Category: Good Days

Pride comes before the Wall

I love these light, bright evenings. Instead of getting home and having to force myself into running kit and out of the door, I walk in and can’t wait to get out back out again, trainers on.

At least, this is how I felt last night. I went for a 5 mile “easy run” around Crouch End and Muswell Hill and it really was easy. Wow, I thought, I’ve reached the point in my training where even when I’m tired my legs can carry me along without too much effort. Running up Mount Doom at the end, I felt like I was being pulled up the hill by an invisible ski lift.

This evening, however, the ski lift was nowhere to be found and I was flailing in the gutter. It was the dreaded tempo session (hard): 35 minutes (5 miles) with 1 mile either side. It was hot. It was hell. I managed a pathetic 10 minutes of the tempo section before realising that if I carried on I might actually die of exhaustion. I can’t work out what went wrong, everything hurt at once. I managed to keep running for the whole distance, but could only manage two short bursts of speed and ran the rest at a snail’s pace.

Apparently Kenyan runners are famous for their tempo runs. They run them for 10-20 miles. I don’t think I am a Kenyan.

Giving your all

So Ryan Hall, of training plan fame, came fourth in the Boston marathon on Saturday, with a time of just under 2 hours 5 minutes. Not bad I suppose, but was he running up Shepherd’s Hill at 5k pace this morning before 6.30am? No he was not.

Of all the hard sessions in his excellent plan, interval training is still the one I’m most comfortable with. The thought of a tempo run before breakfast turns my stomach, but I quite enjoyed the intervals this morning. I suspect I was running them (5 x 1k at 5k pace) more slowly than I would have at 6.30pm, but I was going as fast as I could and only cut one of them short (the last, and only by 30 seconds).

It was a warm morning and the sky glowed pink over blue Crouch End rooftops as the sun came up. When I got home I was too hot to face breakfast, but had to force down some toast just before leaving for work to avoid fainting on the tube. This is most unlike me, usually I am eating within 5 minutes of finishing a run.

I really felt for all the London marathoners on Sunday, running in unseasonable heat. It’s the one thing you can’t do anything about – I saw two elite runners vomit after they crossed the finish line, one of them pretty copiously. Good for her, I thought, there’s no doubt now in anyone’s mind that she gave it her all. The proof is in the puking…

Going the extra mile (or not)

So, it wasn’t a cold, but instead a weird fevery-virus type affair that lasted a couple of days and completely wiped me out . I went for three days without running, the most since my post- marathon recovery week in November. On Saturday morning I was still feeling shady, but decided to risk a short run in the spirit of  ‘kill or cure’. As I’m not writing this from an afterlife where ghosts sit around drinking wine and blogging  (imagine that), it was happily the latter.

I don’t think running is generally to be recommended as a cure for illness, but it definitely does wonders for my mental wellbeing. I am not good at being ill, by which I mean that a) I’m not ill very often, thankfully, and b) I struggle to embrace the advantages of illness. On normal days I fantasize about sitting at home or in the garden with my book, sipping cold beverages or painting my toenails while watching episodes of Monk. When I am ill I feel too guilty to switch on the TV and draw the curtains for fear that the view of the garden might prevent my headache from reaching its true potential. Illness destroys all my positivity; running restores it.

This morning no trace of illness remained and I thought, what better to aid full recovery than a 14 mile run? It’s the longest run in my training plan and I might feel like a fraud if I didn’t at least attempt it. As it was, we didn’t manage it. Mr Notajogger and I plodded around our old half-marathon route and, from about 6 miles in, the idea of tacking on the extra mile at the end began to feel more and more extravagant. I mean, what would it actually achieve? We will never know, as we stopped our watches outside Nando’s on Stroud Green Road (the traditional end of our 13 mile runs during marathon training) at 1 hour 46 minutes. I want to knock 12 minutes off that in three weeks’ time – maybe we should have done that extra mile…

Rewards

I got back from the gym an hour and a half ago, since when I have had a hot bath, watched a trashy TV programme (The Model Agency) and eaten a trashy meal (beans on toast). I then ate some cereal straight from the packet. There is a Cameron Diaz film on in the background as I write this. Despite the bath, I feel a bit dirty now.

At the gym I ran the same interval programme as two weeks ago, and the air conditioners weren’t working so I sweated a lot. It went well – I was able to run all the sections at the speeds I planned and I felt like I was pushing myself hard to do it. Sadly, however, I think the reason I felt so good after the run was that I found out that I hadn’t put on any weight this week, after mysteriously gaining 7 lbs since New Year.

It saddens me to spend any time thinking about weight, fatness and thinness. One of the things I love about running is that it frees me from worrying about what I eat. Food becomes fuel as well as something to be enjoyed. I love the protein cravings brought on by high mileage. I love the mid-morning snacks when I’m feeling a bit faint after a pre-breakfast run. I love the pre-run bananas and the post-run energy drinks and the mid-run flapjacks. I love food, and I resent any time spent worrying about whether I’m eating too much of it.

I’m not, I don’t think. Why just yesterday I turned down a second piece of carrot cake.

 

Tempus Fug It

I wonder how long it’s going to take me to run out of tempo-related puns.  Not very long if today’s effort is anything to go by.

Yesterday I ran home from work, incorporating a 25 minute “hard” tempo run section into a 6 mile route around Islington. I ran about half of the tempo section up and down Liverpool Road because it’s over a mile long and relatively traffic, people and crossing free. It’s not the most beautiful of streets, but scenery wasn’t high on my list of priorities as I scoured the paving slabs with my eyes, longing for the 25 minutes to be up.

Despite my moaning, I coped better with the tempo element than I did on a similar run 2 weeks’ ago, averaging 7 minute miles and feeling a lot more comfortable in the process. Is this progress? It’s possible.

Whilst my glass is half full, I should also note that the run was completed to a joyous soundtrack of Kvelertak, by Kvelertak, which is my new favourite metal album to run to. Recent favourites have included The Blue Album, by Baroness, and Blood Mountain by Mastodon (still the king, in my opinion). They just can’t be beaten for motivation – I think it’s the drums, there’s no way you can slow down when all hell is breaking lose inside your head. Oddly, however, my second favourite album to run to, after Blood Mountain, is Tigermilk by Belle & Sebastian. Make of that what you will.

…Pain. Fear. Aggression…

Well, that was a fun start to the running week. I’m still red-faced at 1.47pm, and I finished the run at 7.45am. It was an interval training run, Marquis-de-Sade-style.

It was hard enough work trying to understand the instructions: “2 miles at 10k pace, 2 x 1 mile at 5k pace, 2 x 800m at slightly faster than 5k pace, with 5 minutes recovery after the 2 mile and 3 minutes recovery after the miles and the 800”.

This took me about 50 minutes in total, on a treadmill, and I summarise my issues with it herewith:

  1. What is 5k pace? I have never run a 5k race, so plumped for 0.5km/h faster than my 10k pace (so 14.5km/h)
  2. Seriously, you think I can run faster than that 5k pace? 15km/h? Ha ha ha.
  3. Turns out I can (just) over one set of 800m, but not over two.
  4. Can we just agree to use EITHER metric measurements OR miles? It is very confusing, as Mr N can confirm having run 0.8 miles instead of 800 metres for his 4th interval.

This run basically translates as a fast 10k race, broken up into pieces and getting harder as you go along. It is really really tough. By the final two intervals my thighs were burning 20 seconds in. It lulls you into a false sense of security with the 3 minute recoveries but do not be fooled, this is not for the faint-hearted.

Spring!

Spring has officially sprung in running world. Yesterday I ran around Regent’s Park after work for the first time this year.

The early blossom is out and hung like frozen confetti in the gloom as I passed the York Gate (this is not my photograph,  no sun for me yesterday). Daffodils bobbed their heads in my wake and Greylag Geese blocked the path, staring down their orange beaks at me in an unimpressed fashion.

It was a great run, I am very happy to say. “7 x 800m at 10k pace, recover for half the interval time”, which translated as “fast for 3m 20 secs, slow for 1m 40 secs”. I’m not sure this was mathematically accurate as far as the distance went, but more importantly it made the intervals fit into 5 minute sections, which helped my poor brain cope with knowing when to start and stop.

It’s quite worrying how difficult I find timing myself. I sometimes spend whole runs calculating and re-calculating my speed or pace; maths was never my strong suit. One day I will do what my dad once did and get to mile 12 in a half marathon and be astounded that there is another mile left to run, having missed some mile markers and mis-counted my running speed. All the way along I will think, “this is going so well! this is so easy!”.

Good Day Sunshine

My running was terrible today – I felt exhausted and out of breath at the slightest incline. It made me worry about tomorrow’s 9 miler, given how quickly I got tired on an ‘easy run’. However, none of this matters.

It was such a beautiful day today that being outside in the sunshine, plodding through Priory Park, listening to Sufjan Stevens, life seemed perfect for 38 minutes. As long as I could keep moving and not actually die of exhaustion, I couldn’t do anything but count this as a Good Day.

It’s amazing how much difference the weather can make. A cliche I know, but who cares. I wore shorts for the first time since October!

Country Roads (Take Me Home)

Even on a cold March day with no hint of blue sky, 8 miles along country lanes like this will always beat a trot down the Stroud Green Road. I’ve been staying at the parental home this weekend and managed to get out twice, with varying success.

The first run, the dreaded ‘tempo’, is best passed over swiftly. Thanks to a minor stomach complaint it was cut short as I too was caught, um, short. I managed 36 minutes and walked (shuffled) the rest.

Today’s was thankfully untroubled by bowel-related incidents. I did however see a Red Kite, two Buzzards, a live rabbit, several dead ones and a farmer demonstrating the right place to wear a Barbour jacket and Hunter wellies (ie in a field, rather than Dalston). Amid all this nature watching, I also managed to run 8 miles at 7.5 mins/mile without really noticing.

A good run.

25 miles this week, but not a great start to the training really. I felt sluggish then ill on the interval and tempo sessions so plenty to improve on.

Quantum Leap

It took me a while to work out what was wrong on my run this morning. Everything seemed strange from the start- I was too warm, even wearing just a t-shirt, and the people I passed were different, and there were so many of them. Instead of workmen and postmen there were families with dogs chatting in the middle of the path, getting in my way. Pavement cafes had sprung up overnight and a hungover man eating a packet of crisps walked into me .

If I had left the flat an hour earlier I would never have seen any of these people. The Early Me would have wished I’d worn a thicker top, and saved a minute not having to dodge buggies and dog leads. I keep thinking about what Early Me might have got done in that extra hour after finishing today’s 8 miles, but Late Me knows the answer is probably not much, and maybe Early Me wouldnt be thinking right now that spring is on its way.

It was a good run in the sunshine. You can’t ask much more of mid- February really.