Tactical puke pushes Peevers to peerless performance

Training back on track today after a shabby couple of weeks which included a hangover so bad last weekend I could barely walk, let alone run.
So today I was looking forward to taking on a 12 to 13 mile run, in the thankfully warmer spring sunshine.
Despite waking up in Dorset this morning to scenes of snow falling across the green and pleasant, by the time we got back to Bristol the conditions were much better.
However I had once again underestimated the depth of a hangover that was lurking round like an ASBO mugger in a dark alley.
Reason I’d woken up in Dorset was because we’d spent the weekend on my parents’ estate in the country, which was quite lovely. As was the best part of two bottles of red wine I’d drained while enjoying dinner with the folks.
As a result I was feeling quite rough as I headed down the tow path along the Avon from Pill and with barely ten minutes on the watch I was ready to jack it in and go home. This was mainly because of the feverish sweats I’d developed and the sense of nausea. The thing I really needed to do was chunder and hope that would reset the system. So, that’s exactly what I did.
Thinking about the times I’d been at a party and started to feel a bit queasy, I remembered that a tactical puke was just the thing to get me sorted and back to the booze. I never thought it would be something I would deploy in this far more healthy scenario.
Anyway, it worked as I went from being on the verge of returning home and collapsing in front of the telly, to pushing on and completing a 13 mile run in 2hrs 43mins. At that pace it’s going to be a long day in Edinburgh on May 26, but I’m glad to get half marathon distance under my belt at this stage.
Just ten weeks to go now, but I do feel I’ve come a long in way in the past ten weeks so at this stage I’m quite confident of achieving the aim of running my second marathon. Think I might stay off the wine for a while though.

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.

Ooooh, new shoes

Today I have defied my doctor’s orders, although I suspect more of a recommendation, guideline, suggestion really, that I shouldn’t run as I have a brand shining spanking new pair of Asics Nimbus in my possession and couldn’t resist wearing them in on the treadmill in the gym for half an hour.

My new Asics, terrible colours, amazing shoes

Despite my previous shameless attempts at luring the Asics marketing team into providing me with a new pair for free, nothing of the kind has occurred and it was down to the nice people at Up and Running in Bristol.

Had some great service there down the years with the added bonus of being able to chat to Bristol’s own running legend Nick Rose.

Today was no exception and I’m only flagging this up because I don’t think good service gets enough credit, not because I got any free stuff or anything like that.

Having ordered the Nimbi (is that plural?) a couple of weeks back I went in today to pick them up and the chap (should have got his name) who served me was genuinely interested in what I was doing in terms of running. I said about the training and it turns out he ran the Edinburgh Marathon last year so we had a good old chat about that, which was really nice. I do love talking about running with other people like that. It’s slightly paradoxical in a sense as running is more often than not a solo activity (certainly when you’re as slow as me and everyone has left you behind), but talking about it with other runners is great for bringing people together.

I have been in other running shops in Bristol in the Clifton area and have been made to feel as welcome as a horse dealer at a Tesco meat counter. Or, more simply, about as welcome as a fat bloke in a hallowed temple of running worshippers and fitness geeks. I hate those kind of amateur runners who look at you with that disdain as if you couldn’t possibly achieve the great feats of physicality they have just because they've done a few half marathons down the years and some orienteering probably - how to ruin running, make it like work. If Mo Farah gave me that kind of look I would accept it, he’s amazing, they are not. Although Mo Farah would probably have more respect for people. (Really not going to that shop again)

Anyway, couldn’t be further from the case at Up and Running, and for that they have pretty much guaranteed my custom for as long as I can keep running, for what it’s worth.

With my quite luminous new running shoes in hand, I hit the treadmill at the gym for 30 minutes, which was the first run since last Sunday as I have been good and doing as the doctor said and not run all week. The toe seems to be healing well thanks to the antibiotics, which is good as it was pretty hideous and painful a week ago, much as the pic illustrates:

It's horrible, I know, but much better now!

I wasn’t going to show that but couldn’t resist for some reason.

So, feel confident about my injury status and with my shiny new shoes I’m looking forward to a good long run tomorrow. I’m also really going to need to get some miles under the belt as I only lost 1 pound this week due to some indulgences this week, and we’re having our Valentine’s meal tonight, courtesy of M&S’s marvellous deal, which means wine is going to be drunk, and I might be too!

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