Oh Manchester So Much To Answer For ...
Well, it's that time once again and it only feels like Amsterdam was 5 minutes ago, but here we go again ...
The week in numbers ...
Miles ran: 35.32
Gym visits: 0 (I cancelled my membership)
Chocolate eaten: 2 large Toblerone. 2 large bars
Alcohol drunk: Christmas, it doesn't count
Weight: 11st12lb
Well here we are once again at the start of 16 weeks of running, writing about running and thinking about running.
And eating, I eat a lot when I run and I run a lot when I marathon train and that means lots of eating.
It's Monday and it's rest day. The week always starts with rest day and then the rest of the week needs a bit of tinkering and jigging about to all fit together. Usually it's club Tues and thresholds Thurs but I want to do New Year's Day parkrun on Thurs so it makes sense to do thresholds on Tues but it's track day and I enjoy track so I could do track on Tues, parkrun as part of threshold and keep it simple or .....
I could do threshold on Tues, skip track, race parkrun on Thurs and then do a secondary easy paced session at the club on Thurs eve in a slower group. Haven't decided yet and probably won't until Tuesday. The other issue is Tuesday thresholds means getting up and out by 7am and I don't really do 7am. I'll worry about this later.
So what does a marathon runner do on a rest day?
I wake up, tidy the kitchen, do some washing, take all the crap out of the back garden and put it out the front for a trip tip later, spend the morning working and then the afternoon wandering around TK Maxx with Mrs J.
Then it's home, a bath and I decide if I should eat a pizza or not. Not in the bath obviously, I'm not an animal. I'm eating a Toblerone in the bath whilst I decide about the pizza. Then I drop a big chunk of Toblerone in the bath, I'm in the bath, the bath is full of imperial leather bubble bath but that's not stopping me, you know what's coming next.
I eat the now slightly melted and lavender smelling and tasting chunk of Toblerone. It doesn't taste great but it's Toblerone and I'm not wasting it.
Out the bath and order a pizza. A vegetarian hot and spicy and some halloumi fries. I decide this is justified as I'm marathon training, although I haven't actually done a single session yet of the marathon training plan but that's just a technicality.
I decide tomorrow I shall do 7am thresholds and do Parkrun on Thurs.
It's 7am.
I'm asleep.
Up at 8 and working today, haven't decided yet what to do about a run. The only time I have is about 3pm or do the club session.
It's 3pm and I still haven't decided.
It's 4pm and I still haven't ran.
Club it is I guess.
It's a horrible long and hard track session tonight and I need to go back on B team. C team have effectively thrown me out, well that was mostly Ruth but I believe she speaks for C team. But, and it's a big but. I seem to have developed a bit of a fear of going back in B. I have no idea why as I've ran with B for nearly 20 years but now I worry they'll rip me apart and I'll fall right off the back and then C will catch me and then D will go past and then E will all laugh at me and then I'll fall over and F and G will all stick the boot in whilst everyone gathers round chanting 'slow Simon, slow Simon's and I'll be lying there crying and it'll be just like junior school all over again.
Maybe I'm overthinking. I wasn't really bullied in junior school. I was however beaten up often and put in a bin on my first day but that was by my brother, he was an arsehole.
Anyway back to running.
I didn't get out for a run so it's club and track. I head out early for my usual 4 mile warm up and then get to the track and it's icing over and slippy and I decided yet again not to go in B team but also not to go in C team and just run alone and see what times I hit. This is effectively me being a big baby and being too scared to go in B team but I justify it to myself and just get on with it.
I let ABCD all go and then set off, I catch D and then a couple of laps later I catch C. First 2km and pretty much bang on pace, B team pace that is.
Then it's a 4 min recovery, it's cold and after 2 mins I decide to go. Then it's 4 x 800 and aiming for these in 3:00-3:04 to hit B team times. I do 3:00, 3:04, 3:07 and 3:09, again I half the recovs and take 1 min instead of 2 and then after the final one take 2 mins instead of 4 and start the final mile.
This is supposed to be flat out but the track is slippy, I'm feeling my hamstrings tightening up and thinking up any other excuses I can to justify why I can't go fast enough. I cross the line in 6:22, not bad by any means but I'd have preferred to be around 6:10-6:15
Quick chat with B team to see what they ran and I'd have been mid group with my times. This gives me a confidence boost and again I tell them I'll be back in B team next week.
Next week I will of course bottle it once again and have a little panic and run by myself.
Today is easy run day, 4 miles at a nice slow pace and it's also New Year's Eve and time to finish off the year with a nice run.
I don't run. It's really cold and it's week 1 and I'm lacking motivation already.
Instead I potter about the house, go for a walk with Mrs J and then sort out tea before we head out for the night. I open a bottle of red and have a couple of glasses, I eat lots of food and then at 7pm we head to the pub and I tend to stay for an hour or two and then back home in plenty of time for more food and midnight. Should be home for 9 or 10 at the latest.
It's 12:30
I'm in the pub and I'm doing Auld Lang Syne holding hands with Johnny Hill and drinking Graham's left over wine.
It's 1:30
I've opened another bottle of red and watching Jools Holland and his boogie-woogie piano playing.
It's 2:00
I'm still drinking.
2:30 and I head to bed.
8am and my alarm goes off, I jump up with a fright and the room, my head and the entire world is spinning, it's spinning fast. It takes me 25 minutes to put my running gear on and another 10 to open the front door. The cold air hits me, I feel awful but it's New Years Day and time to open the Strava account with a few miles.
I heard up the coast for a couple of miles and then turn and back for parkrun. Every person that sees me just laughs in my face and tells me how awful I look. Vicky's a midwife and tells me she's never seen anyone look quite as awful as I do right now.
I'm talking when everyone starts running and I turn and run, stopping after my warm up was a bad idea, the world is once again spinning.
The first mile hurts, my legs hurt, my head hurts, even my eyeballs hurt. I manage a 7:55 and decide I'm never drinking again. Mile 2 and I can hear people behind saying my name and talking about chasing me, I may have made a drunken promise that Graham would buy everyone who beat me a pint. Mile 2 in 7:25 and the head appears to be clearing, mile 3 in 7:11 and then the 'sprint' finish to cross the line. I somehow manage a 22:58 and then jog home, have a shower, pour a large glass of coke and lie on the settee and watch a cartoon about a yeti called Everest, a Minion movie and Raya, the Last Dragon. It's a lovely afternoon and I have a bit of a snooze and feel much better.
At night I have a glass of red and then an early night.
I'm working today, up early for an 8am appointment and then a half day. Friday is easy run day but again I don't feel like it and it's cold so I don't bother. Gail is taking down the decorations and I potter about and pretend to help her by putting some things in the loft.
Then a walk out for fresh air, a bath and then cook a big fat veggie lasagne for tea. Tomorrow is parkrun and I need to get some miles in before as I can't do a long run on Sunday this week.
Do I have a drink tonight or do I take a night off?
I have a glass of red, or two.
I need to do about 12 miles before parkrun so I have to be out the door by 7:40 at the latest, so I set my alarm for 7:30. That gives me 10 mins for a coffee and to get dressed.
I work this out numerous times and double check my pace and the time to leave, once I start running I realise I'm an idiot and I should have gone out at 7:20 not 7:40 and my maths is totally out.
I'm an idiot.
It's cold and the wind is howling but at least it's not snowing and parkrun will be on, so the plan is 35 mins up towards Blyth, then turn and head back and do parkrun and then tag on a few extra miles after to make up for my shit maths.
I get to Seaton Delaval and the weather suddenly changes, the temperature drops and the wind picks up. Within 5 minutes it starts to snow, it gets heavier and heavier. I'm heading up the long drag to Blyth, cars are stopping and pulling in to the side of the road as they can't see. The snow is now a blizzard and the path is totally covered, I pull my buff up to my eyes and my cap down further, I can't see, my face stings, it's so cold and the wind is hammering me and I'm struggling to move. I have another 10 mins to go but can't move forward so turn to head back and then .......
Peace.
The wind is behind me and blows me along nicely, the snow is already thick on the floor and I'm heading to parkrun. Arrive at Whitley and they are just putting away the finishing funnel, it's obviously been cancelled but I noticed a few people have decided to run anyway, so what's a fella to do?
I decide I may as well do parkrun. There's a group up ahead and then a gap and a couple more people ahead of them. I see the Marks and Simon heading along the prom and I start to reel people in.
Now I don't want to brag but I'm pretty certain I won parkrun and nobody can take that away from me. And I did it without cheating, unlike you know who.
Ben. It was Ben. He cheated.
I managed just over 12 miles before the cold finally breaks me and I head home.
Today should be the Trail Run. My plans are a 5:30 start and an 8 mile early morning check of the course and then a day eating flapjacks, drinking coffee and blasting some tunes.
But the weather has other ideas. Late on Sat night a decision had to be made and the Trail Run was cancelled. I'm absolutely gutted, we've put so much work in and I love this run and everyone else seems to love this run. But it's not safe and it had to be cancelled.
Sunday morning I have a lie in and then up and I need a run and checking the course anyway seems the best place to run today, the pavements are lethal and I'm hoping the trails are better.
Now I have some lovely trainers, you all know this, the brightest colours and lots of choice. But I'm a road runner, not a trail runner and I only have one pair of trail shoes and they are nasty, they are black for starters and so hard and no cushion and no bounce but today I need them.
I head out along the road to get to the start point, decide to skip the beach and just do the trails. It looks beautiful, the snow is thick and the sun is shining. The trails are okay but the hills are sheer ice and tricky to go up and down them safely. I'm not trail runner, give me some concrete and flat paths any day of the week.
After 8 miles I'm wrecked, my legs are knackered from the terrain and the snow and I head home for a shower and some food.
Marathon training week 1 done. I skipped 2 easy runs, I cut my long run short, a hangover meant I didn't do my threshold session and I fell short of 40 miles for the first time in 2 months. We shall call this a failed week, next week I'm hoping will be better but the weather looks to have other plans.
Anyway, I've just poured a glass of wine.
Roll on week 2.
All previous blogs are available to read HERE