5k trick

I went to the gym last night even though it was a Monday. Atonement for not running on Sunday.

I try to use the gym for cross-training as running on treadmills is boring and bad for my knees, so I tend to do 20 /20 /20 mins on cross-train/ run/ cycle. Then arm weights. I never do sit-ups – I used to feel guilty about this but now I don’t care. I do not own any crop-tops.

I’m going to try a new tack to prepare for the series of 10k races I’ll be running in the summer: starting slower, getting faster. Crazy! Last night on the treadmill I ran 5k in thirds starting at 13km/h, moving to 14km/h and finishing at 15km/h. It was tough, but I’m not in any kind of 10k shape, so I’m hoping I can get more comfortable, then up the speeds.

I’m aiming for a sub-42 minute 10k, which is only 75 seconds faster than my best. 75 seconds that is really a minute and a quarter of  heartbusting effort. 10ks are the worst kind of race, they’re high maintenance but they think they’re low-maintenance.  I wrote ‘thigh maintenance’ then, which I should probably have left in. I guess they’re good for something…

Weekend round-up

It’s late, but here’s my weekend round-up and summary of last week’s running.

I had a skirmish with some wine on Friday night so Saturday’s run started out painfully slowly, but after 15 minutes the fug cleared and I felt good, maybe even great. Ran 8 miles in an hour dead on, a 7.5 minute mile average.  Buoyed by this success I proceed to clock up a massive zero miles on Sunday. Oops.

At New Year I made a semi-serious promise to myself that my baseline would be 25 miles a week, when not training, and last week’s the first week I haven’t made it – only 17 miles.  Proper training for my next race (Ranelagh Half Marathon on 8 May) doesn’t start until the end of February so I’ve got 4 weeks to get serious.

Snooze button special

it’s 7am on Friday morning, so I must be writing this whilst on my run- wow, I am very skilled in multi-tasking. There is no way I could be writing this while lying in bed, drinking a cup of tea and eating toast. A cat did not just sit on me and I didn’t pick up yesterday’s Guardian crossword. How could I do that? I’m currently racing through Crouch End Broadway. It’s cold today!

(I just heard that on the radio…)

Six in the Morning

After yesterday’s brush with incontinence, I was quite happy to find today’s run a bit dull in comparison. It was cold, it was dark (even at 7.30 when I got back) and I was half asleep, but I ran six miles without really noticing and it felt good.
 
I stuck to the usual route: to East Finchley and back down Muswell Hill. Mostly uphill for the first 2 miles, then I get to sit back for 3.5 before scaling Mount Doom.  It’s really not a big hill but it gets steeper every morning. There is a particular stretch of pavement which is so full of potholes it’s like negotiating an Alpine pass. One day I’ll break my ankle and then Haringey Council will… not really care.

I’ve eaten a biscuit for every mile I ran this morning. It wasn’t part of a nutritional plan, but maybe it should be? I might try the same thing tomorrow with glasses of wine. Might? Will. Toodlepip.

A Bum Start

I switched off the alarm at 6.10am this morning and immediately got out of bed. Congratulations were due – I had succeeded in carrying out last night’s plan. I wouldn’t be leaving my running gear in an accusatory pile on my bedside chair today, no way.

Feeling smug, I fed the cats, brushed my teeth, drank half a glass of water and got dressed. I headed out into the dark London morning. I started my stopwatch, pulled on my gloves and grimaced at the drizzling rain. Dodging the piles of dogshit, I headed up the nearest hill and settled into a podcast (a vintage Adam and Joe number). At the top of the hill I head across a zebra crossing and down a poorly lit side street by a wood. It’s always a bit spooky and today was no exception – a man was loitering by the recycling bins – dog walker or a potential rapist? I usually imagine the latter, it helps with motivation. I ran past the dog, who was mid-business, and down the hill past our old flat.

The next bit is fairly flat and dull, but before I had reached the end of the street, a mere 7 minutes into my run, an ominous feeling surfaced. Actually it was less of a feeling and more of a painful and familiar urge, verging on urgency. My thoughts went roughly as follows: I can’t “do a Paula” this is a bus route;  I’ll have to walk home and will have got up at 6.10am for nothing; I might not make it home, I might have to go in someone’s garden; what if the security light comes on while I’m mid-squat…; don’t think about squatting. The next five minutes were some of the longest of my life. I fought the urge – the urge did not control me, I could master it. Pain is fear leaving the body. No! Don’t think about anything leaving the body.

Thankfully I made it through to the other side – the urge subsided. After a few minutes I could even attempt some light running and I managed a few laps of the block around my flat, taking today’s mileage to a massive 3! Woop.

Tommorow: strong bowels and a proper run, cross fingers (and legs).