2024 is here and in the UK the weather has been abysmal. It wouldn’t have surprised me if I’d seen someone building a boat and loading pairs of animals into it at any point over the festive period and anyone who owns a dog have been questioning their life choices.
It’s hard enough to motivate yourself to run or exercise at the best of times but when the weather is bad….and there’s enough chocolate and cheese in your house to sink a battleship? Forget it.
Needless to say other than some long and muddy dog walks, I have not done much over the Christmas period.
Following my last blog and promise, I did run 3 times before the big Ho Ho Ho which was great, but then did nothing for the rest of the year.
Well, this isn’t strictly true. My sisters and families (there were 18 of us) all went to play laser tag on the 27th December and this was MUCH more exhausting than any of us could have predicted. I recommend this heartily if you have teenagers. I still have the remnants of a blister from my “ trigger finger”. It was fun and we were running and shouting and laughing. A kind of “Ab Fab” meets “Die Hard” if you will.
But other than this, ZILCH.
On New Year’s Day, my Instagram feed was a disappointing and depressing stream of “lose weight”, “get fit”, “be a better person” and honestly, it’s so depressing.
Why can’t they be more honest. So you’re not a bad person, and you are perfect the way you are, but if you fancy trying to be a bit healthier, maybe you could try this?…..this would be a much more positive way to proceed and wouldn’t make me (the reader) so angry.
So it’s important that I tell you that my plans for 2024 were already confirmed by the end of 2023 and none of this “New Year, New Me” bullshit is involved. I like to think I’m quite a cool person anyway (I can almost feel my daughters rolling their eyes at this?!) Yes I sometimes drink too much, spend too much money on shoes and handbags, and did lose my phone just before Christmas in an Uber due to too much champagne and sequinned fuelled bravado, but on the whole, I’m ok. I don’t need a complete overhaul, and probably just need a few tweaks – and I suspect most people are the same.
I’ve gained a bit of weight and this is largely due to eating too much and not moving enough for the last 6 months of 2023. There’s no way to dress this up. So if I want to lose this weight (and I’m not desperate but it would be nice not to hear my bum applauding me as a I run along) then I need to eat a bit less and move more.
For inspiration, I have re-read this blog from the beginning and so although I’d signed up for the Bath Half last year, I have now decided that I am definitely doing it. I came to this decision whilst eating some Cadbury’s Heroes over Christmas. 2024 is going to be a year of running for me. Getting back to basics and generally getting moving. But I’m not putting myself under any time pressures – races will be about getting round in one piece and not dying. Smiling is going to be critical for 2024 and I’m really going to try to keep things in perspective, especially as I feel a bit like a beginner again anyway.
I have written a plan and so far I’ve ticked all the sessions off. I’m going to Park Run on Saturday with Madame Maison and I’m excited. (Do need to dig out my barcode though – I only did 1 park run last year I think).
I need a new sports bra and some new running trainers (haven’t bought a new sports bra in over 2 years – this isn’t as awful as it sounds as I have lots of them and do rotate them, but I’m buying a new one and chucking the rest). Luckily it’s my birthday (I’ll be 49) later this month so that’s fortuitous.
I am also doing the 30 days of yoga on Youtube with Adrienne. So many people tell me about the benefits of yoga but I have always struggled. This is in part due to the fact that I am SO tight in my hips that most of the moves are borderline painful and so when I do finally pluck up the courage to go to a class, I hate it so much that I don’t return. BUT, mindful that a return to regular running, plus being a bit heavier can cause injuries, I am committed and will do the whole 30 days of yoga.
I need to be smart about this in order to keep myself moving, but it’s fair to say that I am not a naturally gifted yogi.
The last time I wrote a blog, it was before the Great North Run in September 2021 and I never wrote a race report. Where have I been? Why didn’t I write the race report?
These are very good questions.
Like many, many (if not all) people, I sort of ran out of steam last year. In fact, from a pandemic point of view, I found last year harder than 2020. Things were normal enough that we could do things, but it never felt easy and it never felt without risk. I was COMPLETELY exhausted by it all. I finished the Great North Run and as I travelled up and ran it alone, I felt very proud of myself and so on many levels it was a triumph. But it was also the slowest half marathon I’d ever run and so it left me feeling very flat. I needed some time away. I needed to re-group and I needed a new plan.
Incidentally, if you would like to see what happened at the Great North Run, I live vlogged it via my Instagram page @ladyclaireabell and it’s all saved in my highlights (the circles under my name when you look at my page. To be honest, it’s me rambling along before, during and after the race, but it does cover what my blog was supposed to, but didn’t.)
2019 was supposed to be my big race year. I did complete the 113 Middle Distance Triathlon, (albeit with a knackered ankle) which was supposed to be the trial run for the big event: Weymouth Half Ironman. But as you know, the Dark Summer meant that I never raced it. The aftermath of the Dark Summer took us into Covid and now here we are.
I’d become complacent. I still ran, I still lifted a few weights, but it was a bit half hearted with no real races to train for coupled with the never-ending anxiety about Covid and when would it ever end? I’d slowly gained a stone in weight (which other than my jeans feeling a little big snug around the middle), I don’t think you can really see, but it annoyed me. An extra stone when you’re cycling up hills isn’t helpful. Of course, it’s easy to try and ignore too when due to the pandemic, I largely exist now in clothes with an elasticated middle….
I was run/walking. Now again, run/walking is excellent. It’s a great way to run. It’s been very successful for me. My fastest 5k and 10k times ever are both thanks to a run/walk and you are less likely to get injured. These are all magnificent reasons to run/walk, but I want to be able to race. And fast. Not all the time, but at least once. To be fit and in good shape and to race. I’ve only ever managed a sub 3 hour half marathon once, and I was paced. I want to do it again. To race and know that I was fit and gave it my best and my all.
Goals. I needed goals. I needed a plan and big race to motivate me.
So basically, 2022 is a re-run of 2019 (the race bits anyway).
I’ve signed up for the 113 again (lake swim 1.9k, Flattish bike 90k, flat run 21.2k) and this is early June. But this is the trial race, the test, the entrée. The main course is…again…Weymouth which is the same distances but the swim is in the sea, the bike is very hilly and the run is flat and along the seafront. Weymouth is in September.
I want to do it properly. I will almost certainly be one of the slowest over the finish line, but Weymouth has timing cutoffs and if you are too slow, they don’t let you start the bike, stop you half way round the bike course, don’t let you start the run. If you don’t finish in 8 hours 30 minutes, you don’t get a medal. The stakes are high (just how I like them) so I needed a proper plan. I needed a coach.
So I have a coach. We’ll call him “M”. If this makes me Bond, then I’m definitely more of a Daniel Craig (knackered knees, drinks slightly too much) than a smooth and efficient Sean Connery, but I’m Bond nonetheless.
M is in charge. He writes the plan, monitors my progress. Is tough when he needs to be and also knows when I’m knackered and need a little rest.
We started base training in October and spent the weeks before Christmas learning to run without walking again. Obviously there was some cycling and swimming each week, as well as my continued PT sessions with Fitbit Sister and Sara, but the main focus was running.
By Christmas I was back running 30 minutes without walking, relatively comfortably. I doubt it will ever be effortless as I’m not that kind of runner, but I shocked myself how quickly it came back.
Since Christmas, it’s fair to say that the training has ramped up quite a bit and I’m currently 7 weeks away from competing in Cardiff Half Marathon. We started the plan initially with a “3 weeks on and 1 week off” ie recovery week, but it didn’t take long to realise that it was too much. I started falling asleep in my dinner, needing lunchtime naps and usually by the beginning of the third week the wheels were coming off, so we changed it to 2 weeks on and 1 week recovery. This is MUCH better. I’m still tired, but knowing that a rest week isn’t too far away really helps psychologically. I’m also a Mum to two teenage daughters, a wife and I run my own business. There isn’t a lot of free time and I’m fitting the training in before work, lunchtimes and after work.
A typical week (and I’ll talk more about this in future blogs) consists of:
3 runs (1 of which is intervals and 1 being a long run)
2 bikes (interval and a long ride)
2 swims (drills and a swim)
2 strength sessions (1 of which is PT)
And I have 1 rest day a week.
It is challenging and I’m struggling to work out what to eat and when as I’m ALWAYS hungry – it’s a work in progress and some days I get it right and some days I wake up at 3am because I’m starving. But I’m getting better at it.
So this is where I am and as you look at the training plan you’ll understand why I haven’t written too many blogs of late! I am very time poor but I will try and write more regularly now. Especially as we approach the first big race of the year.
BRING IT ON INDEED
Edit: the week after I wrote this blog, I caught covid. Prepare for everything to change……..
Nerves were very much a factor in the 24 hours before the Manchester Marathon, with all my hydration mindfulness and carb loading threatening to be undone by a terrified tummy. As we arrived at the tram stop to go to the start at Old Trafford, with around at least a million other people, I prayed that it would behave and I wouldn’t become a meme or cautionary tale.
My husband and his gang went off (earlier starts) and Merida and I dropped our bags, joined a never-ending toilet queue and then set off to the start. It was at this point that we said goodbye and good luck (Merida is much faster than me) and I tried to gather my thoughts.
If you’d read my blog before you’ll know that I don’t fare well in hot conditions. Indeed it was one of the reasons why Manchester had been a choice being famously un-hot. I had even over-prepared for this unlikely sunny day by doing my long runs later on a Sunday and it had been warm. However, already at 10.30am on Sunday it was warmer than ideal and although I was determined not to stress, I was a little bit anxious.
Some loud music, a countdown and then we were off.
Merida and I had had a good honest chat and I knew that I was likely to “swept” by the bus on the latter parts of the race, but I would and could still finish (you don’t have to get on the bus, you can move to the pavement). BoB was coming up for the day to support and she was dressed to run/walk for a bit from mile 18 with me (expecting to be swept around mile 20/21) to keep morale up. My youngest daughter and her friend Rose were also on the course so I was feeling quite positive.
The first 10k went by quickly, fairly comfortably and without incident. Manchester were out and they were loud. Support on the race was fantastic. The weather was great for the supporters with roads closed and garden parties in full swing.
But it was hot. My feet were burning and I felt like I was running on hot coals. I tried to ignore it and keep going but at mile 9 I felt light headed and had to stop for a wobble and was sick on the side of the road. Of course, a Marshall came flying over to check and I wobbled even more. She held my hand, poured water over my neck and suggested I take a little rest and perhaps not carry on?….I explained through my wobbling lip, that I had to keep going due to sponsorship money and this silly blog that I write… We negotiated for a bit and I promised to be sensible so she said to go slowly and she would ask a friend to look out for me a bit up the field. I nodded and wobbled off.
Her friend appeared about 4 minutes later (clearly had been looking for me) and again my legs threatened to buckle. I think it’s sometimes better to be left alone in your vomit, misery and terror for as soon as someone is nice and caring to me, it makes it all so much worse. It’s easier to give yourself a kick up the arse as there’s no other option but to finish (I mean, I’d trained so hard) but when kind strangers are mopping your brow and telling you perhaps you should call it a day, it’s harder to keep going.
I was plopped on some steps in the shade and some nice policemen sat with me for a bit. I knew I had to get up and move else the demons would take over so I promised I would walk, and against everyone’s advice I walked round the corner.
For the next few miles I ran/walked at 30/30 but it got hotter and hotter and around mile 15 it became clear that if I was to finish in one piece, it would be walking.
I called my daughter as I was desperate for a friendly face and she and Rose found and walked with me for a bit which was amazing, but I was still quite teary and feeling a bit pathetic. Then around mile 17 or so (honestly it’s a bit fuzzy) BoB appeared. Bob is an extraordinary woman. She has 4 sons, a very big job and has completed numerous marathons and usually does a full Ironman every single year. I am in total awe and she was exactly what I needed on Sunday. We had originally planned that she would be joining me for 5-6 miles of run/walking but there was no running and she could instantly see that.
So we started to walk. But it was still 10 miles to go and that is a flipping long way on it’s own. But walk we did. She regaled me with stories of her times living in Manchester “back in the day” and I followed her obediently, eating salt that she ran into a pub to retrieve, dipping my finger into electrolytes like a sherbet dip and drinking water, often. She cheered and clapped the kind and welcoming spectators and she even carried my hydration vest when I stated angrily that I was throwing it away as it was “too heavy”. She named herself my “Marathon Butler”.
I was still having the odd physical wobble in the heat but kept moving forward with purpose.
Manchester meanwhile were DRUNK and SO magnificent. Gorgeous humans were out with their hoses sprinkling us to keep us cool, offering water in their own cups, cheering, clapping, whooping and in one terrifying moment and lady, who had clearly been “supporting” through several drinks over several hours, grabbed my hand and tried to make me run. My glutes and hamstrings were cramping off and on from about mile 18 and this was dangerous so I politely said I can’t run but she cheered all the same.
The sweeper bus found us about 19 miles. I had been dreading it even though I knew it was inevitable but they were kind and supportive. They explained that we just needed to move to the pavement as the roads would be re-opening (have to say, apart from one stretch on the lead up to a motorway, actually the roads didn’t reopen at all) but we had 8.5 hours to finish to get a medal. I was so relieved and we had a cheer – I was going to get a medal and I WAS going to finish. We kept moving forward.
Everything hurt at this point. Feet were 100% on fire, ankles were sore, knee (and my knee NEVER hurts) had a weird spiking pain that kept going through it, my shoulders were aching and glutes and hamstrings kept cramping. Honestly, it was like a comedy sketch that wasn’t funny at all.
Finally, after 7 hours and 42 minutes I crossed the line and got my medal. Husband, his gang, Merida, daughter and Rose were all there. I was absolutely elated and completely broken. It was a weird sensation.
I’m not sure if I would have got round without Bob and her never ending positivity. I wasn’t a snivelling wreck (most of the time) but I was in pain and definitely not enjoying myself so it can’t have been the best 10 miles she’s ever travelled. But I am forever grateful for her walking with me and thank you “BoB” for being my friend. I will never, ever forget it.
Husband got in under 4.30, Merida under 5 hours and Mr Canard just (excrutiatingly just… argh) over 5 hours. All struggled in the heat but all got it done and done in style. It was so tough out there. Well done.
It was a busy day for the outstanding and wonderful marshalls and emergency services as so many people were taken ill in the heat. The earlier Marshall that had helped me actually walked past Bob and I in the latter stages of my race on her way home. She cheered and shouted and was obviously delighted to see me carrying on and still upright. These lovely people give up their day to support and look after us idiots and they’re invested in our success. Thank you lovely marshals.
After crossing the line most of the gang dispersed pretty quickly. Bob, daughter and Rose ran off to catch a train home. Husband and his gang (who had been hanging around for quite a while waiting for me) also then disappeared back to their man digs and this left Merida and I. Merida was in pretty good shape after running a marathon (she is a queen as my girls would say) and so she shepherded me to the pub for a pint of cold sweet lemonade, and then organised an Uber to collect us as the 20 minute walk back to the hotel just was not on the cards. Nope. Wasn’t going to happen.
We arrived at the hotel and I wasn’t feeling so good. The bar was full of people wearing medals and drinking and celebrating but I struggled to force a burger down and we went up to the room. It was at this point that things went a bit weird. I started shaking uncontrollably and was running hot and cold. This lasted for a few minutes and I just couldn’t stop. The shaking was happening in my tummy and then radiating out of my body. If I’d have been alone I’m sure I would have collapsed but thankfully Merida knew what to do and looked after me. The next day I was ok in myself but still not enormously hungry, had a headache and walking was not easy (my toes today still feel like they’ve been hit by a hammer). BUT, I had a medal and I had completed a marathon.
I’ve had a few days to digest it all now and have some thoughts.
I was hoping for c6.40-6.50 and all indicators from my training runs were that I could achieve this, but I came in an hour after this and I was initially annoyed. But now I am not. I am proud that I got round. Are there things I would do differently if I had my time again? Probably, but also, you cannot control the weather and regardless I have the medal. I got round, I earnt it and I’m proud of myself.
Life isn’t smooth and bad things happen but it’s how we deal with them that define us. We can do hard things. I did a hard thing (it was SO hard) and I’m so pleased with myself. I’m 50. I’m not really in peak physical condition (have I ever been?) but I did it.
So what next…..?
Actually nothing.
I don’t mean, I’ll stop of course – I don’t think I can. But for now, it will be about enjoying exercise again. I’m desperate to have a few glasses of wine on a Saturday night and not worry about the “long run”. I want to pick up weights again and get strong (have already got a trainer ready to go to help with this – Tommy Trotter if you follow him on Instagram, with the mum who runs with wine….can’t imagine why I thought he would be a good fit for me?!) I want to get out on my bike and I want to put my wetsuit on and swim outdoors. I want to spend time with my wonderful friends and family and I want to take my dog to the river for a run. Life is joyful. Our family have had a hard 18 months and it’s time for us all to enjoy and relax a bit.
My husband pointed out to me, that unless I chose to do a full ironman (erm I think I just threw up in my mouth), I actually have a full set of medals. I’ve been thinking about which were my favourite races:
5k – this would be the first time I ever ran 5k without stopping with the lovely Marshall Sue. I will never forget how she encouraged me and I managed it in March/April 2016.
10k – this would either be my first Bristol 10k race with my sister “Running Sister” or the Bristol 10k in 2017 when I first met Merida and she offered to pace me.
I can’t choose between them as both are special.
What I do know is that without running I would never have met Merida and then Bob, Glinda, Hattie, the teacher and so SO many others who are now my friends. I’m forever grateful that Merida offered that day and became such a wonderful, best and lifelong friend.
Half Marathon – This is hard. It would be between the GNR which I ran with the Red Lady the year both of our Mums died in 2019 or the London Landmarks in 2017 when Merida paced me to my sub 3 half marathon. I can’t choose. Both emotional for different reasons and both with very dear friends.
Marathon – I’ve only done one and I’m only ever doing 1. (although I did enter the London ballot before the weekend, before I knew the horrors of the marathon). When I don’t get a place though (as is inevitable) I won’t reapply. I’m happy with my one.
Sprint triathlon – Westonbirt the first time. Loved it!
Olympic distance triathlon – 51Fiver. Flying until the run (as is standard) but it was part of the triathlon club and so was great fun and full of camaraderie and support.
Half Iron distance – 113 in 2019. This was the only race my Mum ever came to watch me in and 4 days after the race she went into hospital and never came out. I’m proud to have finished that (absolutely ridiculous, what was I thinking?) race, but my Mum being there made it so special.
So there we have it.
And this will be my last ever blog post.
One day I might turn it into a proper book including a chapter entitled “what I learnt about running in the heat” (it will be a short chapter!) but for now nothing.
I hope my trials and tribulations have helped or inspired you to try something that you might not have tried before, or you’ve just enjoyed chuckling along.
But always remember that if I can do it, so can you. You just have to try.
The taper is when you reduce your activity a bit so as not to arrive on the start line of your event, exhausted and crying. I’m hoping to not be exhausted, I’ve actually scheduled some crying in, but more of that later… It’s a weird time. I’ve spent the last few months being grumpy about having to run in the cold/wind/rain/now it’s too hot/it’s raining again – you get the picture, and now I’m not supposed to be running and so all I want to do is go and run 10k….just in case. I want to do a run that feels easy and so I will be confident going into the race, but alas, running for me never feels easy and so the anxiety continues. Yesterday I was supposed to run “easy”. I set off feeling like this was going to be the run where it finally clicked and I would be happy, but alas, the whole run was awful. I felt so slow I was going backwards, but when I finished, I found that I had been running 45 seconds FASTER per kilometre than average. My head is swimming!
I have my last run this evening with The Teacher, who is running the London Marathon, a sports massage tomorrow and then apart from walking and some stretching, nothing until Sunday. I will say, that the most positive thing about this whole training process has been that I have rediscovered my love for running with other people again. I haven’t really run with other people since Hattie moved up North and I started triathlon training. Cycling and swimming in groups yes, but running no. This is almost certainly one of the reasons why my running has faltered so badly as running alone is not a lot of fun.
But the running gang has returned and they have been amazing. The Teacher and I have trundled at least once a week for the past few weeks and it’s been great to run/chat again. Miss Eastpond is another one who has been AMAZING at accompanying me on some weekend long runs. This started with her meeting me for 5k in the middle of a long run and then she was suddenly running half marathons with me, when she didn’t have to?! Finally Sandra-Dee, who became my unofficial coach in the final few weeks. She has been brilliant at meeting me for those mid-week long runs when I’d had enough and was on my knees. She made sure I got those miles in. I thank you all from the bottom of my heart for your kindness and it’s been fun.
I have a beeper (Gym Boss) that beeps every 30 seconds which is better than using my watch. My rule is that I do not walk more than 30 seconds at a time. If I run 30/30 then my average pace per kilometre is around 9.20—9.40 per minute. However, at Bath Half, I counted beeps and ran 90/30, 60/30 and 30/30 depending on how I was feeling and this gave me an overall, much faster, pace of 8.57 per kilometre and over 42 kilometres, this will make quite a difference and so this is the plan. 90/30 as much as possible but 60/30 and 30/30 as needed. It doesn’t matter if the running is slow, just do not to walk more than 30 seconds. It will also give my brain something to do and keep it occupied as I will need to count the beeps. If I zone out, there’s always the chance that my brain will work out the enormity of the task ahead and a full freak out might occur, so constantly counting up to 3 lots of 30 will keep us all on the straight and narrow. I know that completing a marathon is as much about the mental battle as the physical one so I have been working hard to reframe my thinking. I’ve run 28K twice now and both times I was fairly done by the end, so the idea of 14k more after this is fairly daunting. I am confident that I can do the distance (because I’m very stubborn) but I’m worried about the sweeper and so I must go for it speedwise, but not too soon, else it will all go wrong.
Therefore, I have decided that next Sunday is: 3 10k races, 2 parkruns, a cry, possible vomit and gritting my teeth over the final 2.2 kilometres.
If all goes to plan, it will look something like this: 0-10k. 10k training run – this is easy pace – a Sunday training run. No PBs here. 60/30 and 30/30 for the first 2-3k and then winding up to the 90/30, 60/30 and 30/30.
10-20k. 10k race – time to get comfortable. Not sitting back and beginning to stretch out a bit. Not going for a PB but certainly within a minute of it. Ideally here I will be running 90/30 and 60/30 alternatively with the odd 30/30 thrown in if I’m feeling I need a breather.
20-30k. 10k race – here is where it’s going to start to pinch. No time to think just counting. 90/30, 60/30 and 30/30 on a loop constantly with no let up.
As each 10k ticks over, I tell myself that I’m starting a new race. I’ve run the Bristol 10k enough times that I will envisage myself in the pen, being ready to go again.
As we enter the final 12k, we change to a different strategy. I’m no longer running 10k races and now I am doing park run. At this point there are 2 park runs to get to 40k. The first of these parkruns is not one where I’m going for a PB, it’s one of those that take place in the middle of a long run ie a park run sandwich. It needs to be steady but not all out. I think this is where tears might start and the fear might start to creep in, but hopefully with the counting of beeps, I can just focus on the task. This parkrun will be Eastville Parkrun as this is traditionally my choice for a parkrun sandwich. The second parkrun is the one where I will have nothing left and will need to run it with my head. I will be mentally going for a PB, but realistically will be hanging on for dear life at 30/30. Tears and anger are very likely to feature in this 40 minute window and I must keep moving forwards. I’ve been to some dark places over the past couple of years and I will need to remember this. Hopefully my hydration strategy will be working else I will be crying lumps of salt. Grit my teeth and dig in. DO NOT STOP.
Assuming I am still alive at 40k, it’s 2.2k to the end (although I will probably end up running further because you always do). There is no strategy for this. I’ll be hungry and tired and just wanting to get it over with. I will be promising myself that I will never put myself through anything like this and I will invoke my inner Diana Prince and shuffle to the finish line.
I also have the added incentive of my daughter needing to get a train home Sunday night after cheering me and my husband on. I need to get over that finish line in a decent time to stop her getting home too late. (Husband and Merida are both also doing the race too so I need to wish them both the best of luck).
So there we have it. Unhelpfully, the weather forecast is warm and sunny but my 2 long runs were done on warm days so I’m not going to let that worry me. Gels are ready, hydration is ready, trainers picked, kit tested. Just me and 42.2k to do. I am plagued by my failure at Weymouth 70.3 but this is my chance to put it to bed forever.
The following was written by my daughter: Last year my youngest daughter went to an inpatient unit for 4 months after struggling with her mental health. She had struggled for the majority of her teenage years. She said “every single person goes through something at some point in their life that no one knows about” and I completely agree. It is for her and everyone else who understands and has experienced this, that I will have in my mind as I run on Sunday so… I would be extremely grateful if you could spare a few pennies for this charity. Thank you.
Apparently, that is how long it is until the Manchester Marathon. I’m quite conflicted as my daughter is travelling overseas at the moment with her lovely boyfriend (Gap year shenanigans) and I’m missing her a lot and want her arrival home to come quickly and it’s 29 sleeps until I see her. But of course, before I can see her, there is that little matter of 26.2 miles.
When I wrote my last blog, I was genuinely very unsure whether I was going to run the race or not. Self doubt was my middle name, but now, finally and happily, I am in a different mindset. I am going to start the race and as long as I don’t get sweepered (yes I am trademarking that word) off the course, I will complete it.
It’s been a tricky few weeks. The weather was bad and cold. Work was busy and I had a terrible virus which put me in bed for 2 days in the week before I was due to run the Bath Half – which unbeknownst to anyone else, I was using to make my final decision about whether to run Manchester or not. In the end Bath Half went fairly well. I decided to just take it easy and aim to simply get round in one piece. One the day, I ran much faster than I had been in training and apart from a random 4 minute window of pain shooting through my left boob at 10 and a half miles, it was ok. When the pain struck I genuinely worried that I was having a heart attack (I’ve read they present in the arms) and I couldn’t breathe at all. I was completely stopped in my tracks. A lovely lady who was sort of running with me (she would overtake me, then I her etc ) stopped to help. Spectators gave me a chair (no idea where it came from) and some orange squash which tasted like ambrosia and then the pain stopped and so I was off again. I was tired but knew I would finish. However, mile 12 was COMPLETELY uphill. What kind of sick joke is that? All I could hear around me were runners swearing as well as spectators agreeing with us and encouraging us on…I walked this part, angrily and then finally finished, somehow sprinting over the finish line. Merida and Professor Fizz (who had finished before me) were kindly waiting for me, giggling whilst complaining about the hill. I got my medal and went home feeling happy but also resigned that if I was this far in, I’m doing the marathon.
There are a few things I have decided/learnt over the past few weeks. 1) I can definitely do the marathon, I genuinely think anyone can if they train for it. The only variable is how fast they will do it. I am hoping to beat the sweeper and will do my best not to get caught so I can get my medal. Else, I will riot.
2) This is probably the most important one – the marathon is going to hurt. All the training plans take you up to a longest run of 20-22 miles, but the marathon itself is 26.2 miles. Basically from 17 miles, everything starts to fall apart and it hurts. You’re hungry, thirsty (and my goodness I have learned a lot about fuelling and hydration over the past weeks) and everything will ache. I have reconciled that once you understand this, it’s not as scary as it was. It’s going to hurt like a female dog. Accept it and carry on.
3) I am exhausted all of the time and fairly grumpy. My life revolves around • How many hydration tablets have I had in a 24 hour window? • Why do my ankles hurt so much? • Do I REALLY need to go upstairs? • What’s the earliest time I can go to bed and not seem antisocial? • Can I squeeze in a nap in my lunchhour? • And constantly planning the best route for the long run.
4) My face is falling apart. I noticed around Christmas that I was developing excsma around my nose and summised this was due to the fact that I was sweating a lot. (I am a very sweaty runner). At this point of training, my face is almost falling off. I have scabs and I’m applying nappy rash cream to my face before I head out for runs. I am looking forward to returning to shorter, less sweaty runs – and probably more swimming and a day at a spa for a facial.
5) Bras. Now I could write a whole blog on this alone, but basically, my bras are trying to kill me. The chafing is off the charts and I look like I have been whipped with the chafing taking the top layer of my skin off under the band (front and back). It then is very sore and then scabs up, just in time to be ripped apart again by the following long run on the next weekend. I have tried Vaseline, body glide and various other emollients. I have bought new bras and these do the same or (in the case of one of them which is underwired) stab me. I have puncture marks on the front of my boobs and under. It’s not good and nothing works. So I refer myself back to point number 2. It is going to hurt and almost certainly bleed.
I’m entering the final stint with the biggest run on the plan for this weekend – 32k (20 miles). I have no idea when I’m going to do it yet as I have a family birthday party this weekend and pilates to fit in, but it will get done. Then the taper will begin with long runs going down to “only” a half marathon and then 10 miles. What weird universe are we living in when this is what I am typing ONLY a half marathon and I’m pleased? This universe. This is my universe and I’m as shocked as you are.
So here we are then. I’m 50 and I feel it. The problem is I remember who I used to be and it’s hard to reconcile the two. I had a difficult year last year and I lost my exercise way. I gained weight and had almost completely forgotten what it was to be fit, but then by chance one evening, picking up my eldest daughter from work, I saw a reformer pilates taster class. I went and was hooked. In the Summer I started going, Merida too, to a 9am Saturday class and every week, we followed it with coffee and a catch up chat. It became a staple and quickly became my favourite couple of hours of the whole week. I think since last August I have missed maybe 6 classes, certainly no more and although it’s very tough, I love it.
So a little routine started. I then started doing a few weights and then a couple of spin classes and I was beginning to feel a bit more in the groove. Merida and I discussed how we didn’t enjoy running and we’d found a way to be fit without needing to run. One Sunday we had a conversation about how we definitely were over the running phase of our lives and we were happy about it.
The next day I signed up for Manchester Marathon and so, did Merida. You can’t make it up.
WHY? What is wrong with me?
I can tell you how it happened. My husband. We’ll blame him and his running mates who were talking that they should do a marathon as one of them, also 50 this year, had a thing that when he dies, he wants his eulogy to include that he ran a marathon. No-one ever mentions that you ran half marathons, they only mention the marathon. So they were all signing up.
Merida had trained for a marathon twice during covid, twice had completed the 22 mile long training run and then both times, the race had been cancelled. She has unfinished business. Me? I’m just an idiot with, as a wise man once said, “an ego that is writing cheques that my body can’t cash” but I thought if there’s a few of us doing it, we might as well. It seemed like the universe was sending me a sign.
I checked the cut off and it’s 6 hours after the final person has crossed the start line – I’ve put in an optimistic (Ie unrealistic) finish time so I reckon I have about 7 hours to get round. This is still 90 minutes less than that stupid triathlon I trained for, so it seemed simple. What I hadn’t factored in, as I excitedly wrote my training plan in a shiny new notebook that I bought especially for the new project, was that I was actually going to have to run……and if you’ve read this before, you’ll know that this is not my favourite thing to do. So I’m in a bit of a bind. It’s 11 weeks to go and I’m run/walking as there is no way I can run that distance and I feel it’s better to plan the walks, than just sob my way round. But it’s hard. I’ve bought the Runna app and am following the plan. It’s tricky to adapt it to run/walking but I’m doing the best I can.
What I am struggling with is consistency. Some weeks I manage the 4 runs and I feel like a rockstar. I have run/walked 10 miles so far on my longest run and, who am I kidding, it was awful, but I did it.
Work is busy and I am SO FED UP with running in the cold. I’m also sad to say that I am a bit too nervous to run in the dark on my own – I know it’s stupid, but I am so there we are. I joined a gym so I can do my intervals and tempo run on a treadmill (easier to keep pace) and this leaves only 2 outside runs to complete – one on a Sunday (Saturday is still pilates) and then the other one……..which is the one I struggle with. It really needs to be done at lunchtime (because it’s light and I cannot get out of bed in the morning to do it before work), it often is impossible to get out at this time due to endless Teams meetings and calls. Pre covid, I could do calls with a ruby red face, but now the risk is too great in case the dreaded words “shall we jump on a Teams instead” is uttered.
I’ve never suffered with SAD before but I genuinely think this year I am. My motivation is at zero and I’m worried about another DNF so I’m restarting this blog to give me a bit of focus. I’ve also made an appointment with the doctor to consider having my HRT increased as well.
I hadn’t run for over a week this morning and this evening, after work, I took myself off with the dog squad and went for a little run/walk to clear my head. I feel better. It’s so ANNOYING but it’s true. So, I’m back writing this blog for inspiration. Consistency is what I need so I’m going back to basics. The blog kept me going at the beginning of my running journey and now once again, I hope it’s going to help me get where I need to be.
My last few blog posts (and they have been few and far between this year) have all had the same theme…..”I’m back”, or “here we go again”…or “time to get back to it”. But the honest answer is I haven’t really made it back at all and what I have managed, has lacked consistency.
I’m not completely sedentary though and have been doing the odd gym visit, cycle commuting and running in fits and starts, but it isn’t enough. It certainly isn’t consistent enough to build any fitness and definitely not consistent enough to make a dent in the weight that I have subsequently gained this year.
I started running when I was 41. This blog has now been running a number of years and I almost feel like I have gone full circle. I will be 50 in 13 months time and I do not want to be having this same conversation with myself this time next year. The time to take action has arrived (yes I know I’ve said this before, but…..here we are).
Am I back where I was 8 years ago? No. I have plenty of invaluable knowledge that I have gained over the past 8 years about running, cardio, strength, core strength, swimming, cycling, HIIT and nutrition so in theory, I shouldn’t be in this state. And yet I am. So what am I lacking?
Motivation. It’s the most important thing. But I am nearly 50 and the menopause is no joke. This isn’t a blog post about the menopause but it’s tough and the most challenging symptom that it has delivered is that it has robbed me of motivation and I am tired ALL THE TIME.
I constantly have an attack of the CBA (can’t be arsed) and it affects every part of my life – with the exception of work. Work is going very well but it takes every ounce of my energy to achieve this and leave no energy for anything else.
2023 has seen the return to the office, largely everywhere, and since October I have been back in the office 5 days a week and my goodness it’s been an adjustment. For my mental health, it has definitely been good as I am a social person and putting makeup on to leave the house is a positive thing for a middle aged woman. The commute to and from the office is a golden opportunity to run or cycle and get some easy exercise in, but the reality has been that I have felt too knackered or “CBA” to do it.
So what to do?
Well, I think the obvious answer is to enter a race and train for it and just focus on this one thing. I need to view it as an escape (it’s a big exam year in our house next year with my daughters sitting A levels and GCSEs and it can be stressful).
Since starting triathlon, I have tried to keep all elements going, but it’s too much on top of everything else. There are only so many hours in the day and with work and family life I need to prioritise. I’m not someone who can get up at 5am to train and it’s time to accept that. (I can hear the people who know me well laughing heartily at that statement). Somewhere, whilst training for the 70.3 triathlon, I lost sight of what exercise is.
It is supposed to make you feel better. I need to chase some endorphins and hopefully weight loss will follow. So I’m going back to my roots. This blog is called Chunky Runner and I’m once again a Chunky Runner.
I’ve signed up for Bath Half and at the moment I can run/walk for 30 minutes and that’s it.
I have a lot to do but I know I can do it. It won’t be fast or pretty but I’m game to try and I’m going to go back to writing this blog weekly to keep me accountable.
My plan for each week is 2 runs in the week as a commute home from the office (short, 5k, hills or sprints) and then a longer run at the weekend. For this I am going to use Parkrun or the Sunday This Mum Runs group so I will have some company. I also think not having a Running Buddy makes it hard to drag yourself out on a cold day, so hopefully running with others will take the edge off the CBA.
I’m going to do my utter best to write this blog weekly once again to keep me accountable, just as I did in the beginning. If you want to join me in a race/goal then please do and let me know how you’re getting on too. There is always strength in numbers.
Bath Half is 17th March next year and I really need to stop procrastinating and get on with it. My strava numbers have never been so low…but the only way is up.
It’s the 6 December today and my plan is that by next Friday, I will have run 4 times. I will let you know how that goes.
It’s also been about a year since my last blog post and as you can imagine, quite a lot has happened so I’ll try my best to catch you up. Quickly.
My training last year was going great. I was working hard towards my goal but alas, as I was to discover, you cannot control everything.
The 113 race (which is the big half iron distance race without cutoffs and a fairly flat bike route in the Cotswolds) was in June and this was the first big test. Except it wasn’t. I felt rough on the morning but put it down to nerves and so soldiered on, gingerly jumping into the lake ready to give it my best. About 800m into the 1500m swim, I started being sick. This is not an easy thing to achieve whilst swimming, I can assure you, and I spent quite a few minutes sobbing whilst hanging onto the end of a safety team raft with the chap on it doing his level best to convince me to stop. Obviously I am too stupid to listen and so I somehow managed to keep myself going and into transition. At this point I DEFINITELY should have stopped. But when you are SO driven by a goal, we do not always do the sensible thing and so I headed out on the bike. I bargained with myself that as it was two laps of 45k, if I felt rough I would stop at the end of the first loop. I stopped 10 miles in, after having been sick a couple more times in a layby. (Vomit has been quite a theme of my triathlon journey last year)and I ultimately pulled up next to a friendly looking Marshall for a “breather for a minute” but as I unclipped and put my leg on the floor I collapsed. I was put in an ambulance in the silver foil blanket of doom (which was overkill in my opinion, I was embarrassed enough as it was!) and was driven home by Merida, feeling very sad and sorry for myself.
I did learn on that day just HOW important it is to have an ICE person written on the back of your race number. I’m not sure prior to that race, I ever really thought I would need it, but let me tell you it is critical to write someone down. I didn’t have my phone on me as it was in transition and I don’t know the numbers of my friends off by heart. Thank goodness I had Merida’s number on the back of my race number.
As I was driven home, snivelling into the sweet tea that Merida had miraculously produced, I was mentally ruined thinking I “just didn’t have it in me” to be a successful triathlete. The very next morning I tested positive for covid, again, and so it became clear that my body had simply been determined to protect me by making me throw up and collapse. Perhaps I could be a triathlete after all?
The summer rolled on, training rolled on (a lot of it in temperatures in excess of 30C) and then the day of Weymouth 70.3 itself came. Now I could do a long and detailed blog about the day itself and I suspect that one day I will, but today is not that day. Ultimately, I was kicked in the throat by a rogue breaststroker around 1600m into the 1900m (the swim had been going brilliantly up to this point) and I swallowed A LOT of sea water. When I got out of the sea and ran to transition, I spent 10 minutes being sick in a portaloo (not recommended), then spent 4 minutes sat on the floor shaking in transition, before heading out on the bike. I was very shaken up, had no food in my system and ultimately, was pulled off the bike course having missed the cutoff. I was not allowed to finish.
This is where things became difficult and it’s hard to explain.
I am very used to finishing races last and I’ve never been embarrassed about it. SOMEONE has to be last, and if it’s me, then so be it but it’s important to show up and give these things a go. I knew that Weymouth was a big ask and knew that I would be chasing the clock to get the medal and expected that I would be crossing the finish line with only a few moments to spare. But I never really expected not to finish at all. Now you may read this and think this is stupid (and you would be right), arrogant (quite possible, I mean it’s half ironman race where the cutoffs are designed for MEN, and everything about me screams “take up knitting”) but the fact remains, that I never expected NOT to finish. But my legs and head were not strong enough on the day and so I failed.
Mentally, this was devastating to me. I was angry with myself, I was furious with the breaststroker, furious with myself that I hadn’t planned for this event and cycled up more hills, etc etc. I just couldn’t fathom that I wouldn’t have that medal. And so I fell into a dark place.
I was signed up to do the Bath Half in October (a month after Weymouth). But I didn’t do it. My heart wasn’t in it and I was worried that something else would go wrong and I wouldn’t be able to finish again. So I didn’t do it at all. In the space of 4 weeks I had gone from someone who would try everything to someone who was scared to try anything at all.
This theme continued for the rest of last year and into this year and I did very little exercise indeed. Weight has crept on and I bargained with myself that I would take this year to regroup, lose weight, get strong and then sign up for something again next year – maybe have another crack at Weymouth. I’m not sure if anyone believed me as I certainly didn’t believe myself. My triathlon friends were fantastic and did their best to rally me. It turns out that some of the triathletes and athletes that I admire the most have had an experience like this (failure). I nodded along dutifully as they tried to cheer me up but the point was that they had all come back and successfully achieved after the failure and I just didn’t feel that I would ever enter a race again.
But then, slowly, and more recently, a shift.
I woke up one morning in February and desperate to try and pull myself out of my hole, I decided to try and train for an aquabike (which is a triathlon without the running). I wouldn’t sign up for it, but I would train and this would hopefully help to drag me back into the sunshine. I did no swimming or cycling training but bizarrely woke up one morning and decided to go for a run. Yes. A run?!
I started run/walking. Never for more than 30 minutes and often less, but I started moving. I was slow. REALLY slow, but I didn’t hate it. Music on, sometimes with the dog, sometimes on my commute to or from the office, but it started happening.
I also started running and training a bit with Madame Maison, who is doing Weymouth this year and we get on fantastically. For me, helping someone else when their own goals is the perfect way to get me off my sorry ass which in turn helps me to feel better. Endorphins are the most powerful drug after all. We get on well, and we’ve been running together. This has been going so well that I persuaded her to sign up to the Bristol 10k with me (it’s in 10 days time) and last weekend we ran/walked 10k together and it felt AMAZING. It’s the first time I’ve run anything close to a “distance” since last August and I felt proud of myself, of ourselves and the feeling of achievement should not be underestimated. I’ve also been leading a few runs with “This Mum Runs” on a Sunday and again this has also been a good thing. When you follow a training plan for so long and grind away at it, it’s easy to forget that exercise is supposed to be enjoyable?! But it is. And I’m enjoying it again, finally.
I also completed the Tour de Bristol bike ride with my husband and Glinda 4 weeks ago and again, it was joyful. 65k was enough. Blimey it was certainly enough. I got off twice to push my bike up the hills as they feel harder than ever, but I got round in one piece and most importantly, I was smiling.
I’ve been going to the gym with my daughters a bit too. Lifting heavy weights is a great thing and we also now have a full size punch bag at home for those days when you just want to smash the living daylights out of something (I really recommend it).
The one thing I haven’t really been doing much of is swimming. But the weather is finally (please!) warming up and so I’ll be getting in the lake again soon.
The Bristol 10k running race is the weekend after next and this morning, I’ve signed up to do Westonbirt Sprint triathlon which is a lovely, no cutoffs, local race at the end of May. After saying for the past 6 months that I won’t do another triathlon every again, I’m going for a medal. I’m also strongly pondering signing up for the London Tri which is an Olympic distance race in August which cycles past the Houses of Parliament on closed roads. This feels like a big step and will require proper training, but I think I’m nearly there mentally and feel ready to train a bit again and so it’s likely I’ll sign up.
I’ve felt quite ashamed of myself being hidden and afraid to do anything. Especially as the original point of this blog was to be 100% honest about things and how hard they can be, but we are where we are. The menopause, home life, work all play a part too and for a while, it’s been better for me to prioritise elsewhere. However, I’m so pleased to say that I’m feeling ready to try again. Nearly.
Will let you know how the Bristol 10k goes – have already told Madame Maison to not allow us to chase a pacer as I’m bound to suggest it at the last minute…we’re going to enjoy it…..unless the pacer is close…obviously.
So in February, at the end of my last blog post I had covid, and now today, 8th June and barely 4 months later…I have covid again…..(no really… I wish I was joking)
But as I’ve been so busy (too busy) to finish my half written blogs over the past couple of months, I’m going to use my time of isolation to try and catch you up…. Probably over a couple of blog posts in quick succession.
When I contracted covid in February, I was not well at all. I tested positive for the full 10 days and I was ill, very ill. Raging temperature, extreme fatigue and my asthma was absolutely awful. There is no doubt in my mind at all, that if I hadn’t been vaccinated or had caught Delta rather than Omicrom, I would definitely have ended up in hospital due to my breathing. It was a bad time.
M was very strict about a very slow and controlled return to training once I was better, to ensure that I recovered properly and with no ill after effects. This was very successful and it only took a full month to get back to things fully, but it did mean that the Cardiff Half Marathon did not happen. I could have run it, probably, but it would have meant pushing things sooner than was sensible and so I had to decide if I was training for triathlons to half marathons this year – that crystalised the thinking and the Cardiff Half was gone.
So I returned to my training plan with enthusiasm. It’s a strange thing. Every set back seems to give me the impetus I need to drive forwards. Running was happening, weights, swimming at the pool, swimming drills (early before work) and I was using my time wisely to do my cycling intervals on a wattbike at the gym whilst my daughters were at hockey training.
The one thing I was struggling with however, was the long bike ride – usually 4 hours on a Sunday. I LOVE cycling as you know, but I love the social aspect of it even more. March and April were not particularly warm months and so trying to find the enthusiasm to head out in 6c temps for 4 hours, completely alone was very hard both mentally and practically (what if I got a puncture?) and I needed a plan.
I’m a member of a triathlon club (North Bristol Triathlon Club – the best triathlon club in the world, in case you are wondering) and one of the reasons it’s so good is because it is so inclusive. People are lovely and encouraging and although I am possibly the most inept triathlete in history, they don’t make me feel that way. So I reached out on our facebook “ladies page” (which started one year as a place to discuss what we were going to wear to the Christmas party….the decision in case you were wondering was sequins..obviously) to see if there was any appetite to form a gang for Sunday cycles? Now I was very careful about this, because, although cycling is my best of the 3 triathlon disciplines, I am still not particularly fast and in a triathlon club, pretty much everyone is training for an event and so everyone needs to get something out of each training ride so I wasn’t sure how it would work. In my head, I thought that if people fancied joining me on their “rest week”, when they wouldn’t be pushing so hard, that might work, but as long as I was honest with people about my speed (I cycle at about 22-24 kph on the flat) then they could decide I they wanted to join and hopefully it would be ok.
As usual, I needn’t have worried at all as my question was extremely favourably received and quickly a whatsapp group was formed and then more people got to hear about it and now we have a considerable gang of men and women.
We got into a little routine of meeting at Henbury Leisure Centre and then cycling up to Oldbury, Berkeley or Slimbridge. The meet up was usually fairly chaotic with kit all over the floor and the gang helping each other to do up their overshoes (ok, so I’m the one who really needs help with that!) but very friendly with everyone pleased to be out, even if we’d all been panicking about how many layers to wear for the ride….I hate being cold.
It turns out that the vast majority of people prefer to cycle in a group for company and they weren’t actually too bothered about speed – for the long rides, although speed is important, it’s actually more about being able to sit on the saddle and turn your legs for 4 hours (which is 90-95km for me). Sometimes a couple of the speedier ones, Madame Ocular, Merida and Glinda (who is so strong up hills that she literally floats up them) would race a short strava segment having lots of fun and their all important “push” for training purposes, but I didn’t worry as they would always wait for me at the next junction or at the top of the next hill. We got into such a routine that we even knew where our “designated pee stops” would be (different fields for ladies and the men) and we all knew where we would stop for breathers and to take in the views, which are spectacular.
Slimbridge in particular is a fantastic cycle (probably my most favourite route) and the café on the canal has an excellent selection of cakes and pasties – most of the gang would have both, leading to me genuinely considering if I should be putting a Ginsters into my trisuit for fuelling on race day.
Everyone was training for different races and although some of the group I didn’t know very well back in March, I have got to know them really, really well over the past few months and I now consider them all to be my friends. We are planning a very big night out once everyone’s races are completed in the Autumn.
Triathletes are a strange breed and we’re all slightly mad and this definitely rubs off on each other. One of the gang, Bagman, thanks to Covid, has back to back Ironman races, on different continents on consecutive weekends. That is a 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike and a marathon…… the first weekend is in Europe and the second is in Canada. Now he didn’t plan this intentionally, it’s more to do with races being rescheduled due to covid, but even so, it’s clearly insane…..but I remember everyone’s face when he was telling us what he was doing as we were all eating cake at Slimbridge, and all of us just accepting that this would happen!
I’ve still done the odd solo cycle of course, it’s inevitable, but the group ones have been absolutely brilliant. Quite a few of the gang have also told me that they’ve never started their outdoor cycling so early in the year either so I’m pleased that it’s been beneficial for everyone.
The whatsapp group is now also being used for finding buddies for open water swimming as well as cycling. It’s been such an important factor for my training over the past 4 months and knowing that one of the gang will be with you as you jump into (frankly often bloody freezing) water, makes a huge difference and I know that this will continue over the summer.
Last night, the banter on the group (because at this point, it is banter rather than chat!) switched from long flat rides (which was for the first race that most of the gang were doing, the 113 which happened last weekend – more on that later) to new routes with hills (hills…argh. Weymouth has a bloody big hill in it and I am scared) – we all now have hilly races to work our way up to (with the exception of Madame Ocular, who just enjoys cycling up hills with the gang!) and so this will be the plan going forward over the Summer.
So the moral of the story is, as with most things, be brave. Being brave and asking for help has found me the best bunch of supportive people that I could have ever hoped for and the training is so much more enjoyable as a result, even if they do video me falling as I climb over a gate at the “peestop”…..!
Life has a way of slapping you in the face just as you feel you are getting somewhere and this has always been my experience with running. I always find it hard, even after 6 years, but just when I’m getting somewhere and beginning to feel (dare I say it) strong, I fall down a pothole 2 days before a half marathon or twist my ankle.
I had carefully procured a place for Cardiff Half for the end of March and was beginning to feel good about it. Would this be the half marathon where I would be fit and run a proper race?
ENTER COVID…….and so errrrrr no.
I’ve had a good run (if you’ll pardon the pun) avoiding covid so far, but it’s a pandemic after all and so eventually my luck ran out. Myself and my eldest daughter tested positive first, followed by my youngest daughter two days later and then 5 days later my husband came down with it too. This meant, for the main part, I was isolating with teenagers. So if anyone has any questions about Tom Holland or Harry Styles, I can definitely help you. I’m also quite good at TikTok dances now and we did watch quite a lot of TV, paint our nails, do facepacks and tested new hairstyles quite a lot, but aside from that (which was actually quite joyful), the covid itself was horrible. I have asthma, I’m also triple jabbed and apparently Omicrom is less severe than previous strains, but I was quite poorly. My temperature spiked up and down and my breathing was awful. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind at all that had I caught covid before being jabbed that I would have almost certainly ended up in hospital.
Even after I finally tested negative, I was still feeling awful and not well. The exhaustion was brutal and I was napping constantly. My body felt ravaged. Mentally I was struggling too as I was also feeling very sad and anxious about the Cardiff Half.
The other thing that had happened whilst I had covid was that my left leg had locked up. It was painful and walking was not easy. Running was absolutely not possible at all and so I could feel desperation start to swallow me up. I had to make a decision and this is where M came in.
I am programmed to want to complete everything I enter. I sign up, I train and then do the race but Cardiff Half is not really what I’m training for this year. Yes 2 out of the 3 triathlons I’m doing have a half marathon at the end but I’m training for the triathlons, not the half marathon. So, the decision was made to not run the Half meaning that my first race of the year is now an Olympic distance triathlon mid May (I am also signed up for the Tour de Bristol which is a 100k bike ride in April, but this is not a race).
Deciding not to run Cardiff immediately took all the pressure away. I was able to build back up after covid with gentle training and no running for a further couple of weeks to allow my chest (which was still sounding like a bag of spanners) to recover properly. It was a total gamechanger and a much better and more sensible plan.
Therefore, since having had covid the emphasis has switched firmly to cycling and I’m doing 3 bike sessions a week. A 30 minute endurance ride, an interval session and a longer ride at the weekend.
I tend to fit these in around my daughters playing hockey and do my interval session on a watt bike at the gym whilst they train. The wattbike is an excellent piece of kit, but it seems to have the most uncomfortable saddle I have ever encountered. Goodness alone knows what the “serious looking gym boys” think when I arrive in my cycling padded shorts, with a padded saddle cover and sit there watching the TV on my phone (to distract me from my pain) and diligently following my plan. Last week, I somehow seemed to get into a pretend race with one of them as each time my interval (the fast bit) kicked in for 8 minutes, he pedalled even faster on his separate, not linked to mine at all, bike…..I don’t know who won but I looked like I’d just got out of the shower when I’d finished. Somewhat annoyingly, he didn’t even seem out of breath.
The bike section of the triathlon is the longest bit and if I am to have any chance of getting round Weymouth, I need to gain as much time as possible on the bike leg, to allow me to survive the run. So intensive bike training is going to continue. Luckily it’s my favourite bit, so I don’t mind the training so much.
I’ve also managed a few outside bike rides with my friends. I cannot tell you how much joy this aspect of training gives me. I’ve cycled to and from Bath a couple of times along the cycle path with the Auditor and this week Merida and I cycled to Clevedon for cake (it was very, VERY cold).
Since covid, I have run three times. Once as a 20 minute test (it wasn’t too bad) and then on Saturday I went to Chipping Sodbury parkrun with my eldest daughter and Merida. We met M and the Auditor there too – a flat parkrun is always a good idea! Merida got first in her age group and was delighted and I somehow managed to get a PB for Chipping Sodbury. I was pleased but very shocked. I guess it shows that all the base training is helping and working. Of course, M had already finished his 5k as I came round the corner for my final lap and so he offered to run with me. That kept the mind focussed I can tell you – running with the boss?!! But I suspect if I’d run the final lap alone, that I might have walked more and so wouldn’t had got a PB. So although I felt like I was dying on that final lap and desperately wanting to walk, but my pride now allowing me to, it lead to a good result.
The “covid recovery” weeks are now over in the training plan and so now it’s back to normal. Sleep and nutrition will once again be critical but we’re now 4 weeks out from the 100k bike ride (up mountains….I’ve looked at the route and frankly, what was I thinking?) and so we need to ramp things back up again.
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