notajogger

Short Hills

Last night I ran the first ‘short hills’ session in the plan. I didn’t check exactly how short a short hill was, so ran 10 x 45 seconds up the hill, jogging back down to the bottom. Turns out it should have been 50-60 seconds, oops. It did feel a bit too easy. Maybe I didn’t push hard enough, as the ‘long hills’ session was so difficult and I feared running out of juice.

Next week looks tougher, but if I’m finding it easy as this week I’ll switch to the 35-40 miles a week version of the plan and get more reps and miles in.

Get me!

I’m looking forward to this weekend’s running, a short tempo run tomorrow followed by an easy 10 miles on Sunday. I’m going to leave that run until after I’ve watched Paula Radcliffe’s return in the Berlin marathon. I really want to believe that she can come back on top form. She’s a role model for 30-something female runners everywhere. No pressure then, Paula.

Running for Office

This week I went to my first party conference. On the train on the way to Birmingham, studying the agenda and working out what to attend, I entertained a brief hope: maybe it wouldn’t be a gathering of political activists, journalists and special advisers? Maybe it would actually be a conference about parties? Or a conference OF parties? Perhaps we would all have to eat birthday cake and take part in organised games for prizes? I was briefly cheered.

Sadly, it really was a party political affair, though there were an awful lot of free sandwiches and many terrible jokes. There was also singing, though the only prize for that seemed to be getting as far away from it as possible, which I was happy to do.

Despite ‘fringe’ events starting before 8am, I managed to fit in a run. I don’t know Birmingham very well and worried about the route. Usual rules seem not to apply there – being able to see your destination is no guarantee that you will actually be able to reach it. Public spaces are suddenly intersected by motorways, roads cut off by shopping centres. I had a look on mapmyrun and saw that most people’s routes in central Birmingham were along canals rather than streets. This made sense – provided I could find a canal there was little chance of getting lost on the towpath.

I chose the Worcester & Birmingham Canal and had a very pleasant, if a little quiet, 4 mile run. Tall trees and buildings rose directly from the opposite bank, shutting out the morning sun. Under gloomy bridges, the pounding of my footsteps echoed loudly, only to be swallowed up by the dark, still water on my escape. I passed a couple of other runners, a few cyclists whizzed by at a frightening speed, but mostly I had the city to myself.

Arriving back at Gas Street Basin, two armed police with huge black guns waved me back onto the street. Back to civilisation.

10k Training: Week One

Another catch-up post.

Saturday was tempo run day. I had been both wanting and dreading it. Wanting it because I like the concept – it makes sense to run at the threshold of discomfort, to understand what that feels like and know you can cope. Dreading it because running at the threshold of discomfort has, in the past, been very hard to judge and has mainly involved running in discomfort. What does running at 85% effort mean? On Saturday, I think I worked it out. My tired legs meant I couldn’t run a 5k or even 10k pace, so the 20 minutes went by at half marathon pace, which felt about right.

Sunday’s 12 miler (as per plan) would have taken me to 33 miles, 10 more than last week, so I dropped it to 10 miles in the hope that would be enough to stave off injury. I know this still made for too big a jump, mileage-wise (apparently one shouldn’t add more than 10% per week), but I felt good so risked it.

It was worth it. Sunday was a beautiful early autumn morning and I made Mr N run a proper easy pace. We chatted all the way round, discussing the merits of the various dogs out for their Sunday strolls. We even managed to come up with a plan to save Arsenal’s season. I must pop in to discuss it with Arsene next time I pass the Emirates. I hear he loves that.

On repeatedly running up hills at 6.30am

It’s insane, basically.

Several commuters travelling down Muswell Hill this morning may have reported a woman acting suspiciously between 6.45am and 7.03am on the pavement leading from the Victoria Stakes pub to the junction of Cascade Avenue.

The woman, who was wearing a white t-shirt and grey flappy shorts, appeared to be racing up the hill repeatedly, despite showing obvious and distressing signs of pain.

“I was worried for my kids”, Olivia Colney-Hatch (39) might have told police, “We were stuck at the lights for 10 minutes and they were forced to watch this crazy woman hurting herself for no reason. I locked the doors. It was frightening.” Mark Fortismere (23) was also concerned, “Ladies should look pretty, but she was all red-faced and sweaty. It was rank.”

Holding Steady

Yesterday was the second day on the new plan, and a marked improvement from Tuesday. My legs felt twice as strong and I ran the ‘4 miles steady’ (plus a bit more) at an average of 7.5 minutes per mile. This was only 15 seconds slower than my supposed 10-k pace, but felt completely comfortable.

In less positive news, I nearly got run over by Highbury Corner. I was looking at the green man flashing rather than the traffic and both the oncoming car and I had to make an emergency stop at the crossing. There was some horn blowing and shouting, and not from me. I was at fault, and lucky to get away with just a bruised ego.

It’s amazing that this doesn’t happen on every run. I can be thinking about dinner, looking at my watch, listening to a podcast, looking out for uneven bits of pavement, dodging oncoming buggies and calculating the speed of passing bikes all at the same time. Running down Upper Street at 5.30pm is like a 3D game of Frogger – it can be mentally exhausting working out a route between the crowd, but I love it. I could have a PhD in Pedestrian Dodging.

I’m just not so I’m good with the cars.

Death by Intervals

I keep my promises.

I’ve signed up for another Regent’s Park 10k and yesterday I started a new training schedule.

It was hard to find a free 10k training plan on the web that wasn’t aimed at beginners. I know enough about running to know what works for me, but not enough to know how to combine sessions to make me faster. I want to run about 30 miles a week and include intervals, tempo, hills and long runs. After a dismissal-worthy amount of googling at work, I found a plan. It wasn’t in a good format so I made a spreadsheet:

10k training plan – 8 weeks

It looks hard, but not mountainously so. I have no idea whether it will work. My scientific conclusion is that it’s worth a try.

The first session, last night, was an interval session of 4×1600 at 10k pace. I measured out a loop of 2 x 2 miles with 1/2 mile recovery gaps in between and went round it twice. It was not fun. I re-discovered that the pace at which I think I could run 10k, is not actually the pace at which I can run 10k. I did the miles (or 1600 metres if we are being consistent) in 7minutes 15 seconds each, other than the final one which took some time longer*. I have run a half-marathon at that pace, but yesterday I could barely manage four individual miles. I have some way to go with this plan.

*I have no idea how much longer. How much longer do you have?

The Power of Breakfast

On Saturday morning I woke up with a hangover. I drank two cups of tea, ate two slices of toast and did Friday’s crossword in bed. By 9am I still had a hangover but laced up the trainers and we headed out for a 9 mile run.

I ran on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday mornings and it was horrible every time. On Saturday I ran twice as far, with a headache and mild dehydration, but felt brilliant. Either there is no justice in the world, or I really have to eat breakfast in order to have a good run.

I’ve been slowing down or walking too much on my runs lately, but it didn’t even cross my mind on Saturday. When I got back, the hangover had gone. It was a miracle run. If only I could have one every day.

Friday Cheer

I have of late, and wherefore I know well but don’t particularly want to share, lost some of my mirth. It is therefore possible that my running, and my reporting of it, has been less enjoyable than I would like.

I set out this morning really hoping for a soul-lifting and heart-filling experience, a little story or two to lighten the mood. Sadly the most interesting thing I can think to say about my 4 mile plod around Crouch End is that it was very humid. I regretted wearing running tights over flappy shorts.

I don’t have anything good to say about the run. I have tried. I am reduced to commenting on the weather.

As a last resort, I will post a picture of one of my cats.

Here is Ted on the bed this morning. If he doesn’t cheer you up, nothing will.

The 40 Steps

Back to the Emirates this morning for Rocky II: Still Damp but Marginally Less So.

I definitely didn’t punch the air this time at the top of the steps. I felt like punching something, but not that. A bad mood from Wednesday insisted on staying overnight like an unwelcome guest. I ran with it on my back like a military pack filled with bricks.

Sometimes even a run can’t shake a black cloud. The real black clouds aren’t helping much – North London looked filthy in the gloom. I passed a homeless woman, tottering in slow motion on the Holloway Road, eyes open but vacant. She swayed as I passed, as if rocked by a cool breeze.

Routes Manoeuvre

I am in search of new routes. Until I am better able to handle running 1.5 miles straight up a hill at 6.15am, I need a new selection of 4 – 7 mile routes which are flat. At least for the first mile.

This morning I set out in the rain without knowing where I did want to go, but knowing exactly where I didn’t, and taking the opposite route. I headed over towards Holloway Road, didn’t want to run down it or up it, so crossed over and went to Tufnell Park. I didn’t fancy running downhill to Kentish Town (sure to involve an uphill on the way back), or uphill towards Highgate (which would be uphill), so went down Tufnell Park Road. I was heading back to the Holloway Road, not ready to head towards Finsbury Park, so I ran down towards Highbury. A longer route could take me around Highbury Corner to Highbury Grove, but I took the shorter route past the Arsenal stadium to Blackstock Road.

This was a good plan. The wind was whistling around the Emirates, but I got a psychological kick from running up the stadium steps, a la Rocky. Every run should have its training montage moment.

I resisted punching the air as I crossed the bridge into Ashburton Grove. Tiredness was setting in at the half hour point, but I set my face into a grimace and headed home. 39 minutes and 15 seconds, about 5 miles dead on. A new route has been put down.