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York - Week 9

Yorkshire, home of the puddings...
Week Nine

This week in numbers ...

Miles ran : 54.76
Wine drunk : 1 bottle and a large glass in the pub
Beers drunk : 4 pints on Thursdy night, or maybe 5
Dancing done : Some pogoing to Fontaines
Old man injuries from dancing : hips, knees, back
Things I ran into : railings and a bus stop
Weight : Monday 11st9lbs - 74g
Sunday 11st5lbs - 72kg

Monday 26th August

The ongoing bathroom saga continues today, I'm still painting, plastering and cleaning.

It's also bank holiday so gym closes early and I don't get a chance to get along there so have a proper rest day with no exercise today.

The builders are still next door and they are still swearing down, they swear down a lot.

Tuesday 27th August

Tuesday is the return of the club Grand Prix.

I think this is now my 17th year of doing the GP, I have a love hate relationship with it but come back every year to have a other go, there's something about a bunch of runners huddled in a bus stop hiding from the wind and sleet on a cold Tuesday evening in January that I just love.

Anyway, a 10k race doesn't really fit into my marathon plan so I'm having to move things about a bit to make this week work. The plan today is threshold, so a 5 mile easy run to Blyth, run the 10k at threshold pace and then 5 miles back home afterwards. This gives me a decent 16 miles for the day.

The run up is nice and easy, the winds picking up but I feel good. Arrive early, get my number, have a chat with some people and then it's time to race.

Line up midpack and we're off, stick to the plan Simon, nowt daft. Threshold is 7:15-7:25 mile pace, mile 1 is 7:10 and a little too fast, ease it back a bit and mile 2 is 7:30 and it's too slow, pick it up a bit for mile 3 and it's a 7:17, perfect.

We turn at half way and head back and I pick up the pace a little but keep close to threshold and feel good, cross the line in 44:59. Easy run back to Seaton Sluice with Graham and then he gives me a lift home because to be honest I can't be arsed to run home as it's cold and the wind has picked up again.

Wednesday 28th August

It's easy run day, a nice 6 miles along to Tynemouth and back home.

I picked up a pair of Adidas prime strung x2 trainers a few months back that I intend to use for the marathon , decide to test them out today to break them in.

They're not for me and I just can't get on with them.

Then 2 miles in it all changes and I'm feeling bouncy and light and I love them, best trainers ever.

Then a mile later I hate them again.

This means I need new trainers.

I fucking love buying new trainers.

This also means I have a pair of Adidas Prime Strung X2 in size 9.5 for sale for anyone that wants them, less than 10 miles on them.

Thursday 29th August

Usually it's threshold day but I did GP at threshold so I need to do a bit of speed work but can't go to the club as I'm out tonight.

Decide upon figure of 8 loops, haven't done this one for ages and have fond memories of it for some reason.

Yeah well it's bloody awful, I seem to have forgotten just how bloody awful it actually is. 24 mins of hills and efforts off the top and I'm wrecked, sweating like a fat lad and needing a sit down.

I have a sit down and an old fella out for a walk asks me if I'm okay, I must look like shit.

Thursday night and I'm out.

It's Fontaines DC at the Boiler Shop with my youngest Poppy. I'm really looking forward to this, I've hardly eaten so I'm starved enough to allow me a few pints tonight, we arrive early and head to the pub to keep an eye on the queue, have a drink and join Graham and Rosa in the queue with some expert level pushing in.

The gig is immense, starts fairly civilised then descends into chaos.

One minute I'm talking to Graham and then he's gone, pogoing off into the pit backwards mid conversation and we swiftly follow him, I'm keeping half a hold of Poppy so I don't lose her whilst leaping around and forgetting I'm nearly 50 with a bunch of young'uns.

A few songs later of leaping around and pushing people and I'm a big sweaty, smelly mess having the time of my life, we leave the moshpit relatively unscathed. I've had a few cans of Red Stripe poured all over me, I've been pushed, kicked and stood on and my old man knees, back and hips hurt but it's fucking great. Poppy has a big smile on her face and tells me she genuinely thought she might die in the midst of the moshpit, now that's the kind of education a 15 year old girl needs. Off to the pub with the Eberhardt's, Graham & Rosa and Young Mark & Izzy to finish off the night and then home.

Every single part of my body is going to hurt tomorrow.

Friday 30th August

Every single part of my body hurts.

Getting out of bed hurts.

Walking down the stairs hurts.

Sitting down hurts.

Standing up hurts.

An easy run to loosen off and then a bottle of red wine will sort this.

Saturday 31st August

As always Sat is parkrun day, I've got 22 miles to do tomorrow I'm doing nothing silly today and sitting at 8 min miles.

Stick some music on and tick off the miles, catch Graham and The Paul's and run in having a chat with them for the last few miles.

Saturday night was going to be booze free but I have a large glass of red left in the bottle, so pour it out and polish off a couple of bowls of pasta and drink it.

Tomorrow is the big'un.

Sunday 1st September

Today will be my longest run. I've done a couple of 20 milers but I want to go past that and do at least 22, this is mainly because I screwed up in London at the 21-22 mile point, I lost my head and stopped and I want to go past it in training to prove a point.

Up early, porridge and coffee for breakfast, then get ready, this takes a while...

Tape up the nipples, load the gel pockets with gels, pack of salt sticks in one pocket, handful of haribo in the other, tape up the cuts on my hands from DIY that I keep ripping open, sunglasses on, cap on, get the music ready, headphones on, final drink of coffee and a cuddle from the dog and I'm off.

The plan today is the same route I did for my last 20 miler but go a bit further into Jesmond. Then I change my mind early on and decide I'll add some loops in early so on the way home it's just a case of getting home. I head into Tynemouth and see Huw and my York Mara compatriots Jess and Christine and then up to the Coast Road and settle into it.

I now have a weird love of the coast road, as soon as I get there my pace lifts and I'm bouncing along feeling good. Before I know it I'm 8 miles in and time for a gel, I'm reaching for a gel and singing like a prayer by Madonna, it's a tune, a guilty pleasure but I love this song. Anyway, I'm singing, I'm fumbling for a gel, I'm not concentrating and I clip the railing on my left hand side, I stumble a bit and just about compose myself and then lift my head to see a bus stop rapidly advancing towards me and is now 2 inches in front of me, now the thing with bus stops is they're pretty big and quite unforgiving.

I put my arm up quick and do a slight side step but I'm not particularly agile and smack my right shoulder into it, the gel in my hand partially explodes and covers my hand and arm in sticky raspberry gel, I try and look cool and keep going.

That bloody hurt. You're such a twat Simon, you really are.

Anyway, Madonna finishes and then Fontaines come on and I feel happy again and carry on. My hand and arm are sticky but thankfully because I'm such a big sweaty fella I can use my disgusting sweaty top as a kind of repulsive wet wipe to clean myself off.

It works a treat, a sweaty treat.

Into Jesmond and keep going, past the cemetery and then cross over, down past the old bus depot and take a left turn to start heading back, watch beeps for 12 miles and another gel.

Back onto the coast road and again I start lifting the pace, before I know it I'm at 16 miles and I run past the bus stop and call it a twat.

This run is feeling weirdly enjoyable, it's windy and cool but I feel good. Mr Motivator by Idles comes on the playlist, now if you don't know this song you need to listen to it, particularly if you're doing a marathon. I play it twice in a row as I'm enjoying singing it...

Like Connor McGregor with a samurai sword on rollerblades...

Like Flava Flav in the club riding on the back of John Wayne...

And of course the final verse which you have to shout out loud, particularly if you're running down the coast road and there's loads of traffic noise and nobody to hear you.

It's all about the confidence,

You're Joe Cal-fucking-zaghe,

You're Joe Cal-fucking-zaghe.

Anyway, it's all about the confidence has become my marathon mantra. That and you're Joe Cal-fucking-zaghe and also let's seize the day, all hold hands, chase the pricks away, you can do it,

you can do it.

I think about getting "it's all about the confidence" tattooed on me somewhere, it seems a great idea. I might do it after York.

Onto the coast and 22 miles flashes up on my watch, I'm in Cullercoats and decide to push on, I pass Natasha and we exchange our usual middle finger pleasantries and tell each other to get fucked, then I see Boxshall and Craig and we wave as I like those fellas. Sadly I miss Parky and I later hear he was flashing his tits at people which is something I'd love to have seen.

23 miles beeps on the garmin, keep going to get to co-op.

23.15 miles at 8:36 mile pace.

Job done.

It's all about the confidence.

And I am Joe Cal-fucking-zaghe.