Running on fumes

John Lee Hooker, a blues legend of the old school, once sang One Bourbon, One Scotch and One Beer. Which could have been the theme tune my evening on Saturday if you added wine and tequila and multiplied it all by several times.
All of which meant that on Sunday, my 38th birthday, for the first time since Christmas this year, I failed to go out on a long run in the afternoon. I have wittered on several times on this blog about how I’ve been able to sink a bucket load of booze on a Saturday night and go out running on Sunday, to the extent that I even claimed to be able to run better as a result.
Well, not this weekend, the booze got real. It was as much as I could do to walk down the shop to buy a bag load of necessary junk food and a giant bottle of Lucozade to help me come round, without fainting with the effort. In first few seconds after opening my eyes on Sunday morning I had very little recollection of the previous evening’s events and thought I’d got away with it.
Luckily Amy was there to enlighten me and inform me of how I got home, as I had no recollection, and then on arrival at home threw off my coat before then walking over it and tripping on it. Then crawling to the toilet, where the customised porcelain edition of the iPhone was put to use, before I crawled up the stairs to bed. It’s not unreasonable to think that at 38 I’d know better by now, but sadly getting a year older doesn’t come with an automatic software update. Not yet at least.
Anyway, it was all good fun. However, on Monday morning I tentatively stepped on to the bathroom scales, which was a stupid idea, as it turns out less than two days of mildly excessive behaviour resulted in me putting on SEVEN POUNDS! A whole HALF A STONE! It took weeks to shift that and now the bugger’s back again within one 24 hour period.
So tonight I was pleased to get out in the deep freeze of this ongoing winter and managed to get a six mile run under my belt, running to what felt like every corner of Banbury to make up the miles. I was pleased considering the self-abuse at the weekend, and despite the fact that at times I thought I could feel the whiskey sweating out of me. Very much running on fumes, the fumes of Mr Jameson and I suspect one or two of his friends.

Running in the dark - stupid idea

Sometimes when I'm on the treadmill at the gym I consider closing my eyes so I can drift off and think of something more Zen to break up the tedium.
It's a stupid idea of course, as within a few seconds I would of course be spinning out of control more quickly than a Lib Dem press officer.
However it's not nearly as stupid, it turns out, as running along a narrow pavement alongside a busy A road in the dark. That is stupid.
So, I'm in Banbury tonight, for work, and I was keen to rack up a five mile run. Each morning I'd driven into the historic Oxfordshire town I'd noticed that the road coming out of Banbury has a pavement and would be ideal for a nice long run. What I didn't figure was that what looked like a great idea in the morning sunshine, was not such a great idea in the evening gloom and pitch dark.
So it was, as I ran out of Banbury tonight, I literally ran out of Banbury and found myself plodding along in the dark. Now, you'd think that would be the cue to turn around and head back to what passes as civilization. But oh no, I wanted to prove just how stupid I really can be by stumbling on for another mile or so. I thought that the light provided by the headlamps of the constant stream of cars would help to light my way, but then it dawned on me that running through rush hour traffic and all the Co2 that goes with it really wouldn't be beneficial and for all the good it did me I may as well have sat in the pub garden smoking a packet of fags.
I also realised that my black shorts, black running top and black cap would do little alert drivers to my presence on the roadside.
I turned back in the end because I'd reached 2.5 miles, so knew I could hit my five mile target, so it was for running reasons rather than health and safety. Although, I appreciate that having several broken bones as a result of getting hit by a car would do little to aid my ability to run.
But on the upside, I managed to get to five miles in just about an hour, and my Nike running app confirms what my RunKeeper reckons about my average speed, which is now 12mins 30 secs a mile, which is getting ever closer to the ten minute mile I'm aiming for.
So despite my unintended foray into extreme jogging, I'm pleased to be back in the hotel, with an array of tosh TV to choose from as I munch through my chicken and bacon sandwich, having avoided getting knocked down in the name of running.

Booze-fuelled running

I realise it's not the kind of message that somebody training for a marathon should be putting out there, but it is a fact that I've had my two best training runs following nights of copious boozing, which I wouldn't have thought possible.
However today, I managed to smash my ten mile goal a week earlier than scheduled, following a fairly heavy night on the sauce with my brother, who knows how to enjoy a drink or two.
Heading out with the attitude that a ten mile run would be kill or cure, I found myself getting into my stride quite nicely and after the first hour was purring along with thoughts of the Portishead cycle path ahead of me.
And so despite the descending dark and ghosts of railway lines long forgotten about which seem to go nowhere, I managed to crank up another hour on the road and according to my increasingly dodgy RunKeeper distance tracker, I racked up 10.65 miles. So I'm not 100 per cent sure about the distance but I reckon running for 2hrs and 6mins should cover about ten miles and I'm claiming it.
The last best run I did was when I hit five miles back in January following another heavy night on the booze. Imagine what I could do if I'd just gone to bed early with a cup of cocoa.
Feels like good progress though, definitely felt a longer run and managed to cover more ground and also this weekend my weigh in revealed I've lost 27 lbs, just 1lb off two stone, which feels great and bodes well for marathon training.

My left foot turns out to be my Achilles' heel

Keeping things in perspective as ever, utter and unimaginable disaster has struck my plans for marathon domination, in the shape of an infected toe.
My left foot, it seems, is my Achilles' heel, as it were. I have taken a picture of the offending toe and intended to post it on this blog to illustrate the sheer horror of the situation, but realised even the internet is not an appropriate place to plaster this particular obscene image.
The problem is that I may have an in-growing toenail on my left foot. It has been looking quite angry and infected for the past couple of weeks and I’d hoped that after a bit of Dettol and the odd squeeze to bring down the swelling it might sort of heal itself.
However it reached a peak of pain over the weekend so off to the doctor I went today and have been told, that until it clears up, NO RUNNING! ARRRGHGHGHGRHRHG!
I nearly cried out like a petulant teenager who’s Playstation has been confiscated when I was told this evening that I would have to shelve my training.
I’m now relying on some strong antibiotics and steroid cream to do their magic or else apparently it may require minor surgery to cut out the nail. Which would presumably put me out for another week or so.
This all left me feeling quite bereft and sorry for myself as I limped out of the surgery clutching my meds, which apparently may or may not include diarrhoea as one of the side effects. That’ll go down well as I am spending the next three days working in the office of our biggest and most corporate client. Oh god.
So that’s it for this week I think. I’ll have to hang up my running shoes for a few days and hope to god that I’ll be able to get back into the regime next week.
It makes the progress so far even more important because if I hadn’t exceeded expectations it would be difficult to get back into my stride. I’m also worried about piling on all that weight again, but I’m going to at least keep walking on a regular basis to keep the cardio-vascular activity up. He didn’t say I couldn’t walk after all.
Realistically I could be looking at the rest of February on the bench. It’s looking like March could be a big month to get over this set back and really ramp up the mileage. As I turn 38 next month, I face a mighty challenge to keep up the progress and make sure I’m still on track to run my second marathon in May.

Wet Wet Wet!

Remember those days at school when you were forced to run across the fields and through muddy bogs in the name of physical education and betterment?
Well, I actually never had the pleasure of taking part in cross country because of my then much weaker heart. No, I had the golden ticket to stay in the changing rooms pedaling on one of the fancy new exercise bikes that had been brought in the year before,
Me and Martin Palmer, the only two kids in the school with genuine bona fide reasons not to do cross country. It even trumped the excuses that the girls tried to come up with related to 'womens problems', which at 13 was still baffling to me.
Anyway, my old PE teachers Mr Smith and Mr Burton, may be pleased to know that I am finally suffering the pain and agony of a two hour cross country run, through hell and high water, but sort of enjoying it.
Today was particularly challenging. Been raining for most of the last 24 hours and the footpath we normally take down by the river resembled, well, more of a river in fact than a path. So we spent the first hour leaping from one side of the path to other trying to avoid the sinking mud that would have swallowed us up. But pretty soon gave in to the inevitable and quite enjoyed getting down and dirty in the rain, so to speak.
And for once we weren't harassed or put to shame by dozens of other runners or cyclists fighting for space on the path.
After going out for an Indian last night I was particularly keen to run off the extra calories and set my sights on a two hour run, which would be longer and further than anything before.
Last Sunday's run was 1hr 40 and I did two 40 min runs in the week, so really wanted to push it a bit today.
Running on balti and pilau power, I'm glad to say the horrendous conditions didn't put me off too much and I managed to eek out two hours on the road, which totted up to 9.14 miles.
Even more importantly my average mins per mile are coming down as well, from 14.38 two weeks ago to 13.28 today, so honing in on that elusive 11 minute a mile pace I want to achieve before getting to Edinburgh  in May.
I'm getting considerably lighter as well, with five lbs lost this week, taking the total to 23 lbs, which is bound to be helping my pace. I couldn't imagine what running with an extra 23 lbs on my back would be like now, but I think I might try it just to see what the difference really feels like. But still, quite a lot to go in terms of weight so must stick to the porridge and chicken diet. Not in the same bowl you understand. That would be weird.
Overall very pleased with progress so far, on track to hit my next goal which is to be able to run 10 miles by the end of February.
However my biggest concern is the lack of sponsorship so far. It's difficult asking for money in the post-Christmas/recessionary period, but I really want to hit that target as much as the running, because of so many people affected by cancer that I've known and loved down the years. So, if you're somebody who has managed to get to the bottom of this blog post, please encourage people to donate and help make all this worth it to people who really need help today.
Thanks, I would really appreciate it: How to donate

Smashing the Pill 10K

Knees are creaking tonight after smashing all previous training distances and going more than seven miles this afternoon.
I have established my very own Pill 10K route, which is in fact more than 11K, and takes in views of the M5 motorway bridge as well as the more picturesque River Avon along the towpath.
With the half pizza from last night providing the slow-release carbohydrate necessary for a long run, as well as the couple of glasses or red wine to help my heart keep beating, I was pleased to rack up the mileage today.
Thinking a lot about why I’m doing this marathon after very sad news this week of a former colleague who died far too young because of cancer, which makes today’s progress even more important.
If I’m lucky I’ll never have to go through that myself, so really the very least I can do is get off my flabby backside and raise some vital funds to help fight this disease.
And once again I find myself slightly baffled at my good progress.
I did have a bit of a crappy start to the week in terms of training with a run on Tuesday night that was just horrible. I could barely move my legs, which may have been a hangover from the five miler on Sunday, and had to keep stopping every few minutes.
It may not have helped that I was in Banbury and didn’t really know where I was going. I also felt very self-conscious about the new day-glo waterproof running top I had on. I say new, Amy bought it for me a year ago. I couldn’t zip it up at the time, because of the belly, so threw it to the bottom of a bag and forgot about it for a year or so. It has now re-emerged and I can, just about, pull up the zip over the slightly-decreasing paunch. It must be said that the definition of 'extra large' when it comes to sportswear manufacturers, is stretched further than the lycra-spun top itself over my gut.
So, wobbling like a luminous Telly Tubby along the paths next to the dual carriageways of Banbury, I wasn’t at my running happiest. Struggling to get past some group of hooded youths I wished I was wearing anything other than the day-glo top turning me into a very slow-moving target. I cranked up the music to block out their derision, if it came.
I just managed half an hour in all, about two miles, but felt so miserable I couldn’t even bring myself to blog about it.
Thursday was again a bit creaky but much better, back on home turf and managed a couple of laps of the small half of The Downs, about three miles in all, which wasn’t the best ever run but kept the momentum going.
An evening of rest on Friday, maybe one or two glasses of wine and a whiskey and soda to relax, and today came out fighting once again.
In total 7.14 miles in 1hr 40mins. Unthinkable when I started this training plan just a month ago.

I can’t cure cancer, but I can run and raise £1000

This week the very tragic reality of why I’m running the Edinburgh Marathon came home to me, sadly again.
Cathy Ellis, the former news editor of the Western Daily Press and Western Gazette, died of cancer. Far too young and, you can’t help feeling, unnecessarily.
I wasn’t a close friend of Cathy’s but I have known her for a long time as she was the chief reporter when I started my newspaper career on the Western Gazette, in 1999.
She was only a couple of years older than me, and we both moved to Bristol within a couple of years working on different papers but sharing the same open plan newsroom which was once the centre of the Bristol media world. Or so we thought.

Julie Harding

Cathy Ellis

Cathy is one of a number of people I’ve known and worked with down the years who have fought and lost that battle with cancer. Notably Julie Harding, the talented and indefatigable former chief reporter of the Bristol Evening Post, who sadly died last year after a long illness. An illness she refused to make her stop doing the job she loved.
In my personal life there are many people who should be walking, talking, laughing and loving here today who we’ve had to say goodbye to before their time. My grandparents Rose and Wal, our friend Emma Pitcher. And there are many others who are living with the ravages of the disease, somehow finding the courage to make it through every day.
Happily we also know people who have come through it and are able to get their lives back in one piece.

All this is why I am running the Edinburgh Marathon and raising £1,000 for Cancer Research and the Bristol-based St Peter’s Hospice, both of whom deserve our support.

My place in the marathon is not a gold bond place, with the condition of raising the money, I have chosen these charities because I feel personally moved to try to do something, well, useful, in terms of trying to fight cancer.
Obviously I’m not a doctor, a research scientist or the kind of person with the endless compassion to work in a hospice. But I can run, and I can raise money to help those people do the job that could one day lead to the kind of breakthrough that we all hope for.
I know £1,000 won't in itself cure cancer or fund a new piece of equipment, but it will pay for pain-relieving drugs, or a little more time for research, and it's something we can all do, so easily.
Sadly it’s too late for Cathy, Julie, Emma, Rose and Wal and all those others we’ve known and loved.
But I implore you, please help me to raise the £1,000 I’m aiming for, by giving what you can, and give future generations a chance of surviving this most tragic of diseases.
If you can help, please go to my Virgin Money Giving page. All the money goes to the charity by using Virgin Money Giving.
Thanks for reading this, I hope you can help.

Ye gods, how have I offended thee?

I’m not a particularly religious man but I couldn’t help feeling that I done something to offend the weather gods on my run tonight, as thunder, lightning and hail rained down on me in what seemed a concerted effort to make me turn back and give up on the whole idea.

Think the weather gods were trying to tell me something

Added to this was the uphill challenged of getting out on a run at all given the amount of cider, whiskey and wine consumed last night in what can only be described as a belated Wassail/Burns Night mash-up, which involved lots of food, some poetry and a lot of boozing.

I needed to at least run off the excess but somehow managed to stun and amaze myself by running more than 5.5 miles, non-stop, in the pouring rain and thunder. The hail was quite something, stinging my legs and turning the road and pavement white in a matter of what seemed like seconds. Thankfully I was wearing my baseball cap and the visor shielded my face against the pummelling. Which was fortunate as with a face like mine the last thing I need is for it to be made any worse by getting a face full of hail cutting it up.

It took 1hr 22mins, so no records broken, but I couldn’t believe that after the night I’d had last night, and the fact that just a month ago I couldn’t run half a mile without blowing up and almost throwing up, I managed to keep going for 5.6 miles.

This means I’ve smashed the first goal in my training plan, which was to be able to run five miles by the end of January. I wasn’t really sure I could do it when I set that target, but it feels like this week I’ve regained all the ability I lost after basically giving up running three-years-ago, and the muscle memory has kicked in and remembered how to keep going. Otherwise I’m at a complete loss to be able to explain how I’ve been able make such good progress this past week or so.

I’ve also lost a total of 17lbs in weight since the end of December so that is clearly having a huge impact as well as near abstinence from boozing. An abstinence that was quite spectacularly smashed last night.

So, next target, to be able to run ten miles by the end of February. And by the way weather gods, thunder lightning and hail, is that all you got? Bring it on.

Best run yet – three miles without stopping

Real breakthrough tonight as I managed not only to go out and run on compacted ice for three miles, but managed to do it without stopping once.

In terms of my running ability this is nothing short of a quantum leap forward which has made me almost deliriously happy, which I do appreciate is not a state many people who know me would recognise.

Conditions more suited to bobsleigh than jogging

 The freezing temperatures didn’t put off that many committed runners (a hardy bunch whose number I feel I can now count myself among) as plenty of people were up on the Downs or trudging round the streets of Clifton, gleaming with the street lights’ orange glow bouncing off them.

It probably wasn’t actually a very good idea and I did spot a rapid response ambulance car parked up close to the water tower, presumably in anticipation of some idiot, much like myself, attempting to run on what was now compacted snow with an underlay of ice and a topping of early evening frost.

I almost wondered whether they might not pull up alongside me and explain to me just how much tax payers money I could soon be needlessly costing the NHS with several broken bones to mend.

However, I have a feeling it was almost because of the conditions that I had such a good run. It was clearly important to take it easy and as such I managed to get a good steady pace going and after about a mile or so everything just felt like it was working like clockwork. A very slow clock granted, but even so, ticking along nicely I was.

Bit cold out

 Now, three miles round the Downs is obviously not a full marathon, but tonight was the first time I could just hit the road and keep going at my own pace and if it wasn’t for the fact that I am aiming to hit five miles this weekend, I honestly feel I could have just kept purring along for another couple of miles..

I was almost convulsing with the euphoria that had washed over me as I just kept going, step after step, to the extent that I punched the air and leapt up a bit after finishing, as if I'd grabbed gold at the Olympics. 

It must be the first time I’ve been able to do that probably since the London Marathon in 2010. And in some ways the run tonight was just as important as that, because it confirmed to me that the training is working, the weight loss is helping and I’m getting fitter every week.  Get in!

And I managed to run at a faster pace than I walked last night, so that’s another little victory to chalk up tonight.

The Ham Green Prowler

Thanks to the snow there have been limited training opportunities this week, which a few weeks ago would have been a very welcome development and I’d be happy to sit at home chomping through a vat of pasta and catering pack of Cadbury’s Chocolate Buttons.

Now, weirdly, I have been really annoyed about not being able to go out running in the middle of a freezing January and feeling acute anxiety about falling behind in my training regime.

So, instead I’ve been out walking the mean streets of Ham Green, as it was deemed safer than trying to run through the snow and ice. And after coming too close to mention to being squashed on the A361 through Gloucestershire the other day, I am tending to agree.

The (not particularly) interesting thing I have discovered about walking however, is that I appear to be better at it than running, for now anyway.

I’ve been out twice this week schlepping along at a bit of a pace and according to the Run Keeper app I use to measure these things, my average minutes per mile are fewer when I walk than when I run. Which leads me to wonder why I’m bothering to run at all, why not just walk the Edinburgh Marathon and save all this time and energy running round North Somerset, like the day-glo wally I am?

Late night walks all very well, unless you look like a house burglar

 But, the more disturbing thing I have discovered on these walks is what I must look like to the good people of my sleepy village as I stroll purposefully through the centre. As is well documented it is currently quite cold, so in order to tackle the freezing temperatures I sensibly don my coat, hat, gloves and scarf.

However, what I realised stepping out tonight is that my coat is black, my gloves are black leather (Nazi gloves somebody once called them, you know the ones) and I often wear a black baseball cap that shades my face. Basically I look precisely as I would think of dressing if I was going out to rob somebody’s house or lurk in the dark corners waiting to mug somebody. Given that I am trying to walk as quickly as I can to derive maximum cardio-vascular benefits from exercise, I also look like I’m trying to flee the scene of a crime without rousing suspicion.

I’m not sure this will do anything to endear me to the neighbourhood.

Burning calories in the snow

It seems that the basic principle of moving more and eating less really does work, I mean, who knew?
Following a week which included three decent training runs and continuing my diet of cous cous, lettuce and porridge, I stepped up on the scales for my regular Saturday weigh in, and it turns out I’ve lost a whole stone since Christmas, 14 little lbs that have dropped into oblivion somehow.
Very pleased with progress as I’m hoping to lose about a stone each month, so slightly ahead of the game now. However I have been a bit worried this weekend that the snow would knock my training plan off course, as I have tried to run in the snow before and looking back it was a particularly stupid thing to do given the potential for falling and breaking bones.
However, the ‘white stuff’ may have put paid to leaving the house by car over the past two days (thanks to the wonder of email and telephone I could carry on my important work in PR), but we were able to have a great schlep through woods on foot instead.
Living in the country as we do now, sort of, we are blessed with some amazing walks around Leigh Woods and Leigh Court, where we had a ramble this afternoon. Stunning views and yes, it did feel like Narnia, and all those other cliches. It was very difficult not to find the nearest horse cart and start dragging it through the drifts like in Rocky IV - great training montage here.

Leigh Court in the snow

Leigh Woods

Leigh Woods

So, whereas I had hoped to run for an hour or so today and get to 4.5 miles, instead we walked through the snow for more than two and-a-half hours and according to the Run Keeper app covered over seven miles and burned 1200 calories. Result! Now I’m preparing a pan full of bolognese and warming the garlic baguettes to enjoy a spaghetti feast completely guilt free tonight, and maybe a glass of wine or two to celebrate shifting the first stone off my backside. Cheers!

Ice Cold In Banbury

I'm not sure what it was about my appearance walking through the lobby of the hotel that prompted a couple of blokes sat with their pints to look up and exchange glances and a snigger.

I mean, it was only minus 2 degrees outside, why wouldn't you expect to see sometbody in trainers, shorts, running top and a luminous striped hat heading for the door to go for a run. Perfectly normal where I come from.

To be fair, I did have to question my own sense of sanity as the icy blast of the night air tore through my flimsy polyster top and almost took my breath away.

Had to keep repeating the mantra I'd seen on Facebook recently about how it doesn't matter how far or slowly you run, you're still going further than you would sat on your arse watching telly.

With that in mind I bravely set off on my jog through Banbury town centre. I say bravely, it really wasn't, it was more stupid than brave, but I gritted my teeth nonetheless and started the film of my life playing in my head to keep me going.

In all honesty, it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. After leaving the office this evening the cold felt almost crippling, but then, you don’t go running in a cheap suit from M&S and an even cheaper cotton shirt, unless you’re being chased by muggers I guess.

Properly attired the cold was not so much of a problem, and anyway, the layers of lard I’m working so hard to shift off my frame played a key role in keeping me alive. Also, considering I break into a sweat from stepping up a kerb, it wasn’t long before I warmed up on my run.

I did see one or two other similarly luminous people trudging round, which made me feel a bit better, although they seemd to hunt in packs and were much quicker than me. I’ve never been a fan of running clubs, always felt I’d never be quick enough to keep up and frankly I had years of lolling at the back of the pack in sport when I was at school, and it’s not an experience I wish to repeat by choice as an adult. Besides, I enjoy the solitary nature of running on my own, with my own thoughts for company, shaking off the stresses of the day and, once again, pretending I’m playing Rocky in that scene when he runs through the streets of his home town. Was it Philidelphia or Pitsburg? I can never remember.

As I was consumed with these thoughts and other weighty issues, I realised I was jogging past the historic Banbury Cross, so I stopped briefly (any excuse) and took out my phone to take a quick pic. So as I was reviewing my handiwork, which was pretty crap as I managed to cut the top off it somehow, I was dawdling in the middle of the pavement a little and started to move off again. But as I looked up, suddenly out of nowhere the running club I’d seen a few minutes ago were charging towards me with the all terrifying force of a herd of day-glow wilderbeast.

I stood paralysed with fear as seemingly hundreds (probably half a dozen) of them swerved either side of me to avoid flattening me completely. They didn’t look best pleased that I had somehow got in their way, so much for the solidarity of the running fraternity.

Once again, I bravely found the courage to go on in the face of overwhelming adversity, and headed back up the hill towards the hotel.

It was a fairly stop-start run but did manage 35 minutes and covered about 2.5 miles, which was better than sitting on my arse in my hotel room. Especially as the telly only has five  channels and the only thing slower than me round here is the free wifi. I only wish the sniggering beer drinkers had still been there to see me return from battle, tired but victorious and just a little bit ice cold.

Running on the Portishead cycle path

Legs are little weary after the longest run we've achieved for a while, 4.25 miles along the Pill to Portishead cycle path this afternoon in the bright cold sunshine.
It's a curious stretch of path which takes you under the M5 bridge, along the side of Portbury Docks, with Avonmouth chugging away in the distance.
In large parts it runs alongside a disused railway line which I assume will be resurrected if the Portishead to Bristol line gets reinstated.
The overwhelming impression is of a hidden and forgotten industrial wasteland as the rail line is overgrown, tunnels are covered in graffiti, the odd burnt out motor scooter lies wrecked by the path and every now and then rusted gates bar the way to large fenced off open spaces, surrounded by flood lights, which I can only assume are secret UFO landing strips. Maybe.
We only managed to get a couple of miles along the route before coming back home, but the biggest challenge wasn't the prospect of spray paint wielding youths or fumes spewing off six lanes of motorway, no, it was more like the pair of walkers ahead of us.
At this point in my training the speed at which I can run is really on slightly quicker than walking pace.
Reason being of course I'm trying to build stamina rather than speed and am quite happy running for an hour at the same speed as I might walk it, just to keep running.
However, it is a bit of a problem when on the slow trot a couple of people out on an afternoon stroll hove into view. They were almost certainly taking their time as well which made it all the more embarrassing as I had to dig deep to find the acceleration to get past them.
At one point I was shoulder to shoulder and could have had a fairly in-depth conversation about the weather and what kind of Christmas they had as my little legs pumped away to move, with glacial progress, ahead of them. Reminded me of one or two Bristol Half Marathons where the power walkers would whistle past and off into the crowd never to be seen again.
Once we finally managed to get round them we paused to catch breath, and realised that if we didn't get running again they'd overtake and we'd have to go through the whole charade again.
We managed to kick on back Ham Green and left a host of dog walkers and afternoon strollers flailing in our wake as the sheer force of our pace scattered them across the path. Sort of.
But blimey was it ever cold, took a nice hot bath to thaw out when we got home and a bowl full of stir fried veggies and rise. Yum. At this rate, should easily hit five miles by the end of January.

I am Roborunner

The deeper integration of mobile technology into virtually every aspect of our lives is seemingly an unstoppable force and in many ways is a welcome development for society. For example, how else could I possibly get know the eating and TV watching habits of hundreds of people I don’t know and have no desire to meet in ‘real life’, via Twitter and other such social media platforms.

Gone are the days when that term, social media, meant handing somebody a copy of the paper you’d just finished reading on the train and when you arranged to meet somebody you made sure you made it, as there was no means by which to send a message with some lame excuse because you couldn’t be bothered. Having said that, one or two incidents of waiting several hours for people who didn’t turn up could have been easily avoided. But I digress.

Original social media

Frankly the digital revolution couldn’t have come sooner as far as I’m concerned. As a consumer and purveyor of information at the rate that would make me obese if it was food (some parallel there methinks), it is a truly exciting time. And when, in years to come, our kids ask ‘what did you make of this amazing transformation in society which changed forever the way we work, live and experience life’, I for one do not want to sit there and say, “It was a load of bollocks really, all that internet crap, I preferred to actually talk to people”. You know how people wear that level of ignorance like a badge of pride as if they somehow elevate themselves above this foolish pursuit of ever increasing technology like it’s the emperor’s new clothes. And in any case they never actually talk to people anyway because they’ve got no friends. They would have probably been against the development of the written word several thousand years ago.

Anyway, the point is, I have realised that I am using a lot more technology in my training at the moment, most of it based on my iPhone. Whether it’s the iTunes to keep me motivated (Eye of the Tiger still inspires) or the several apps to track my progress.

In my head, this is me on training run

I was introduced to an app called My Fitness Pal by a friend at work and it’s basically a calorie counter, but for the first time probably ever, it has enabled me to get to grips properly with portion control.

My weight gain has not always tended to be because I eat a lot of rubbish, it’s simply because I eat a lot. I always cook dinner at home and enjoy cooking as a social activity. The problem has been that I would always fill my plate to over brimming and probably be eating enough for two. Not in the pregnant sense of course. I have the same issue with booze to be fair, so bingeing on both of those will inevitably lead down the road to fatness.

Now, this will not come as a revelation to anybody remotely sensible, but I have now discovered that if I stick to the daily recommended calorie allowance (2050 in my case), and do more exercise, the weight starts to come off. I know this is obvious, eat less and move more is the mantra. I had always thought I would just be hungry all the time if I ate less, however, lo and behold, it’s not the case. So I’m now a bit of a slave to the calorie counter, always filling it in after every meal and it could do with a little more male-focussed content, but it’s definitely working as I’ve lost 9lbs since Christmas and feel on my way to hitting weight loss targets.

In conjunction with this app I am also using Run Keeper on my phone to chart my distance and calories burned on my training runs.

Long gone are the days of pulling on the trainers and heading out with a quick glance at the kitchen clock to gauge how long I’ve been out. Nowadays every step and heart beat is recorded and analysed with interactive maps of where I’ve been, average minutes per mile and all sorts of telemetry.

I think it’s an age thing. Being a couple of years older I feel I need to know more about my progress than when I was a spritely 31-year-old with much springier legs. But it does work and despite feeling like Roborunner (although if I was a robot I probably wouldn’t need to run anywhere on account of not being capable of gaining weight, saying that R2D2 is basically short and round) being able to chart the progress means I can keep to the training plan for the Edinburgh Marathon with any luck.

Fat robot: R2D2

I think Nike do something similar which is embedded in their training shoes, which would be good. But I have actually done quite a lot of running down the years (you may find that hard to believe) and the best trainers I’ve ever had are my Asics Gel Nimbus. They are totally amazing and have carried me through several half marathons and the London Marathon in 2010, with not a single injury or even blister. If they did something similar to Nike I’d definitely be interested in trying that out.  If only there was some way to alert the Asics PR machine to this, I could perhaps shamelessly endorse their TOTALLY AMAZINGASICS running shoes for instance. It wouldn’t be dishonest, I already use them. Let’s see what happens.......No, nothing yet. Maybe the SEO will do its thing and they’ll pick up on it. As I was saying, ASICS ASICS ASICS ASICS........

Enough of that. I’m off to roast a chicken, mash some potatoes and make real gravy for dinner to give us fuel for a long run tomorrow along the banks of the Avon. In my Asics. 

My amazing Asics. Which are much more knackered now.