UP UP AND AWAY

BROLLY GOSH

So – this is the time when I should otherwise have been deep in training for Boston, just before a bit of tapering followed by a smidgen of feeling nervous and apprehensive about an 8-kilometre race through unknown and possibly deeply hostile territory. Instead, I’m wrapping up projects and looking forward in a grandiose way to an (albeit short) holiday when I will NOT be taking my laptop and NOT thinking about work and NOT thinking about running. Well, I probably will think about running and why I’m not doing much of it – although the friend (BBB) I am staying with has a treadmill in her house and as she’s the person who got me into this charade in the first place, I feel I will have to show some sort of enthusiasm and do some running under her roof in a hey-I’m-having-a-nice-day sort of way. But most of the time I hope I will be thinking happy thoughts about sightseeing and shopping and lots of exciting American things.

But I shall also try gently to reflect that although I’m not doing the half marathon, although I’m not doing the 5-mile race, although I failed miserably at the 5-kilometre ‘fun run’, the running this year so far has overall been a success. I have gone from running 30 seconds at a time (and that felt BAAAD – I remember looking at the stopwatch 20 seconds in and thinking I wasn’t going to make it…) to running 50 minutes at a time non-stop – and alcohol consumption has been reduced by about 95%. So it ain’t all a blitheringly gaumless debacle.

Stats

Pre-holiday busy-ness. It keeps raining in that rather depressing and indecisive on-off way so I couldn’t be bothered to go to the gym. I am also rabbit sitting at the moment which takes up so much brain space that I can’t possibly leave the house and think of anything else. Well, I can’t now as the rabbit refuses to go back in its hutch, has in fact hidden in a corner of the garden and will have to be chivvied out with a broomstick and lettuce leaf bribes. It cannot be left outside all night as the foxes may well make a stew of it before the morning and it would be a teensy bit awkward to explain to friends returning elated from their Greek island holiday that no, sorry, erm, the bunny is also a sort of…well, non-runner.

FRESH START

Well, enough of all this maudlin mopery. While wallowing in self-pity has its obvious attractions, there comes a time when one must stop believing one was the victim of a cruel conspiracy of events, the prey of pitiless fate and the sufferer of general sorcery and simply get on with it. So I have put away my tools of self-harm. I have placed the gin bottles reluctantly back in the cupboard. I have dusted myself down, hiked up my pantaloons and jolly well got back in the saddle. Onwards and upwards. Oh yes!

I obviously made the classic mistake of doing too much too soon, not preparing sufficiently well, overreaching myself, training erroneously, picking a distance that did not suit me… Yeah, right. Or maybe I’m just shit at running. Luckily, John Bingham (of No Need for Speed fame – see posts passim) has advice for people like me in a sweet little thought bubble called An Exercise in Joy on p 127: “The first time you must stop a run early, drop out of a race, skip a race altogether or end up finishing much more slowly than ever before, consider it a victory. You’re evolving as a runner. Take it in your stride – even boast about it“. So ha! Yay, people! Look at me! I’m shit!

Anyway, I ambled back to the gym today. I did 5 kilometres because that’s the arsing distance I was supposed to do on Saturday and I am actually capable of doing it – as long as it is under controlled laboratory conditions in hermetically sealed environments with only the radio tuned crassly to Kiss 100 blasting away for company. My legs still seemed to be slightly worse for wear from Saturday’s hard surfaces and nasty, nasty nature so I had a modest walking break in the middle today, but then did a sprint at the end which sort of weighed it up. Obviously, ’sprint’ has been redefined here at ShunningRunning as meaning slightly faster than I would normally run and probably a whole lot slower than most other people move during their cool-down.

Stats

Post-race recovery. Distance: 5 km. Run pace: 6.8 km/h. Time: Forgot to look.

I HATE RUNNING

DULWICH PARK CHARADE REPORT

The day was perfect – sunshine, no wind, relatively cool. The park was in full bloom and looked wonderful. The atmosphere was friendly and upbeat. Only the result was grey and dismal as the whole charade was exposed right down to its elite dri-fit socks. Modest, but steady progress at the gym does NOT translate IN ANY WAY WHATSOEVER into running ability on hard surfaces when you haven’t run on hard surfaces for months – no matter how excellent your socks are. After a great run in the gym on Friday which produced confidence and a real sense of moving forward, I thought the park run would be within easy-ish reach. It wasn’t. It was hard, it was demoralising and I didn’t enjoy it at all. Not one bit.

My 14-year-old running mate who hadn’t done any training whatsoever and hadn’t even bothered to put on a real pair of running shoes finished the three laps of the park in record time.

Halfway through the race, I was approached by two people with clipboards asking if I’d like to participate in a survey. When I explained to them that I was actually racing, they looked at me oddly and quickly backed away, relieved that they had narrowly avoided getting embroiled with some dangerously deluded loony who was obviously just sauntering aimlessly around the park.

This whole experience has thrown the running, its objectives, nay, the very tagline of this blog into turmoil and confusion. What now? What next? Can I take any more hilarity and humiliation? Can I be overtaken by Batman and people walking and still retain a shred of credibility as a ‘runner’? Tune in next week when I’ve probably topped myself.

Charade result: 2 laps out of 3. No goody bag or medal for me.

SOCK TIP OF THE DAY

Two pairs of Nike Elite (c’est moi!) Dri-Fit Running Socks arrived yesterday and were tested in a forensic way by my personal team of sock experts* this afternoon.

These socks are fabulous. The Dri-Fit fabric is very efficient and the socks came out as pristinely white (and orange and grey) as they went in. But more importantly, the footstrike cushioning (patent pending) works really well. Comfort all the way. Well done, Nike.

* The opinions expressed by my sock team are entirely their own based on independent empirical evidence and they are in no way in the employ of Nike or any other corporate entity. The socks were bought by ShunningRunning’s own Procurement Department.

SUBSTITUTES

This was my view during my run this evening. Gym wall. I wonder if I’ve got the colour quite right? A sort of off-green magnolia idea. I forgot about not going to the gym in the evenings and MY treadmill – the last non-wall treadmill left when I arrived – was snatched right in front of me by a nimble young person who did not need to be anywhere near a treadmill. Anyway, the wall seemed to focus the mind and I did 5.5 km comfortably.

My replacement Nike+ iPod sensor arrived this morning and I await the device that will attach it firmly to my shoe with quite astonishing excitement. I need it for Saturday.

Stats

Dulwich Park fun run training. Distance: 5.5 km. Run pace: 6.8 km/h. Time: About 48 mins.

THE SHUNNING RUNNING LITERARY SUPPLEMENT

After the debacle in the park on Friday, I feel rather nervous about running outside and my prospects at the Dulwich Park run on Saturday. All that wind and real ground and unavailability of stats. So I went to the gym and did a distance of 5.5 kilometres quite comfortably all in one go. There is great scope for humiliation as the Dulwich run is a lap thing and family and friends have promised mockery and jeering and they will presumably have the chance of mocking and jeering on several separate occasions as I go round and round.

To boost confidence I am reading this:

John Bingham started running at 43 when he was 35 kgs overweight, a smoker, a drinker and a complete couch potato so this sounds like the kind of starting-from-minus-53-zillion that I can identify with. He spent the first year faffing about, but is now a dedicated runner and an advocate of taking it slow, but steady and changing acitivity levels for good. I dropped my pace a little today – 6.8 km/h seems to be ‘my’ speed. It seems the most effortless, comfortable and non-blister-inducing. Anyway, I was slightly put off by this book at first when it dropped through the door as I dipped into it and found the immortal advice: “If you’re going to run, you need a pair of running shoes” – but now that I’ve started to read it properly, the book seems to contain sensible advice from a down-to-earth kinda guy. For one thing, it discusses ’sock technology’ which is a very good thing as are his checklists and little ‘Lessons Learnt’ case study bubbles with quotes from real or imaginary ‘mature’ novice runners. It also has a 12-week walk/run programme similar to the charade I’ve done – only even sissier. Not doing more than the programme says – even if you are tempted – is excellent advice and, I think, what made me get through the tough first few weeks (going into months).

Stats

Distance: 5.5 km. Run pace: 6.8 km/h.

COMPETITION TIME

Try spotting this:

In this:

No? Well, neither could I – and it serves me jolly well bloody right. I went to the park to give the Nike+ kit a try and did not heed good advice about the sensor being bound to fall off if I only stick it under my laces and try to do a run. Yeah, yeah, know-alls. You’re not an experienced athlete like me and you don’t know the first thing about KIT. Only I know about KIT and sensors and running with hardcore KIT and sensors and swine-flu-like gadget crazes… Within 200 yards the sensor had of course fallen out of my cunningly devised lace grip (i.e, tucked under one cross of laces). Luckily (you would think), the nice Nike+ iPod lady tells you immediately that the connection between precariously positioned sensor and iPod has been lost and I immediately scoured the path and grass and litter and picnic champagne corks, scanned the charming children on BMXes for guilty looks and checked the sky. There was obviously some spooky interplanetary thing going on because the bloody thing was nowhere to be seen despite being very white and very red on a pretty green background. Obviously, this is an Apple design fault. The sensor should of course be equipped with flashing lights, emit a high-pitched screech and sail back to you in its own inflatable craft whenever it is lost in not-even-very-tall grass. Hrrmph and hrrmph again. Back to the drawing board, Jobs.

Apart from the sensor debacle, running in the park – something I haven’t done for ages – didn’t seem very easy and I’m getting seriously worried about the five-kilometre Dulwich Park run next weekend which is supposed to be a breeze and an easy demonstration of how far I’ve come in this charade. Pah. I did a bit more sans sensor, but was so pissed off that I went home after about 15 minutes. Without stats, there’s just no point.

Now for the competition tie breaker: Why is it all so effing predictable?

a) That’s not predictability, but stupidity.

b) Benidorm.

c) Elvis.

NOT RUNNING, BUT SHOPPING

A lot of today taken up with run-related things without any actual running being done. I made a rare whirlwind trip to Regent Street and oh look, there’s the Apple store and look, whoops, oh dear, I bought this:

I love the Apple store. It’s the only place in the world where you walk in and want to buy EVERYTHING. Even their plastic bags are yummy. (By the way, if you think, gentle Reader, that the slightly more in-focus plant-cone-candle combo behind the Nike+ looks a teeny tinsley bit like a Christmas decoration, you’d be right. The fucker refuses to die.) Then I went home and messed around on nikeplus.com for ages and calibrated the sensor and all that twaddle.

Then I thought I’d better sign up online for the whole BOSTON TWENTY-OH-NINE charade – secretly hoping that there would be an oversubscription thing a la London Marathon, but no such luck. This is also the time to announce in a shamefaced and entirely dipstick sort of fashion that BBB and I will not be running the half marathon as I – as is glaringly obvious – am not ready. No, we will be running the 5K sissy run for complete giggly gurls instead. That’s 5 miles, not 5 kilometres, but still. The waiver I signed this afternoon was longer than the bloody race. I’ve promised not to sue the organisers, the City of Boston, the fire brigade, the Memorial Foundation and every other legal entity within suing distance and have – mendaciously – declared myself fit to run. Ha! A few days ago I also registered for the visa waiver programme with the US Embassy and answered fatuous questions about whether I intended to commit sweeping acts of genocide on entry to the United States. I have had to waive the right to drug taking, criminal activity, moral turpitude, mental instability, any kind of civil litigation AND genocide. I mean, what kind of tourist experience are they offering here? And still – I am not guaranteed entry to the place. I may well be turned away at the point of entry if the dude on the door is having a bad day. Honestly, you didn’t get this kind of nonsense in the Soviet Union.