Oh Manchester So Much To Answer For ...

Manchester (again) Week Five

Oh Manchester, So Much To Answer For
Week 5

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: 62.14 (100.005km)
Gym visits: 0
Chocolate eaten: Yorkie, small aero, large aero, fruit and nut
Crisps eaten: Large bag Frazzles, large bag beetroot crips
Alcohol drunk: 4 pints Guinness, 2 larg glasses of red wine

Weight: 11st9lb

Monday 26th January

So on Sunday when I said no Toblerones, yeah about that.

I had a Yorkie, but it was a normal sized Yorkie, not a duo. Just a tiny, pathetic, little Yorkie. It's amazing how small chocolate bars are when you're not eating huge sharing bars or big family sized bags.

It's been raining all day and again I have no desire to run which is fine as it's rest day.

Homemade mushroom soup for lunch and sticky tofu noodles for tea.

Told you I'm back on it this week, a good diet and lots of running and just one little Yorkie.

And no booze until Saturday.

I'm an athlete you know, a very mediocre, old and slightly flabby athlete.

Tuesday 27th January

It's club tonight, supposed to be track and first time the group will tackle the Michigan session which is an absolute beast and I was really looking forward to it until we had to cancel and sort something else because the track floodlight got damaged in the wind.

So new plan is efforts along the seafront into the wind, the glorious fucking wind. I head out for my warm up and once again it's just bloody stupid and I'm struggling to hold 9 minutes pace into it.

I have decided that wind is the shittest of all weather, it has no function whatsoever, other than annoying me. Sunshine is lovely, rain has its uses, snow looks great but wind is pointless and we should all agree to ban it.

It's a quiet night at the club, just the usual idiotic people who want to get out their houses and seem to think this will be fun. We start the first 4 min effort and it's like that scene in Twister when they see a cow fly past in the wind, I'm worried Wendy is going to get blown away. Heads down and push on through and at best we manage to dip under 7 minute pace.

Each rep is as bad if not worse than the one before and we're all just waiting to get to the turnaround point. Finally, we make it to Tynemouth and it's time to turn back.

This bit is fun.

We have two intervals left of 1 minute and then 8 lots of 30 seconds before we get a static recovery, every rep is way too fast as the wind pushes us home. We agree to cut the recovery and just get it done and the final 4 minutes is every man for himself as we fly down the coast.

Session finished and it's another 10 windy miles in the bag.

Wednesday 28th January

It's actually not windy.

It's cold but sunny.

A morning of work and then out for a nice easy 4 miles at 9:30 pace to shake the legs out.

I head towards Cullercoats and before I get there I bump into Jim and Magnus and change my plans to turn and head towards the lighthouse with them.

The pace is quicker than I planned but we're having a chat and it's good to catch up and before I know it I'm back home after 6 miles at 8 minute mile pace.

Back home, shower, lunch and back to work.

In the evening I decide I need some wine and chocolate so nip out to buy a mint aero and a bottle of rioja. I've developed a liking of a mint aero which is weird as I've never been a fan of minty flavour. I also really dislike a chocolate orange, citrus and chocolate and dont work together.

When I say 'dislike' obviously I'll still eat one if it's on offer. I'm not sure there's any chocolate I'd turn down if it was on offer. I'll have to have a think about this.

Thursday 29th January

It's threshold Thursday

Today's session is 4 mile warm up and then 4 x 2 miles @ threshold pace and a cool down. I've been thinking of running to Tynemouth and doing all 8 miles down the coast with a tail wind and then jog home.

The main problem with this plan is that in my head it makes sense but in reality it means I'll end up in Blyth and have to run all the way home when I'm knackered. I don't really fancy the reality of this so need to replan it.

I go for a revised plan of run to Tynemouth, do the first two reap downhill with the wind and finish up towards the lighthouse, rep 3 into the wind back to Cullercoats and final rep back down towards lighthouse and then walk home crying about how awful the third rep was.

Couple of early appointments and then get ready and head out. I jog towards the seafront and there's no wind, I'm feeling pleasant surprised until I got the coast. It's still windy and shitty and I grind out 4 miles to Tynemouth and I'm already not fancying the session. I turn my music up to try and boost myself a bit.

Here we go. Rep 1 is downhill and a tailwind and the pace feels pretty good, 2 miles flies by and it's recovery time. Rep 2 heading North still and the wind is helping, pace again is good but as I'm nearing the end of it I'm feeling a bit knackered.

Stop for recovery and I know this one's gonna be awful. It's 2 miles back to Cullercoats, all uphill and into 20mph wind. I decide if I can get near to threshold pace I'll be happy. As soon as I start I decide mara pace will be fine. After a minute or two of running I decide aerobic pace is probably okay. After a mile I'm fine with easy run pace.

Those peanut butter cup things, can't remember what they're called but I hate them, never had one but I know of hate them. That's a chocolate bar I'd turn down. Sorry got sidetracked.

Rep 3 done and amazingly I held just under mara pace but I'm wrecked. I've ran past Brendan 4 times so far whilst he does his session and I reckon every time he's seen me I've looked slightly sadder and more knackered.

Start the final rep, it's 2 miles back downhill and end up by the GP start. First mile is 10 secs too slow because I'm wrecked, I lift it for the second and push hard, I'm knackered. EMF come on and I turn the volume up to full and to the shouts of 'Seemingly lastless, don't mean you can ask us,

pushing down the relative, bringing out your higher self, think of the fine times, pushing down the better few, instead of bringing out the clues, to what the world and everything anger to, brace

yourself with the grace of ease, I know this world ain't what it seems, It's unbelievable'

Finished. 3 reps on pace and one a little slow.

Jog home and another 13 miles done.

Shower, lunch and a cuddle with Murphy.

In the evening I'm at the club and doing my double Thursday session. It's figure of 8 loops so I join in with D team and have a nice albeit windy session and a bit of a chat with Jess. Finish and head home and another 6 miles. End the day of with a glass of wine and I definitely don't a gingerbread house that I found in the cupboard that Poppy was supposed to build for Christmas, she didn't bother which is great because it means I can now eat it. I plan to eat all of it before the weekend so that but the time Poppy reads this it will all be gone.

Not sorry Poppy.

Friday 30th January

I'm having a rest day, it's pissing down and windy and an enforced day of rest is my preferred choice

I walk into Whitley to get some things for tea and decide I'll have a 'small' bar of chocolate. Into B&M and it's £1.65 for a share size bag of buttons, 99p for a massive 1500 calorie bar of mint aero or 70p for a normal sized bar of Yorkie. I'm trying to be sensible this week, I check the calories and size on each one and have an internal conversation with myself about being good and not undoing all my good work this week.

I buy the biggest one.

I head into Sainsbury's and hear a lady complaining to the lad on the till about the price of a bag of salad, she can't understand why a bag of salad is more expensive than a single lettuce and then she utters the phrase 'make it makes sense'

I've developed an absolute hatred of the use of this phrase, it's become more popular than salted caramel. Remember when everything suddenly became salted caramel flavour, it tasted shit.

Anyway 'make it makes sense' is a bit like that, it's shit and annoys me and the lad working in Sainsbury's doesn't give a shit, he's not in charge of the price of ready washed salad bags so leave him alone

Christ I wish people would make it make sense

I ate the massive aero on the way home whilst I was angry about the price of salad.

It made me feel really sick.

Saturday 31st January

I didn't drink last night, shock horror! I need to do 17-18 miles today so heading out early and tagging parkrun on the end and need to be fresh and ready for a 7:05 start.

It's 6:45 am and I'm up and eating a waffle.

Then another waffle.

And I'm out the door on time. Head along the coast and we'll it's a bloody miracle, it's not windy.

That's a lie. It's windy, of course it's f'ing windy, it's always windy. I do a few miles and then turn inland as today I am returning to my beloved Coast Road for the first time in ages.

It turns out heading inland makes absolutely no difference, we'll not strictly true. It's no longer a headwind, it's now a sidewind which is marginally less crap. I pass the spot I discarded my paw patrol sunglasses many years ago and reminisce about how it feels to run in sunshine.

I get to about 7 miles and need to turn to head back to be on time for parkrun but now I have an problem.

I can't just turn round and head back, I need a turning obstacle. But there isn't one. I make a hasty decision at a side road and decide to turn down it and towards the roundabout and then back up the steep incline on the other side. This solves my needing a turning point but now means I'll be slightly early for parkrun as I've turned back a few minutes early. I panicked knowing if I kept going I'd end up looping round a lamppost and that would annoy me all weekend.

I head back and the pace starts picking up, before I know it I'm heading towards the seafront. A car drives past and beeps at me, I glance across and the bloke driving gives me the finger, I'm not wearing my glasses so have no idea who it is. I of course reciprocate the finger as it's be rude not too.

Heading to parkrun and the whole turning point fiasco means I'm 10 minutes early so I run past parkrun and up to a path that I can go down and back onto the prom and then along the prom and up the hill and I'm 1 min early, perfect.

Parkrun done and don't stop to chat as need a little more to hit 17 miles and I'm working at 10.

Out in the evening at a party and booze will be consumed. Tomorrow's run may or may not take place.

If I was a betting man I'd go for the latter.

Sunday 1st February

I have a sore head but not sore enough to stop me running.

Head out as I need to do 8 miles to hit 60 again this week and as you know this is a completely pointless target that for some reason I'm starting to obsess about.

It's a lovely day, no wind, cold, but the sun is actually visible in the sky.

I just head out and run with no planned route or distance and manage just over 10 miles. 60 miles for the week once again ticked off and I'm feeling very smug with myself.

And then I have a look at my overall distance on Strava and notice I'm on 61.9 miles and that 0.1 of a mile annoys me. Not enough for me to do anything about it but I'm definitely a little pissed off.

Then helpfully Dan points out that in km I'm only 370m short of 100km for the week. I'm old school and work in miles but for some reason this annoys me more than being just short of 62 miles. I think back to my runs this week, I remember on Thursday I missed half a figure of 8 loop to start the groups off, I took a static threshold before my 3rd rep of thresholds instead of a jog, the cancelled track session was longer than the road session we did and then my turning point incident yesterday, damn it!

Now I'm fucking furious, genuinely.

So I have a look on Strava just to confirm Dan is correct and now I also see I'm in 8th place on the Poly leader board and just to screw with me even more the guy above me in 7th place is on exactly the same distance, so why am I 8th and he's 7th? Ah man, I'm getting angry just typing this.

So now at 5pm after already running 10 miles and having a shower and going out for a pub lunch I'm now going to have to go out and run 370m to hit 100k and jump to 7th.

Oh but hang on, apart from the top 3 who are all on 80+ miles, who's that in 4th place ? Who's that tantalisingly close sitting in the top 5 just a mere 5 miles ahead of me.

Dan.

Bloody Dan.

Dan 'you gotta get that final 370m to hit 100k' Nelson.

Damn you Dan, how about I do go out and get that 370m and then keep going and knock you down a spot. Yeah, how'd you like them apples Dan?

I'm doing it, I'm bloody doing it. He who has the last laugh and all that.

I go upstairs to get changed and then remember most of my running gear is in the tumble dryer. I come downstairs and grab my clothes and then when walking through the kitchen I spot the M&S bag on the bench and remember the enormous raspberry meringue I bought earlier.

It's 6pm.

I'm in the bath and I'm eating an enormous M&S raspberry meringue.

My laziness and my desire to eat tasty food outweighed my desire to run and I really don't care about running 100km. It's just stupid and I don't even work in km anyway so it would only matter if I logged onto Strava and went into my settings and changed my preferred units to metric just so I could look at it for a second and then go back in and change it back to imperial. I mean that's just stupid, what kind of idiot would do something like that.

Not this idiot.

It's 10:15pm and I have now firmly moved past thoughts of Strava, 100km weeks and Dan and I'm lying on the settee in my pyjamas and slippers drinking a glass of wine and watching a movie.

The movie finishes, it wasn't very good. I finish my glass of wine and tell Murphy and Marvin it's time for bed. Murphy heads into the kitchen and climbs into his bed, I lock the back door, switch off the light and walk into the hallway. Marvin is waiting by the front door for me to let him out for his evening adventures. I open the front door, it's windy, it's cold and t's dark. He heads out the front door.

I follow him.

I'm standing in my pyjamas, a t shirt and my slippers at the end of the drive. Marvin sits in the road and looks at me. There's a man up the street walking his dog. I'm cold and I'm tired.

It's 10:30pm.

My slipper has just flown off my foot.

I'm running 370 metres on a Sunday night in my slippers to hit 100km for the week. I check my watch and I'm not even halfway done, my slippers keep falling off and they make so much noise slapping down on the floor.

I get to the top corner off the street and loop round a car just as my neighbour comes out to put something in the bin, I give him a nod, I feel he knows what's going on so no words need said.

I'm heading back home, the front door is wide open, my slippers have flown off my feet half a dozen times. I'm cold and sweaty, Marvin is still sitting in the road staring at me.

I upload my run. I go into Strava, I go into settings and change my units to metric. I come back out of settings and go across to the Poly leader board and see myself in 7th place and I'm on 100.005km or the week.

I go back into settings and change it back to Imperial and then I remember I forgot to take a screenshot of it. Then I realise I actually couldn't give a shit and I go to bed.