York - Week 4

Start of the new blog and I'm still in Gran Canaria and really don't want to come back.

The alarm is set for 7am, I wake at 6:45 and leap out of bed and promptly cancel my alarm and go back to sleep as I'm very hungover and my head is thumping.  I don't even feel a twinge of guilt about it.

I put this down to alternating my drinks last night, it was white wine, red wine, white wine, red wine, rosé wine, red wine and repeat and just don't fancy a run today, mara training is taking a beating this week.

Spent the day snoozing, sunbathing and drinking cocktails and coffee.  I convince myself I'll get back into proper training when I get home.

I'm home, massive bunch of arse.

Got back home around 3am, spent a good 10 minutes cuddling Murphy before going to bed and then up at 8am to cuddle him some more.

After a week of all inclusive food and alcohol I am straight back on the mushroom diet to sort the holiday weight gain out.  When I flew out on Tues you may recall I weighed myself at 11:11:7 and that was a good weight for me.  Now, it has been known for me to pile on at least a stone over a week of all inclusive but not this year, I'm a changed man, I'm literally 97% mushroom these days.

Weighed myself and a pleasing 12:3:7 today, out for an easy run and did 10k steady, a good run and nice to be running in normal humidity.

Tomorrow marathon training returns properly.

I'm midway through my 10 hill reps.

My hip and groin both hurt.

I've got 4 hill reps left to do and then an easy mile or so home.

Finish, home, shower, work, mushrooms, Olympics on telly, Friday night bottle of wine, parkrun tomorrow.

Lots of foam rolling and trigger point done whilst watching the opening ceremony.

Wake up at 8, go downstairs and make a honey sandwich for breakfast, get a black coffee and sit outside for ten minutes, it's warm and I'm already sweating just sitting still.  I walk in the house to get my trainers and Gail looks at me and asks if I've already done my run, I've had a cup of coffee and I'm sweating like I've ran 10 miles already, this is a bad sign.

Still haven't decided what to do today.

I'm 99% certain I'm going to do a steady 15-16 miles to make up for last week.  I get ready, grab the salt sticks and a couple of gels and head out.  The plan is to head to Cullercoats, loop the kayak place and then back home and up to Monkseaton and then the usual loop.

It's hot, I'm sweating a lot.

I'm a big lad, I sweat badly.

I push on, I'm pouring with sweat.

I'm regretting entering an Autumn marathon, I don't do summer runs, they wreck me.

I'm 5-6 miles in and I'm struggling.  I'm just guessing on the distance as I don't have distance on my watch, I just run by feel which is obviously stupid but works for me.

I keep going, I got to silverlink and head towards the coast road, usually I like this stretch as it's downhill but I'm finding this hard today.  I have to stop for a few mins and stand in the shade to cool down, the gels have gone, I've had most of the salt sticks, this is the perfect time to have some fluid.

I have no fluid, I took none with me.

I'm a twat.

For the next mile or so my every thought is consumed with thinking about drinking a bottle of coke.

Now it's time to make a decision.  Head into Tynemouth and go to co-op for a drink or go to Sainsbury's on the Broadway?

If I choose Tynemouth I guess that means I'll do 15-16 miles but means no fluid for another 20 mins or so.  Stay on the road I'm on and I can get a drink in 5 mins but distance will be 12-13 miles I would guess.  I really should do Tynemouth for the miles but thirst and my big sweaty body means it's Sainsbury's, I'm fucked, properly fucked and need some coke.

Head into Sainsbury's and pick up a 500ml bottle of water and this is where stupid Simon kicks in and it all goes a bit tits up.  I want coke, I want one of those little cans you used to get on a plane, they don't have them, they have big cans and bottles.

I'm not paying 75p for a can that I won't drink, that's ridiculous.

75p to have a swig of Coke and then bin the rest, I'm not made of money, it makes no financial sense whatsoever.

So instead I pay £2 for a ginger shot. 

£2 for a tiny little bottle of 13.9g of wild Peruvian ginger in 60ml of liquid. 

£2 for 60ml of a drink instead of 75p for 330ml of a drink I really want and this is where things take a real turn for the worse.

Mistake number one - I hate ginger.  It stinks, it tastes rank.  It should be put in a box with cinnamon, cardamon and coriander and should be buried deep underground. 

You can see where this is going. 

Mistake number two - I shake it, I open it and I smell it. 

Why did I smell it?

I hate ginger, why did I buy it and why did I smell it?

I wretch at the smell, a lady in the carpark looks at me with disgust.

Mistake number three - I drink it.

I down it in one but at least have the foresight to open the bottle of water first.  I down it quickly and for 1-2 seconds it's fine and then ....

13.9g of wild Peruvian ginger ginger burns, oh fuck me it burns, I suddenly recall my hatred of ginger.  I start drinking the water, the coldest water that has ever existed.

The freezing water mixes with the 13.9g of wild Peruvian ginger, it doesn't help.  It mixes the ginger around my mouth.  I now realise that buying a can of coke and drinking a mouthful would have been a much better idea than spending £2 on this hideous shit.

Mistake number four - I down the 500ml of water in one big gulp, I still have 2 miles to run to get home.  I'm burping up 13.9g of wild Peruvian ginger, I have a stitch from the freezing water, I can still taste wild ginger, all 13.9g of it.

I start to run, I need to get home now, my stomach starts feeling weird, this is not pleasant.

The water is bouncing about in my belly, I'm still burping 13.9g of wild Peruvian ginger every few seconds and as I head onto the seafront towards Cullercoats, I discover the one thing on earth that's worse than downing a 13.9g wild Peruvian ginger shot.

It's downing a 13.9g wild Peruvian ginger shot that's mixed with your own vomit in your own mouth when you've done one burp too many and the 500ml of freezing cold water comes back with a vengeance.

My mouth is full of my own vomit, I can smell and taste 13.9g of wild Peruvian ginger, there are people everywhere, I have to swallow it, it's vile, it makes me wretch again, I do another vomit of the already vomited 13.9g of wild Peruvian ginger and then I swallow it again.

I'm convinced people are looking at me with absolute disgust, I don't blame them.

I stop and take a second to breathe and then I start running again, I just want to get to co-op and buy some coke and go home.  I pass Parky, we give each other the middle finger greeting, it makes me laugh and is an otherwise happy moment in a shitty run.

I hit 14 miles and call it day.

14 miles is pitiful.  It wasn't long enough, it wasn't fast enough, for the third Sunday in a row I've ran a crappy long run but it's the first time I've been sustained by drinking my own vomit.

I get home and have a shower and me and Gail go out for a walk. 

The walk turns into a 6 hour pub crawl. 

It's brilliant.

Next Sunday is 18 miles.  I need to sort my shit out, I can't run in the heat anymore, I can't drink my own vomit anymore, I hate ginger.

All previous blogs are available to read HERE