All I have is all I've worked for...

I've said it before and I'll say it again - all I have is all I've worked for.... I'm the wrong side of forty, an ex-smoker, an ex-heavy drinker, an ex-overweight couch potato, and not a natural runner.

Wide load circa 2007

I start jogging many moons ago, just to try and get a bit fitter, but back then 3 miles would have had me sweating for England and a wonderful shade of burgundy. If I did run then I would have to take the rest of the day off. When I left my second wife, and moved, pennyless and possessionless, into a one bedroom flat in Bristol, I started to use jogging as a way to explore the neighbourhood. This coincided with an entry into the London Marathon and, although woefully pitiful as it was, my 'training' continued to be a plod around the streets of Bristol. I think my longest training run was 15 miles and I had to take the next couple of days off work to recover... After that marathon I vowed "never again". 'Never again' lasted about three years, then, somewhere around my 40th birthday, I had a running epiphany. I joined the beginners group at Bitton Road Runners and, basically, just plugged away at this running lark. A little by little I got fitter, lost weight, and improved my running. Fast forward six years, and six more marathons, and I'm still not a natural runner; everything I've achieved, in life as well as in running, can be put down as a stubborn refusal to let my body or brain tell me when I'm beaten...

Monday was a rest day and I needed it. My body was feeling washed out after the previous days long run, so I had a light swim, with pool bouys, at lunchtime and left it at that. Which was a good thing too, as, after a few weeks of absence, Triple Tuesday raised it's ugly head once more. I awoke from my slumbers, did my usual early morning set of 64 press-ups & 128 sit-ups, and headed out of the door into what would was already a fairly cold and breezy day. I knew that this run was going to be a difficult one as I turned into a sharp headwind after only 400m. Then, at 6:20am, roughly 2.2 miles into the run, my stomach lurched, went into 'spin cycle' and I was mugged by the Gingerbread Man. Thankfully I was rescued by Ronald McDonald. Well, not the red-nosed freak of commerce himself, but, just as my digestive system moved into 'bomb doors doors open', the Golden Arches hove into view which, in my predicament, only meant one thing - toilets! Relief was quickly found and I was able to carry on my merry way with no further mishaps. (As an aside - why the hell do people buy McDonalds food for breakfast? There was a queue at the counter as well as the drive-through...! Seriously folks, a bowl of sugar-coated cereal is a hell of a lot easier, cheaper, healthier, and stands little chance of containing a faller at the 8th fence in the Grand National...)
My coached swimming session at lunchtime saw a momentous moment in my progress. After 20 lengths as a warm-up, followed by the main 'fitness session', I realised that I was only 12 lengths short of a mile, so I cracked on with it. I eventually stopped after completing a grand total of 70 lengths! 1750 metres! I was quietly very, very, chuffed with that... Strange that it happened on the very day that Rebecca Adlington announced her retirement. (Maybe she was aware of my feat and was worried about the extra competition. Or maybe not.)
Tuesday evenings track session was a bit of a toughie. Not only was there still a cold wind and a spot of diagonal driving rain to contend with, but the session itself, four repetitions of 300m/500m/300m was only ever going to hurt me if I put the efforts in. And it did. (Which must mean that I had put the efforts in...) I felt seriously sick and would happily have walked away halfway through the session, and hidden in the toikets. But I didn't, and before I knew it we'd reached the end of the session. They say that there is such a thing as a 'runners high'. I think I achieved that 'high' when I finished the session and stopped running because I felt a hell of a lot better than I did whilst I was charging around that track...

Wednesday saw a first in my running career. Due to work pressures and logistics, a post-work run was on the cards. So, when I got home, I changed into my running kit and trotted off through Hillfields, down Fishponds Road, up Muller Road, & down Gloucester Road, to meet Mrs C from work. From there I ran back along the railway path to Hillfields. However, as I approached Morrisons, in Fishponds, I realised that it had been hours since I had last eaten (couscous & mixed bean salad for lunch) and now, 11 miles into the run, my stomach told me that I was running on empty. Completely empty. So empty that running in a straight line was requiring considerable concentration, and the growling noise in my stomach was becoming audible. And I was still just over two miles from home... I was in trouble. Luckily, in her pannier bag, MrsC had some pizza that she'd had boxed up after a working lunch. Even luckier for me was that it was a vegetarian pizza, so she fished a slice out of the box for me and I ate it as I carried on jogging along, allowing me to finish the run. As a Hogweed Trotter friend of mine later pointed out to me via Facebook - if eating pizza mid-run is good enough for Dean Karnazes, then it's good enough for me... Although DK ate a whole pizza rather than just a slice. (A good way to carbo-load on the go, but it's not something that I'd like to make a habit of...)

Relief yes, but miles away from an Andrex puppy

In order to free up some post-work massage and recovery time, I decided to run again on Thursday lunchtime. A 'gentle' eight mile route that took in some nasty hills felt quite a slog and, unfortunately, I was plagued, once again, by the Gingerbread Man and had to make an unscheduled pit-stop in the undergrowth. Thankfully I was running in the countryside and not the local park... (Blimey, that'd scare the living daylights out of a dog walker...)

Most of the same route (but not the pit-stop) was revisited the very next day as I ran a hilly 10 miles in the company of 2:40 marathoner MattEll, who dragged me up some nasty inclines, including the infamous Peppershells Lane & Slate Lane, ensuring that, no matter how much I bitched & moaned, slowing to a walk was not an option. I say that I 'bitched & moaned', but even up the steepest parts of the route my pace never dropped below 7:30/mi, which, as my legs were still aching from everything else I'd asked from them lately, was fairly surprising. The 10 mile route was completed in a, for me, rather satisfactory time of 1:10:00, whilst I'm sure that Matt was just happy to have some company whilst he jogged along. I've said it before, but I'll say it again, but when I run with others who are much faster than myself, I am sure that they drop their pace for the run, whilst I have to up my game and climb out of my comfort zone... If you fancy sampling some of the delights of the hills surrounding the Compton Dando area then I suggest that you enter this years Pensford 10K. It's an experience that you're not likely to forget in a hurry...
Post work I headed to the pool grabbed a couple of floats, which I put between my legs, then, just using my arms for power, ground out 30+ lengths before heading home.

An uneventful early morning 5.5 mile jog allowed me to spend the rest of Saturday vegging out on the sofa, watching some rugby on the telly, and completely failing to complete the crossword in the paper. It did, however, allow me to rest up before Sundays race - The Wiltshire 10.

 My race day routine was the same as it has been for years: An early morning alarm, stumble downstairs, put the kettle on, stumble back upstairs to the bathroom, stumble back downstairs again, make coffee & porridge (not in the same bowl) eat porridge & drink coffee, go for a jog around the block (in the rain), get home, go back to the bathroom, put on race kit followed by a tracksuit, then head out of the door. This week saw a trip to Melksham. (Ooh, gird my loins...!!!)

Lacock - Possibly picturesque on a dry day...

It was raining when we left for Melksham, it was raining when we arrived at Melksham, and apart from a brief lull for the first half an hour or so of the race, it pretty much rained all the time that I was there. After a crammed warm-up run, I joined the throng of runners mustering for the start of the race and briefly caught up with a few other runners from the Club, as well as a few from different clubs. The local running scene, being what it is, is such that there are always a few familiar faces to say hello to. You also get to know who runs at much the same pace as yourself and who is the person to try and beat. The organisers shouted "go" and we went!!!
The race itself wound it's way out of Melksham, out and through Lacock, home of 'Pride & Prejudice', 'Harry Potter', & 'Cranford', then back into Melksham again for the finish. Now, I'm sure that it was a very scenic route; unfortunately it was raining, the clouds were low, it was basically grey & overcast, which kind of prevented me from noticing any of the scenery, and besides, I was more concerned with trying to find the shallowest parts of the lake-sized puddles to run through... So, in all honestly, I can't say much more about the race apart from that it was wet. Very wet. So wet that even a duck would moan about the wetness of it all...Oh, I did get a cheer from some people queuing up to get into Lacock Abbey... (Bloody tourists...) Anyway, I don't wish to sound conceited or 'up my own arse', but I finished the race in 14th place, splashing across the finish line in a time of 1:03:38 (avg. 6:23/mi) and frankly I wasn't too impressed. Why? Well, not because of my time or position... No. I was supposed to be running at marathon pace (6:45/mi) to give me a time of 1:07:30... I really must learn to get my pacing right instead of charging off like a demented whippet...
In order to keep a promise, after the race I put on a dry jacket and, as part of my post-race warm down, jogged back down the course until I met up with a couple of friends from the club who were running at a slower pace than I had. I then turned and headed towards the finish with them and saw them across the finish line. We may not all run at super-fast speeds and times, but we are all runners, and to each of us, our times are relevant to us... I may take part in races, but I don't race. My only true opponents are myself and my watch. Everything else is inconsequential...

The traditional Sunday evening trip to the swimming pool, followed by a game of badminton rounded off the week in a nice way. Especially as the following week was one where I was on annual leave...

Weekly totals:

Run miles: 61.91

Swim lengths/metres: 174/4350m

Sit-ups: 640

Press-ups: 320