Gradually going nowhere

I picked up a message when I got to work this morning that one of the site team was bringing their running kit in if I fancied some company. Unfortunately, I was already there withiout kit. I usually do Rye on Tuesday and Thursday, too, and company would have been lovely. But alas I was doomed to return home and run on my own.

With little enthusiasm I tried to conjure a different route to instill a sense of “easy” mileage into my soul. It showed as I left the house and ended up looping the nearest, smallest estate before creating a messy Garmin trace as I simply tacked little dead ends onto the large circle to up the distance to something near target.

It was a vile run (I love the word “vile”. One of our labourers is a dirty (as in doesn’t understand the principle of soap and water), smelly, obese individual with a penchant for annoying anyone within earshot. Hence why he’s in the last chance saloon of site work instead of maintenance from whence he came. Our forklift driver overheard two of us discussing him and nonchalantly pitched in with an unprovoked comment that “he’s a vile little man, isn’t he?”. A perfect description using a much under-rated word. I was happy.). I found no rhythm, my left lower leg in particular gave out several sharp twangs of pain in the early mile to make me consider turning back and each pace seemed to last for twenty minutes despite the whole outing only taking 43 of them. It never fails to amaze me that 8 miles in Paris seemed to last 5 seconds, simply because it’s a varied and attention grabbing destination. All paces being equal, I wonder how to alter the mind to overcome the difficulty of dull runs? Music, I guess. But since I like up-tempo, some would say predominatly fast tunes and I need to keep leg movement slow to maintain leg structure, it isn’t really an option at the moment.

Ah, well. Keep it up for 5 more days and it will all be over.

Today, incidentally, I passed last year’s total distance. But even that didn’t raise a smile at the time. I must be jaded!

124 runs, 96 exercises and 47 cycles to go.

Running down the days

As various other bloggers have already mentioned, it was with no less than a little joy that I headed down the hill from site delighted that this was the final Wednesday of Janathon.

Next week I’ll be spending the equivalent evening (not) answering pub quiz questions and that knowledge alone is enough for a bit of a shot in the arm.

My legs felt a little fresher today again. A run at 8.03 per mile (yesterday) seems to have restorative powers, even if it does upset me to go so slowly. It’s a minute outside my normal running pace and I worry I’m going to get to like it and not speed up when the challenge is over.

But since I have no races currently planned (indeed, there’s nothing to prohibit my retirement from competitive activity. No-one will miss my non-appearances, I’m sure, except the odd St. John ambulance station when I prove myself fragile again), it hardly matters.

The only odd turn of events is how my mileage has increased week-on-week over Jnauary. I have been convinced at every turn that something’s about to break and that is what has probably resulted in me shortening my stride massively and slowing down a lot. But it also looks likely to get me to 150 miles, around 5 per day average. Considering 4 per day last January gave me 2 months off running with an injury and there’s little sign of one of those at the moment, it’s amazing. I might try for 6 per day average next year…if there is a next year.

But that’s the demon of Janathon. Since FairWeatherRunner mentioned 150 miles and I took up the baton, my mind has rolled the idea of 5 per day (155 total)  around. Then I saw someone was targetting 160. Then I saw a mate has done 4.44 miles averaging 6.47 per mile. Then I thought about how long until I do 1.30 for the half marathon and if I assault one fresh off Janathon. So many ideas, I’m simply going to run for the next 6 days (hopefully) and see where I get.

150 is the target and it won’t change. I haven’t got a proper long run in me and I need a cut-back sometime soon, I fear. While I can do a longer plod I will in case of a cold or something scuppering my plan. But the idea of only having to do a magic mile on the last day…oh, please. But then Rachel will push on to 155 or something silly and I’ll wonder if maybe I should try harder…

Oh, stop it! For a completely uncompetitive bloke, I need to get a grip and remember that I’m useless. And that I must sort out my mortgage. So must go!

125 runs, 96 exercises and 47 cycles to go.

Ticking on empty

The main worry at work today was staying focused enough to get the jobs done while arranging to get someone to look at my broken boiler.

The boiler repair arrangements went very simply; the only issue was leaving at 3.30 or so to get home to allow time to have a look at it. The main thing with that was that I had to set out a building after lunch in order to give the architect the dimensions of the garden it fits into so he has information to extend the floor plan to accommodate a disabled family. The hiccup there was that I forgot the calculator, so tried to use the company mobile as a calculator to work out a hypotenuse to double check the co-ordinates with a good old fashioned tape measure. But the phone’s so shite it has no square root function (the old Nokia used to). So I radioed the office where our trainee was doing paperwork to ask him to plug the numbers in to the calculator up there. Having done the square calculations, all I wanted was the square root of the two numbers I gave him. His answer was unbelievable. He went to the Harvey Grammar School. A selective school in Folkestone, named in honour of the geyser who determined how blood flows around the body. A school that clearly hasn’t bothered to teach him what a fucking square root button on a calculator looks like. No word of a lie, the words that came back to me upon my request were “what’s a square root and what does it look like on a calculator?”. My response to that included far too many swear words for even my blog as well as an invitation to contact his teachers so I may throttle them followed by the decision that his calculation wasn’t to be trusted so I’d return to the office and get the calculator myself.

Which is where I came to the hiccup. Trying to run up the site (albeit in rigger boots) made my entire lower leg area hurt so much I simply couldn’t manage it. I had to walk. Which was lucky for the trainee since I calmed down and failed to sack him for being a cretin (but at least he admitted his lack of basic mathematical understanding, so at least he admits his shortcomings, I guess.). But was worrying for my run.

So it came to pass that I returned home, found out the boiler was bodgeable but might last “between a minute and a month” giving the wallet a brief reprieve at least, then headed out for a worried about plod.

A reverse route to yesterday was started (I had intended to run around Rye. That’ll be tomorrow now) and went ok, if painfully. My pace was low with the aim of preserving my legs and I manged to shuffle around but as I got near home, I considered that I won’t have a long run in me at the weekend (FairWeatherRunner take note…you’ll beat me at the line, I think, if you do another big half marathon training run as I feel you must have planned…maybe a 14 miler?!) so added a little loop to finish the distance to 5.4 miles. And each of them was sore.

Then I realised I hadn’t bought milk, so popped out on the BMX to buy some. And felt my legs get better with every pedal stroke. And manual. And x-up over drain covers.

God, I love cycling. But it was late enough that I didn’t have time to play properly.

Hope my legs feel like mine again tomorrow. It is the last Wednesday of Janathon, after all, and I’d like a hill to be enjoyable.

126 runs, 96 exercises and 47 cycles to go.

 

Bah!

After the longest running weekend for two years (21.5 miles since Friday), my  legs were a touch sore today. Only below the knees, but sore enough to be annoying.

Knowing I fancied 5 miles this evening to keep on top of my new 150 mile target (mainly to avoid having to do longer runs this coming weekend in case I’m still tired), this wasn’t good.

Getting home and finding cool radiators with all the signs that they should be warm wasn’t good. Checking the obvious bits for failure (thermostat, air, time clock) and finding none wasn’t good. Checking the hot water circuit and finding the same wasn’t good. Surmising that the boiler has failed and then going for a run wasn’t the best way to head out, to be honest.

But the boiler situation messed my brain and my first mile was tragically fast, concentrating on all things other than pace. So the others were correspondingly painful, especially on the outsides of each of my shins.

Most of the run was spent wondering how badly my legs would feel at the end of the run. I intended doing a short loop of the odd housing estate first (odd in that it doesn’t belong to any of the others around here), then simply barging up the bypass and coming home via the same loop as I went out.

But I sacked off the final loop (which is about .75 miles) and headed home for more boiler investigations.

4.6 miles isn’t too appalling, considering.

Looking at a new boiler to have a comfortable life is. At least it’s not a combi-boiler, so as long as the immersion heater still works…

127 runs, 96 exercises, 47 cycles to go.

A new target

A comment to Fairweatherrunner yesterday regarding us shadowing each other on mileage during this daft undertaking that is Janathon brought a response including the mention of 150 miles. I had been looking towards my previous 126 miles from last year which saw me injured for over two months as a target, to be honest. Lots of forewarnings of injury have been niggling away, but since none of them have come to anything much and as I’ve had the opposite luck to last year with no colds or illness, it got me thinking about the possibility.

It got me thinking about it so much that as I was painting the dining room this morning I was idly considering how many miles I could “not do” this week and still allow myself to achieve the target. I don’t know if I’ve another decent long run in me for next weekend, I hope I’ve two 5 mile evenings of energy for the week, so using last week as a gauge I reckon I’ll be three miles down on a 5 per evening average. And I’ve managed at least 12 miles each weekend, so maybe it is achievable.

That’s one of the best things about the Janathon/Juneathon event. Ideas get aired, inspiration gained and goalposts moved. If I go for 150, it’ll be twice my initial target. If I achieve it injury free, happiness will be mine. Since I’ve also been doing my hills and the occasional quick mile, maybe I won’t struggle too much to find a decent pace again.

But maybe I’m getting ahead of myself. One outing at a time. After all, my legs are hardly what you’d call fresh.

After an outing in the local pub last night saw a huge cross-section of the population represented (including two bikers who may have re-ignited the Isle of Man spark. Just maybe. 1994 and my last visit is a long time ago, after all) I set off wondering just how odd everyone else sees me. After all, an ageing man in need of a haircut wearing tights and chasing shadows in a running challenge isn’t the stereotypical building site manager, I wouldn’t imagine, but somehow it seems normal. One thing I do bring home from work, though, is a knowledge that with the best will in the world, all programmes and schedules are optimistic. So as I headed out I knew if I didn’t put in a fair run, 150 miles would be over before it had started.

So instead of heading to Gill lane and my favourite road I detoured around a mile loop to trick my legs into not realising how far they’d gone, instead of trying to convince them to do it at the end.

That done, I took the more twisty road towards the owl sanctuary, plodded over Gill Lane itself then decided the straight boring bit I avoided on the way out could also be avoided on the way back with a small jink which would also see me “tacking” into the wind instead of facing it head on. Easily tricked, my legs.

So it came to pass that a pedalcycle was a pace target and mile 6 was outed in seven and a half minutes with the smooth feeling running through my legs that keeping a decent tempo seems to provide. It seems to be fear that is slowing me down. Oh, and sore shins.

A decent feeling run ended totalling 7.48 miles which gives me scope for some shorter outings in the week. 9 runs to go and it feels as though my limbs will make it. Everything’s crossed, but if I don’t do anything silly then hopefully it’ll all be good.

The only pain is that I’m so tired I’m going to have to do some catching up on my weights sessions when running gets back to normal to have any chance of feeling good in a t-shirt as the summer nears. But then if Janathon goes well, maybe it’ll be the spur I need for an excellent year.

It’s started out well.

128 runs, 96 exercises and 47 cycles to go (a short trip to the farm shop on the bike doesn’t count as one of my rides, even if the mileage is added to RunningFree. My rules, I’ll stick to them!)

Highway Kind

Today’s run brought about a memory of a blog post from the mighty HK last year sometime, I think, in which he was looking at run distances and the proportion of runs over a certain length. It came on the back of (if memory serves) an outing where he covered a fraction under one of the benchmarks (memory fades, but I think they were 10k, 10 mile and beyond runs that were considered and he’d done another under instead of over 10 miles).

On Thursday I had an idea for a weekend outing that would make a change from my country lanes and take me beyond my usual town routes. I didn’t map the mileage but knew it to be beyond the run last week by a comfortable margin. I guessed around 10 miles.

I also had in mind that Rachel has been doing exactly the same mileage as me during Janathon (the marvel of the RunningFreeOnline totals and training analysis pages…none of this fun would have been possible so easily as little as 5 years ago, I fear!), so a long run would be the only way to keep her in sight as her distance inevitably doubles at the weekend and the way to improve my running is to find inspiration from fellow Janathoners.

But last night saw a 4 mile run covered very late for me, so I had no idea how I’d feel today.

The answer came by surprise as the work phone got me running down the stairs straight from bed and, as I answered it, I realised that both legs felt ok. A quick system check revealed that both feet were still attached and ready to move, too. Maybe a shock in the morning is the way to go about weekends after all.

So, after killing my trusty orbital sander preparing the dining room this morning (a final electrical “pop” and the sweet smell of burnt electrics confirming that I’d not get away with repairing it again) and having to buy a new one (cheapest I could find – I’ll buy a proper one for when I start making my windows and need a decent finish, but for wall abuse and the wrong type of dust, cheapest is sometimes best) and having lunch and going shopping, I got out of the door in running kit.

Shorts and everything. 13 degrees on the car thermometer is April temperature, confirmed by the daffodils in the front garden (photos will follow if they’re stupid enough to trust producing flowers as they have done stems!), so it would have been rude not to.

And a steady pace (very steady, almost metronomic) was dialled in towards town. A stiff breeze meant no dental flavours or the like, just the encouragement that pushing into them now would make the return journey more pleasant (ie. easier!). I took a few detours from my planned run but stayed true to the overall course. A section of footpath has been removed and a big rut mixed with sloppy footwork (I was watching a Focus RS being ragged along the busy bit of road, to be honest) caused a big turned ankle, but panic subsided as I ran cleanly and realised that I’d got away with no more than a twinge to add to my niggles.

A bit of a detour lead me to the Eureka business park on the opposite side of town and the chance to touch the opposite boundary to where I live on the Faversham road so, having got that far, I carried on to it.

I guessed that was half way. And the return saw my legs singing to me, as they do. Most strides revealed a different chord. Either a blister (well…bits of hard skin gradually sloughing off, really) telling me it was getting hot and rubbing or a knee saying it was tired or a shin moaning that it was swolen and rubbing on something or other. But nothing major or worrying.

The paces ticked by and before long I was back at the railway station. A Garmin check as I waited for traffic let me know all I feared. I was going to get home a fraction under 10 miles if I took no detours. How far under 10 was concerning. It looked like a few yards.

So I started to focus on crossing the road to use the outside radius of corners. I crossed the main road 3 times during gaps in traffic, wondering if the 8 or so metres each time would be sufficient. I used the pedestrian lights by Tesco to add a jink and roundabout to the disatnce.

But as I got within yards of the house I wondered if HK was wrong. How nice if (like when I stopped at 699 miles in Juneathon) I didn’t conform. If it would be somehow better to stop short.

But no. As I got to the front gate with 9.96 miles showing, I ran past. I briefly considered running on until 1hour 20 minutes had elapsed, but gave up on that idea as soon as 10 miles was over and I turned for home and stopped.

Only to be greeted by JogBlog as soon as I got in (like before I’d even taken my shoes off) asking if I fancied a walk with her. Apparently saying fuck off isn’t the most romantic thing to do in such a situation. But I think I rescued it by offering to accompany her after a shower.

And so we did. A 1.5 mile walk through a dark path and unlit lane seems to have eased any aches in my legs that were growing.

Wonder what mileage Rachel will taunt me with tomorrow?!

129 runs, 96 exercises and 47 cycles to go.

Bruce Lee

All plans were off today.

My avoidance of proper injury seemed to have come to an end as I got up and as well as the usual cracking and stuff from every joint below the waist, I had acquired a spiteful pain in my left foot. Not a pain of the metatarsal bursitis variety that I gave myself last Janathon but a wincing one nonetheless. From the sole just forward of my heel, upwards through the instep towards the ankle.

Wondering if it was just another thing to add to my list of hiccups I began to worry as all my walking at work was accompanied by a little limp (a limpette?) which when I noticed it and moved to correct it and stride through normally, with a roll of the foot and some articulation of the ankle, produced the same wince of pain.

And this continued all day.

So I began to wonder if I’d head out tonight and either a) ruin it completely with a big run, ending Janathon on a high, b) treat it normally and hope it would go away or c) treat it gently and hope it would repair for a decent weekend.

All pondering eased as my phone went just as I was leavng site to report someone with total boiler failure and, while not my department, since I was there would I investigate? So I did. And 45 minutes later the resident had a working boiler, hot water and heating. And a site manager with a window for happy running gone up the swanny.

And so it was that I returned home and did dinner (I hesitate to say I cooked it, merely needing to warm some things through and boil some rice), made the fire, washed up and decided I’d dig around in my foot for any hard skin etc that might be making me carry myself awkwardly. And I found some odd bits which, with a combination of nail clippers, stanley knife and glasspaper, weren’t attached to my foot for long.

So with minimal time for marvellous Indian cuisine to settle down I headed out.

Feeling flat I simply did an extended loop of Park Farm in a workmanlike fashion, easing through the strides and not feeling anything amiss with my foot at all. Really quite exciting and making me curious about what the cause is, was or might be.

Being later than usual I saw 3 police cars on different patrols, two dog walkers and that was about it. A shortlived idea about tacking a mile on the end of the run was just that – shortlived. I wasn’t in the mood for excitement or a bigger challenge than actually getting out and seeing if I have got a run in me tomorrow, so I rolled home to clock in another 4 miles.

I seem to have somehow increased mileage for the week so far from last week, so maybe this year will be more successful than last. I can’t bear the thought of a messed-up February and March like then, though, so if something is wrong with my foot I am going to stop, simple as that. Fingers crossed I wake up fresh and I can enjoy another few miles in daylight.

130 runs, 96 exercises and 47 cycles to go.

Proper winter weather

From early this morning something told me to be prepared. I almost was.

Something told me to take my raincoat, just in case. I think it was actually from reading Local Adventures (who coined the phrase “slutting it down” in relation to the amount of precipitation required before a jacket becomes useful, a most excellent use of words!) and since it takes little space, I bunged it in my bag.

The wind when I got to site was strong. Within an hour it was stronger. By 10 o’clock it had eased and left a low, damp cloud offering mist and moisture. By 11 o’clock it was raining – the wet stuff that isn’t too hard but soaks everything. This disappeared long enough to finish the block paving in front of 4 units, but an early lunch was called as a filthy black cloud loomed and it began hurtling down huge spots of water.

The afternoon saw dryness return and with it a dip in temperature. 11 degrees became 9 degrees by 4.30. At 5 as I walked to the car to get my kit, more black clouds were beating the last of the daylight out of the sky and I decided the raincoat may be the way to go.

At 5.20 as I left the office, my Garmin refused to lock in to a satellite. It’s only happened once before but a full 7 minutes were required before I got a signal. I was on the verge of going, using it as an expensive stopwatch, and logging the run manually but thankfully things sprang to life just as more large spots of rain started falling.

In the first mile (legs sore but ok after yesterday and the slower pace) it hammered down. The second mile was worse, helped by being on the main road bit and the rain being joined by puddles and spray. I need a new rain coat. Already my arms were soaked and my nipples sore from a combination of badly positioned seam and cold weather.

But the rain eased as I got to the bottom of the hill to Playden and a slow pace (deliberately kept things slow to get a proper gauge of how quick quick is) was adopted. Slow is 3 minutes 19 seconds, for the record. Quick at the moment (after 1.3 mile warm up at 7.30/mile) is 2.55. Summer targets begin here.

I continued all the way to the top, crossing the road and continuing until the lights ran out.

Returning home was a continued damp affair. Wet upper body all over from sweat by now, my hair annoying by swishing on the jacket collar. My legs felt the most comfortable bit.

The last hill to site was enjoyable as a spot to push for home and warm up a bit. Having arrived I was so chilled (despite the thermometer saying 7 degrees still) I climbed into my old ski jacket (kept in the car for emergencies and times like this) and drove home with the heater on as near full as my ears could handle.

A proper chilly feeling evening (despite the temperature being amazing for the time of year. If it wasn’t dark, it might be March.) sees me wanting to sit in front of the fire.

Which is what I shall now do.

131 runs, 96 exercises and 47 cycles to go.

Slower but happier

A surprise happened at work today. The manager who has decided he’ll get running fit (he does all sorts of martial arts and is a bit of a whippet/racing snake build already) has opted to train with his carpenter friend (they do all sorts of challenges together, so have form – last year they rowed the English Channel) but his friend has hurt his leg already (Monday was their first run!) so when he was bemoaning the hiccup he asked if I had my kit with me. I didn’t, but suggested he could come home with me (it’s en-route, after all) and we could plod around here to keep him fresh.

A little worried about the speed I go, I assured him it’d be at his pace and whatever distance he fancied. When asked I suggested I’d like 4 miles and he went for it.

So for the first time in ages I had a running mate and we set off, slowed a bit, picked things up again and settled into a steady 4 miles of sociable banter. Well, I did. He puffed a little more than I thought he would, but it was very good all round. Warmer, not yet raining, accompanied and easy. Very nice. If I ran with someone more often maybe I wouldn’t push so hard and end up blowing my legs to pieces all the time. I recall a slow club run last Janathon (the only time I’ve tried a club. Didn’t like it enough to carry on, clearly!) didn’t do me any harm. Why don’t I learn?! Because I like speed too much for the millions of runs I do alone, even though I’m not that fast in reality.

Ah, well. One day I’ll find sense and happiness.

Until then, 142 runs, 96 exercises and 47 cycles to go. Keep putting off the exercises, I’ll have a purge when I’m not in danger of falling asleep and I actually get something out of it!

Are we nearly there yet?

I had been trying to escape the thought of how many runs were done and how many were to go, instead thinking about how many miles I might do if I average this many per day; how few miles per day I can throw in and be happy that I’ve put an overall effort in that I’m happy with. Yesterday saw too many blogs mention that we’re over the halfway point to be ignored.

And, as if in sympathy, my legs willed me to rest today. They told me they had no interest in propelling me around Rye for a lap of the town followed by a hill at each end. They assured me that it would all be ok if I slacked off and stayed in. They even allowed the air temperature to rise enough that my clothing choice was completely wrong, so what’s the point in sweating to death. But to not wear my outer layer would have resulted in freezing.

But I defied all cries to stop. I convinced myself that 15 runs is still an awful lot to do, so don’t ruin a respectable average now. I also promised myself that if all went wrong I’d stop, as long as I did 4 miles tonight which would put my month tally for running to 75. Which was my original mileage intention as a total to enable me to maintain my training goals (strength and speed, basically, until the warm weather comes) which makes the fact I’ve done it with two weeks to go simply stupid.

Because 4.5 miles was run. A bonus loop of the centre of town linked my out and return legs and the hill was slogged up with little enthusiasm but at least a rise in pace (even if 10 seconds slower than last week) to quicken the breathing. Sore legs really have put a dull thud into my stride, but I think it’s manageable for now, so hopefully I can grind out another day at least.

I intend heading into the other room to exercise in a bit, but if I fall asleep before I get there it’ll have to wait another day.

One of the blokes at work has asked me to join him in the Canterbury 10 mile on 29th January. Chances are fat, with my legs as they are, but maybe it’s a goal worth thinking about to round off the month. But it’s not cheap to throw away if I do get an injury, so maybe not. I’ll have a little think.

133 runs, 96 exercises and 47 cycles to go.