Yesterday, it was a 6k tempo run... I was not entirely sure what "tempo" meant, but I was fairly sure that it meant that I should be running faster than normal.
I was awake at 6.30am and thought that maybe going for a run first thing would be a good way of getting it out the way, but it was very cold and very dark and so I decided this would be madness, and enjoyed some snooze time. This meant a run at lunch time.... around Canary Wharf. It still seemed awfully cold to be running outside, but when it was pointed out that the weather was only going to deteriorate, I thought I should maybe enjoy the positively tropical November midday sun.
On the helpful advice of Mr Jessop, I set off for Mudchute Park and was surprised at how good my legs felt. Having corrected the errors of my ways from Sunday (in both music and clothes), the heaviness wasn't there in my legs. I ran in time with the music and, with the sun beating down on me, I actually found myself running with a smile on my face. I did get lost, and couldn't remember the suggested loop back to the office, so I turned around and retraced my steps. I ran 5.6k, and recorded my fastest ever 5k time, including the runs I used to do at school (which is remarkable as I am sure I was fitter then than I am now, given I trained for hockey a million times a week and didn't drink).
I am surprised to be honest. The scenery is not quite as picturesque as a run along the Thames, and I was fairly sure I was going to get robbed for my iPhone by a group of hooded youths who did not want to make way for me on the pavement, but I really enjoyed myself.
I am off to Durham today and hope to have a leisurely swim this afternoon and some time in the hotel spa to try and loosen up my legs in time for a Fartlek session tomorrow (which I can fortunately complete on the treadmill).
Wednesday, 24 November 2010
Sunday, 21 November 2010
The miracle is that I had the courage to start
So it begins...
Some 6 months ago, I volunteered myself for the insanity that is running the London Marathon 2011 in aid of The Prince & Princess of Wales Hospice. The Hospice is a Glasgow based charity which provides palliative care for patients with terminal illnesses. It is a charity which I hold particularly close to my heart because on Christmas Eve 1997 my Dad, Stephen Edgar, went to stay in the Hospice for the last few weeks of the battle he was losing with cancer. I was 11 at the time and I can still vividly remember the loving, soothing and caring environment there, where the nurses and staff understand that they need to look after the needs of patient and family. They made a horrible 4 weeks more bearable with their incredible empathy and I will never forget what they did for my family during such a traumatic time.
I have supported the Hospice since this time, organising discos, charity cycles, the Forget-Me-Not Ball and by speaking at the Sportsman's Dinner 2008. However a recent move to the capital has meant that I can no longer be involved in the events in Glasgow. So volunteering to run the marathon is my way of supportig this charity which has done so much for me and my family.
I am not a runner. That much has been clear for years. But I want to run this for the Hospice to raise money so that they can continue to help families just like mine and prove to myself that I have the commitment to put myself through the pain to help something I care about. For the record, I would rather organise another ball!!
So it's 21 weeks today. And training began. One glass of prosecco and early to bed last night. 7.6km. My legs did not want to move. Every step hurt. I didn't have a good playlist (actually I didn't have any playlist). I didn't have enough clothes on, the stretch across Waterloo Bridge nearly killed me because the brutal November wind was pushing me backwards. I lost feeling in my fingers and my nose and my ears. I was jealous of all the runners along the Thames who made it look easy. I couldn't help but wonder what the hell I had signed up for. A seriously questionable decision. And I have a blister on the underside of my left foot.
They say that a marathon is one of the most incredible experiences... But the training is miserable. For now I am dreading the next 21 weeks.
Lessons for next time:
1. Get a good playlist (am open to suggestions).
2. Wear appropriate clothes.
Some 6 months ago, I volunteered myself for the insanity that is running the London Marathon 2011 in aid of The Prince & Princess of Wales Hospice. The Hospice is a Glasgow based charity which provides palliative care for patients with terminal illnesses. It is a charity which I hold particularly close to my heart because on Christmas Eve 1997 my Dad, Stephen Edgar, went to stay in the Hospice for the last few weeks of the battle he was losing with cancer. I was 11 at the time and I can still vividly remember the loving, soothing and caring environment there, where the nurses and staff understand that they need to look after the needs of patient and family. They made a horrible 4 weeks more bearable with their incredible empathy and I will never forget what they did for my family during such a traumatic time.
I have supported the Hospice since this time, organising discos, charity cycles, the Forget-Me-Not Ball and by speaking at the Sportsman's Dinner 2008. However a recent move to the capital has meant that I can no longer be involved in the events in Glasgow. So volunteering to run the marathon is my way of supportig this charity which has done so much for me and my family.
I am not a runner. That much has been clear for years. But I want to run this for the Hospice to raise money so that they can continue to help families just like mine and prove to myself that I have the commitment to put myself through the pain to help something I care about. For the record, I would rather organise another ball!!
So it's 21 weeks today. And training began. One glass of prosecco and early to bed last night. 7.6km. My legs did not want to move. Every step hurt. I didn't have a good playlist (actually I didn't have any playlist). I didn't have enough clothes on, the stretch across Waterloo Bridge nearly killed me because the brutal November wind was pushing me backwards. I lost feeling in my fingers and my nose and my ears. I was jealous of all the runners along the Thames who made it look easy. I couldn't help but wonder what the hell I had signed up for. A seriously questionable decision. And I have a blister on the underside of my left foot.
They say that a marathon is one of the most incredible experiences... But the training is miserable. For now I am dreading the next 21 weeks.
Lessons for next time:
1. Get a good playlist (am open to suggestions).
2. Wear appropriate clothes.
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