THIS IS IT

Yes, I admit it – things have been rather quiet on the surface here at ShunningRunning, but that does not mean that a lot of shunning of the old running has not been taking place. Oh no! I have been busy shunning running for more than six months – in fact after I took part in my first race and decided that I was decidedly NOT as good at running as I thought I was. My forte certainly is more the shunning than the running.

Ho-hum. Boston happened, but alas without me. I spent a much more fabulous time touring the coastline of Massachusetts and doing all things lobster.

Psychologically, of course, the whole ShunningRunning idiom and I were hit hard by The Gloved One’s demise. Will we ever be able to run to Smooth Criminal without thinking of Michael’s personal Dr Mengele standing over him with a yo-big syringe? Will we ever moonwalk and interfere with innocent young children in quite the same way again?

Stats

Nil by running shoe.

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.

BOSTON BOOKED

Well, the ticket to Boston is now booked. Fate is taking inexorable charge of guiding me towards a certain moment of humiliation in space-time. Even the guidebook has been purchased. I haven’t been to the States for over 10 years and when I went that one time, I went to New York. Now I’m sure that Boston is super, but it has to be said that the guidebook is somewhat thinnner than the NYC one and – apart from Harvard University – I can’t really think of anything Bostonian in terms of monuments and sights. Laidback tourism and pottering about is all very well, but I’m pretty hot on ticking off that Statue of Liberty, those Twin Towers (erm…) and that revolving restaurant at the top of the (Marriott, was it?) hotel with choppers zooming around at eye level between skyscrapers while I sip giant Woo-Woos. On the face of it, the lack of monuments and lack of alcohol consumption do tend to indicate that the whole Boston experience may turn out to be a slightly paler concoction in comparison.

Isn’t it ironic? was playing in the gym as I walked in. Which was ironic. Especially as that song isn’t about irony. But I suppose ‘Isn’t it just jolly rotten bad luck?’ doesn’t sound quite the same. You spend a heap of cash on fancy trainers, post pictures of them in a fit of enthusiasm and walk around in them all day to break them in and sort of feel a little bit like you’re starting to look and act like a real runner – and all they do is chew up both your feet. Thanks, ASICS. Why spend nothing, wear the good trainers you already had and walk out of the gym without a care in the world? Because…THAT JUST WOULDN’T BE LIFE, WOULD IT?

Hair of the blog

Alcohol doesn’t even exist.

Blog’s bollocks

Week 10 of 13. 20 minutes run. 1 minute walk. 41 minutes. Session 2 of 3. Walk pace: 4.5 km/h. Run pace: 6.8 km/h. Walk pace slightly decreased as I deserved a bloody break between these two big slices of running. This whole thing is starting to feel less like a charade, it has to be said.

PICK’N’MIX

Due to snow and rain and taxi demos missed a whole week of progress, but headed out on Saturday for a real pick’n’mix of running/walking – 2 minutes here, 1 minute there jumping puddles and navigating dirty snowmen down the Old Kent Road and the backstreets of Southwark – and came back discouraged, with an aching heel and a conviction that BOSTON TWENTY-OH-NINE is nothing more than a preposterous delusion knitted by BBB and worn back to front by me. I didn’t even bother to log those 45 pathetic minutes… BUT THIS MORNING I rocked up at Greenwich Park at 8 am in a rare fit of hardcore determination. Think of the worst thing possible weather-wise and it was worse than that. Think Aberdeen. Rain was coming down in a kind of sideways spit-piddle with a gusty squall thrown in and the whole park as grey as Grampian granite. But that couldn’t spoil a damn thing.

The first 20 minutes were not even very hard and at that time of the morning the avenues are empty, the only car parked was mine and I could sing along to some tawdry tracks in the wind and rain without getting funny looks and this all sounds horrible, but in fact it was one of the best sessions ever culminating in an 8-minute non-stop run before I stretched a bit and drove home to wonder how the hell changing the font in one post could double-space ALL the rest of the text in the WHOLE of this bloody blog…

Alcohol-free programme – not counting

The lapsometer also pick’n’mixed during the snowstorms and freak rain, but a month and a bit of significantly reduced alcohol consumption has resulted in…well, significantly reduced alcohol consumption overall and less craving for the gentle lap of Oyster Bay on Friday nights.

Running Progress

Week 6 of 13. 2 minutes walk. 3 minutes run. 60 minutes (with a fuck-off 8-minute run at the end – yo!). Session 2 of 3.

MEN IN PARKS

Headed to Deptford Park again in the sunshine via Mercury Way where the film crew had obviously finished shooting the stunts for Never Say Bomb Bermondsey Again. The dubious square of grass – or rather the benches and other street furniture – was inhabited by the weekday weirdos – sulky teenager with BMX just glaring from a bench, a man smoking while walking around on the grass and paths, odd dude in trenchcoat, suit and trainers. Park rules are simple. If you don’t have a child, dog, football or preposterous charade like BOSTON TWENTY-OH-NINE to prepare for, you should not be there. The message is simple: MEN ON THEIR OWN HAVE NO BUSINESS IN PARKS.

The first 20 minutes hard hard hard as usual and by the time I get properly warmed up after 50 minutes and can run much better, it’s time to go home. I hope this is a trend that will work exponentially in Boston.

Alcohol-free Day 27 minus 2

The lapsometer has been idle again.

Running Progress

Week 5 of 13. 2.5 minutes walk. 2.5 minutes run. 55 minutes (with a couple of 3-minute runs and one 4-minute one – yo!). Session 3 of 3.

PIMP MY RUN

After five days of inaugural exhaustion, I decided to head out again – not down the Old Kent Road in case PC World had installed technology to give joggers a runner’s puncture every time they pass (in the style of the high-pitched noise emitters that get rid of loitering teenagers), but over to the dubious square of grass that is Deptford Park. The dubious square of grass is OK on a Saturday afternoon as it fills up with dogs and toddlers, not surly-looking hoodies sitting alone on benches at 11 am on a weekday.

I also decided to pimp my run with 45 minutes of Nike Original Running tracks for my iPod to keep me movin’. There’s just so much Right Said Fred any person can take. The running tracks consist of thumping electro-stomp with singer-motivators saying things like ‘It’s time, baby’ and ‘Watch the road’ which was sound advice, although more accurate would have been ‘Watch the film crew’ who were setting up some elaborate stunt down at the scrap yard on Mercury Way. I hope it goes horribly wrong and they blow up Bermondsey by some kind of horrifically fortuitous mistake.

Skipping four days and experiencing existential doubts about BOSTON TWENTY-OH-NINE do not seem to have dented progress. Still running/walking 50/50, but managed to do a couple of 3-minute segments too so am now unofficially running more than walking! Officially, I should only be at that stage in Week 6 of the programme which should be next week in real time – although my running weeks do seem to stretch to about three times real calendar weeks.

Alcohol-free Day 24 minus 2

The lapsometer has been idle.

Running Progress

Week 5 of 13. 2.5 minutes walk. 2.5 minutes run. 65 minutes. Session 2 of 3.

HEAVY RAIN

Due to the Andes-style translation project finishing, this has been a day of leisure. The heavy rain also meant the impossibility of stomping around pretending to be a runner. The padded socks were also in the wash. So – ha! Everything conspired against BOSTON TWENTY-OH-NINE. Instead = a heady day of going to Sainsbury’s, cooking fajitas and reading Risk: The Science of Politics and Fear.

Also the chance to lie in bed staring at the ceiling and contemplating the reasons why the ridiculously plait-haired one is staying up till 3 am with Volodya in the Kremlin talking about gaz. Maybe the gaz is just a front. They were probably listening to Smooth Criminal.

Alcohol-free Day 19 minus 2

Lapsometer screams into the red zone. End of project and 12-hour working days celebrated with G&Ts and a bottle of white wine.

Running Progress

None.

MILESTONE

OK, so mine’s a pink milestone covered in sissy flowers and has a sort of toy look to it, but I am now running as much as I am walking – segments of 2.5 minutes one and 2.5 minutes the other. This is Week 5 of the 13-week programme which I only started to take vaguely seriously after Christmas. Yesterday I again did the well-stomped route down the Old Kent Road, past the heady landmarks of Toys-R-Us, the self storage empire, PC World, B&Q, the fire station and ASDA with Bermondsey Tesco as the bright light on the horizon for the padded socks plod. I looked up the approximate kilometre distance of my route which was depressing. BOSTON TWENTY-OH-NINE is written on a banner on Mars which I am observing through my pathetic little telescope.

I have discovered one advantage of Ghanian evangelists – you always look slim and svelte among them. I have also discovered that there are very few tracks that are good to run to. The fact that they are good to dance to does not mean they are good to run to. Smooth Criminal is, rather embarrassingly, really good for the running charade. Annie are you ok are you ok annie annie are you ok are you ok annie works. Tragic.

Alcohol-free Day 17 minus 1

Had two glasses of Cava on Thursday, but I have decided that this is not enough to register on the lapsometer.

Running Progress

Week 5 of 13. 2.5 minutes walk. 2.5 minutes run. Session 1 of 3.

BIG FUN

Again stomping the nether regions of the Old Kent Road. I never hit a wall – I always seem to carry one with me for the first 20 minutes – but then broke free of it outside PC World and the sun came out and the mist lifted and…wow…will to live! Not a hint of heel trouble. Super-soft left and right-designated heel-and-toe-padded socks are definitely where it’s at. Today was almost as much fun as the kind of fun had 20 years ago involving much less padded socks and Russian officer cadets. Either running is a very exciting sport or I’m very old.

The jumping and bouncing to keep warm continues. Now most of the EU is hopping mad. Fitness is improving across the board. Ukraine reckons that the reason no gaz is coming out of their end of the pipe on the border to Western Europe is that the Russians were putting the gaz into the wrong pipe at their end – which of course sounds plausible.

Alcohol-free Day 14 minus 1

No further lapsed days. Research published (or appearing on the news) today suggests that consuming a lot of caffeine can give you visual disturbances – ocular snow, little yellow discs hopping about, blurriness, tunnel vision. Phew. I had the little yellow discs this week and thought…uh-oh…brain tumour. But then I thought that if I had a brain tumour, it would be unlikely that I’d have to do BOSTON TWENTY-OH-NINE – although BBB would probably still make me.