Manchester - Week 2

The week in numbers ...

Miles ran: 37
Mushrooms eaten :  1 punnet of a wild & exotic selection
Chocolate eaten:  2 Boost Duo's
Wine drank: 1 bottle
Cakes eaten:  3 large rock buns
American waffles eaten:  1 pack

Weight: Monday 11st12lb
                    Sunday 11sr12lb

A day that didn't exactly go to plan.

Track session at the club of 14 x 400's which is my favourite session and was looking forward to it, but......

To cut a very long story short, I was awake from 2am and at hospital from 8am until about 7pm and didn't eat or drink a thing all day.

All was finally well and when we got home I decided to order a large pizza and a 4 cheese garlic bread and eat all of it by myself in one go and then wash it down with a glass of red wine. Unsurprisingly I felt full after three slices as it was a big pizza but I kept going and then felt incredibly sick and had to push the last couple of slices into my mouth with some force because I was so full.  

You know the scene in Matilda when the kid is forced to eat the chocolate cake? Yeah, well imagine that but swap the little kid for me and the cake for pizza and instead of Trunchbull standing over him, it's me standing over me, forcing myself to eat all of it with loads of clones of me standing round cheering me when I finish. I'm sure AI could knock that image up for you all if you can't imagine it.

Now, no doubt some of you are reading this and thinking I could have stopped eating and saved some for tomorrow , but no, no I'm on a diet so I couldn't do that, it must all be eaten today so tomorrow the diet can start, again.

No running, no good food, just stress, worry, wine and pizza, so much pizza.

So, so, much pizza.

Tomorrow will hopefully be better.

Oh my god I feel so F'ing sick.

It's Thursday and it's time for thresholds.

Today it's 10 x 1km @ threshold pace with 2 min recoveries and a decent warm up and cool down.

Woke up at 8 and was working at 12 so had plenty of time, sat on the settee with Murph, I say on but I sat on the settee and he sat on me. Cup of black coffee and Depeche Mode on the record player and next thing I know it's just after 9 and it turns out that actually I'm working at 11 not 12.

Up, ready and out the door. The usual 4 mile warm up needs to be halved and the 2 min recovs are going to have to be 1 minute. Pavements are slippy so head for the prom which is conveniently 1km long and I spot young Mark out doing his thresholds on the same route.

So, here we go. 10 reps and each one should be at 7:05-7:20 mile pace, I've got the running playlist on which is a good mix of pretty much everything you can shake a stick at.

First reps are bang on 7:10, 7:09, 7:05, 7:04, 7:07, 7:09, 7:02, getting a little quick so make a real effort to slow the next two down to 6:59 and 6:56 which naturally means they were faster.

Onto the last rep, last static recov and the song changes, it's a  familiar tune kicking in.

Now some may call this a guilty pleasure but I say there's no such thing as a guilty pleasure because if you love it, you love it and you don't have to justify that to anyone. I mean if we had to justify these things then poor old Andy Fury would be fucked with his Hanson obsession.  

Anyway it's time to run again and life is a mystery, everyone must stand alone, I hear you call my name and it feels like home. Me and Madonna are off on the final 1km, when you call my name, it's like a little prayer, I'm down on my knees, I want to take you there, this is a little quick but it's fine. Let the choir sing blasts out, I really want to do an air punch but I've done that before and I'm a more mature person now, final rep at 6:30 pace and then straight home to work.

Yes I admit it, I bloody love Like A Prayer by Madonna, it's an absolute tune. I suggest you put it on right now, crank the volume right up and dance like everyone is watching you but you don't give a shit because you're in the moment and having a fucking brilliant time because that's what music is all about.

Wake up at 7:55 and see a message from Greg saying Blyth is cancelled, this means I need to head to Rising Sun and being a lazy sod I can't be bothered but quick map check tells me it's 4.5 miles which means it's actually closer than Blyth, which is a turn up for the books but it's a much shittier run along roads and housing estates.

So, the plan today is super slow and easy run to parkrun, parkrun done at threshold so low 7 min miles and easy run home.  I've missed a couple of runs this week so want to get this right today, pavements are slippy and I also don't want to slip and knacker up my dodgy hip again.

An easy 4.5 miles there and no mishaps, it's Peter's 300th parkrun so get myself in lots of photos which is a nice start to the day and then slot into the pack near the front with Peter and Ryan to wait for the start. I've only done Rising Sun once before because as you know I'm lazy. Decide to run it at 7:15-7:20 pace which is comfortable and will be a decent workout.

We're off and I'm chasing Ryan and Greg and watching Peter shoot off in the distance, nowt daft Simon, remember this is threshold pace.

First mile done in 6:48, you're such a twat Simon.

Mile two in 6:43, what an arsehole.

Mile three, 6:39, you're a dick.

Finish in a little over 21 mins and actually feel pretty good, a win for Peter and as his coach I shall take 50% of the credit for this.  Ben also once won a parkrun but I refuse to take any credit for this as he punched an old man and pulled his shorts down to confuse a marshall to take the win.

True story.

I'm very cold and just can't face the run home so jump in with Pete and Mrs Pete for a well deserved lift back, cheers Mr & Mrs Pete. Thankfully Bilbo was not in the car because he's a fucking prick. Pete knows this bit just won't admit it.

Want to read all about my London adventure in 2023.

It's mostly about Ben, my sausage dog nemesis and wine.

LONDON CALLING