New Shoes

It’s time to wear in some new trainers.

This is my fourth pair of the same: Asics GT-2150 (D). They’re a wide fitting, as regular fit ones hurt the outsides of my feet. Ten years ago, when I was training for the London marathon, I got a stress fracture in the fifth metatarsal of my right foot three weeks before the race. It was heartbreaking to have to pull out after all that training, but more so because I’d brought it on myself: I went out in new shoes for a long run without breaking them in.

Despite this bitter lesson, I’m still tempted to pop on the new trainers and dash out for a 6 mile run as soon as they arrive in the post. I always leave it too late to get new ones – my old ones should have been retired at least a month ago. I’ve been putting it off for a few reasons: they’re expensive and I’m going through too many (at 25 miles a week, the recommended 300-500 miles is only 3-5 months); Al Gore; Sweatshops; but mainly because I ran my first marathon, ten years on from the one that never was, in them.

I know they’re not magic shoes, I’ll run another marathon, and at this rate I’ll get through another 30 pairs before I’m 50, so I think I’m ready to bin the old pair and walk around for a bit in my new shoes.

Vampires ate my trainers

I gave blood last night,  but I didn’t think through the consequences for today’s interval training run. It’s an absolutely beautiful day – cold and crisp and sunny, perfect for running – and I’m dying to get out there, but the nurse said I shouldn’t do any exercise for 24 hours.

I am quite tempted to go anyway, but I know I have a tendency to put running before sense so am trying not to do that this time. One day is not going to make any difference to the training. It’s Shrove Tuesday, so perhaps  I c0uld try interval training with pancakes instead: 5 pancakes at 10k pace, with 2 minute recoveries?

The blood-letting was fascinating.  It was held in a decrepit church hall, with queues of whey faced people and barking nurses. Like a post-apocalyptic triage hospital with unlimited tea and biscuits. My pint drained out in 4 minutes, which seems frighteningly fast. I wonder if it’s a sign of a healthy heart?  I am kidding myself that it is. I have now done some scientific research (thanks Wikipedia) and see that it will take 8 weeks for my blood to magic itself* back to normal. Just in time for my race, which was obviously the plan.

*official scientific term