RISING FROM THE ASHES OF A MONTH'S INACTIVITY: WEEK ONE
DAY TO DAY...
Wednesday 9th... Pilates! I come away with the brutal realisation of core weaknesses, but doing this for an hour every week can only help matters and I promptly book myself in again for next Wednesday.
Thursday 10th... Pilates has made me feel half an inch taller and with a body as tight as David Beckham's. Then again, the midriff is letting the side down. It's like the body of Becks with Wayne Rooney's belly.
Friday 11th... First run since the 11th of last month. I've done absolutely Charles de Gaulle apart from walkies with the dog in that time, so just over two miles before work was enough for today. Again, I don't half feel thick-set around my middle. It's going to take some shifting.
Saturday 12th... Two miler out and back in the morning with a bit more intention, then an easier paced 2.5 in the evening.
Sunday 13th... After three days in a row and despite the modesty of those efforts, a few muscular aches and pains pop up as if only just starting running for the first time. A steady two miler today.
Monday 14th... Off road again at last with a muddy morning run of 4.8 miles up to West Bradford on the banks of the River Ribble and back to Clitheroe. More intense in the evening with my debut in the gym and a sweaty 5K on the treadmill in 19:43.
Tuesday 15th... Back running with Connie the dog at last for some cross country and trail on Worden Park. Got nearly five miles in at better than plod pace. With diversions chasing squirrels and black headed gulls, Connie did more like five and a half.
Wednesday 16th... A bit sore and jaded, but perked up with a quick two mile blast on the running machine before pilates.
Thursday 17th... A four mile out and back on the road with the introduction of some slight inclines.
REVIEW OF THE WEEK...
Gently back in to the swing with just over 25 miles in the bag and thankfully no nuisance knees to report. This old crock ain't quite done yet. The 70% reduction of beer intake was always going to be an over-ambitious target, but I'd say figures of at least 50% have been achieved - the contents of our recycle bin is mainly pet food tins and milk cartons - and I've not been to the pub. Feeling just a little bit tighter around the middle now, which is always a good sign - just two Pilates classes seem to have helped make a difference already. That Wednesday night routine is here to stay.
Preparing to get running again last Friday morning, I heard on the radio Andy Murray announcing an inevitable retirement on the horizon. This put things in to perspective, for I may be a running nobody in particular and back to square one, but I felt a gratefulness for the basic ability to go out and give it a go. A luxury this tennis champ may no longer have. None comparable you may think, a former world number one tennis player in his early thirties to a was-not-never-will-be fellrunner at the mid-forties mark? But if I really was finally forced to retire to the bowling green or something more sedate before I felt my time was up, then I'm sure I'd feel upset and gutted about it too.
In sport, any sport and at any level, actively competing at something you love is addictive and clearly Murray won't be getting that fix anymore. Worst of all for him, it's really not his decision. His hip is knackered. He's wrecked himself to get where he has got and although I doubt he will regret a single minute of that, being forced to down tools at an age when he has plenty more to give must be heartbreaking.
I've heard some unsympathetic nonsense from a critical minority such as, ''Poor Andy, how's he going to cope? He's only got a hundred million in the bank.'' That must be nice mind you, but then that's just it, Murray is already minted (pardon the pun) so this emotional outpouring could only have been about the love. His love for the game and his love for competing. Fighting back the tears during his announcement before the Australian Open started, I felt there was something very genuine about it. As well as addressing the rest of the tennis world with this news, perhaps he was admitting it out loud to himself for the first time.
A very dim view was taken of professional sportsperson's sobbing at press conferences last year when cheating Australian cricketers Steve Smith and Cameron Bancroft pleaded forgiveness in a pathetic act of public cry-baby theatrics. Expressing their sincerely insincere sorrow for what they had done was merely the consequence of being even more sorry that they had got caught.
There seemed not a jot of insincerity or pretence when Murray's voice broke. I think it's fair to say Andy Murray got to the very top of his sport with graft - a fair share of ability - but mainly graft. No cheating, no suspecting clouds hovering that he ever might have done. They don't make many like Murray anymore.
Friday, 18 January 2019
Tuesday, 8 January 2019
A FRESH START TO PUT UP OR SHUT UP
I've been doing that thinking thing again. But this time my loyal five readers, you will may be relieved to hear that it's about my running rather than a self-righteous rant about world affairs.
It's put up or shut up this year. Race results need to bare a least a reasonable reflection on time and effort spent training. A few tweaks will hopefully make the difference. For a start off, I can see what worked for me and what didn't last year. Then Sara got me a top Christmas prezzie of a year's gym membership at the local leisure centre, so it's hello pilates, yoga, cross training and treadmill sessions. Add to this a proposed 70% reduction of beer intake and that is the 'put up' part of the deal.
But, if all that doesn't bare fruit and I'm just chasing my own shadow again all year, then not only will this particular rambling of this nobody in particular draw to it's natural ending, but I would need to look at whether I'm at the right club - or even if I should be with a club at all. Ribble Valley Harriers is quite a unique set up. It's small and it's all about winning things. Team wins, individual wins, age category wins... it's loaded with international runners and some of Lancashire's top veterans, which begs the question: What the frig am I doing there? I'm not going to win owt, but I need to be racing well with regularity at the very least - to me that seems a bare minimum requirement to justify the possession of that black vest... and there you have the 'shut up' parts, should push come to shove.
Two main boxes to tick this year then and firstly, can I finally find some consistency? To generally finish around top ten at local level fell races and top twenty in some on Lakeland scene would suffice. The second box to tick is to dip under seventeen minutes for 5K on the road - yes, that old chestnut again. I'm adamant I have absolutely no potential whatsoever to redeem any sort of form of old in road racing. But I know that I could still grind out a decent 5K without wrecking my body. Do I really believe I can do these things? Yes. But I accept it's against the odds.
First things first though, I'm still not running at all yet. Day 28 and probably a few more days still to go until I finally feel well enough to get out for a jog. But then it's all systems go and I'm really looking forward to cracking on with a fresh start to be quite honest. It's a month until the Parbold Hill Race which I pre-entered a while back. Something to aim for.
I've been doing that thinking thing again. But this time my loyal five readers, you will may be relieved to hear that it's about my running rather than a self-righteous rant about world affairs.
It's put up or shut up this year. Race results need to bare a least a reasonable reflection on time and effort spent training. A few tweaks will hopefully make the difference. For a start off, I can see what worked for me and what didn't last year. Then Sara got me a top Christmas prezzie of a year's gym membership at the local leisure centre, so it's hello pilates, yoga, cross training and treadmill sessions. Add to this a proposed 70% reduction of beer intake and that is the 'put up' part of the deal.
But, if all that doesn't bare fruit and I'm just chasing my own shadow again all year, then not only will this particular rambling of this nobody in particular draw to it's natural ending, but I would need to look at whether I'm at the right club - or even if I should be with a club at all. Ribble Valley Harriers is quite a unique set up. It's small and it's all about winning things. Team wins, individual wins, age category wins... it's loaded with international runners and some of Lancashire's top veterans, which begs the question: What the frig am I doing there? I'm not going to win owt, but I need to be racing well with regularity at the very least - to me that seems a bare minimum requirement to justify the possession of that black vest... and there you have the 'shut up' parts, should push come to shove.
Two main boxes to tick this year then and firstly, can I finally find some consistency? To generally finish around top ten at local level fell races and top twenty in some on Lakeland scene would suffice. The second box to tick is to dip under seventeen minutes for 5K on the road - yes, that old chestnut again. I'm adamant I have absolutely no potential whatsoever to redeem any sort of form of old in road racing. But I know that I could still grind out a decent 5K without wrecking my body. Do I really believe I can do these things? Yes. But I accept it's against the odds.
First things first though, I'm still not running at all yet. Day 28 and probably a few more days still to go until I finally feel well enough to get out for a jog. But then it's all systems go and I'm really looking forward to cracking on with a fresh start to be quite honest. It's a month until the Parbold Hill Race which I pre-entered a while back. Something to aim for.
Wednesday, 2 January 2019
AND THAT WAS THE YEAR THAT WAS BUT WASN'T
The running year ended twenty days short and the longest period without a run of any description for many years rolls over in to this next one. Ok, so this run of runlessness has brought to the surface a little grumpiness and frustration at times, not to mention broader underlying tensions with the world and some of it's undesirable humanoid inhabitants - I didn't even touch the sides with my depressing vision of the present and the future last month! - but generally I've been enjoying the break and over-indulging in good food and beer during the festive period like most normal folk do.
I was just revving up to naming a date to go out there and run again when I got bogged down with illness. Man flu to be precise. Once it took hold on the chest as well, that was that so far as running in 2018 was concerned and also the foreseeable short term whilst still in the grips of this pesky germ fest. Trying to dig out a positive spin on the situation, it could all be a blessing in disguise - I feel like I've got a new pair of knees to test out when I finally get my kit back on again.
Looking back over last year at a glance, it was successful in terms of being fit and able to just get out there and enjoy racing regularly. That is the main thing of course and I would never lose perspective of this. But in terms of performance, there was very little to get excited about. I'd worked up to some good racing form by September and October, but then I blew it by testing the water of longer distance. Experimenting with a return to the longer stuff actually broke me, so the next time I start exhuming unfinished business and thinking about the Three Peaks Race, I would be wise to bury the idea again with immediate effect.
2019 is going to be a juggle of what's left in the competitive bank and ultimately what remains within the restrictions of physical capability. The older I get, the more difficult it is to find a training routine that works consistently over a long period. The goalposts remain in the same place, but the ball keeps blowing away from me in the wind.
2018 Mileage Total: 1298.6
I was just revving up to naming a date to go out there and run again when I got bogged down with illness. Man flu to be precise. Once it took hold on the chest as well, that was that so far as running in 2018 was concerned and also the foreseeable short term whilst still in the grips of this pesky germ fest. Trying to dig out a positive spin on the situation, it could all be a blessing in disguise - I feel like I've got a new pair of knees to test out when I finally get my kit back on again.
Looking back over last year at a glance, it was successful in terms of being fit and able to just get out there and enjoy racing regularly. That is the main thing of course and I would never lose perspective of this. But in terms of performance, there was very little to get excited about. I'd worked up to some good racing form by September and October, but then I blew it by testing the water of longer distance. Experimenting with a return to the longer stuff actually broke me, so the next time I start exhuming unfinished business and thinking about the Three Peaks Race, I would be wise to bury the idea again with immediate effect.
2019 is going to be a juggle of what's left in the competitive bank and ultimately what remains within the restrictions of physical capability. The older I get, the more difficult it is to find a training routine that works consistently over a long period. The goalposts remain in the same place, but the ball keeps blowing away from me in the wind.
2018 Mileage Total: 1298.6
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