A Grim Fairy Tale...

Are you sitting comfortably? Good, then we shall begin...

Once upon a time there was a skinny bald Prince who liked to run. He liked to run a lot. Just like Dick Whittington, he hoped to go to London where he'd heard that the streets were paved with gold...  But when he got injured or his muscles ached he got very upset and started to abuse a substance called Ibuprofen. He would swallow tablets and rub gel into his muscles in the hope that the pain would go away...
On the previous Sunday, the baldy Prince had gone for an 18 mile run with a friend. At the end of the run, the baldy Prince had very stiff and sore legs, but as he was used to pushing his body to its limits he paid no heed to the pain and, in the evening, he played badminton with some other friends. The following day, Monday, his legs had felt fine so he went swimming but, so that he could give his legs a rest, he used a pull-buoy to give them a bit of a rest. In the evening he took his beloved Princess, she of rapidly expanding waistline & wild mood swings, to the Theatre Royal, in Bath, to see The 39 Steps. This greatly improved her mood and that made the Prince very happy.

On the Tuesday morning the bald Prince woke up late so, in order to get to work on time, he didn't go for an early morning jog. Instead, at lunchtime, he worked extra hard in the swimming pool. That evening he went to the athletics track to do a 2 mile warm up followed by 10x800m, with 2:30 recoveries. After a few reps the Prince was starting to feel a horrid pain in his right quad, but tried to carry on regardless. In the end, despite the pain, and after being told off by another runner for risking injury, the baldy Prince called it quits after only 7 reps and limped off the track and sat in his car sulking about his rotten luck.

When he eventually got home, he moaned to the pregnant Princess about his sore leg muscle. His hairy Codfather, Captain Birdseye, a distant relative of the Fairy Godmother, heard his moaning and felt sorry for the skinny bald Prince and, to help make the pain go away, he gave him a bag of magical frozen peas. Now, the skinny bald Prince was sceptical about the magical properties of this frozen garden produce, but, after swilling down some Ibuprofen tablets with coffee from his 'lucky' Avebury 8 mug, he sat in front of an episode of University Challenge, munching on a kipper sandwich, with the bag of magical peas applied to his right quadriceps.

After a magical nights sleep, partially fuelled by Horlicks, the Baldy Prince awoke feeling much refreshed and, whilst the pain in his thigh was still there, he felt ready to resume his marathon training schedule, although, as a precaution he intended to greatly reduce both the distance and the intensity of the run. So, instead of a 14 mile run, a distance of 8 miles around Compton Dando was settled upon with the added bonus of a post-work run. The pace was, by necessity, 'easy' with lashings of extra grit and determination reserved for the hills. Amazingly the longer the Prince ran, the easier he found the very action of running become and he was able to get round in an average of 7:12/mi. This pleased the Prince greatly and, although he was still experiencing a degree of discomfort in his thigh, after work he was able to enjoy a slow 16 lengths of the moat swimming pool... To celebrate the success of his days exercise he treated the pregnant Princess to one of his favourite high-carbohydrate home-baked meals - tomato gnocchi bake...

Over night, the White Witch sowed doubts and injury fears into the dreams of the Prince, and when he awoke in the morning he was worried about his thigh. She had also cast a gloomy weather spell which slowly engulfed the land. High winds, driving rain, and low temperatures crept in during the day and amplified the fears of the Prince. He elected not to run at lunchtime and to wait until he had visited the court physician who had elbows and thumbs of steel. After a massage, that felt like a visitation from the Spanish Inquisition, he put in a very cold and wet 5K jog around the block. His leg felt better than it had done the previous day, and this greatly pleased the Prince.

Damp underfoot...

On the final day of the working week, the White Witches gloomy weather spell still hung over the Kingdom of Compton Dando, but the Baldy Prince, accompanied by a brave Knight from his office, braced himself against the driving rain and took to the wet roads for an 'easy' 7.45 mile 'jog'. The reason for the longer than scheduled run was a quest for knowledge. The Prince wanted to ascertain if his legs were suitably recovered to cope with a double figure run the next day. The Prince and the Knight battled valiantly against the very worst of the White Witches weather. Although they were soaked to the skin, and exhausted greatly by their efforts, both were pleased when the run was completed and they were able to retreat out of the elements and grab a warm shower in Keynsham Leisure Centre.

The weekend usually brought the Prince a chance to spend some more time with the Princess, but this weekend the Princes training schedule ensured that the much needed weekend lie-in was not going to happen... The schedule proclaimed that eleven miles should be completed and verily the Prince did arise from his bedchamber in order to face the world. In anything other than Disney stylee The Prince was attacked by the Gingerbread Man after only one imperial mile. After taking evasive action in the first public convenience on the route, the Prince was able to put in what turned out to be a very, very, cold run. It was so cold that the Narnian White Witch, Jadis, might pull up in her sleigh, pulled by two polar bears, and start to tempt him with Turkish Delight and a cup of hot chocolate. He did, however, manage to complete his run in 1:18:18 and was pleased that his quads had held up so well. Although the Prince would have been grateful of a warm post-race shower, he instead got changed and, as preparation for next weeks Hanham Horror race, of which he was a Section Marshall, he walked around the second half of the course to check the route.

Responsible for the recent crappy weather?

The following morning the Prince did once again arise bleary-eyed from his slumbers to embrace the coldness of the day and embark upon his longest run of the week - all seventeen miles of it. On a day that would have hosted the Forest of Dean Trails Half Marathon and the San Domenico Twenty, both cancelled due to the White Witches bad weather which left many facing another Arctic day, the coldness of the day was not lost upon him. It was colder than the previous day, especially along the exposed, unsheltered, sections of the railway path between Bitton and Saltford, the A4 Bath Road to Keynsham, and the Avon Ring Road. With hat, gloves, and headphones on, and the latest Marathon Talk podcast on his MP3 player, the run itself was taken at a very easy, steady pace, with the slowest stages of the runs, obviously, being on the inclines which were, thankfully, sharp rather than long. The Prince only allowed one pre-scheduled pit-stop this time out and, that was taken at the 11 mile mark, at Keynsham Leisure Centre. As with the previous day, the Prince was glad to finish his run, this time in 2:07:17. Despite wearing hat, gloves, Skins tights, and a windproof Nike Storm Fit jacket, the Baldy Princes flesh was still red and raw from the cold winds that he had experienced and his quads ached greatly. Thankfully, the pain subsided after a while, and the Baldy Prince was able to spend some quality time that afternoon with both his daughter and the Pregnant Princess as they baked chocolate cakes together.

Thankfully, after such a poor start to the week, the Prince ended his week on a more positive note. But this wasn't the end of the Princes story. No, that would come in front of a big palace in just four weeks time. As Peter S. Beagle wrote in The Last Unicorn,  "Heroes know that things must happen when it is time for them to happen. A quest may not simply be abandoned; unicorns may go unrescued for a long time, but not forever; a happy ending cannot come in the middle of the story..."

 Weekly totals:

Run miles: 54.66

Swim lengths/metres: 108/2700m
Sit-ups: 640
Press-ups: 320
Pregnant Princesses: 1

It's all uphill to a meltdown...

A sign of things to come...

Three things that I wasn't expecting to have to deal with this week - sub-zero temperatures, freezing cold arctic winds, and MrsC's pregnancy hormone-imbalance compounded mood swings... For reasons that I can't go into (apart from the fact that she does read this blog and I'd like to keep my teeth & testicles in their present location) I won't divulge the details of the mood swings. Let's just say that I've recently discovered that going for long runs does have another plus side... Which is just as well because this was my longest/hardest training week for a while, and after this, things should start to ease off as I taper down towards next months London Marathon. Just five weeks to go!!!

Monday equals 'rest'. Well, my rest may not be everybodys idea of rest, but swimming a good number of lengths with a pull-buoy between my legs (Honestly, is sounds like the start of a Jimmy Saville joke...) in order to give them a rest seemed like a rest to me...

The base for a lot of my training.

As usual, Triple Tuesday crept upon me to signal the beginning of the training week.
Part one was probably the most psychologically difficult part of the day. Dragging myself out of bed, put on some warm running clothes, then going out for a very, very, cold 5k jog at 6am is never a nice way to start the day. In fact, cold is an understatement. My buff was pulled up over my face and the condensation from my breath actually froze solid! Part two was my weekly coached swim session. I found it very tiring and, after 50 lengths of varying intensity, I was grateful to haul myself out of the pool.
Part three was a very cold track session. After a 4 lap (1 mile) informal warm-up we did an 800m (0.5mile) group warm-up moved into the core of session - 6x1k efforts with 200m recovery. (Just to be anal my effort times were 3:35/3:33/3:30/3:28/3:28/3:25). I will hold my hand up and freely admit that I detest running on the track. It hurts and I find it an uncomfortable experience. However, I also regard it as a necessary evil as it makes me focus on form and speed. As with the lunchtime swim, I was glad when I finished... I jogged another 5 laps (1.25 miles) to cool-down before I was able to stop and step off of the track.

A pre-planned busy workload, sustained only by a flask of coffee and a container full of cold pasta, prevented me from training in the daytime. Just as well as I had arranged to meet MrsC from work mid long run... I cracked out 10 miles in a comfortable 1:11 before meeting her outside her office in central Bristol. We then made our way slowly home; MrsC cycling whilst I jogged along in front. Pregnancy is getting the better of MrsC's energy levels of late though and at times I had to stop and wait for her to catch up with me. At the end of the 15.6 mile journey I was spent. I had nothing left in the tank; but, luckily, recovery was provided by a most welcome honey & golden syrup sandwich... (Sugar rush!!)

Petrol not required...

Determined that the arrival of a baby is not going to slow me down in any shape, way, or form, I had decided that, come what may, I was going to get a jogging buggy so that when I do my long runs in the evenings or at the weekends, then baby can come too... (I told my 19 year old daughter this and her response was "you're kidding, right?" err... no.) Anyway, I'd been looking at a few of these buggies on E-Bay, as these things cost a fortune brand new, and had set my sights on a Jeep Overland Limited Jogging Stroller. After a bit of price haggling with MrsC ("I'm gonna bid x-amount on this", "No you're not", "yes I am, after all, if you want a baby free lie in on weekend mornings then I'm going to need a jogger...") I made a high bid eight seconds before bidding finished, and got it for a steal... My first big baby purchase - and, inevitably, it was running related... I wonder if I can get it up and over Kelston Round Hill...?

I swam at lunchtime on Thursday, just an easy 32 lengths to keep the body moving, then in the evening I ran a looping 10.5 miles into Bristol Temple Meads, back out on A4 to Keynsham, before heading on to the running club. It was good to get some more miles under my belt, but more importantly, it was good to be able catch up with some of our friends and have a good old chat. You can log the miles and fuel the body, but sometimes you have to feed the soul too...

Friday was wet. Very wet. Heavy rain fell on me as I ran from Keynsham to Bath. I was soaked to the skin before I even got onto the cycle track to run back to Keynsham via Bitton. The thing with the rain is that, when running, I don't really notice it unless it's freezing cold and driving into me. I'm happy to keep running through it as that's the only way that I have any hope of staying warm; it's only my face and hands that start to go numb. All was well until I came off the path at Bitton and ran alongside the A41275 Keynsham Road. There was a lot of water on the road and most of it seemed to be sprayed up and over me by the passing vehicles. I swear blind that some of the drivers must have been doing it on purpose. Gits. Like a drowned rat I finally made it to the end of my 12 mile loop and I honestly cannot remember that last time I felt so happy to get out of the rain and into the dry...

Saturday mornings 5.5 mile run in the rain wasn't much fun. After 3 miles I felt my stomach lurch and, reading the danger signals, headed through the doors of Longwell Green Leisure Centre & dived straight into the nearest loo. Bloody typical; after three days of consecutive double figure runs with no pit-stops, I get attacked by the Gingerbread Man on a little 5.5 mile jog... I wasn't amused... The afternoon was spent shopping for maternity clothes and then travelling to Trowbridge in order to pick up the running buggy. Because it's got big wheels, I had to detach them just to fit it into the boot of our Renault Megane - And that's got a rear end bigger than Bella Emberg...!!

Sleet greeted the cold Sunday dawn and, as I started running an 18 mile loop with fellow London Marathonner, JaykeeBoy, I knew that I was i for a bad run. To start with, I was struggling to breathe. The cold air was attacking my lungs with every inhalation, which in turn made me try to breathe a little shallower, which meant that my body wasn't getting all the oxygen it needed. When we hit the first hit I knew that the weeks higher mileage was going to haunt me. My aching quads felt stiff and tight. Because of this, and the cold air breathing, my body wouldn't let me change up a gear to run any faster...
"Okay", I thought "We'll hit the railway path in Saltford at the 6 mile point. I will have warmed up by then & it'll be easier to up the pace..." No. We got on the cycle track, headed for Bitton, then, as soon as I tried to pick up the pace, my stomach lurched and I was in need of the loo. Bugger. I dropped the pace back down, all too aware that I was going to wreck JaykeeBoys training run, and the closer I got to Bitton Station, the more painful my stomach got, the urge to use the loo got worse, and the more scared I was to fart...

Running on empty

The pit-stop brought small relief, but something still wasn't right with my body. Thanks to the sore quads, it hurt my legs to run. But, worse still was the fact that something still wasn't right in the stomach department either. Two miles further down the path, at Warmley Station, I made a second pit-stop. After this visit, my stomach definitely felt better & I was able to take on a carbohydrate gel and some water in order to keep going.
The final 10 miles were a war of attrition. It really was a case of digging deep inside myself and using everything I had left to run on through the pain of a very tired, empty, exhausted, body, with legs that were tight and on the verge of cramping up. JaykeeBoy knew that I was suffering (He'd have to have been blind not to...) and did his level best to keep talking, and keep my mind occupied so that I couldn't dwell too much on the fact that it would simply have been easier for me to stop running and call a taxi home... We came off the track near the Bristol Academy and navigated our way through Barton Hill to bring us finally, and mercifully, to the end of the loop.
After saying our goodbyes, and me apologising for ruining his run, I jogged back to my car. When I got there I looked at the reflection of a shattered old man in the car window and had to ask myself, what the hell was I doing trying to kill myself by running like this, early on a Sunday morning. The answer was the same as ever - despite having to push myself far beyond my comfort zone, despite the pain, the exhaustion, the cold, wind, rain, and occasional sunburn... I love it. That's why I run...

Don't ask me why though. It doesn't make any sense to me either...

Weekly totals:

Run miles: 72.94

Swim lengths/metres: 122/6100m

Sit-ups: 640
Press-ups: 320

Hormonal Houswives: 1

An expectant wobble...

With just six weeks to go until the London Marathon, there's been lots of exciting news in the Baldy household this week - and not all of it revolved around the news of the much-anticipated return of the Ice Warriors to Doctor Who for the first time since 1974... As I've mentioned in previous Blog posts, for more than the past few weeks now my mind has not been 'in the right place'. Aside from the physical 'wobble' that my body has been experiencing, coupled with the three-week training 'blip' (the huge blister, the muscles pulled by over-compensation, the extreme fatigue) I've been more than a little bit pre-occupied and, obviously, that has dragged my concentration away from the goal that is my sub-three hour marathon target. Now, I know that I've still been getting out there, getting the miles in and hitting my training properly, that much is evident with the good solid race times & PBs that I have been setting of late. Now, to 'lose your mojo', to have a mid-schedule 'wobble', to lose focus for a day or two, maybe even a week or two, is nothing new among marathon runners. But my 'wobble' was purely down to something else that I could do nothing about...

Thankfully, this wobble was stabilised a little after Sundays Bath Half and /8 mile warm down when, on Monday, I had a rest from training, took the afternoon off work and met MrsC in the centre of Bristol.
But the reason for this 'wobble'? Well, for weeks I've been telling little white lies to people. A few weeks ago I handed in my notice to the Running Club stating that I intended to step down from my position as one of the Club Captains. Since then I'd been keeping a low profile by not training with the Club on a Thursday evening, and when I turned up at races, or Tuesday track sessions, I'd breeze in, do what was required of me, then quietly disappear afterwards. The low-profile was because that I really didn't want to have to keep lying to people. People would ask me where MrsC was, or how she was, and I would fib and say that she "was fine" or that she "wasn't feeling too well" and I'd left her in front of the telly... At races, instead of being chief-cheerleader, club photographer, and keeper of many coats/car keys, as she usually was, MrsC would take a book & a folding chair, find a coffee shop, stay in the car, or stay in the race HQ.


This was how the news was announced on Facebook...

And the reason for all these fibs, evasiveness, deception, and the low profile? MrsC is pregnant and il bambino is due in September...!! Amazing news or what? I am so very chuffed and not at all worried by the daunting prospect of impending fatherhood again; even though it may well curtail some of my running activities (a bit). And, I know what you're thinking - I'm too old to be a Dad again. Funnily, a couple of my grown-up off-spring made the very same comment to me when I gave them the good news... So, now with the truth in the open there is no further need for secrecy & half-truths etc. I apologise to all I lied to, but you can understand the reason... Sorry!

The following day, with grin fixed firmly upon face, we broke the news to our respective colleagues. I decided not to run in the morning, due to sore quads, and opted for just the lunchtime coached swim session and a track session in the evening.
The swimming pool was very busy. It was hard to build up a rhythm in the swimming lanes as, being too fast for one lane and too slow for another, there, by necessity, was quite a bit of stopping to let others past me. But, by the end of the session I had completed 50 lengths and was thoroughly exhausted.

Smokey, but no Bandit...

The track session in the evening was, for me, tough. Not simply because of the three sets of 600m/400m/300m/200m efforts with 100m walked recovery, but because somebody in the adjoining allotments was having the worlds smokiest bonfire, and, because there was very little breeze, the smoke just kind of hung over the athletics track. Although I felt quite good, I could still feel Sunday in my legs and I wheezed my way through the session before returning home smelling as if I'd been playing with a bonfire all evening...

Wednesdays long run, through the brilliance of flexi-time, saw me put in during an elongated lunch break. After a loop of part of Keynsham, I ran along the side of the Avon Ring Road to Hanham. After a brief stop in the public-loos (again), I headed up through Kingswood and dropped down to Warmley Station. From there I ran along the Bristol-Bath Railway Path to Bitton, and then back to Keynsham, for a grand total of 12.8 miles. By the end of the run my legs felt very tight and very sore.

Voluntary mugging

They still felt the same way the following day when I jogged a 6 mile loop, via Saltford and Bitton, during my lunchbreak. After work I had what can only be described as a painful massage. Seriously, my quads, hamstrings, and calves were as tight as a drum, and to ease them up again a lot of pressure, and elbows, was applied. It's difficult to explain a sports massage, as opposed to a holistic or Swedish massage, but, basically, it's a type of massage that is used to work on athletes of all abilities, not just the elites. People who do sports massage can be professional massage therapists or some athletic trainers may also do it. However, although it isn't a specific technique, it requires extra training in anatomy & physiology, as well as working with injuries, the need to have an understanding of how the body moves and works during the many sporting events.
In the evening I jogged over to the Running Club to catch up with old friends and spread the good news about the pregnancy, and, as I was there anyway, I then jogged a slow 5.4 mile route with a group of runners. By the time I arrived back at the Club, MrsC had arrived in order to give me a lift home.
By the time I got home I was absolutely exhausted. I cannot remember ever being so tired during a training schedule. To tell the truth, I'm starting to get to the point where I am seriously considering my options with regard to training. I just seem to be stuck in a vicious cycle of work, train, eat, work, train, eat, sleep, and repeat. I'm almost losing track of the days...

Just a small cuppa...

After an awful nights sleep (why do they call it a bad nights sleep even though you've hardly had more than a snooze and you basically laid in bed all night watching the minutes tick by on the clock?) I felt more than a little rough in the morning. Coffee helped. To help with my diminishing energy supplies (Just how am I going to cope once we have a shit-covered screaming bundle of joy?) I dropped both the mileage and the pace of my lunchtime run and elected to jog around the country lanes whilst chatting to a colleague from work. It was a wise decision, one of almost restorative powers as, for once I didn't work myself into the ground and actually enjoyed myself. Just two blokes out for a jog and putting the world to rights along the way...

Saturday was taken as another day of rest for two reasons. Firstly I was sharing the driving duties as MrsC and I were, once again, heading for the Cotswolds and the home away from home that is the in-laws abode; and secondly, I had a half marathon race booked for Mothering Sunday that I was hoping I could perform well in...

Sundays race was the Blackminster Half Marathon, also known as 'The Scorpion Run' because it had a 'sting in its tail'. Namely what was marketed as a bloody big hill. In the last mile. Nice...

After yet another awful nights 'sleep', race day arrived and the temperature was firmly set at zero. It was bitter out. Seriously bitter. Their was a cold wind blowing and, unfortunately for the 256 runners, that cold wind whipped across the countryside and blew in a manner which chilled every bone in the body. The race started outside Blackminster Business Park, and for the first mile I was in the lead. Thereafter I slipped back through the lead pack until I was able to settle into a comfortable pace. I had hoped that, building upon last weekends Bath Half, I would have been able to hunt for another PB, but the cold, thin, air and headwind, put paid to that idea, so I stuck steadfastly to a 6:20/mi pace. After initially struggling to get going, after about 6-7 miles it suddenly became easy. It was almost as if my body said, "yeah, okay, you've had to force me to run but I'm okay on my own now..." The 'sting in the tail' wasn't as bad as it could have been. After training on the hills around Compton Dando for so many weeks, the 'sting' wasn't as bad as I was expecting. After reaching the peak then it was downhill all the way to the finish at Blackminster Middle School where I crossed the line in 9th position with a finishing time of 1:23:24, my 4th fastest Half ever!!!
After the race I checked my position with the race organiser to see if I'd won a prize. The reason I asked was that MrsC's family were gathering for a Mothering Sunday lunch and, if I hadn't won anything then I wouldn't wait around for the prize giving. "Yes", he said, "you've won the Vet-40 prize." Brilliant! I got changed into some warm clothes and waited for the prize giving, whereby I watched the Vet-40 prize be presented to a bloke who'd finished a couple of positions in front of me...
It begs the question: How on earth can you not figure out who's won what when you only have 9 peoples results to compare...?

So, a sort of good end to a mediocre week. I've had a blip in my training which hasn't been good for me mentally, but, fingers crossed, all should return to normal now. Yes, I've lost some of my mileage, and one long run was cut a bit short, but there's no long term damage done, although my weight is creeping up. (I must try to remember that it's not me who has to eat for two)
Next week sees a return to high mileage. Should be fun. I think. Six weeks. Complete focus. Hit every training target between now and London. Bring it on...

Weekly totals:

Run miles: 57.03

Swim lengths/metres: 50/1250m

Sit-ups: 640
Press-ups: 320

Buns in oven: 1

Highs, lows & seven weeks to go...

Seven weeks away from London. That's all it is now, as you read this. Just seven short weeks... So why, when everything should be going well, am I experiencing so many ups and downs of late? It's almost as if every time something good happens to me, there a midget dressed in a devils costume ready to run up and kick me in the nuts..???

Getting dressed in the dark can often cause problems, none more so than on Tuesday morning when I got up to run a 5K before work. Skins compression clothing is meant to be tight. It's always a struggle to get into the things. When you're half-asleep then you've got no chance. The way that Skins work is that it's made to fit in strategic places. If you put it on inside out, as I did, then it's highly uncomfortable. So I struggled for a few minutes to get it back off. If you then put it on back to front out, as I did, it's also highly uncomfortable. So I struggled for a further few minutes to get it back off and turn it the right way.
Apart from stretching the legs early in the morning, the 5K seemed to serve no other purpose than to tire me out for the rest of the day. I did a lot of yawning during the day, especially after my swim session at lunchtime, and in the evening I had to fight the urge not to go to bed instead of attending the bun-fight that is the Pomphrey Sports 5K.
As I said in a previous Blog, the Pomphrey used to be called The Bridge Inn 5K but a sports ground (with hot showers) was built just up the road, so the race organisers, B&W AC, moved the race HQ there. Everyone still calls it 'The Bridge' though... The fact that it was the final race in the series and marathon training season, coupled with the cold weather must have affected the race this month as I completed my two mile warm-up and joined the smallest number of runners that I'd seen in a long time at the starting line. Due to the fact that the race starts, and finishes, on the cycle path under a bridge, plus the narrowness of the course, the first few hundred metres was, once again, a frantic jostling for position, whilst a few runners, from a local University team, obviously thought that the whole idea was to knock people out of their way and to cut in front of them in such a way that they had to check their step... A sharp elbow in the ribs and a shout of contempt was enough for them to know that nobody was impressed... To tell the truth, I struggled. I seemed hard pressed to get my body to push itself any harder, although I still averaged 5:56/mi. Whenever I did try to up my game I was rewarded with a sharp pain in my chest, which would remain until, once again, I'd dropped the pace. I crossed the line in a, for me, rubbish time of 18:36 and was thankful for the chance to stop. After another 2 mile 'warm-down' jog, this time with a group of other Bitton runners, I was able to gratefully return to the sports centre for a warm shower.

Woollard Bridge: A flat point in a hilly route

Time got the better of me on Wednesday and, as I was due back in the office, the 15 mile run that I had planned to run in my lunchbreak only made it as far as 12... I ran out of Keynsham and picked up the route of the notoriously hilly Pensford 10K, following it through the hamlets of Publow, Woolard, & Compton Dando, before climbing up Peppershells Lane, crossing down into Queen Charlton, then looping back to Chewton Keynsham, before heading back towards the office. A tough run at the best of times, but in your lunch break, with the pressures of the working day still upon your shoulders, it is even tougher... By way of recompense, as soon as I got home from work I changed my clothes, and went out and ran a slow 5K to make up the mileage. Now, that may sound quite good but, please, believe me when I say that the 5K was painful. After running 12 hilly miles, then sitting at a desk for a few hours before driving home, it really is surprising quite how tight your calf muscles can get.

Thursdays child may have had far to go, but, thankfully for me, I didn't. A short 6 mile recovery run was all that was required, so at lunchtime I headed out to Saltford, picked up the Bristol-Bath Railway Path to Bitton, then headed back into Keynsham. Nice, short, & sweet. The pace, however, was bang on 6:45/mi all the way, so if I can do that and feel 'easy' then my training must surely be heading in the right direction. After work I put in an easy swim session (32 lengths) by way of a recovery. I will freely admit that by the end of the day I was grateful to fall into bed....

Warmley pre-Beeching era Signal Box

There seems to be a problem with my body at the moment. Apart from not allowing me to run past a public convenience without stopping to relieve myself, it's now started hurting in places that it doesn't usually hurt. It almost feels as if my body is conspiring with the Devil to fall apart before I even get to London... First there was the blister debacle, followed closely by the over-compensating muscular problems, now there is a nagging pain in one of my big toes, and a pair of shorts, which I have worn countless times, rubbed my groin into a welt while I was running on Friday lunchtime.
Running from Keynsham to Hanham, and after a brief stop in the public-loos, I headed up through Kingswood and dropped down to Warmley Station. From there I ran along the Bristol-Bath Railway Path. At about the 8.5 mile point I noticed that the inner lining of my shorts was rubbing my groin and that it was starting to get sore. There was nothing that I could do to either prevent or cure the problem and, unfortunately, it carried on rubbing. At the end of my 11.25 mile run I was the owner of a very big, raw, welt which resembled nappy rash... Searching my memory banks, I remembered how I used to treat my kids for nappy rash... Sudocrem! Brilliant idea! An antiseptic barrier cream that I had received a sample of in a post-race goody bag a few weeks before, and, as luck would have it, still happened to be in my kit-bag. Ah, the relief of that soothing white cream...!

My body was protesting at the punishment that I had been dishing out to it of late, so I did something highly unusual. I took a day off from training and enjoyed the luxury of a lie-in... Oh the decadence...

For Sunday my training schedule said that I had to complete a 21 mile run. I'm not quite sure that I was supposed to put in the 21 mile run that I did though... I was already entered into the two lapped, Bath Half Marathon, my annual Marmite race, (Why Marmite? Because some years I love it and other years I hate it.), and my brain, which isn't renowned for straight thinking, told me to just do the race and 'tack on another 8 afterwards'...

1:25:49 - Davros would be proud

And so, after a very early jog around the block in order to get my body working order, MrsC and myself travelled to the fair Georgian city of Bath. Leaving MrsC not too far from the Royal Crescent I made my way to the race village located next to the Recreation Ground. Upon arrival I dropped my bag in the baggage store whereupon I discovered that my number actually allowed me an 'elite/good for age' start. Toeing the start line I was able to rub shoulders with some very fast people. And one of the blokes from my club - dressed as a Dalek. (There were a few of the faster runners who were quite worried about getting beaten by a bloke in a costume).

Caution: Runners in road

As usual, when the race started I went off far too fast. I knew it was too fast because after a few miles I was starting to ache and developing a pain just under my ribs. The crowd in Bath have always been loud and very supportive but there was a small group of members from the Running Club near the turnaround point in Newbridge and, believe me, they were the loudest, most supportive, people on the entire route. And, best of all, I got to run past them twice... I made it through the 10K point in roughly 37 minutes, one of my best ever times for that distance, then, as I was going to run a further 8 miles after the race, I took a conscious decision to ease off the pace. When I say 'ease off the pace', what I actually did was stop looking at my GPS watch and drop the pace in a way that made the running 'feel' easy. Within a mile of heading into the second lap I started to pass the slower runners. Luckily the road was cordoned in such a way that separated the first from the second lap runners. After picking up an energy gel on my way past MrsC I headed back towards Newbridge, but as I got to the junction of Chelsea Road I discovered that whilst the cordon was able to keep the two lanes of runners apart, it didn't allow for some members of the public. All I can say is that, after running straight across the first lane of runners, the bewildered member of public suddenly became akin to a rabbit in the headlights when confronted with an oncoming group of faster runners. She was unceremoniously bounced between several runners, including myself, who swore at her loudly before she was knocked onto the pavement... Stupid sod. After passing the Newbridge cheer crowd again I made the final turn before heading through Twerton towards the finish in Great Pultney Street. Passing the 11 mile marker I upped the pace slightly, knowing that I would need to save a little for the undulating final mile, which I did, for I crossed the line in a new personal best time of 1:21:18. Absolutely exhilarating...

Not the cartoon Rhubarb & Custard

A quick drink of Lucozade whilst collecting my bag from the storage, then I headed to the Bath Leisure Centre to change into some dry/clean kit for the jog back to Keynsham. Once changed I spent the best part of two miles negotiating spectators before I got some clear space and was able to get the pace up a bit more. On my way I used a new, to me, energy gel - rhubarb & custard Torq gel. I kid you not - rhubarb & custard. It tasted sweetly good... Thankfully I covered the 8 miles to Keynsham in roughly an hour and was able to meet the ever faithful MrsC at Keynsham Leisure Centre where I was able to, finally, get a shower & some clean, non-running, clothes, safe in the knowledge that my exercise was over for the week and that there was only one thing left to do - head to Coffee#1 in search of some well earned coffee and cake.

Weekly totals:

Run miles: 65.36
Swim lengths/metres: 130/3250m

Sit-ups: 640
Press-ups: 320