Nutrition? – Not a Jogger

On eating a whole baguette on the bus

The Marathon Hunger has set in. I remember it vaguely from last time, but between then and now my body has been hopped up on fertility drugs, confused by pregnancy and baffled by breast feeding, so it has lost all sense of what normal hunger feels like.

On Friday I left the office at 12.30pm to work from home for the afternoon. On my way to the bus stop, I picked up a sandwich and some popcorn to eat at home as a Friday treat. Eating a shop-made sandwich at home is the height of decadence for a new parent.

By the time I got home I had eaten not only the sandwich and bag of popcorn, but also an entire baguette purchased at Waitrose on the Holloway Road, a supermarket I had no intension of visiting, and which involved crossing several roads to get to, then getting a different bus home. It pulled me in with its ‘aisles of wonder’ tractor beam. I wandered around in a food-fixated haze, unsure what would satisfy the intense need to stuff my face.

I felt so hungry, that afterwards I started to worry that I might be pregnant again, even though it is a medical impossibility. After eating the baguette, I still wasn’t full. Mitigating my gluttony shame, I can at least say that I did not also eat the cinnamon bun purchased in addition to the baguette. It stayed in the bread bin as a reminder of my secret carbohydrate festival until Sunday morning when I scoffed it after my long run.

I suspect some of this carb craving could be averted by eating more protein, but protein is expensive and bread is cheap as chips. And nuts are all very well, but only when covered in chocolate and packaged by Cadbury.

Weezer and Chips

I don’t drink much coffee. In the mornings at work I sometimes have a cup of milk with a splash of filter coffee in it. A Diet Coke is a risk for me. On Saturday I had a caffeinated gel one hour in to my 18 miler and I was high as a kite for the rest of it. It contained 63mg of caffeine (a can of Coke has 32, Red Bull has 80).

By mile 10, colours seemed sharper and I was struggling to keep my pace down to 8:15, never mind the planned 8:30 a mile. By mile 15, I was bounding up York Way singing out loud to The Sweater Song. I gave up the pacing and ran home as fast as I could manage.

I paid for it afterwards. Caffeine + 4 beers + Doom Metal gig = massive headache. It was good to run long on Saturday, rather than Sunday, though. I went to a party, ate a massive plateful of pie, then went to the gig and ate an 11pm portion of chips.

Those gels are coming with me on marathon day, for sure. I’ll save one for mile 16 in the hope that it’ll carry me through the remaining 10. It and Weezer. And the promise of chips.

Monday: rest
Tuesday: 5.5 miles (short intervals)
Wednesday: 8 miles (at marathon pace)
Thursday: 5.5 miles (don’t remember)
Friday: 5 miles (easy)
Saturday: 18 miles (2:29)

Total: 42 miles

Running with Salmon

Today I ran a mile carrying a packet of smoked salmon.

This is happening a lot. Last saturday I ran with a loaf of bread, the previous week there was some minced lamb. There just aren’t enough hours in the day to fit in running, shopping, cooking, eating, working and travelling so I’m doing a lot of combining.

This morning I took a half-day off work to prepare for a weekend away. I made a cake for my mum, I packed my bags, I thought about cleaning the bathroom and went for a run so that I could have a hangover tomorrow. While mixing the cake, I was thinking about lunch. I should make a sandwich and take it to work but there was nothing in the fridge. Marks and Spencer was on the way home… hence the smoked salmon.

I did get a few odd looks. There are a lot more people on the street at 9.30am than 6.30am. The salmon was flapping as I ran. I struggled to hold onto the packet with my slippery gloves. Running down Crouch End Hill, it temporarily got away, but I recaptured it and brought it home.

The sandwich was delicious.

Things I have learned in the last week:

Tiredness may not be due to running, it might be the start of a horrid virus;
Chocolate oranges do not offer the same immunity benefits as actual oranges;
Films featuring small dogs in a central role should win Oscars;
Skipping two days’ running in favour of lying in bed is good for the body but not the spirit;
Running with a mild fever helps counteract the effects of icy weather;
Though really isn’t to be encouraged;
I mean that, stay in bed folks;
Kendal mint cake is the new running gel;
Just because you can run 10 miles doesn’t mean you’re cured;
A hot toddy is the answer, no matter what the question.

Cutting Down

It’s been a low-key weekend of running. I ran home from work on Friday night, did nothing on Saturday, then went out for a quick circuit of Crouch End this morning.

This would all be great, indeed was great, but my eating habits have not adjusted to a lower mileage. A mid-morning croissant here, an afternoon cake there. My jeans are noticeably tighter. I keep waiting for my brain to tell my stomach it needs less energy but I think it must be too busy digesting the Welsh Rarebit I made for lunch.

I’m so tired at the moment there’s no way I’m increasing the mileage so there’s only one thing for it. The jeans have got to go.

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.

Wake-up call

Back to work today, and to rising at 6am for a run.

I was tired, but after the initial shock of the alarm and a fight to open my eyes, a smile started to wake up my face. Into the kitchen to feed the weaving cats, back into the dark bedroom to pull on my kit, a quick brush of the teeth and out onto pavements dark with last night’s rain, glittering in the sun. It was a beautiful morning, even on the Holloway Road. I passed several other runners who looked deep in thought, pondering the day, the week, or perhaps just breakfast.

I myself have eaten two breakfasts and am about to go for my second lunch, as it is time to give blood again and after last week’s croissant festival, I will take any excuse to fill my face.

Harder, Better, Pasta, Stronger

I have eaten pasta every day this week, twice most days. Shells, spaghetti, penne, mini macaroni, the lot. I’ve scoffed so much that I’m turning into a human version of the statue Kramer makes for Jerry Seinfeld out of dried pasta -Fusilli Gina.

Magazines are stuffed with so many women claiming never to eat carbs, it feels subversive to talk about my love for pasta. I think that’s what inspired yesterday’s post and my worry over what constitutes a good motive for running.

Running to lose (or, more likely, stay the same) weight is usually laudable and sensible, but running out of guilt for having eaten a sandwich is not. This is because:

1. It turns a delicious sandwich eating experience into a crime; and
2. It turns a good run into a punishment for this supposed crime.

The obsession with being thin over being healthy is one I try my best to ignore, but it’s hard. Runners’ magazines are just as bad as fashion ones at prizing the benefits of abnormally low body fat over those of maintaining a healthy weight. Their excuse is that top athletes need to be thin to be fast, but most of their readers will never be that fast, or that thin. Are they providing positive role models or fostering an unhealthy obsession?

Today I did my bit for sense, science and feminism by eating a pile of pasta and then going to the gym.

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.