On the road again

FMR asked me on Sunday how my running was going. I told her I was feeling bad because I hadn’t run in two weeks. I was lying. Until this morning, I hadn’t run in three weeks and two days, according to Sports Tracker (the little snitch!). I didn’t even know it. And I wasn’t feeling that bad about it, to be honest. That much I knew.

I thought running had become a habit, but it’s still so easy to let it slip. I know very few people who *genuinely* prefer to be sweating in the horrible 6am September outsideness — too hot with the jacket, too cold without it — than sleeping for another hour. Or at least reading under the duvet. Watching the news. Maybe even scrubbing the toilet.

But I turn 30 in ten weeks and I have no intention of spending that day in a deplorable state because I’m too unfit and having oh-Jesus-it’s-all-downhill-from-now-on-I-might-as-well-eat-the-whole-cake-by-myself sort of feelings. I got up, did 4k, and felt OK. I might not have a miserable birthday after all, if only I stick to it this time.

Old Deer Park this morning – not a lost Turner

Blistered and proud

I earned my first-ever sports-related blister this weekend. I’m wearing it like a badge of honour. Admittedly I might have kick-started the process by having Havaianas on all day on Saturday, but I prefer to think of it solely as a testimonial of my bravery. I deserve it – I ran 6.5 km yesterday. Nonstop. And the route even included some ups and downs.

I still haven’t signed up for it because I’m a chicken, but I’m actually entertaining the idea of doing a 10k race in October. At the moment, the thought of running for what could be an hour and a quarter makes me want to weep, but if you think about it, I managed 48 minutes yesterday, plus a little cool-down walk, and I survived. Yes, it was at snail’s pace, but I broke some serious personal records there AND I managed to get some crazy full-time housewifery done afterwards. You may applaud now.

Eh?

My next personal development goal is to learn to speak Running.

I was trying to read this allegedly very interesting article on “speedwork” (I’m guessing that means a workout that makes you faster) and was presented with the following pearls of wisdom:

• Run 1200m at one second per lap faster than 5k race pace.
• Start a 10-miler at 1:20 per mile slower than tempo-run pace.
• Step-down fartlek: run 10-5-3-2-1 minutes hard.

Is that a lap in my local park or Hyde Park, which is at least five time as big? What should I consider my 5k pace to be – my average overall speed, my spritely starting pace, or my dragging-myself-under-horrid-heat mid-race performance? I have no idea what a tempo run is, and I just cannot say fartlek with a straight face. What ARE these people on about?

Nature’s own Valium. Kinda

Today I’ve learnt that running does an amazing job of clearing your mind.

I’ve also learnt that the effect only lasts as long as the run.

I wish I was fit enough to run 700 miles.

Sometimes a top is not just a top

One unfortunate outcome of Brazil and England’s early departure from the World Cup is that my running wardrobe has been compromised.

As a woman who hates shopping (and yes, I understand that might sound like a paradox), I am yet to invest in apparel for my new hobby. I keep meaning to buy something cute from Sweaty Betty, but after they tried to charge me £135 for the flimsiest little waterproof jacket, I realised I’m probably too cheap to be a fashionable runner.

So far I’ve been running in my gym kit, except for the tops – while I prefer fitted cotton Ts for spinning, I’m happier running in football shirts. I don’t actually own any – I just raid Coach’s drawer every day. He’s got a nice selection of home and away kits for both of our squads, which I now feel stupid to wear.

I haven’t ceased to be patriotic (or an Anglophile) because of the World Cup, but donning the losers’ jerseys during the competition makes me look like I’ve forgotten to read the papers or something.

There’s a Southampton FC shirt still left in the drawer – not his team; it’s a long story – but I don’t even know what division they’re in. Might be safer sticking to the losers I know.