The week so far has been a mixed bag. Last week finished well with all scheduled runs completed.....apart from Sundays long run. 4 miles. I unfortunatley had a birthday on Friday, which following a slightly over zealous celebration on Friday evening/Saturday Morning which left me partially incapacited both mentally and physically. I did think there was a less than acceptable probablity that I may require a crash team and trolley to accompany me if I attempted excercise in that state. So I postponed the long run until Monday which was supposed to be a rest day.
I completed, the route, again flat and pretty non descript and finished strongly with a 9 minute mile which for me is a small miracle. Bang on 4 miles thanks to the Garmin.
I did however start to get a niggle in my left knee which was one of the reasons I stpeed training in the past. To put you in the picture, I have some dodgy legs folowing some injuries sustained over the years. They include fractured pelvis, hip, femur, fibula, tibia and a full blown compartment sysndrome requiring a fasciotomy in the good leg! Anyway, all this culminated in 22 operations, 20 titanium screws, 4 fixing plates, a femural IM nailing and tibial IM nailing, plus a whole load of fasciotomy related procedures. If you dont know what a fasciotomy is then if you're not too squeemish check it out on Google. Anyway suffice to say it really hurts and has left me with a load of nerve damage to my left leg and foot, and also badly aligned right hip where the natural alignment of my right leg is totally wonky! None of this is usually an issue but means I run and walk with a less than normal gait, which tends to lead to injury as I compensate and try to run normally.
Anyway, enough moaning, here's the garmin download of Mondays run. All done and dusted, and a partial victory over the stick man.
Tuesday, 22 February 2011
Thursday, 17 February 2011
I own the stick man
I looked back over my last post and realised that whilst my frustration was obvious, my destiny is in my own hands. I think there may have been the hint of a lack of responsibility creeping through which, upon reflection, I didnt like.
So this week, following two rest days on Monday and Tuesday I decided to adopt a much more positive attitude. Afterall, this is week 2. I am no longer a novice, but a lean, mean running machine (AKA Big sweaty jogger).
I have a membership at a gym, about 10 minutes from work so upon clocking off decided to head there to use the changing facilities. I find that if I drive home, by the time I have made the hour + journey that it just wont happen. I changed at the gym, and as I laced up my Nike Pegasus I thought about how humiliating it would be to be beaten once more by Mr Garmin. I wondered if he'd been training secretly in his little plastic case while I had been at work. Non the less, I had a determination I hadn't had the previous session. The programmed session was a 3 mile tempo run. I don't currently know what my tempo pace is, so I left the Garmin set at 10 min miles. I picked a nice flat, straight route with good lighting, and headed off.
By the half way point I'd settled into a decent rhythm and whilst I didn't feel completely comfortable, I did manage to maintain a pretty consistent pace throughout, and helped by the flat route I finally beat the man. I showered, changed and headed home, content that I owned the sick man. I'm still nervous that next week, his 9 minute brother might turn up.
So this week, following two rest days on Monday and Tuesday I decided to adopt a much more positive attitude. Afterall, this is week 2. I am no longer a novice, but a lean, mean running machine (AKA Big sweaty jogger).
I have a membership at a gym, about 10 minutes from work so upon clocking off decided to head there to use the changing facilities. I find that if I drive home, by the time I have made the hour + journey that it just wont happen. I changed at the gym, and as I laced up my Nike Pegasus I thought about how humiliating it would be to be beaten once more by Mr Garmin. I wondered if he'd been training secretly in his little plastic case while I had been at work. Non the less, I had a determination I hadn't had the previous session. The programmed session was a 3 mile tempo run. I don't currently know what my tempo pace is, so I left the Garmin set at 10 min miles. I picked a nice flat, straight route with good lighting, and headed off.
By the half way point I'd settled into a decent rhythm and whilst I didn't feel completely comfortable, I did manage to maintain a pretty consistent pace throughout, and helped by the flat route I finally beat the man. I showered, changed and headed home, content that I owned the sick man. I'm still nervous that next week, his 9 minute brother might turn up.
Sunday, 13 February 2011
One off the wrist....
Well, I'm at the end of week one. I have completed the required activity. No more, no less.
- Monday, 3 mile easy
- Wednesday, 3 mile gentle fartlek
- Friday, Half an hour cross training (Swim)
- Sunday, 4.5 Mile steady
I also got my Garmin Foreruner 405 GPS watch out of its box for the first time since April 2009 for todays 'long' 4.5 mile run. I'm not sure why I did it. Maybe some kind of morbid nostalgia. If nothing else it has left me in no uncertain terms about exactly how much work lies ahead to reach anything like acceptable fitness. I was judged, and goaded by my virtual ascii looking training partner, who jogged comfortably at an aggravatingly consistent ten minute miles. Needless to say, he (or she) started to inch ahead after the first mile and a half. I considered slowing him down, but thought he might think less of me. I decided to ignore him, and his feeble little stick legs. I had however previously set the watch to let me know if I was behind. He therefore kept informing me with a sharp beep that I was getting further and further behind. I imagined him (or her) half a mile ahead, smirking at my crimson, sweaty face and uncomfortable loping gait. However I was not to be perturbed. My growing hatred of the self-congratulatory Mr ascii Garmin drove me onwards, towards my destiny. I plodded resolutely in the rain along the disused railway track, not even a Sunday dog walker braving the downpour. By the time I got home, he had been there for at least 4 minutes. I thought he might have had a shower and made himself comfortable on the sofa. Maybe he was having a cuppa and watching the football. He might even be sat in my seat, wearing my slippers, having a laugh and a joke with my wife. They'd probably stop talking and snigger about some private conversation they'd just been having when I walked in.
I will beat this little stick man, with his little stick legs. His perfect split timing and endless energy. I decided to leave the virtual partner set at 10 minute miles. I'll wipe that smirk of his liquid crystal display.
Wednesday, 9 February 2011
Looming failure, 2 extra hours required today please....
I sit in a bland and uncomfortable airport lounge. Surrounded by free snacks, drinks and already well fingered, crumpled copies of the Daily Mail. I've travelled from Manchester on the early flight to spend the day with a bunch of Lawyers on the South coast. It has cost a small fortune, been entirely tedious, I'm absolutely cream crackered and am only resisting setting about the complimentary vodka resting idly in the optic by virtue of the fact that i can't summon the enthusiasm to stand up and walk over to the bar area.
It's now 1740 and after the hour long flight ahead, I still have an hour to drive before i get home, having not eaten since my seemingly healthy yet ineffectual M&S superfood salad was demolished at 1300. I should get home at around 8pm. This time will be critical. The initial two minutes after walking in through the door. I must be entirely focussed on the task in hand. No pleasantries with the better half, no being goaded into parenting of any kind, by any emergency, perceived or otherwise. By any arguments, squabbles or impending siblicide or spousal pressure, no matter what the degree of severity. Above all, I must resist alcohol and food until the tick is slotted squarely into the box, until the fat lady is singing. This is the first test of the new plan, the first tentative poke at my resolve. It would be so easy to sit here, in this atrocious atmospherical black hole of a place and gorge on the bounty before me, before slipping uncontrollably further into sloth, gluttony and excuses. I could always delay the plan and start tomorrow instead.......
The plan (which I was so publicly complacent about yesterday) states that tonight I need to run 3 miles gentle fartlek. Doesn't sound that tough does it? Please remember my affiliation to the multiple decision maker club, which will invariably begin to infiltrate my thoughts at almost the very instant I think about the logistical process I need to undertake to actually get outside running. If only there were a couple of extra hours included today to enable my motivation to be salvaged, or summoned from wherever it is hiding.
It's now 1740 and after the hour long flight ahead, I still have an hour to drive before i get home, having not eaten since my seemingly healthy yet ineffectual M&S superfood salad was demolished at 1300. I should get home at around 8pm. This time will be critical. The initial two minutes after walking in through the door. I must be entirely focussed on the task in hand. No pleasantries with the better half, no being goaded into parenting of any kind, by any emergency, perceived or otherwise. By any arguments, squabbles or impending siblicide or spousal pressure, no matter what the degree of severity. Above all, I must resist alcohol and food until the tick is slotted squarely into the box, until the fat lady is singing. This is the first test of the new plan, the first tentative poke at my resolve. It would be so easy to sit here, in this atrocious atmospherical black hole of a place and gorge on the bounty before me, before slipping uncontrollably further into sloth, gluttony and excuses. I could always delay the plan and start tomorrow instead.......
The plan (which I was so publicly complacent about yesterday) states that tonight I need to run 3 miles gentle fartlek. Doesn't sound that tough does it? Please remember my affiliation to the multiple decision maker club, which will invariably begin to infiltrate my thoughts at almost the very instant I think about the logistical process I need to undertake to actually get outside running. If only there were a couple of extra hours included today to enable my motivation to be salvaged, or summoned from wherever it is hiding.
Tuesday, 8 February 2011
Best Laid Plans
Well the first 3 miler of the new plan has been ticked off. Completed with much plodding, huffing and at least twice being forced to retreat inside my hood to avoid being recognised by people I knew. I completed the distance but it took way too long! I didnt time it, intentionally so, but I'm sure it must have been over half an hour. My trusty old Ron Hill windstopper has also shrunk in the wardrobe since I last wore it, making me feel pretty self concious, but I suppose thats the price of prolonged inertia.
The schedule is a half marathon plan, 16 weeks long and is designed for beginners. Its got all the usual components and looks inviting as I sit here, in the afterglow, having done what I said I'd do.
I do plan to interject some of my own sessions into the plan, including some events. I've dabbled in fell running before. I was never any good, in fact I was pretty bad. However while completing 25-30 mile events (albeit over 5-7 hours) I felt in the best shape ever, and met some great friends.
That kind of fitness is a distant twinkling at the end of a long and merciless tunnel, but I've got a positive feeling about being able to maintain some sustained training, and maybe get back to being at least partially fit. Who knows. I may even get promoted to a daily decision maker!
The schedule is a half marathon plan, 16 weeks long and is designed for beginners. Its got all the usual components and looks inviting as I sit here, in the afterglow, having done what I said I'd do.
I do plan to interject some of my own sessions into the plan, including some events. I've dabbled in fell running before. I was never any good, in fact I was pretty bad. However while completing 25-30 mile events (albeit over 5-7 hours) I felt in the best shape ever, and met some great friends.
That kind of fitness is a distant twinkling at the end of a long and merciless tunnel, but I've got a positive feeling about being able to maintain some sustained training, and maybe get back to being at least partially fit. Who knows. I may even get promoted to a daily decision maker!
Decisions, decisions....
There are (I once read) three different types of runner. These are:
The daily decision maker, by comparison is a more common beast. Every day the battle ensues. Shall I, Shan't I. It's cold....but I'm fat.....I'll start tomorrow.....No you wont....Yes I will......Anyway the long and short of it is that once the decision is made, on that day, the running happens with no further self inflicted arm-twisting.
The third camp, and one which I have long standing membership of is a troubled and bi-polar agglomeration of would be runners. The basic premise of the demographic is that we make the same single decision follow a training programme as the first group. We then make another decision to go for a run, just as the second. We're then still making the decision to go for a run when we're lacing up our shoes. We need to make another decision to open the front door. Another decision to actually start running. Even once we're off and moving there's a decision to be made at every corner. 'Can I turn back?', 'Shall I take this short cut?', 'If I miss the lst 2 miles, I can make it up tomorrow' etc etc. Its a constant battle just to keep running.
Now I'm sure there must be some kind of promotion prospects, but as yet I'm still trying to talk myself into going for a run, and to keep going.
- Single Decision Maker
- Daily Decision Maker
- Multiple Decision Maker
The daily decision maker, by comparison is a more common beast. Every day the battle ensues. Shall I, Shan't I. It's cold....but I'm fat.....I'll start tomorrow.....No you wont....Yes I will......Anyway the long and short of it is that once the decision is made, on that day, the running happens with no further self inflicted arm-twisting.
The third camp, and one which I have long standing membership of is a troubled and bi-polar agglomeration of would be runners. The basic premise of the demographic is that we make the same single decision follow a training programme as the first group. We then make another decision to go for a run, just as the second. We're then still making the decision to go for a run when we're lacing up our shoes. We need to make another decision to open the front door. Another decision to actually start running. Even once we're off and moving there's a decision to be made at every corner. 'Can I turn back?', 'Shall I take this short cut?', 'If I miss the lst 2 miles, I can make it up tomorrow' etc etc. Its a constant battle just to keep running.
Now I'm sure there must be some kind of promotion prospects, but as yet I'm still trying to talk myself into going for a run, and to keep going.
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