Putting it into context.

I have a list of things I dislike.  It is quite a long list and, to avoid causing offence to too many people, I won't mention all my pet hates here.  I'll try to keep them relevant to today's run!  I dislike, in no particular order, running on grass, running in mud, through puddles and with wet feet.  I hate driving into or around or through Reading.  I have nothing against the people of Reading - but the roads are just too confusing - give me straight forward London driving any day.  And I really, really hate being late.

So today didn't start well when I woke up to discover that Husbando had gone out and taken the car.  I sent him a tex, reminding him that I needed to leave at 7.30am, and made myself a cup of tea - not realising that the text was not delivered until I went to pick up  my phone again.  Argh!  Panic!   Husbando hove into view at ten to eight.  TEN TO EIGHT!  Google maps said it would take me 55 minutes to drive to Thames Valley Park, and I have a history of getting lost in one way systems in Reading.  Adding to that I'd have to find parking and the start of Reading parkrun.  I was a little bit stressed by this state of affairs.

Luckily the traffic was good and I only took one wrong turn in Reading, and Google maps lied a bit (or I drove too fast - who can say?) and I had arrived and parked by 8.35am, phew!  Reading parkrun's course info page told me that 'regular road running shore should certainly suffice in most weathers' but I decided, on advice of other parkrun tourists, to wear my trail shoes.  This was the right choice - although in retrospect mud claws would have been a better choice… not that I own any because, as has already been stated, I don't like running on mud!

Having picked my way between muddy patches to the start area, I bumped into friends I know via the parkrun show and lovely Gary - with whom I have run a couple of marathons in the past.  Soon we were on the start line and raring to go.

And then… squelchy, squishy, slippery, slidey mud.  And lots of it!  I didn't know what my feet were doing half the time.  I revised my hoped for finish time and concentrated on staying upright!  The views along the Thames were lovely - but I couldn't look up and see them as I was terrified of ending up flat on my face in the mud.  And kicking myself for not bringing an entire change of clothing with me just in case of such an eventuality!  Part of each lap was on gravel paths - sheer heaven after the mud, and a chance to claw back a few seconds, but with paths came puddles and there were choices to be made.  Pick one's way gingerly around the puddle, through the mud, losing time or plough straight through the middle.  I went for the latter option.  Once your feet are wet they can't get much wetter (but it was bitterly cold and a bit of a shock to the tootsies!)  The last 600m are back across grass, just when I wanted to put on a bit of a sprint I found I was struggling like Bambi on ice (but far less graceful).  I overtook someone, then realised I could not work out where the finish funnel was - there were loads of people but I couldn't spot the tape, so I let him overtake me again (having established he knew where he was heading) and managed to get across the line in 24.59.

I was disappointed with my time.  It had been hard work and I always want to take advantage of my child free parkruns to run as hard as I can.  I chalked it up to experience, met up with friends and went for coffee.  We left our very muddy trainers outside the doorway to the David Lloyd gym and had a very nice coffee and a natter.  Putting ice cold, wet trainers back on is somewhat unpleasant, but it didn mean that the pleasure I felt at changing into warm and dry socks and trainers when I got back to the car was immense!

Back at home, looking at the results page, I realised that I was 4th lady to finish - I've only bettered that at Pymmes parkrun (very small field) and first in my age category.  So maybe it wasn't such a bad run after all.  And, at the end of the day, I was out there doing something I love, with people who share my passion.  There are thousands of people who couldn't run if they wanted to. Thousands of people who go for days and days without any meaningful interaction with other people.   I get to do this every single week.

And today I came home to madeleines made by my 10 year old son...

A merry parkrun Christmas.

In the words of one of my favourite performers "I am hardly religious, I'd rather break bread with Dawkins than Desmond Tutu, to be honest."  And I am not a huge fan of Christmas.  It generates a huge amount of stress just a couple of days after the end of a long and stress filled term at school so I tend to feel a growing resentment towards the whole shebang.  Why, I ask anyone who has the misfortune to be in my vicinity, should I be expected to spend a small fortune on presents after the stress of trying to decide what would constitute a suitable gift for someone who already has everything that they could possibly need?  Believe me, when you get to trying to buy an original gift for your 5th child it takes more imagination than I can muster after a 16 week term when I still have a pile of marking and planning hanging over my head.

So, this Christmas I resolved to keep things a little more low key, a little less excessive, with a little more focus on what really matters.  I am not convinced that we succeeded.  There was still a huge pile of presents under the tree, but I had only purchased things that the children actually needed - so the youngest girl got a new coat, middle child got jeans and a hoody, that type of thing.

Some Christmas traditions couldn't be ignored.  One relatively new tradition is parkrun.  And on a beautiful, crisp morning like today it was no hardship to go for a run with 327 other people.  For me it is a lovely way to break up the morning - a pause between stocking presents and tree presents, and a very social interlude at that.  I got to run with one of my best friends this morning.  I've never run with her before although she is responsible for me starting to run.  My husband and two of my boys ran with me and my older daughter volunteered as a time keeper.   Afterwards we had cakes and crisps and prosecco and sloe gin as we chatted with friends before heading off home to continue our day.

But I was reminded of an edition of Woman's Hour I half listened to last week about people who are lonely at Christmas, and the latest episode of the parkrun show.  I thought about those people for whom parkrun might be their only contact with other people over the holiday period.  And then I thought about the man who walks with his dog in the park every Saturday and never interacts with anyone unless it is to moan about us.  He was there again this morning, I wished him a merry Christmas as  passed him - in much the same day that I always say good morning to him, and got exactly the same response - which was no reply!  I love my parkrun family.  I love the welcome I get when I visit new parkruns from people I have met via the parkrun Facebook pages.    I can't imagine a better way to start a day that is, for me, all about connecting with people we love.

I hope that, whatever you did today, you had the day that suited you.  I guess for me parkrun gives me the sense of community that other people get from being part of a religious/church community.  I meet up with people once a week to pursue a shared interest and mark successes and failures along the way.  And that is a good thing.  So thank you parkrun, and merry Christmas to you all.

This one was for you...

For the last two and a half years I have been running most parkruns  with the Fredster.  It is lovely that he enjoys running but it does mean that I have put my own parkrun journey on the back burner.  One of the many joys of parkrun is that you can use it to see where your fitness is on a weekly basis and, if you are too lazy to do speed work on your own, you can use it as a weekly speed session.  But last Saturday the Fredster earned his 100 shirt and I decreed that he should have this week off.

There have been a few other parkruns I have done without him recently but I have always been a bit disappointed with my performance.  My parkrun PB was set at my home run, Basingstoke, on 17th September 2011.  Over three years ago - and since then my solo parkruns had been somewhat mediocre.  I'd got close a couple of times, but normally ended up running around the 24 or 25 minute mark.  I'd got within a minute of my PB when running at Fulham Palace parkrun just over a year ago (I ran 23.58 against a PB of 23.16) so when the chance came for a return visit I didn't hesitate - despite the fact that it was going to involve leaving the house at 5.30am.

My previous visit had been for a very special occasion.  parkrun is a wonderful community that brings so many people together, and it was through parkrun that I met a lovely couple called Steve and Zoe.  I met them first in Basingstoke and warmed to them instantly.  Zoe's smile would light up the greyest of days.  What I didn't know then was that Zoe was dying.  You don't expect people younger than yourself to be dying do you?  But such was her personality that she wasn't going to let this fact ruin what was left of her life.  She set herself goals she wanted to achieve, one of them was to run 50 parkruns and receive her coveted 50 tshirt.  That Saturday at the end of November last year was the day that her tshirt was going to be presented to her.  parkrunners who knew Zoe turned up to support her and cheer her on as she completed what was to be her last parkrun.  It was chilly warming, but full of love and friendship and there was much laughter in the beautiful cafe inside the Bishop's Palace after our run.

Roll forward just over 12 months, and I find myself walking from the tube station to the park in the coldest weather of the year so far.  The thermometer read minus 2 and there was ice on the paths.  My Garmin strap was broken, I didn't know a single person there and did I mention it was cold?  I had 5 layers on and was still too cold.  It was very different to the party atmosphere of my previous visit.  I chatted to a few people, went for a warm up jog, almost falling on an icy patch and decided that a PB attempt would be a bit silly.

Fulham Palace parkrun is nearly 3 laps of the park, it is as flat as a pancake, although you do have to keep your wits about you as there are several sharp corners.  I set off, with my Garmin in a pocket, and just ran.  I fell into a pace and noted that I was about 10m behind a dad who was coaching his son around the course.  I felt comfortable and, using my wrist watch and the fact that I knew how long the laps were, calculated that I was running 'about 8min/mile pace' - that felt about right for the effort I was putting in, and decided that I would just enjoy myself.  As I ran down the bank of the Thames, I thought about Zoe and how proud she had been to wear her 50 club tshirt.  I couldn't help but grin at the thought.

Passing the start line for the final time I decided that, if I could run 8 min/miles in the dying stages of a half marathon I could certainly run a bit faster for the final three quarters of a mile in a 5k.  I passed the boy and his dad and pushed on for the finish, thanking the marshals (they must have been so cold) as I passed them for the last time and even lapping a fair few people.  I threw myself across the finish line (which is painted onto the tarmac) and fumbled to stop my Garmin.

I was stunned to see the time - 22:43!  The man who finished behind me came up and congratulated me on an excellent run, the father of the boy commented that I had run really well.  He'd been aware of me on their tail, and said that he'd watched me as I'd sped up - I'd just noticeably lengthened my stride as I'd glided past them.  After that at I couldn't get my extra layers back on fast enough and, after thanking the volunteers, I made my way into the Bishop's Palace to get warm and have a coffee.

Thank you to all the volunteers who stood in sub zero conditions just to allow us to run.  And Zoe, this run was for you.  You may no longer be with us in body, but your spirit lives on in many forms.

Just saying...

This is not a blog about running.

I will not be posting a link on my Facebook page.

It is just something I need to get off my chest.

Today, at work I spoke with a student about how no one should make her feel uncomfortable and outlined the steps she should take, given that someone she worked with was repeatedly sending her unwanted text messages.

I spoke to the whole group (boys and girls) about what it meant to respect oneself and to stand up to sexist/racist/homophobic behaviour.

I patted myself on the back as I drove home.  I told myself I was making a difference.  I was helping the next generation become stronger, helping them to realise that belittling women was wrong.  I was feeling smug.

A few hours later I was at the pub.  It was one of those 'class parents get together' type events where you are supposed to be on best behaviour while enjoying indifferent food and overpriced alcohol.  And to add to the fun a 'sporting activity' (well, okay - skittles) was added to the mix.

It was all going well until my second attempt at knocking down the skittles.  As I bent over to pick up the balls one of the dads groped my arse.  It wasn't accidental.  I was horrified, I was mortified.  I said and did nothing.  I was embarrassed.  I watched him for the rest of the evening.  His wife was in the same room.  I wasn't the sole recipient of his attentions.  I couldn't believe that I was the only person who had noticed his behaviour.

I started to listen to my inner monologue.  'I can't say anything because his wife is so lovely and she'd be horrified.'  'I wouldn't have been upset if it had been X as we always have  a bit of risqué banter going on.'  'Oh, heavens - he's just smacked her bum as well - how is no one else noticing?'

How damning is it that a loud mouthed woman in her mid forties does not feel comfortable about saying stop to a man who doesn't respect boundaries?   How unacceptable would a man's behaviour have to be for me (or one of the other women there this evening) to have turned around and asked him to stop?

What hope is there for teenagers who are only just coming to terms with their own identities?

Three Molehills

There is a reason I don't do team sports.  I don't want to be the person who lets the team down by being, you know, a bit crap.  This is the reason I like running.  The only person who I am letting down if I have a bad day is myself.  Running is perfect.  So obviously when I saw a Facebook post asking if anyone was free to make up a relay team I ignored it didn't I?  Obviously… not!

Part of the appeal was that it meant I didn't have to get out at sparrow fart to travel up to London with Husbando - one of my team mates offered to pick me up at 8am, which gave me a lie in.  A group of runners had arranged to take part in The Three Molehills and a member of one of the teams had dropped out through injury.  The upshot was that I found myself travelling to Dorking to meet a load of new people.  What could be better?  Hills and people I don't know - two things I find stressful.  Just to add to the sense of joy it was raining.  Not a gentle drizzle or a light misting of rain, but proper miserable rain.

We arrived at Denbies near Dorking and were directed to park on a muddy field and walked up the road to the race HQ in the restaurant/cafe/conference place.  One huge benefit of this venue is the proper loos and the restaurant right near the start. We collected race numbers, drank tea, had nervous wees, made impulse purchases (see later) etc. before going outside to listen to the run brief - we sheltered under an overhang to listen to this and to be honest I didn't really listen as I was trying to keep warm.  There were course changes mentioned - due to flooding on the route - and I decided to stick with my road shoes as my leg was on road for all bar 600m.

After this our first runner was off, and the rest of us vanished back into the warm.  I had bought a pair of sleeves after having a bit of a wardrobe crisis.  It was cold out there - too cold for setting off in short sleeves, but I knew I would get too warm if I wore layers.  I've never owned 'sleeves' before and they are a revelation!  I love them.   Hanging around was a bit odd.  You normally turn up for a race and just run… I had to wait for the other 2 members of my team to finish before I got my turn.   I stood under the overhang to watch for my team mate while mentally calculating the shortest possible route to the transition area avoiding as many puddles as possible.

My leg was billed as 2 miles out and 2 miles back - up hill all the way out and down hill on the way back.  It was odd to start a race all by myself.  I found it hard to settle into a rhythm, and boy, was it ever going to stop raining?  I ran up through the vineyard overtaking (yes really) people even though I ran the fist mile in 9.30min/mile pace!  I looked at my Garmin just once and saw how slow I was running and decided not to look again and just do my best.  The course was twisty and turny, not overly steep but relentlessly up hill.  It was almost all on roads or hard paths, and there were some stunning views over Dorking, or would have been if we hadn't been peering through clouds!  We ran past a pretty church where I had to avoid being ploughed down by a shiny black Range Rover whose driver obviously didn't trust his car's ability to deviate from the centre of the road at all!   Then there was the 600m on 'grass!' It wasn't grass, it wasn't even mud - it was a swamp!  I had to walk - in road shoes there was no grip at all!  Then we turned around and it was downhill all the way.  Lovely!

Lovely to encourage all the other runners as they trudged up the hill.  I couldn't really let fly down the hill - wet concrete paths, covered with wet fallen leaves and a fair amount of mud made for treacherous conditions - add into that some really tight turns and a bit of caution was called for.  That said I made up a lot of time on the downhill bringing my overall pace down to 8.20min/mile.  (6.18min/mile for the last half mile must have brought the average down a bit!)  The marshals were so cheerful and encouraging, it must be really miserable standing for hours in the rain but they just kept smiling.

I didn't pay much attention to the clock as I crossed the line - but knew it was around 1hr 56mins (actually 1hr 56mins 32sec) which isn't too shabby for 15 hilly miles.  I crossed the line, picked up my medal, chocolate bar and bottle of wine before rejoining the everyone in the restaurant, drinking a cup of tea, getting changed into dry clothes and sharing war stories.  The first leg, up and down Box Hill, sounded brutal - with 270 steps to be negotiated.

After every one of my new friends was back in, warmed through and photographs had been taken we went our separate ways.  Four of us stopping for a pub lunch (roast pork with all the trimmings which included Yorkshire pudding) on the way home.

A great day out.  Definitely one I'd consider doing next year - maybe even the individual challenge rather than the relay.  Although if the weather is anything like it was today I may well stay in bed!

Slippy, slidey mud sections

Last night I went out for supper with friends to celebrate my birthday.  Not just any birthday, but a birthday that takes me into a new age category for parkrun.  My intention had been to run as fast as I could at parkrun to mark this momentous occasion, but I scuppered that idea last night by eating more than I normally eat in a week and drinking enough alcohol to constitute what government guidelines would probably deem binge drinking if I'd shared it with the five other diners… but I didn't share.  I wanted nothing more than to roll over and go back to sleep when the alarm went at 6.30am.  But parkrun beckoned, and I'd made arrangements to go to Horsham parkrun with a friend to meet up with some other friends.  And The Fredster needed run if he was to make his 100th parkrun on target.

So off we set.  Thankfully I was not driving and navigating was enough of a challenge for me.  We got to Horsham Park with plenty of time to spare, parked our car and found the loos and then made our way to the start.  The weather was dry, but the wind was chilly and we tried to keep warm while the small boys climbed a tree.  TheFredster planned to 'run' with a friend who was planning to walk as he is recovering from knee surgery, which freed me up to run.  Great, I thought, what a wasted opportunity - I felt sick and a wee bit fragile!  We listened to the run brief - there were about 200 runners, not bad for the 10th event, and then made our way to the start, where we observed a minute's silence for Remembrance Day.

The start was on a fairly narrow path, which made for a bit of congestion, but we were soon underway with a gentle downhill on a tarmac path.  And then we were off the path and on the grass.  Well, I say 'grass' but it was more of a bog in sections, which made for heavy going and much slipping and sliding!  There was one short, muddy, uphill section that was particularly challenging, with my feet just slipping backwards as I made my way up it.  It was tough going.  I looked at my watch and realised that the pace I was struggling to maintain was the same pace I'd found so easy to maintain for a half marathon last weekend!  Part of this was due to the conditions underfoot, but a lot of it was self inflicted!

Hearing that a parkrun is a three lapper normally fills me with dread, but there was so much going on in the park that it was a really interesting run.  There were children playing football, people being beasted by ex-army PT instructors (who on Earth wants to pay to be shouted at and do press-ups in a wet field?) people riding bikes and a silver sculpture thing!  And each lap seemed shorter than the last - which is odd, because I them all at the same pace!  As I ran I realised that TheFredster was not with the person I thought he'd be with, or his wife, it was only about half a mile from the finish that I caught up with him running with my other friend and her son.  

I ran past them and tried to pick up the pace a bit to make it to the finish.  I still felt ghastly and wanted to stop running more than anything on the planet.  I threw myself through the finish funnel and was convinced that I was about to chunder.  I staggered to a nearby fence and leaned on it while I regained my composure and checked my watch.  24.17 - not bad,  second fastest time this year!

Post run coffee (and breakfast for the boys) was taken at The Conservatory Cafe.  It was lovely to see so many parkrunners chatting and getting to know each other.  The food looked pretty good too!

The results came through pretty quickly - I was thrilled to see that I was first in my new age category, which was a nice start.  I am sure that I will be back to run at Horsham again sometime soon - but maybe I will wait until it is dryer underfoot.  And when I am a little less fragile!

Thank you to the Horsham parkrun team for a lovely event.

Thames Meander

This time last week I had no races planned until February.  That suited me just fine.  I'd run a good half marathon and was quite happy just to bimble through the rest of the year, having a nice slow start to my training for next year's marathons.  Then someone mentioned that they were running a half marathon in Kingston, and as I had nothing planned I thought I'd look into it.  I almost got no further than that.  The Fredster is due to run his 100th parkrun on 29th November - it has to happen then as a Facebook 'event' has been set up, and that means he couldn't miss a Saturday.  But, but, but… the race started at the same place as parkrun…. could we do this?  Yes we could!  

So, having left it too late to enter online, I emailed the race organisers to check that there would be plenty of availability to enter on the day, persuaded my reluctant 15 year old to a) get up early on the last Saturday of half term and b) run with her 10 year old brother.  I thought it might be possible for me to run both parkrun and the race, but really didn't want to risk having to make a mad dash from the finish of one to the start of another.  We set off this morning with loads of time to spare.  I'd forgotten how hopelessly lost I'd got the last time I tried to get to the venue (Kingston parkrun back in March this year or maybe last year).  Sat nav is great, but not infallible.  I ended up doing a couple of loops of a Kingston before finding the right turning.  Getting lost is stressful.  Being late is stressful. I hate getting lost and I hate being late.  Trying to work out how to get where I need to be at the time I need to be there with two children in the car is very stressful.  Needless to say we got there in the end, and we weren't late but the car park was full, so we had to find somewhere to park on the street and then barrel along the towpath to the Hawker Centre where I registered for the race and bumped into lots of friends.  

I saw the children off on their parkrun, then chatted with people while I waited for them to come back.  It started to rain.  It had been seasonably chilly since we'd woken up and now it was raining.  I patted myself on the back for remembering to bring my hat with me and was a little cross with myself for thinking I would be happy in a vest top and shorts!  While we waited of the parkrunners to return, the Thames Meander Marathon runners set off - to the accompaniment of bag pipes!  

The half marathoners set off at 10am.  It was still overcast and drizzling and, for the first time in a long time, it was cold!  We set off down the towpath from Kingston towards Kew.  This was a flat marathon and it should have been really easy - but the towpaths were uneven - think compacted gravel paths, hugely degraded tarmac paths and sections that were muddy with tree roots and that was most of the path - interspersed with short sections of 'proper pavement' and cobbles!  It was the sort of terrain the looks as though you can just run without thinking, but actually you needed to concentrate to make sure that you don't trip.  Within the first few miles I'd seen someone face plant spectacularly in front of me!   The path was narrow which meant that going was slow at the start unit the field spread out a bit.  It was lovely to chat to other runners and enjoy what was rapidly becoming a very warm and sunny day!  While I was chatting with some other runners (@777epic - who are planning to run 7 marathons in 7 days in 7 continents) I heard another runner mutter 'I won't be beaten by a mother of 5!'  Hmmm… more of that later!

At the halfway/turnaround point I managed to mess up the turn and found myself running through a garden, then scrambling through a hedge to get back on the towpath.   The return leg was  a great opportunity to encourage fellow runners as I saw them.  This return half was much busier in terms of avoiding other towpath users.  Cyclists, walkers, scooter users and dogs (on and off leads) were in abundance.  I'm not a huge fan of dogs - especially when I don't know them and they aren't on a lead - I could feel myself pulling up short every time one got close.    

At around 7 miles I was aware of the man who didn't want to be beaten by an old bird on my shoulder. He was working hard, breathing heavily, as he tried to keep up.  I wasn't working hard.  I decided to change gear and put some distance between us.  Even stopping for a drink at the drink station didn't allow him enough time to catch up with me.  

The sound of bagpipes meant that I was approaching the finish line.  Bagpipes can carry a long distance, but I had lots of energy left, so I out on a burst of speed to finish strongly.   I was looking out for the children as I threw myself towards the line, but didn't see them!  I crossed the line in a chip time of 1hr 48mins 41 secs.  I'd have been thrilled with that a few weeks ago - but today I felt I could have done better.  I didn't need to stop at both the water stations to drink as I had a water bottle with me, messing up the turn about cost me time, as did my trepidation about the uneven ground.  I was gratified to find that I was the 18th woman to finish.  And it is another sub 1hr50 half time so I should be very happy.

There was a little bit of drama after the finish - we couldn't find The Fredster!  He'd gone off to cheer me at the finish, while the 15 year old had stayed in the cafe being a 15 year old grumpy girl!  I hadn't seen him and he had not seen me, so he just stayed where he was, about 300 m from the finish cheering in all the other runners while he wondered where I was!  It was only when a friend from Hatch Warren Runners finished and told us where he was that we managed to locate him!  

The bling is lovely.  There was also lots of cake and biscuits at the finish - which was enjoyed in the sunshine before heading off home.  The event organisation was fantastic!  This is my first Hermes Running event, but it will not be my last.