Musings, not necessarily on the subject of running.

I was approached by a colleague in the staff room this week.  Given that I have spent most of the week scowling and hissing at anyone who tries to interrupt me on my trek from the chilly building site of my classroom to the relative sanctuary of the ladies loos or the warmth of the photocopier, she was a brave lady.  She'd heard that we lived in the same area and wondered if I wanted to carpool with her and another local colleague.

They are both lovely ladies, but my answer was 'No thank you!'  I didn't hesitate for a second, or say that I would think about it.  I totally understand that it makes sense to carpool, it saves money for everyone involved, it is the ecologically sound thing to do, the thing a responsible adult should do.  But I can't!  The idea of having to fit in with someone else's timetable is too stressful.  I like to leave the house when I want to leave the house, much earlier than most people, and arrive when there are very few other people around.  More importantly, I want to leave when I want to leave after school.  I suppose I could justify my reluctance to carpool by saying that I need to be able to get home quickly if something happened to any of the children.  But that isn't really true.  Husbando could get to the children from his shop far faster than I could anyway.  And what would happen about the radio?  Would we have to talk to each other every morning?  Would they want to listen to music rather than my beloved Radio 4? My car journey too and from work is a little oasis of 'me time' in a hectic day and I'm not going to share it!

Now this is a running muse.  When I run on a road with no pavement, I run, as mandated in the Highway Code, facing oncoming traffic.  Whenever I have run in a road race, whether or not the roads are closed, we are direct to run on the opposite side of the road.  Why?

There was something else I wanted to write about, but as soon as I sat down in front of the keyboard it vanished from my brain.  Or maybe it vanished in those few moments just as I was sitting down, but before my bum made contact with the seat, when my youngest came in asking me to get a cup for her so she could get some water.  I often wonder how many World shatteringly important thoughts have been lost forever because I have been interrupted by small (and not so small) children.

Anyway, it is parkrun day tomorrow.  There was a time when the between Friday and Sunday was known as Saturday, but it is now parkrun day.  I may be tired and grumpy this week, and I did briefly consider missing (I was going to say skipping - but the image of me skipping for 5k is not a pretty one!) parkrun and staying in bed tomorrow morning.  It won't happen, I'll be there at the start line, trying to remind  my legs that they know how to run a wee bit faster than they have in the last few months!

Marathon training continues!

Just because I went back to work on Monday I haven't been slacking on the training.  In fact, amid the chaos of returning to a classroom in the middle of a building site, running represents an bit of an oasis of calm.  I tend to run on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays and Sundays, but this week I had to rejig things a bit as we went up to the Paralympics on Tuesday evening after school.  We took the three bigger children and had a fantastic time at the athletics.  Super atmosphere and a great night out.  As I type this the closing ceremony is playing in the background.  We've had such a wonderful summer of sport, it seems very sad that it is ending.  

I was somewhat apprehensive about today's run.  18 miles is a long way, and my previous long run (15 miles) was a nightmare from start to finish.  And 18 miles is further than 15 miles!  When I finished the 15 miler I was so miserable I considered stopping all this marathon nonsense, and quite possibly quitting running altogether.  

This morning we got up early, leaving the house at 4.30am so that Husbando could get to his book fair in London.  I set out on my run at 6am, when it was already 61F.  I'd been chatting with a running friend about the fact that I was going through a phase of not really enjoying running.  He suggested that I should try running a lot slower than I normally would on my long runs.  With this in mind I set off planning to run 10 minute miles.  

It was lovely.  Beautifully blue skies, many roads closed for the Paralympic marathon, and all run at a pace that I felt I could carry in running for ever.  Unfortunately my bladder had other ideas!  Or rather my mind did!  For some reason, the thought popped into my head that it was going to prove impractical to pop behind a hedge if I needed a pee.  From that moment on I needed a pee constantly!  Luckily there were enough Starbucks and McDonald's open!  

I ran along The Embankment, with a detour up to the King's Road (Starbucks!) as far as Wandsworth Bridge and then came back along the South Bank, through Battersea Park and back over Battersea Bridge.  As I turned right coming off the bridge I noticed a runner in front of me who was swaying somewhat.  I knew something was wrong, so sped up a bit to try and catch her.  I didn't manage it.  She fell, falling hard against the iron railings and fell, unconscious, to the pavement.  I sprinted, yanking my 'phone out of my pocket and trying to remember what number to dial to call 999!  I checked her pulse and her breathing, and was about to put her in the recovery position when she started fitting.  I was on the phone by now summoning an ambulance.  My instructions were that we were on Chelsea Embankment, 50m east of Battersea Bridge.  I was asked if I could be more specific!  Er, no!  I don't have an OS map to provide an 8 figure grid reference!  

Meanwhile the lady (Lisa) was starting to come round.  She had huge lacerations to her face and was very confused.  I was sitting on the ground next to her, holding her hand.  The woman on the phone was asking me all sorts of questions that I really didn't want to answer with the patient listening, but we got there in the end!  As we waited for the ambulance I dialled Lisa's husband on my phone, so that she could tell him what was going on (she had no phone with her).  It seemed a long wait, but the when they arrived they were efficient and friendly whisking Lisa off to St Thomas's.  I phoned her husband again to let him know where she was going.  I hope she is Ok.  

Then I had to start running again.  That was hard.  I'd already run nearly 11 miles, and then sat on a pavement for ages getting nice and stiff!  Somehow I managed.  I crossed the river again at some point, running along the South Bank as far as Southwark Cathedral, before coming back and crossing over the Millennium Footbridge (a first for me - I wanted to check it was safe before risking it).  At about 15 miles I suddenly realised that I was able to do this!  I could run 18 miles and I was enjoying it!  I could have carried on much longer, so I figure that I will just accept that I am going to run a very slow marathon, and give myself a time to improve on!  

As I ran back along The Embankment I was again on the Paralympic marathon route.  I saw a fair few runners, but not David Weir (it would be greedy to watch him win two medals I suppose).  It was a fantastic atmosphere, with crowds cheering athletes on, and turning to cheer me on when there were no real runners to watch! 

I have just one more really long run to do now before THE BIG DAY!  22 miles in a couple of weeks, but I shall just go out slow and steady and remember that the reason I run is because I enjoy it!  

Is it all in the mind?

In the absence of anyone I respect telling me that I shouldn't run the Abingdon marathon I have very little option but to carry on training!  When I have spoken to my physiotherapist she has said 'Oh, why don't you just take it easy and see how you feel on the day?'  Hello!  26.2 miles would be pretty foolish to attempt on a 'take it easy' training regime!

So today came the first BIG ONE.  The day when I would run further than I had ever run before.  Last Sunday should have seen me running 14 miles, but I wimped out because my foot had been quite 'ouchy' all week, so I only ran 8.5 miles.  Today's run was 15 miles.  That is 1.5 miles further than I had ever run before.

I'd been dreading this run all week.  Despite having run 19.5 miles, including a speed session, and rowing twice over the course of the week I was worried.  FIFTEEN MILES!  That's a long way!  Not as long as a marathon, but it is the sort of distance that you'd get the car out of the garage for.  Could I do it?  I wasn't sure.  I really wasn't sure.  I almost didn't want to set out because if I didn't try there was no chance of me failing.

This morning I procrastinated.  I didn't get up until 7.30am, and then I spent as long as was humanly possible getting myself organised.  I didn't leave the house until 8.40am, at which point I began to regret all the faffing about and worry about the bright sunshine and wondering how hot it would get!  The route I had chosen to run was a mish mash of two of my regular routes, with the incentive of finishing at Côte.   There was also the opportunity to stop at Alice Holt Forest  to use the loos and replenish my water bottle.

From the outset, it was hard work.  I think I had convinced myself that this was a 'big thing' to do and that I was going to fail, I kept pushing on, running up and up loads of hills (my Garmin gives a total ascent of 960m) and down a few too.  I was slow, but not too worried about that as my aim was just to get to Côte and have a nice cup of tea and some brunch with Husbando, but I did start to worry that I'd get there too late and we'd have to have lunch because they had stopped serving breakfast.

I haven't found a run that hard for ages.  If ever.  I tried to tell myself that I must have found the first few runs I ever did hard work too, but another part of my brain kept telling me that I did Couch to 5k I stopped and walked a lot in the first few weeks.  The temptation to walk was huge, but I only walked on one short bit of rough ground - the last thing I needed to do was twist my bad foot again!

I did run 15 miles this morning, but it has left me wondering if I will be able to run the full marathon.  My training programme calls for an easy week this week (with a long run of only 10km!) building up to an 18mile run the Sunday afterwards.  After that there is the challenge of 22 miles three weeks prior to THE BIG DAY.

I guess if it was easy more people would do this.  Mind you, 30,000 people seem to manage it at the London Marathon every year, and I am only half way through the training programme right now, so I may, hopefully, begin to develop a bit more confidence over the next few weeks.

Can I hit rewind please?

I thought that my foot was almost completely better.  I have been diligently doing all my physio exercises, building up the mileage and not worrying too much about the fact that my running was far from speedy.  Yes it ached when I ran, but not in a 'stop what you are doing now and find some painkillers and an ice pack' type of way.  

On Sunday I ran 13.2 miles, it was hard work, but I did it, even if I did choose to walk across the uneven ground at the edge of the forest.  Again, it wasn't a fast run, but I'd have finished a half marathon in just under 2 hours.  I was feeling fairly confident that I could clock a good time in a race over flat ground with the adrenalin burst that you get in a race. 

Monday was a rest day.  I went up to London with a friend for a bit of shopping.  We had a lot of fun.  I didn't walk far.  Every so often my foot hurt.  I tried to carry on walking normally, but was aware that I was limping ever so slightly.  On Tuesday I took the decision not to go for a run.  I find it quite stressful to 'skip' a training session when I am following a programme, but decided that sitting with my foot up and wrapped in ice was probably a better plan.  I consoled myself with a bit of online shopping for running stuff; new shorts, water bottles and belt thing, compression socks....  

Today I took the children to Legoland.  A fair bit of walking, a bit more pain.  Somehow I still thought that I could go for a run.  I was scheduled to run 6 miles tonight.  I set out with good intentions.  It hurt. I curtailed my run on the road, and ran 2 miles to my gym, thinking that running on the treadmill would be easier than the road.  The 2 miles were slow and not very comfortable.  I got to the gym, took 2 strides on the treadmill and realised that I couldn't run another step.  

My foot and calf hurt, and they hurt a lot.  I am limping when walking, finding stairs a challenge, so running seems like a really silly idea.  I guess I'll have to be sensible and stop running for a while.  

I am not sure how this will affect my chances of running the Abingdon Marathon.  I really want to do it, but it is only ten and a half weeks away, and if I take a break now I am not sure that I'll be able to get enough training done.  26.2 miles is a very long way to run, the furthest I've ever run before is 13.5 miles.  Running that sort of distance without training properly would probably put me out of action for weeks!  

So here I am, back on the sofa, ice pack on foot and feeling sorry for myself!  Wishing I could turn back time to the day before I fell over in the first place.

How odd...

Saturday is parkrun day, and having not pulled on my running shoes since Monday after a slight mishap during my trail run (I went over on my poorly ankle/foot) there really was nothing for it but to dig out the running gear and head on over to Basingstoke.  The weather was grim, I got drenched as I dashed out of the car to drop off my youngest boy at a friend's house for a birthday trip to Chessington, and with three non running children left in the car I did begin to question my sanity.  The children were hardly going to enjoy playing on the swings in a monsoon!

I don't mind running in the rain, but I do hate standing around waiting in the rain!  Still, stand around in the rain is exactly what we did.  I wasn't sure how I would approach this run.  As I said earlier, I've lost my confidence in my ability to run.  I've done the distances I've wanted to in my training run, but I've often stopped to walk, answer my phone or adjust headphones etc.  Last week's parkrun saw me stop and walk on the downhill bit of the Crabtree course!

Approaching the start I was so busy chatting that I nearly missed the starting whistle! I started fairly near the back as a consequence, and spent the first couple of hundred metres weaving through the crowds.  This meant that I didn't do my usual trick of trying to keep up with the fast boys!  After a while I caught up with a couple of people I knew and settled into a nice rhythm where we could run and chat, and chat and run.  The infamous 'Tennis Court Hill' (a long slope rather than a hill really) was much easier taken at a nice steady pace rather that approached too fast at a speed impossible for me to maintain!

We weren't going to break any records, but two of us were recovering from injury and one hadn't run for a couple of months.  My goal was to run the whole way without slowing down to a walk, and I am pleased to say I did it!  My time was slow, 27:21, which is just under 9 minute mile pace, and a post-injury parkrun PB.

The 'How odd...' of the title to this blog refers to the change since I was at school.  I would beg for a note to get me 'off games!'  I'd almost have been glad of a foot injury like the one I've had to give me the best part of a term, because you know I'd have strung it out for as long as possible, off the dreaded PE lessons!  Now I am chomping at the bit to get out and get training seriously again.  Angry with myself for falling over in the first place and reading up on specialist support bandages for runners with dodgy feet and ankles!

Losing my nerve!

I've neglected this blog over the last few weeks.  When I eventually returned to work, on crutches which is such a good way to try and get around a classroom, I got caught up in the manic activity that accompanies the end of a school year.  We said goodbye to colleagues who were retiring or moving on to new schools.  We stripped our classroom walls so that the builders can come in over the summer and remove all the asbestos.  We made sure we hadn't left anything to personal or too valuable in our desk drawers and had a bit of a tidy up.  We helped out at sports days, voted for 'colleague of the half term' and drank more tea than is probably good for us.

In addition to this (and teaching the few remaining classes of the year) I cobbled together a folder of evidence to prove that I had 'passed' my induction year and went, with trepidation, to get it all signed off by the head.  There is still the small matter of an outstanding lesson observation that couldn't go ahead because I was off sick, but that will take place early in the new school year.  The good news is that I am no longer an NQT (newly qualified teacher), the bad news is that my timetable looks even more busy next year than it did this year!

The first week of the holidays has whizzed by in a bit of a blur.  I've been slowly getting back into running.  The hot weather saw me out of bed before 7am so that I could run without melting.  I achieved my 50th parkrun - with a hobble rather than a sprint - only 50 more runs now until the next parkrun milestone.

My foot is still achey but running, on the whole, doesn't seem to make it worse.  What has happened is that I appear to have lost my confidence.  I don't worry that I am going to fall over again though.  I just worry that I won't be able to run the distance I have set myself that day.  And I know I am a lot slower than I was before I hurt myself.  I guess the 3+ weeks of no running has really set me back a bit.

I have started training for the Abingdon marathon, and while I am able to complete all the runs so far in the training programme, I have real doubts as to whether I will be up to the 26.2 miles on the day - both physically and mentally.  I was hoping for a time of 'around 4 hours' before I injured my foot, but am now of the opinion that finishing will be enough of an achievement for my first marathon.  I was also hoping that marathon training might lead to weight loss, but 30+ miles a week just makes me hungry!

Today is supposed to be a rest day, but the Trailblazers are running locally tonight.  I've run the route we are taking tonight with them before, it is great but my attempts to follow the route on my own meant I got hopelessly lost, so I am hoping that another guided run will mean I remember the path!

One of those days!

I'd worn my favourite, highest heeled shoes to school.  They are really very high, at least 6" including the platform.  They are also a lovely, shiny pink, and my best ever sales bargain - being reduced from £645 to £45.  They drew many admiring glances and comments at school.  The head did say that, much as she loved them, the school wouldn't be held responsible if I fell downstairs and broke my leg.  I laughed!  Being short I have become very good at wearing high heels.

The day passed off well, taught some lessons, did some marking, attending a meeting or two, and began to get stressed about an observed lesson that was supposed to happen this morning.  I came home to find an excited older daughter getting ready for Race for Life.  If you've been reading for a while you'll know that I said last year that I'd never run it again.  I had no objection to my daughter running it, but I wasn't going to do it ever.  But, come the day I got caught up in the excitement, and my intention of going for a run somewhere didn't last long when I found I could register on the day.

We lined up, fairly near the front, and off we set.  My intention to run with my little girl vanished when I realised she wasn't with me after the third bend!  I did stop and wait for her, but she didn't want me to run with her.  So off I went.  I was doing so well, I was in about the first 20 runners and loving it.  I ran through some trees, carefully avoiding all the tree roots (painted bright pink) at around 1.5 miles and then fell over nothing.  As I went down I knew it wasn't good.  A marshall saw me and rushed to my side.  My pride kicked in, and despite the fact that it hurt I picked myself up and said that I would 'walk it off.'  I walked and hopped-run to the end.  I have no idea how.  Tears were streaming down my face, but I was definitely going to finish.  I finished in 33.45 minutes and limped off to find my girl.  She doesn't do running, and only ever runs Race for Life, but she finished in 24.14!

Husbando met us and took me straight to A&E.  It was looking quite hopeful for a speedy turn around until two road traffic accidents (RTAs) were brought in one after another.  I was given a cocktail of painkillers which didn't do much for the pain, but seemed to cheer me up and stop me sobbing. The tears were more of frustration and anger than anything else.  I was so cross with myself for hurting myself in a race I hadn't really wanted to do.

X-rays revealed no broken bones, I've torn ligaments and can't bear weight until at least Monday.  No idea when I'll be able to run again.  My foot is hugely painful, and at a funny angle.  I can't straighten it,  can't even wiggle my toes.  I've spend most of my day with  my foot up with an ice pack on it.  I ventured to the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea.  I was so proud of myself for working out how to get the milk bottle to the cup and back to the fridge, and then when my lovely cup of tea was made, I realised I had no way of carrying it back to the sitting room, so I stood, on one leg, in the kitchen to drink my tea!!

Please remind me never to run Race for Life again!