 5! And locked out! It's fair to say that a few choice words were expressed by me to the sweetheart upon his arrival home. I believe it went something like this:

"Oh hello precious. I'm so pleased to see you. I do hope you've had a good morning. Oh, how I love running. I especially love huddling in the porch in approximately 40cm space waiting for you to arrive home. I love you. Shall I make you a cup of tea?"

Something like that anyway.


In other news, I became the very proud God-mother to Noah James Smith today. He's pretty cool. He doesn't run. Sensible boy.

Don't forget, you can sponsor me at: http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/longrunlizzy
You never know, maybe raising money in memory of Mark will help me hate running less? It's worth a try.....

Music to make you run further and faster

8 MILES!!!

Let's just repeat that.....

8 MILES!!! I ran 8 whole miles yesterday. And, I am not crawling on my hands and knees, begging for mercy from my running hell but can actually walk normally today. Now that is an achievement that deserves a cake if ever there was one. Actually I've had two cakes in celebration: a blueberry muffin yesterday and a raspberry and white chocolate one today. Ha! Well the fandangled Nike+ app reckons I worked off almost 900 calories during those 8 miles so I figured I'd earnt them. Plus they were homemade by me so I'd definitely earnt them. (The weight loss still isn't going terribly well. Can't imagine why....) 

Earlier this week I had a brief conversation with a colleague who reads this blog from time to time and she said to me something along the lines of "I am a bit concerned that your runs only seem to be about 3-4 miles. Are you actually going to manage this?". I also get quizzed regularly at work by various people about the running and they give me furrowed brow expressions of doubt at my responses. And truthfully, I share your concerns. I'm not really sure that I can run 26.2 miles in one week let alone in one day. But this weekend has heralded the start of the long, long runs. By that I mean a proper long run. Before, 4 miles was a long run to me and now 4 miles is a short mid-week effort. This is new view of 4 miles is quite extraordinary to a cake-loving settee sloth.

Here's a few highlights of the 8 miles.

Discovered this incredible graffiti in an underpass about a mile away from where we live. I've never run along there before and was so amazed by it that I had to stop and take some quick pics on my phone. Stunning detail with all the little faces in the lockets too.

Ran around Wollaton Park which is a great park (apart from the hills!). It was perfect running weather- cold but bright and sunny and with not even as much as a breeze let alone evil wind to take my precious breath away. The view around the lake is so good that I ran round it twice!

Now I know this doesn't look like a hill on the photo but it really is a horrible hill of pain and doom. I, of course, walked up it. (Hence the ability to take a photo!) I'm banking on there being no hills at all in London. If you know information to the contrary, please don't tell me- blissfully ignorant is best.

So that was yesterday's run. I also fitted in a short 3.7 miles on Weds and a swim on Thurs so a pretty good week back training.

Next week should hopefully be:

Monday: Swim

Tuesday: Short run- maybe evil threshold

Wednesday: No time to do anything!

Thursday: Matt out so can't go out unless home from work early.

Friday: 4 miles short run

Saturday: 9-10 miles (aaaaaghhhhh!!!)

Sunday: Crawl from bed to car etc, no exercise.  

Now then, I've got a confession. When I'm running, I have a playlist that I listen to. It currently features the fairly shameful selection of the following:

Rhythm is a dancer- Snap

Do it like a dude- Jessie J

I kissed a girl- Katy Perry

The Edge of Glory- Lady Gaga

Umbrella- Rhianna

Jump- The Pointer Sisters

And a LOT of Glee songs. Over half of the playlist is Glee in fact. Tragic, I know.

But I'm getting a bit bored of it and I need your help: can you please suggest some good tracks for me to run to?! I'm not really up there when it comes to music prowess and often the cheesier the better but I'm open to all suggestions.

This is an interesting website:

http://jogtunes.com/jtc/index.php







It works out beats per minute for tracks and then recommends tracks that have the right sort of bpm for your chosen running speed. I reckon I need between 160-165bpm which should help me bop along at about 10-11 mins/ mile. I presume that if I listen to 180bpm tracks I'll fly along at 8 mins/mile with my feet a blur below my solid bottom and passers by will marvel at my running skill and endurance. Excellent plan.

Anyway, either comment below or on fb or send me a text with your suggestions and I'll give them a try during next week's 10 miler. Oh joy.

A sprained ankle, a lost car key and a boy called Charlie

Well. What a week. It all started so well with an hour swim on Monday, a 5 mile run with Jenny on Tuesday, a rest day Wednesday and then came Thursday. I dutifully set my alarm on Weds night for silly O'clock in the morning, set out my running clothes and psyched myself up for an early Thursday morning run.

Before we continue, here's a pics of me and Jenny from Tuesday. It was fr-fr-fr-freeeeezing.

Yes, that is ice on the ground.

The lovely Jenny- she's a marathon expert!

Thursday morning arrived, I drove up the road and parked in Strelley village and set off in search of fields and open countryside whilst the sun broke through the cold, grey night clouds. I trotted off up the road, turned onto a track and was jogging along bopping to my iphone Running tracks when it all went wrong. Mud, it turns out, is slippy. Really blooming slippy. I slid like a hippo on iceskates, my left foot went under me and my ankle REALLY hurt. I then burst into tears! Literally. A muddy path, some birds merrily singing, my iPhone blaring out Queen's completely inappropriate lyrics of "Don't stop me now, I'm having a good time" and me stood on one leg crying. What a sight! I was so upset as I was just tolerating my run (all half a mile of it so far) and feeling good about my training being on track and suddenly it was all looking very bad.

I rang Matt, snivelled down the phone something about coming home and started to hobble off back up the half a mile to the car. The more I walked, the easier it felt as the initial shock wore off so I jogged slowly back to the car. Then it got worse. No blooming car key! I'd tucked my car key into my running trousers earlier and suddenly it wasn't there. Expletives uttered and decision made to jog back to sight of the incident. Stumble my way back to the mudfest and still no *insert expletive* car key. Cue second tears of the morning. Jog the same half a mile back to the car again (not such a pretty view after my 4th view of it within half an hour) and resume unhappy, rubbish game of hunt the key. After quizzing several passers by and giving my phone number to a bemused teenage boy who lives by where I'd parked in the hope his family might find said key, I call Matt again and he came to the rescue. We swopped cars (he had a child in the back of his) and when Matt went to drive off in mine he found the *insert repeat expletive* key tucked under a windscreen wiper where a kind passer by must have hidden it for me. Thank you kind stranger for not stealing my car and returning my key!

Here's a couple of "highlights" from the morning:

Fields are boring after you've seen the same one 4 times.

Slippery scene of doom

So that was the last time I ran.

Completely. Utterly. Gutted.

Ankle then swelled up, hurt more and made me sad. We went to Centre Parcs this weekend and I'd been looking forward to doing a long run round there. I say "looking forward to" but it was going to be a change of scenery, my longest run yet and it was going to keep me on track. Now I am most definitely off track again and very disappointed.

Swollen left ankle - bad times

But there is a positive. The disappointment surely translates into meaning that I actually really, really, really want to do this. I want to run this chuffing marathon even if it does nearly kill me because it'll be such an achievement for a settee-loving sloth like me and will hopefully raise lots of money for BHF.

Which brings me on to Charlie!

This is Amie and Simon....

Amie and Simon.

When Amie was pregnant with her lovely twin babies, she found out that baby boy twin had a serious heart defect. I think you can imagine that this was pretty rough news. Happily, a few months later these two arrived......

Twinnies!



Welcome to the world Phoebe and Charlie.

Throughout the pregnancy Amie and Simon had to go for repeated scans, detailed cardiac scans and meetings with paediatric cardiologists at the Glenfield General Hospital. Charlie was diagnosed with what's called an atrio-ventricular septal defect or a pretty big hole in his heart in other words. During this time specialist nurses, funded by British Heart Foundation were at every appointment with Amie, Simon, the bump and subsequently the twins.

This is Charlie more recently.....

Charlie

As you can see, Charlie is a healthy, happy boy who's the same as any other crazy toddler and likes to run around, throw his toys about, follow his Mum to the loo (why do toddlers love watching their parents wee??!)  and is particularly fond of his dummy. Except he's not quite the same as any other toddler in that next year he'll need to have major open heart surgery to close the defects. Over these last couple of years, the BHF nurses have been there for Amie, Simon, Charlie and Phoebe. They interpet all the doctor speak, remember their names, take the scariness out of the appointments by being a friendly, familiar face and as Amie put it, are just human, kind, normal, reassurring people.

So that's Charlie and his family. They need British Heart Foundation's support. At the risk of sounding cheesey, you can help BHF continue their good work and enable them to continue to support Charlie and thousands more children like Charlie with major heart conditions.

So, for a sprained ankle, a lost car key, the prospect of being behind on training and a gorgeous cutie called Charlie, please donate!

http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/longrunlizzy

Thanks.

Next time: back on track?? 

10 things that worry me about the marathon

Quick training update- stuck to the plan and have survived.... just. Didn't manage to fit in a run today but as I'm on nights I'll let that go. Threshold runs on Friday with the lovely (and irritatingly much fitter) Matt Elsey were fairly hideous but apparently it's good for me so I just have to stick at it. Here's proof of just how red my face gets and this was taken after a 10minute warm up jog. Imagine how much worse it is after 40+ minutes!

Check out my BHF running vest!

Plan for this week:
Monday: (finish night shifts at 09:30 ish), go for a post nights swim
Tuesday: Run 6 miles
Wednesday: Rest day
Thursday: Shorter run ?3-4 miles
Friday: Go to centre parcs!
Saturday: Run- probably attempt threshold again
Sunday: to be confirmed- I suspect a rest day spent happily at centre parcs.

There are lots of things that worry me about the marathon and I thought I'd share them with you. Not that I'm expecting any sympathy- more that you'll all settle down on your comfy settees, with your nice, relaxed, not at all aching legs and laugh at my self induced misfortune.

1. I might die.
Seriously! 8 people have died trying to run the London Marathon- all from previously undiagnosed heart disease (another reason to run for BHF....). Just in case, this is being read at my untimely funeral I'd like to pass on a message..... I told you so and all you lot did was laugh. humph.

2. My toenails will probably fall off.
My friend Jenny has told me that she always loses toenails after running the marathon. Sounds a bit careless and not good for all those London street cleaners. There's about 37,000 people that run the marathon each year. That's 74,000 feet. If each foot loses one toenail each that's a whopping 148,000 toenails that will be scattered along the finish and surrounding streets. Ewwww.

3. What if I don't lose any weight or look any better for it?!
There have got to be some benefits to running all this way and as far I'm concerned a big benefit is fitting into some of those elusive size 10's that haven't fitted since I had my daughter. Or for quite a long while before that if I'm honest. All this running should surely burn loads of calories and mean that I will resemble some kind of svelte athlete soon. Or maybe I should stop compensating for my running with cake? I will be so cross if I don't lose weight!

4. What if I get lost on the day?
I am rubbish at finding my way and have literally no sense of direction. I get lost trying to drive out of Tesco's carpark (this is actually true) and frequently get lost in hospital. I once spent 40minutes wandering around the QMC trying to get out and landed myself in some kind of locked area near the mortuary at night. Not my finest hour. Now I know there'll be lots of people around but what if I get lost?!

5. I won't be able to walk the next day.
This is more fact than a concern. If you have a spare motorbility chair, I'd like it for Monday 23rd April please. And possibly the two weeks following.

6. What if break a leg or something disastrous the week before the marathon?
This would be awful. All that training and no getting to actually experience the day with all the crowds cheering me on. Genuinely concerned this might happen.

7.  How do I drink and eat whilst running without spluttering and choking?
Stand clear crowds near the water/lucozade stations.

8. What if I give myself hyponatraemia?
Hyponatraemia is a real problem for marathon runners. Especially idiot, have-a-go amateurs like myself who drink too much water and drive their salt levels too low. It can lead to selling of the brain, fits and ultimately death. Eeek.

9. What if I don't enjoy it on the day?
I'm assured by people that have run the marathon that the day itself is incredible and the crowds really carry you along. This would be amazing if it's true. However, when I cheered Matt on a couple of years ago, there were marathon runners crying at mile 20, limping along with blood running down their tops from where their nipples used to be before they were rubbed off by their tops. Again, this isn't an exaggeration! Someone was stretchered past me and it was awful. I cheered one random stranger along with an encouraging "Well done, keep going" and he flicked me the V's!!! I think he was in quite a dark place at the time and certainly wasn't enjoying the experience.

10. What if I don't raise enough money?
I have pledged to raise over £2000 for British Heart Foundation and that is a LOT of money. Times are hard and purses are empty. But I know a lot of people and they all know lots of people. If everyone gave up their Starbucks/ Costa treat for a week or didn't buy their newspapers for a week or decided to go without something little and gave £5 then I'm sure it's manageable. Please help! It really is a good cause.
http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/longrunlizzy



Next time: A little boy called Charlie who needs BHF

New year, new start??

Hello!

So it's been a while (again.... sorry about that) but I have at least been for a couple of runs. And by "a couple" I mean exactly that- two runs in three weeks. This is definitely not good enough and is not going to help me drag my ever-expanding bottom that sits all too comfortably at the top of my pillar-esque thighs around twenty-six miles of London's finest sights. Eek. Not sure there's much to say other than I know what I need to do. I need to get out running. Do I want to? No.

I told Matt last night that I must go for a run today and that he must make me do it even if it meant throwing me out of the house, locking all the doors and chucking my trainers at me through a top window. He seemed to think this sounded quite fun. I thought it sounded as fun as feeling like you're gasping for every precious oxygen carrying breath whilst your heavy and increasingly painful legs force themselves forward with a little hop between steps. Oh yes- that's exactly how fun it was. I managed 2.9 miles and it wasn't pretty. I think it was the hardest run I've done in ages. Urgh. But at least it was a trip out with my trainers. My trainers visited Felixstowe with us this Christmas but seem to be having a strop with me as they didn't actually get to see anything other than the inside of my bag. I think it's my evil trainers that were holding me back today as they made my feet feel likes blocks of concrete.

The problem is that I still really don't enjoy running. There's all this talk of "natural highs" and wonderful endorphins flooding your bloodstream and making you feel that running is a glue-sniffers paradise. Frankly I can only assume these crazy individuals have run so far that they've deprived their brains of vital oxygen and the hypoxia is causing severe confusion and delerium and that they should seek urgent medical attention. Running making you happy? Pah!

However, despite my hatred for moving faster than walking, the fact remains that in 3 months, 13 days, 13 hours, 10 minutes and 24 seconds, the starting horn will be going off to signal that I must start my 26.2 mile journey and everyone will be expecting me to run it. So there we are. Better get training again.....

Plans for this week:
Monday: Long shift at work, no run
Tuesday: ditto
Wednesday: Run 4.5 mile usual loop
Thursday: Try to find a local public pool that actually has public swimming sessions and swim
Friday: Run 5-6 miles before start weekend of 3 night shifts
Saturday: Sleep after night shift
Sunday: Consider short 3mile run if night shifts not too awful (but definitely not committing to this one!)

Oh good. Pray that my endorphins decide to pick me up.....


PS. Remember vaguely when I was running relatively regularly and went to that training day at BHF in London? Well there's a bloke also running for BHF who's making a video journal of his training. Check this out and look for me- I'm wearing 3/4 length black running leggings and a bright pink top (that matches the colour of my face). http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=092_CKXK7y8&list=PL5C5B028B2169B83E&context=C30b481bADOEgsToPDskJ1rQBAmqgZ4U4ckDWUcqPd

PPS. Marathon website has countdown clock on it. I'm not that much of a geek. Yet.