Weather to run?

As will probably be my routine throughout training, I'm currently kicking back after my weekly long run and reflecting on the week.

The mid-week runs are going well.  I was actually looking forward to Tuesday's hill repeats as they were something a bit diferent and, in my head, shortened my run as 1.5 miles of it was just up and down the same stretch. Sho' was cold though; literally freezing in fact and for one who normally glows like the nosecone of the spaceshuttle upon re-entry to Earth's atmosphere, I was layered up to the max.  Cold weather, assuming it's not like a skating rink on the streets, is fine for running and will never put me off.  Other elements are a different matter...

My first long run of marthon training was wet.  It was that stupid rain that didn't seem that heavy but had seeped though my water-resistant coat enough to send my i-phone into some kind of spasm so that I was getting feedback from Nike on my progress every thirty seconds.  What I don't understand is how come, even when I'm drenched, I still take it as a massive personal insult when a great big drop falls from a tree branch and lands squarely on my head.

Today was a totally different kettle of fish.  The husband dropped me off in Macclesfield and I ran home, via Wilmslow and Mottram St Andrew (Macc's closer to Alderley Edge than you think!).  I knew it was windy, but it really didn't bode well that the old A34 was closed as a HUGE tree had been blown across the road.  After the pang of sorrow for the poor, dying tree had passed, I realised this had the potential to be a dog of a run.  And I was right: the first eight miles were into a headwind, the like of which I've never encountered before.  You don't realise how much extra power you have to put into combatting a headwind, which is one of the reasons why running on a treadmill can never fully take the place of road miles.  Aside from it being tiring, it can also be demoralising because you know you could be putting that power to better use - either pace or distance. I also couldn't feel my legs for the last two miles becauase of the combination of fatigue and the wind-chill.

At least the difficulties of running in heat will evade me in this escapade.  The above is just the classic winter training; long runs are miles in the bank and are the runs that REALLY matter, so there's no avoiding them.  They have to be run at some point so it might as well be regardless of the weather.  I do tell myself 'What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.' but it doesn't stop me railling, Lear-like, at the wind. It's just that, unlike Lear, I don't want the wind to crack his cheeks, I want him to piss off and leave me alone.

Happily, despite the weather's best efforts, I recorded a half marathon PB today, knocking four whole minutes off my previous time.  I'm really pleased with this but can't help wondering what my time would have been if there had been no wind to battle against.  I guess I'll find out in the coming weeks as the miles ramp up.  By the time I run the Blackpool Half I'll have one 20 mile run under my belt and hopefully the elements will be kind.....

Newsflash - Fat bird loses weight and takes up running!

For those of you that are unfamiliar with my story, this post's title pretty much sums it up.  However, the slightly more polished version follows:

Anyone who knows me will tell you that I’ve battled with food all my life.  I love it.  I love cheese (boards in particular) and chocolate (‘finest’ moment: scoffing 2kg of Quality Street in one go in front of the TV) and pick ‘n’ mix and crisps (big bags of onion rings) and ICE CREAM.  None of this Mr Whippy nonsense though:  the best ice cream comes in a 2ltr tub and is dense, custard-based, home-made vanilla. Feeds one:  me.  So it’s no surprise I tipped the scales at 25st 2.5lbs when I joined a local Slimming World group in January 2009.

I joined Slimming World with a friend, fully expecting to stick with it for a few weeks then give up and instantly regain any weight I’d lost.  However, I left that first group buzzing with excitement at the possibilities.  I went home and read my new member’s pack from cover to cover and didn’t sleep a wink.  I was planning meals in my head for the rest of the week.  I got to grips with the plan pretty quickly (I’m vegetarian so only had to grasp the Green plan at the time) and in my first week I lost six pounds.  After four weeks I’d lost a stone and although my initial plan had been to ‘coast’ for a bit and just stick to the plan I was itching to hit the gym.  So I did.

Joining a gym when you are completely unfit and weigh 24 stones is daunting; no matter how friendly the gym claims to be.  Most people in that situation would feel conspicuous.  I knew the lay of the land: I’d done the whole gym thing before and enjoyed it, but I did feel like I had to swallow my pride, ignore all the athletic-types in their Lycra, and just get on with being red-faced and sweaty in my own corner.

I became a total gym-bunny that year and over Christmas my colleagues started to discuss the BUPA Great Manchester 10k as the charity we work for had places.  I agreed to run.  Then I panicked.  I hadn’t run since school and six miles seemed like an awfully long way.  Failure wasn’t an option, especially when my amazing friends started pledging cold hard cash for my efforts.  The first time I ran was on the treadmill; I managed ninety seconds and thought I was going to die.  I was purple-faced and wheezing like an asthmatic bulldog.  January to May 2010 was spent in a heady routine of panicking, wheezing and interval training.  The first time I ran outside it was -4°.  I managed ⅓ of a mile and my lungs BURNED.  The first time I ran a complete mile I thought my legs would give way.  But they didn’t, and I realised that I was capable of focusing on a goal and pushing myself to achieve it.

I’d not really thought much about what would happen after the 10k.  Once it was done and dusted it felt as if I’d be going backwards if I stopped running, so I just kept things ticking over on the treadmill.  I’d only really been able to run for a maximum of about fifteen minutes indoors because I was a clock-watcher who imposed her own restrictions: ‘You’re struggling.  You can’t do more than fifteen minutes.’  One day something just clicked and I knocked out an hour.  I’d found my ‘place’ where you hit your rhythm, your stride feels relaxed, and you completely zone out.  I ran the Wilmslow Half Marathon in March 2011, completed the Total Warrior 10K assault course in August 2011, and shortly afterwards I applied for a Marathon place through Slimming World. 

At the beginning of December 2011 I reached my weight loss target.  I've lost a total of 12st 2.5lbs and no longer recognise myself.  I've gone from being a defeatist couch potato to someone who will put her fear to the back of her mind and give pretty much anything a go.

I want to run the marathon because I’ve watched it on TV and thought ‘It must be amazing to be able to do that’.  What better way to celebrate losing 12 stones than by running VLM 2012?  I’ve got a fabulous opportunity to challenge myself and raise money for the NSPCC.  I’ve pledged to raise £1000 and it would mean so much to me if you would support the NSPCC by sponsoring me.  Anything you can give will be appreciated and I can guarantee that thinking of your generosity when I’m fifteen miles into a cold and wet, training run will keep me going.

Week 2 - Panic Prevails

So, if you don't know about my London Marathon place by now you really must have been hiding under a stone.  I knew I had the place back in October, but since January I've been eating, sleeping and breathiing it.  I don't really think/talk about much else and there is only one reason for this at the moment: panic.

See, I don't really like running.  Well, sometimes I do.  You can have awesome runs that make you feel strong and full of life.  But you can also have Hell-runs that stay with you for weeks, months, or in my case, years.  This time last year I was training for the Wilmslow Half Marathon and decided to toddle off up the Middlewood Way because it's a trail (so soft-going), it's flat and it seemed like an ideal route.  Wrong! It took me two miles to warm up;  it was like the Somme and I nearly lost my tainers a few times to deep, sucking mud pools; it was definitely flat but that can also mean boring and unchanging.  The husband had dropped me off and was coming back to pick me up and this just left me feeling abandoned and miserable.  I'd aimed for 8 miles and I got them, the last four being run into an incredibly strong headwind. I'd started crying quater of a mile before I finished and couldn't breathe - it was that horrible an experience.  Now, every time I head out for a long run I first have to trample the fear that I will have another run like that.  The bizarre thing is that I haven't had a run that bad since, so maybe it's time to let it go and appreciate what I learned from it. And I did learn from it.  I learned that sometimes it's better to cut your losses, call it a day and try again some other time.  But I also learned that I've got reserves of stubborness to draw on that mules would envy.

Aside from Hell runs, routes have been plaguing me this week.  I'm not thinking straight.  Literally.  I seem obsessed with trying to make circular routes fit the number of miles I'm meant to run but actually the easiest thing to do is run out for half the distance, then run back!  I am so anxious that logic is escaping me.  It's easier at the weekends because I can run in daylight and if I have to run along the road for lack of a path it's not the end of the world.  Running on dark nights is a different matter though, and I prefer to try to stick to pavements with street lighting.  However, note to Cheshire East council: I want a rebate on my Council Tax because with the state of some of the pavements in Wilmslow I'd be better off navigating a ploughed field.  Anyway, I'm getting there.

Today was my second long run of training: 11 miles.  I'm really pleased with how it went as last Sunday I ran 9 miles and my quads were mashed for pretty much the rest of the week.  My old foe panic was to blame here too: lying awake at 5.30am on Thursday morning I realised that last year I would never have contemplated running for 90 minutes without taking on some kind of fuel.  This had completely escaped me and I'd just been out there with my bottle of Lucozade Lite! I'd also forgotten to have porridge for breakfast, which is a cardinal sin for me.  I was armed with a couple of carb gels today and, though my legs were tired, the fatigue was nothing like last week's and hopefully the recovery time will be much shorter.  Carb gels taste like shit though.

Heading into Week 3 of the training plan I feel more optimnistic.  It does take a little while to hit your stride (forgive the pun) and to get your training routine in order.  You forget that routine isn't about when to run and how far, but that it's about correct fuelling, clothing, routes and all the other little bits and pieces that go into successful training.  I think I've got my head back in the zone now.

If you are wondering why this first blog is titled Week 2 it's because there wasn't a Week 1.  I skipped it.  My confidence is obviously hiding somewhere... just got to dig a bit deeper to find it in the coming weeks.

I AM RUNNING THE VIRGIN LONDON MARATHON 2012 TO RAISE MONEY FOR THE NSPCC.  IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO SPONSOR ME PLEASE VISIT MY JUST GIVING PAGE: 

http://www.justgiving.com/Catherine-Simpson2