Losing My Religion

This is not a post to spark religious debate. So please, if you're reading it, don't try to start one. Thanks. Sorry if this sounds stompy, it's just I have seen how these things tend to degenerate, and I don't want people falling out on my blog :-)

I don't really believe in God. I believe in Jesus, yes, he existed, he was a great bloke, did many impressive and wonderful things. I also believe in the spirit of love and goodwill that Christianity embues. I just don't really believe in some being floating above in the ether somewhere.

My sort-of-religion is my asthma control.

It's something I've really had to work on over the last few years. It's taken me a long time to really get to know my asthma; to learn how to work with it, rather than against it; when I can battle on regardless and when I really do have to take notice rather than just judiciously ignoring it. Something I have taken very great care over is an almost religious routine of taking my meds every morning and every evening, and making sure I'm taking them in the optimum fashion to maximise the benefits I can gain from them. So yes, I still look like I'm about 12, because I use a large-volume spacer with my MDIs; this is because large-volume spacers ensure the greatest possible drug delivery to the lungs. If I'm going to take time to take my inhalers, I may as well get the greatest returns from them.

People sometimes tell me that they can forget to take their preventative inhalers & tablets. I don't. I can't. If I don't take my routine meds then I start feeling rotton pretty quickly. And that really gets on my wick, big time. Waking up in the night, feeling tight, just ruins your sleep (and I do love my sleep). Coughing your way through morning surgery isn't much fun. And not being able to run really does get me narked.

So I've been pretty narked the last few weeks. I had a slight sniffle when I ran the Brum half, which pretty quickly developed into a rip-roaring flu-type illness; I bimbled around the Uni of Brum 5K because I really wanted to, but there was absolutely no chance of me going faster than the 29min I managed alongside Vixx, and I felt rough for days. Truth be told, I really shouldn't have done that race. Common sense prevailed and I pulled out of the Cov half, because I was really rather concerned there may have been an episode of Completely Inadequate Ventilation.

Since then, I have been a) recovering and b) studiously avoiding going for a run, whilst c)simultaneously being frustrated about not going for a run. Studiously avoiding, because I knew the first run back would be hard work, with a battle against the Truculant Twins being on the cards. But I knew it was a step that I needed to take - running really does help with my asthma control, and I need to get that edge back. So I had to face the psychological hurdle head on; it's a bit like having to tear a plaster off a wound. You know it's going to sting like hell, but it's got to be done.

It's difficult to describe the sensation of the internal battle whilst you're running with asthma. The result certainly makes you feel like someone's been pummelling you lightly in the lower-to-middle-rib area. All I know is that, with some hefty encouragement from Vixx early on Saturday morning, I managed around 5 miles of running (the last mile walk-running) at a pace I've not seen on my watch since about a year ago, and a level of breathlessness I'd nearly forgotten. I'm not quite sure what's gone so wrong - I had longer off running during the summer, and didn't feel quite so grotty on my return as this weekend.

In a similar way to any religion, it's most difficult to keep the faith when times get rough; it's just hanging in there and waiting for things to get better that's the challenge. I've got to keep going; I've already committed to AUK to run the marathon again for them next year. I've also got a half marathon coming up in just under four weeks; this is what's really worrying me at the moment, based on Saturday's "performance". Psychologically I've got to put that behind me and move forwards; the only way I'll do that, though, is by going for another run. And that's a separate challenge of its very own.

Medal #20 - The University of Birmingham 5K, 18th October 2009

A nice little trundle around the Uni campus, wreathed in nostalgia for me, as this was where I went to uni. And it was at a very civilised hour of day too, an uncommon finding for races - it started at 11:30. Nice.

Having been suffering with a rather stinking cold over the last week, I decided that an all-out race was definitely not going to be on. Vixx wanted to get sub-30, so I stuck with her and we got round in 29:18. Lovely weather and a nice pleasant course, nothing too "up", nothing too "down".

One to do again next year, I feel.

Medal #19 - The Birmingham Half Marathon, 11th October 2009.

It was cool and drizzly for the second Birmingham Half Mara last week.

So drizzly, in fact, that I had to stop three times to wipe my glasses. There is something about heavy drizzle that is much worse than out-and-out rain for specs wearers; the drizzle seems to manage to obscure your vision much more effectively than mere rain can.

I also got rather wet.

I forgot to take my usual paracetamol before starting the run, too, so by mile 11 I'd really had enough and wanted to go home! However, I was rather pleased to come in with a time that equals my PB, which, considering I wasn't able to train as well as I would have liked for this event, was fair enough in my book.

Medal #18 - Stourport Shuttle 10K, 27th September 2009

As a last-minute decision, Vixx joined me for this nice little club-type event in Stourport.

We were both impressed by the pleasant, modern facilities in the club house - and the fact that it served fresh-brewed coffee (well, OK, it was out of a machine, but close enough).

The field was quite a small one, with a number of scary-looking proper-type athletes. Vixx and I kept ourselves to the back of the pack to start with, although both of us overtook a number by the end of the race.

The route was pleasant enough, quite flat, but with one right b*gger of a hill just after the three-mile point that sapped my legs completely. It ended with a lap of the track, which is a novelty for me as I've never really run on a proper track surface.

We finished off in proper Vixx 'n' Cath style with a coffee from the clubhouse. We really must get round to doing that coffee run...

The Thirty Medal Quest

...although, frankly, I'm not sure it'll be do-able, although not for the want of trying - there just seems to be a bit of a dearth of races around this time of year which offer medals.

My medals so far, prior to the start of the quest:

1. RfL 1999,
2. RfL 2000
3. RfL 2001
4. RfL 2002
5. RfL 2003
6. RfL 2004
7. RfL 2005
8. AUK 10K 2007
9. AUK 10K 2008
10. Muller 10K 2008
11. St Michael's 10K 2008
12. RfL 2008
13. Birmingham Half Marathon 2008
14. Sneyd Striders' Xmas Pudding 10-miles 2008
15. AUK 10K 2009
16. Forest of Dean Half Marathon 2009
17. FLM 2009

Challenging

The tri's next weekend *wibbles*...seriously, though, I'm really looking forwards to having a laugh, and the new type of challenge. I've been bimbling about in a really rather unstructured way, training-wise, for the past month or so - mainly because I've been really busy in other aspects of my life, plus I think it's because I've got two different event-types in close proximity and I've been torn as to my main focus.

So, I've been looking beyond the tri and thinking about what to do next. I've got the Brum half lined up in four weeks, and today I've entered the Keyworth Turkey Trot in December, which is another half marathon. There's a guy called Muttley on the RW forums who's been pursuing a "100 medals by the time I'm 50" challenge, a bet from his son, and this got me thinking. So I went and counted my medals.

At the moment, I've got 17. This would have been 18, were it not for the fact that we had rucksacks instead of medals for the Muller 10K this year (this is not a moan. The rucksack is very nice). With the Brum half, it'll be 18. I'm not sure if there's a medal for the tri, or for the Turkey Trot - they do say each finisher for the Turkey Trot gets "a memento" though. Suspect this is not a medal. But would that count?

So....the challenge I am thinking of is - 30 medals by the time I'm 30. This gives me just about five months to garner 13 medals.

Better go and do some RW Events searching....

I fought the Hagley Mile, and the Hagley Mile...errr...lost.

Mwahahahah.

Joint run with Vixx tonight. We decided we both fancied the challenge of the Hagley Mile. Neither of us had ever managed to run it all the way up (it's a rise of 261ft in 0.7 miles and, as such, is a bit hardcore).

We both did it. Good job.

I'll be riding on that achievement for a while, I tell you... :-D

No Longer A Beginner

There's a bit of a saying amongst running people. Something along the lines of - you stop being a beginner when you start offering advice to other runners.

Well, last week I had a bit of a chat with Vixx on t'phone. She's a rather proficient personal trainer-coachy-therapist-nutritionist-type person, who very kindly helped with my nutrition on the run up the the marathon. Happily we share a love for coffee along with a passion for running, so it was a very productive kind of meeting :) (she came up with the brilliant idea of a coffee shop run - how good is that?!). Anyhoo, she said she'd got a few clients who were interested in doing the Brum Half and she was thinking of doing a bit of a Saturday morning training session. Would I be interested in helping out, and maybe taking the lead on the slightly faster group?

Would I?! Hello! Would I ever!!

I wouldn't ever claim to be fast, in fact by comparison with others I'm really rather slow. My WAVA scores are only slightly above average for my age. But hey, I'll give anything a go - and I was rather chuffed to be considered able enough to be asked to do it.

Feeling some slight trepidation, though - when I run by myself, I can adjust pace and distance to suit how I am feeling, and if I'm having a bad lung run I can just slow or cut it short - or sometimes abort completely. Not that I've done that for a long time, and as it'll be summer/autumn time at least I escape the scourge of cold weather. If you're going out with a group - as the "lead" - then it's much more difficult to do that. Alternatively, though, it may well give me that kick to push myself that little bit harder than I might usually do in my own training. All in all, I think this will be a very positive step, and I'm really looking forwards to it.

So - now I am no longer a "beginner" runner. I've come of age. Wooo, and indeed, hooo.

Marathon - Done. What Next?

Well, there's now a big fat tick next to "Marathon" in the list of things to do at least once in this life.

So where to go from there, eh? That was the big question.

In my mind, I had thought to have a few weeks of gentle rest, then start thinking about improving my speed, particularly over 10K and half mara distances. And maybe even think about doing another marathon at some point.

So, I took a couple of weeks off. Had a very gentle 4mile jog the weekend after the mara, then slobbed again for a week. Ate whatever the hell I wanted, regained a little bit of weight, and generally chilled.

Two weeks after the marathon was the Market Drayton Muller 10K. This is a great race, and if you're a runner and you've never done it, I highly recommend it - if only for the goody pack at the end! It is organised by the Muller running club (yep, thems that makes the yoghurts) and every runner gets a "free tray of Muller product" at the end of the race. Which usually equates to twelve Muller corners. This is in addition to the usual goody stuff - as it emerged this year, no medal, but they had poured thier funds into a jolly nice little rucksack instead. Can't say fairer than that.

Anyway, we headed up to Shropshire (Vixx decided to enter too, which was cool as I'm more used to being Billy-No-Mates on race days!). It was a lovely day, and thankfully for running conditions, the sun was passing behind clouds intermittently to give us some reprieve from the heat.

However, about 3miles in, I became acutely aware that this wasn't going to be my day. My left knee, which had started to give me some gyp laterally during the last few miles of the marathon, started to hurt again. When it had initially occurred during the marathon, I had put it down to simple long-run joint aches, although I'd not really had lateral knee pain before - it had usually been medial. But now it began to be quite acutely sore, and causing me some infra-patellar pain too - necessitating a more run-walk strategy. I'd set out that day with a more philosophical attitude to this race, anyway; if a PB was on, I'd go for it, but if not, I'd back off and just enjoy it. Well, I couldn't say I was really enjoying it, cos that knee stung like h*ll, but hey, it was a nice day and I still came in under the hour.

I thought the pain would ease after a night's sleep, but no. Not being particularly sports-medicine minded, I spent most of Monday trying to figure out exactly what structure was in that area of my knee to make so incredibly tender. A quick hunt in the anatomy text book revealed the answer in a very much "D'oh!" fashion. Durrr, it was my ilio-tibial band.

For those of you not much in the know, Iliotibial Band Syndrome is otherwise known as Runner's Knee and tends to be a result of sudden increases in training mileage. Well, that ticks all the boxes - due to a couple of training breaks I had imposed upon me by snow and viral grot, I'd had to accelerate up the mileage increases needed for the marathon over a shorter period than usual. I just thank my lucky stars that it happened after the marathon and not before it.

So, thanks to a good bit of guidance involving rolling pins, ice and stretching, it's now sorted itself out and stood up to a good 4-miler the other night. And I now have a new goal.

Two things happened within the space of a few days last week:
1) On the Tuesday, I had an email saying the entries for the Birmingham Half mara would be opening the following day. Rapid-fire text messages followed the next morning, and Vixx and I are now entered (more on this in a later post). Not so exciting, as this is something I've already done, although I will be looking to improve my half mara PB - especially as they've changed the course to make it flatter this year.

2) I was idly browsing Conny's photos on Facebook of her first tri last year. The swim bit was in a swimming pool. I happened to make the comment "Oooh now that's more like it, I could do a pool swim. Not that I am saying I would do a tri, you understand". In response to that, I was cunningly given the link to the event website. It's a sprint tri. 500m swim, 20K bike ride, 5k run. This bounced around in my head for a few days. "Ooooh," said my brain, "those distances are manageable. You could do that, you could". Then, on Friday night, having churned out a whole load of excuses and foiled them all, I entered. Not exactly cheap, but hey, it should be a laugh, and I get to be a Trainee Lady Pirate* for the day, having been promised use of Conny's Monaco Pirate top if I entered :)


So, I appear to have answered my own question there. Thanks, Conny :) Time to get on that bike, it would seem!


*Pirates: Runner's World Forum members who do Triathlons. Short for Pirate Ship of Fools (PSOF).

I Dreamed A Dream

It is difficult to truly convey the experience of running the London Marathon as someone for whom this is, in common parlance, A Very Big Deal.

The morning dawned warm, bright and clear, in pure defiance of all weather forcasts which had gloomily predicted downpours. There was, in storybook fashion, not a cloud in the sky.

At breakfast in the hotel, there was an almost palpable air of excitement. People padded around at the buffet in running tops and tracksuit bottoms. Nervous grins were exchanged over the coffee pots and porridge tureen.

Staying where we were, on the very edge of Blackheath, was absolutely perfect. Having had breakfast, made sure we had everything, and left the hotel, all we had to do was take a leisurely stroll across the park and we were at the Red Start. There was a definite party atmosphere as you stood by the entrances and were passed by a pair of apples and someone carrying a pink cow/pig windsock. It was at this point that I had to leave my two supporters - my dear and longsuffering No. 1 Supporter, Mr Gill, and the Mad Arty one. I put my rucksack inside the official baggage bag and trudged down the cordons to the Red Start area, found a nice tree and settled myself under it for a bit, perusing the London Marathon mag's course article for last minute hints and tips.

Then, at about ten past nine, it was last call for the baggage truck. By this point in time it was patantly obvious I would not be needing my wind/rainproof lightweight running jacket, so, having put on my fuel belt and Garmin, I packed everything else into the bag and handed it in. The next time I would see that would be 26.2 miles away.

One final loo trip (and my goodness did they honk by this point in time) and we were asked to get into our pens. I found pen 8 and shuffled inside. Like some kind of oracle, my friend's advice kept echoing in my ears. "Stay off your feet, you are going to be on them for long enough!". So I found a nice patch of concrete and sat on my bum for the next fifteen minutes.

The start at FLM is a slightly odd experience, in that they let you go a pen at a time, walking you up to the park gates before you can start jogging. I never actually heard the gun go off, I was too far back and there was far too much noise. Over the next fifteen minutes, we walked forwards, then stopped, several times before we really started moving and passed through the park gates. But that wasn't the start - this was about another twenty yards down the road. By this point, the SIS PSP22 energy drink that I had been slowly sipping prior to the start was hitting my bladder. So, when I spied that some bright spark had moved a barrier to create a path to a bank of portaloos, and runners were hopping off the course to use them, I followed suit. Well, what's the point of going after you've crossed the line and your time is already ticking? Better to go before your chip activates on the start line, then your loo stop doesn't count!

So, pit stop done, it was just after 10:00am when I crossed the start line. I don't think I stopped smiling for the first three miles. There were so many people along the route cheering, clapping singing and people playing instruments, it was impossible not to smile. I high-fived the kids, jogged alongside a camel for a bit, and felt very, very comfortable at about 10:15/mile pace. I actually felt uncomfortable trying to run any slower. My breathing was good, the sun was shining, and it was the start of an amazing day.

My about mile 6 it was very clear that it was getting far too hot. At about mile 7, someone tapped me on the shoulder. "Are you Basil Brush from Runners' World?" Someone had recognised me from the description I had put up on my vest. I asked her if it was her first marathon. "Oh no," she panted back. "You'd think I'd be old enough to know better by now, though, wouldn't you?". She then encouraged me to push on, as she wanted to go a bit slower.

Down by the Cutty Sark I passed a tree. No, really, a tree - a St John Ambulance tree, being interviewed by the BBC, a moment which was caught for the world to see on the BBC highlights programme. Shortly after that, we passed a brass band playing "Eye of the Tiger" in typical brass-band style, which made me chuckle. Then, at about mile 12, I was running close to the side of the road, when someone read my name off my vest. "Come on, Dr Cath!" they yelled, as I passed them. Just as they shouted that, a face jerked up from the side of the road next to me. "CATHYYY!!!" It was one of our KA forumites, on duty with the St John Ambulance, sat at the side of the road. That gave me a real lift to get through the next few miles - it was getting lonely and hot and difficult, and seeing a familiar face really helped.

I'd had a text (no, really) near the start of the race from Mr Steve. "There are NO AUK banners at Mile 15. We'll keep an eye out for you". So I managed to take a picture of the gantry at mile 14 to text to him, so they would be aware I was nearly there. I wasn't sure how well the timing-mat text message service would be working, and I was right to be sceptical - it was taking around 40 minutes for the messages to arrive.

I got a little confused then, when jogging in a tunnel at the 15-mile point, to find the mile gantry in the tunnel. I had been under the impression that the City Pride pub, where the AUK supporter point was, was pretty much exactly at mile 15. Oh no, I've missed them, I thought. That was a pretty gutting moment. But then, about 100 yards out of the tunnel, I saw my Dad - in bright, snot green Asthma UK t-shirt, standing atop some sort of bollard and waving desperately with both arms. And how lovely was it to see, at the side of the road - Steve, Mum, and Nutter No 1, my great pal Sarah, another mad brittle asthmatic who refuses to let her condition hold her back.

Those hugs felt so good. I had already taken the executive decision to abandon any kind of time target - it was just too hot to push hard. So I revelled in the moment, took off my pace bands, had a drink, a gel, restocked on some gels (Steve gave me three, although I had only planned to have one off him - it was a good job, as we will see later). "We'll see you at mile 18," and off I went again.

By now every mile was getting more tough. I wasn't feeling dehydrated - long training runs had taught me well about how my body coped with heat and how much fluid I needed - but the roadside sprinkler showers were very, very welcome. Poor Mellie the Elephant got a bit wet though. However, she dried out very quickly! My next goal - Mile 17, Mudshute, the Runners' World supporter point where I would be met by the group 3 supporters, "Nam" and "Bear".

I had just spied the blue and yellow banners when I came within earshot of a childrens' choir who were on the left hand side of the road. They were singing - beautifully - "Something Inside So Strong." This was the point where I came closest to losing it completely in the marathon. That song summed up everything - why I was there, what I was doing, why I was doing it, and how hard I had worked and - at times - struggled; not just with running with asthma, but also those bad dark days in the early stages of my career where medicine was hell and my skin an eruptive, erythrodermic mess of eczema and icthyosis. I stumbled up the road and espied Nam - and had the biggest, most lovely hug from someone I've never met!

Unfortunately something had gone awry with the transport of stuff from the Expo and my gels hadn't made it. Thankfully Bear magicked up a spare SIS gel - in my exercise-ridden confusion I don't think I really thanked him enough. So, Bear, thank you very very much!! This just made up my exact quota to get me through to the end of the race. I grabbed some water and was just having a natter generally when Nam remarked "Oh, look, there goes Jordon, bobbing past".

"What? I'm not having that!!" I said, craning my neck around to see the media circus passing by.

"Go on then, get after her!!" yelled Nam - and off I went! Happily I quickly overtook her and left her far behind (no, really, that's not me just spouting bravado!).

Next stop - Mile 18. My goodness me, a bus-stop full of Asthma UK lime green, there was no way I could miss them!! And a huge pink banner - "Dr Cath's Nutters" proudly flew over their heads. It was so lovely to see everyone there - so lovely that so many came into London, struggled on the tube, made the journey, all just to see mad little me running around the city. It was lovely to meet IRL Vicky and Clare, whom I have "spoken to" on the AUK message boards, but never met, and also to see Webeditor Luke doing his bit for AUK.

And then it was onwards again. From mile 20 it started to get really hard. I had a few short walks as I had started to suffer with some lateral/anterior knee pain that I'd not ever had on a long run before. I assumed it simply to be the effects of doing a run longer than I had ever done before. I was also just getting tired, and I was rather hot. At mile 21 the London Fire Brigade had a roadside support area next to one of their stations, and one of the firemen had a hose out (no, really, don't be so filthy) and was spraying water at the runners. It was extremely cold, but very welcome!

The support had gone a bit thin around Canary Wharf, but around mile 22 onwards it really picked up and the streets towards the finish were just completely rammed with people. So many people shouting me on, calling my name out, encouraging me, handing out Jelly Babies, water, anything just to keep the runners going.

And then, finally, I was on the Mall. Rounding that corner and seeing that finish line was amazing. And crossing it - nearly lost it again, but was probably too tired at this point to have a full emotional response. I raised my arms like I'd won some huge prize, trundled across the line and tried to smile for the photo. Then a monotonous procession through the secure area. Chip removal. Medal. Finisher's photo. Goody bag. Baggage reclaim. Somone else taking photos as you headed up the end of the secure area. Then fighting my way through huge crowds on Horseguards to the meet and greet, letter "F". Steve wasn't there - they had all been held up on the tube, but he arrived very soon after I did. Another lovely, lovely hug. Then wandering over to the Director's institute and meeting Neil Churchill, Chief Exec of AUK. "Oh," he said, when I gave my name, "Someone's just been asking about you - they're through there", and directed us through to the lounge, where the full Dr Cath's Nutters squad were resplendent in their lime green glory. Very shortly after, we were joined by a few other good friends who had made their way across London.

I had a leg massage courtesy of AUK (where I met fellow doc and RW forumite Barking), drank my protein recovery drink, took on a little more fluid (but didn't need much, happily I had judged my hydration exactly right) and chatted with my friends and family. We eventually departed around 6pm, with Sarah-Nutter, Kate and Mat, heading back to Blackheath. I partook of a refreshing shower (I think I was a little fragrant by this point) and then we strolled down the road to a lovely little Italian.

I didn't have pasta, surprisingly.

It was a lovely ending to a lovely night, although by this point my knees were bloomin' stiff. Eventually we went back to the hotel around 9:30, and by 10pm I could no longer keep my eyes open, and drifted into the traditional deep and dreamless sleep.

Prelude to the Greatest Day

London. Wow, London.

So, we travelled down to London on Friday 24th April. We found the hotel very easily (Sat Nav: "You have reached your destination" Steve: *slams on brakes and swerves into car park* "S**t, yes we have!"), checked in to very pleasant surroundings overlooking the hotel gardens, then spoke to mum and dad and arranged to meet them at the FLM Expo, which was taking place at the Excel Centre in Docklands.

London public transport always comes as a refreshing change when you come from a part of Britain where public transport is middling to rubbish. A couple of short train/DLR journeys later and we were on the concourse outside the Excel Centre. I was feeling that slight-strung-up kind of nervousness that always comes before a big event, not quite able to relax, so it was great to see two of the most important people in my life waiting there in London for me. Well, let's face it, if it weren't for them I wouldn't be here at all... ;-). But honestly, it was my Dad and brother who really inspired me into running in my teens, and if it hadn't have been for my Dad who was prepared to plod at a ridiculously slow pace with me on those teenage-years training runs, I would never have started to run in the first place.

Excel is obviously massive. The people at the registration desk were really friendly and helpful, explained exactly and clearly what I needed to do (how they had managed to remain that cheerful I just don't know, they must have repeated that info about twenty thousand times already - maybe it was seeing the patent excitement on most runners' faces?) and issued me with my number and chip. Then it was off into the Expo itself, where we mooched around the stalls and I realised that those lovely gels - which I had painstakingly labelled up at home to drop off for the Runners' World Mudchute Support point at mile 17 - were still sitting in the hotel room. *unprintable word*. So I bought some more, borrowed a pen and notebook page from mum, snaffled some stickers from the AUK stand, and labelled up three more. Dropped them off at the RW stand after chatting with the peeps at the AUK stand and having our picture taken, then bagged a bargain at one of the clothing stands with a lovely purple Ron Hill top. I had been looking for a purple technical tshirt to go under my AUK running vest, but hadn't been able to find one, so was particular chuffed to find this one at 1/3 off the RRP.

We sat and ate some pasta at the pasta party whilst listening to one of the race organisers run through some practical tips for the day. Then, laden down with goody bags, we headed back for the train and, ultimately the hotel.

Saturday was another fairly chilled day. We got up for breakfast nearly as late as possible, and had to queue for a table behind like-minded people. This included a couple in running gear, who chatted loudly about the fact that "oh, we'll be done by one o'clock tomorrow". Hmmm. Wasn't entirely sure about the whole coming-to-breakfast-in-your-running-gear thing. You're obviously not about to go out on a run, because you're about to eat. And if you've just come back from a run, aren't you all hot and sweaty and not terribly pleasant to be around for prolonged periods? Conclusion: POSER!

(Wearing tracky trousers/tops on the morning of the marathon is, of course, entirely acceptable.)

We went and had a look around a little toy museum, had a nice leisurely coffee and then went to meet two of our adopted daughters. It was a terribly pressing matter that I had to meet adopted daughter "Baby Seal" as I had to collect something very important off of her to carry on race day. This important something was Mellie the Elephant.

Baby Seal has severe brittle asthma, accompanied by a horribly stubborn streak which she uses to blackmail me mercilessly. She threatens me that unless I do such-and-such, she will attempt to run a 10K/climb Snowdon/run a marathon. Note the word "attempt", as she knows that I know that before she gets very far she will turn a delicate shade of blue and risk collapse. It is for this reason that the word "compromise" features strongly in my vocabulary, alongside "OK then, I will".

But seriously, it's for people like Baby Seal that I was in London in the first place. And because Baby Seal can't run the marathon, I was running it for her. With her little mascot, Mellie the Elephant, who was to sit in my fuel belt over the full 26.2 miles as a reminder of my motivation, and to renew my determination when the going got tough.

So we met Baby Seal, and the Mad Arty one - who was to be staying with us at the hotel that night - shortly followed by my parents. We then all had a little stroll to Nelson's column, admired the goings-on in the square for a short while, then pootled back to the hotel where AUK were holding their pre-race pasta party. Yes, more pasta. Ate pasta, played at "Guess the number of Bagpuss", debated the correct plural of "Bagpuss" (Bagpusses? Bagpi?), chatted to the kindly crew of AUK, and ate some more pasta. Then Baby Seal departed and we headed hotel-wards once again - giving Mum & Dad a huge goodbye/good luck hug before we went our separate ways.

We spent the rest of the evening generally chilling and gossiping with the Mad Arty one. I laid out all my running kit, made lists, scribbled them out, and re-made lists. I packed my bag, I packed Steve's bag, I sorted out Bruno the Running Bear (Bruno is my oldest teddy, who has been with me since I was born. Yes, I am thoroughly saft, as my gran would say) into his running kit. Then I had a nice warm bath and tried to chill out, having made some kind of regimented timetable for the morning involving some stupid o'clock alarm call.

And, of course, featuring the word "Porridge".

I must, I must, I must work out my carbs...(warning - boring chunter follows)

Again, unless you're an Eighties' child, and, perhaps, more specifically, an Eighties' girl, who happened to read books by a certain author whose books saw a bit of a "craze", perhaps more specifically Judy Blume, and read a certain book by that author, perhaps more specifically, "Are you there God? It's me, Margaret", then you won't recognise the roots of that blog post title.

It's just me, isn't it?

Oh well, anyway, I must work out my carbs, having wasted the first part of my evening messing about on the internet and eating. So I thought I would combine the first of these things with the task-in-hand and try to work it all out in a blog post. Neat, huh?

So. They say (Them Wot Is In The Know) that during a marathon, you'll typically use up about 30-60g of carbs per hour. I need to work out how many gels I'll need, and how much Lucozade Sport I will need to glug at each of the Lucozade Sport stations - which are every 5 miles. Water stations are every mile, but we can discount those completely, because water has no carb value and I will probably run straight past most of these mile-stations (unless it's very hot). No hyponatraemia for me, thanks very much.

So. SIS gels are somewhat lighter than other gels, which gives them the advantage of being much more palatable and even refreshing. In the Forest of Dean Half, which was quite hot, they seemed really rather refreshing to me, anyway. However, this gives them the disadvantage of not containing as many carbs as other gels. Frankly, I'd rather have to consume the gels more frequently than be gagging and hacking after taking one and trying desperately to wash away the taste.

Each SIS gel contains 22g of CHO. Lucozade sport contains 6.6g CHO per 100ml, and, on the big day, is served up in 330ml bottles - so each one will contain around 22g of CHO. Ooooh, that's convenient. Now, in training, jogging along at a comfortable pace sipping Lucozade Sport frequently from my Camelbak and with gels in my belt, I've noticed feeling the need for a gel every three miles or so. Which would be about right - two gels per hour (just over, because I won't be able to keep 10min/mile dead up for 26 miles!!), plus some sippages of Lucozade, and I'll be well sorted. I should probably aim to drink most of a bottle of Lucozade in order to keep my fluid levels up, but I will probably opt more for sipping the Lucozade for about a mile, then abandoning it and getting some water from one of the stations. I don't like having a lot of stuff sloshing around inside of me whilst running, it just gets uncomfortable. On my last 20-miler, I just about finished off the entire capacity of my Camelbak over 3hrs 50 - 1.4l of Lucozade. Most people would probably say that's not enough fluid, and, certainly if it's very hot I'd need to take more, but that works for me. And I didn't feel unwell at the end of that run.

So, if I take a gel every three miles that'll be 3, 6, 9, 12, 15, 18, 21, and 24. Good, that'll be just perfect timing for the last gel to be fuelling the last mile or so. That means I'll need 8 gels. I'll be seeing my supporters at mile 15 and the RW supporters at mile 17, so I can leave gels with them for the last part of the race. So I'll need four in my belt to start with, have one off the "Support Dr Cath!!" crew at mile 15, and then I'll give the Mudchute crew three to give me at mile 17. Which is convenient, cos I think four is about the total capacity of the pouch on my belt!!

Did you get all that? Great. Now, can you explain it to me, please?

Random Acts Of Kindness

This evening, I've reached - and now passed - my original fundraising target of £2,000.

Throughout last night and this morning, my fundraising whipped smartly through the £1,950 mark thanks to some lovely colleagues, whom I've never met but have conversed with both socially and professionally via a professional website, Doctors.net.

This evening, the £2,000 target was smashed by someone I've never met, but had contact with through the AUK message boards.

And then, a few minutes later, another person took the fundraising well beyond the target. I've never met this person and was, indeed, unaware of their existence. I've never had contact from them before and may never again.

I'm extremely awed and touched by all of this activity on my fundraising page over the past 24 hours. I'm moved by the fact that so many people, who have never met me, are so prepared to give me such support.

Asthma is funny like that. It's a phenomenon probably shared by other illnesses, but there's something about Asthma. Maybe it's the whole not-being-able-to-breathe thing. Unless you've experienced it, you can't really know what it's like. We can do our best to try to show you, by pinching your nose and making you breathe through a straw, but we can easily release your nose and let the straw drop. If only aborting an asthma attack were so simple.

Just looking over my sponsor forms & JustGiving, I've had 78 donations. My M-I-L has another two sponsor forms, but I'll have to discount them cos I ain't got 'em here. Of those 78 donations, a massive 38 have come from people I have either never met, or met only very briefly in "real life". That's just awesome - literally.

The internet has been hailed as both a blessing and a curse - but for now, I have to call it a blessing, for enabling me to get the word out about my marathon so widely, and for allowing me to "meet" some truely amazing people.

Thank you all so much.

The further you take my rights away, the faster I will run...

Well, the whole carb-depletion thing lasted a whole 48 hours. Having felt almost constantly hungry for that 48 hours, I woke up on Saturday morning feeling shakey, nauseated, and generally knackered. So I ate three slices of toast and marmalade and started to feel much better. Came to the conclusion that, as a skinny minny, I probably don't really have the reserves to try doing without carbs for long. Never mind.

Now I'm filling myself full of carbs and protein, loading up the muscles ready for the big day. Last night I had a little pootle out and about - and it was a lovely evening for a run, apart from a group of young chav lads on push bikes who insisted on constantly whizzing past me down the bypass, so I turned back and left them to it. Nice gentle 3.25miles overall. I might go out on Thursday - just a very gentle 1-2 miles to keep the legs ticking over - but otherwise, that's it.

I had a mad panic-24-hours from Sunday to Monday - akin to the kind of feeling I got before taking my MRCGP exams - but I think that may have been partly just feeling knackered. I was away at the weekend on a GP-update course, and the hotel room on the Saturday night wasn't exactly a restful environment as we seemed to be situated under the lift motor. Hey ho. After going out for my little run last night, I felt much better - something to do with the immensely relaxing feeling of a nice jog in lovely fresh Spring air, accompanied by the strains of "Something Inside So Strong" by Labbie Siffre.

I know that I can make it.

The List

FLM Pack - race number letter, magazine
Passport (need this for photo ID for getting my number at the Expo)
Energy gels - some labelled for dropping off at Expo
SIS powders
AUK running vest
Top for wearing under the vest
Vizion jacket
Fuel belt
SIS bottle + another flask for afters
Grey running trousers
Tracksuit Trousers
Hoodie
Spare t-shirt
MP3 Player for chillout beforehand (plus spare battery)
Buffs x2
Tissues
Ventolin inhaler x2
Spacer
Paracetamol & ibuprofen
Spare laces
Compeed
Plasters
Safety pins
1st aid kit
Marker pen
Biro
Pace bands
Loperamide
Rucksack
Spare trainers & socks or flipflops
Sun cream
Sports bra-top
Sunglasses
Hotel booking letter
Garmin + charger + cradle + chest strap
Phone charger
Cromoglycate eye drops


Can anyone think of anything else?

STOP! Taper Time!

Ok, so unless you're an Eighties' child, that title probably won't make much sense to you. You'll be sitting there looking non-plussed whilst the rest of us start humming "Nerrr na-na-na, naaaaah naa".

So, having done my twenty-miler, it was time for the taper to start. "Tapering" is the process of cutting down your training mileage, ready for the big day. For a short race, with a short training period, you're likely to only do a taper of a week or two. Because it's the marathon, and I've been training since, oooh, about November, on/off for the first couple of months, I'm doing a long taper of four weeks. Liz Yelling said I should.*

I've really rather enjoyed the last couple of weeks. Done a couple of speed sessions, some nice little trots, and generally got back to enjoying the running a little more. Plus the added bonus of having the light nights back, which has been lovely and actually allowed me to run in the light most of the time!

So now I'm looking at the next few days. I will be going for a programme of carbohydrate depleting/carbohydrate loading, which basically means I go on the Atkin's Diet for five days then stuff myself with potato. Or something like that. I don't know if I will make it the full five days - I can see myself craving carbs pretty quickly - but I'll do my best. Still haven't quite figured out what I am going to have for my "work-day" breakfast that doesn't involve carbs...

And, in other news, I wiped 3mins 10seconds off my 10K time at the AUK 10K at the weekend!! Wooooooo----hoooooo!! My PB now stands at 54:12. I am well chuffed I managed to break my previous PB and get a sub-55min 10K in one. Next goal will be a sub-52 10K, I think...

I am starting to get a bit nervous about the whole marathon thing now. I think this is because I have been planning this for so long (I booked the hotel back before Christmas!) and have all kinds of mental images about what might happen, doing the race, etc. Now it's getting scarily close. There are only twelve days left before the big day, and just over a week before we leave for the Big Smoke. Today I have mentally planned out my last training runs prior to the marathon. That is really scary. Months and months of training, and now I'm planning out the last ones.

In fundraising news, my total now sits at £1,762.02. I'm overwhelmed at the generosity of everyone who has sponsored me. Months back I was sweating about how on earth I was going to raise £1,000, let alone the £1,500 that AUK wanted me to raise. Thank you all so much!

And, if you're feeling guilty that you haven't yet sponsored me, can I persuade you to pay a visit to my fundraising page now? *cheeky grin* The link's on the left-hand menu. Thank you.

Right, well, I did promise myself at some point that I would blog about running with asthma, so I think that might well be the subject of my next blog post. Together with a list of stuff I need to take with me to London. And my experiences of going ketotic on a carb-depleting diet....



*Sort of. Well, she recommended it in an article in Runners' World.

The Silicone Chip Inside Her Head Is Set to "Overload"

I had a thought on my run yesterday morning.

Bear in mind, I've spent the last few weeks, during marathon-based conversations, saying (and meaning) "I don't think I'll do another one" "It's taken over my life too much, I won't do another one" "I'm going to concentrate on shorter distances after this".

I didn't really register what I had thought on my run until I got back, sunk into a lovely warm bath, and I suddenly remembered what I had thought.

I had thought, somewhere around the 17 mile point, "I'd quite like to do the Snowdonia Marathon".

I mean, Jeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeez, WHAT?! Where the hell did that come from?

Help!!!

And, d'ya know what's even scarier? I actually, genuinely, meant it.

I am utterly beyond all hope.

Pre-run Ibuprofen = Pure Genius.

Yesterday was my last long run before starting to taper for the marathon. So at just after 9:00am, I set out to run 20 miles, having carefully planned a route the night before on G-maps Pedometer.

My long runs recently have been quite painful from about 13-14miles onwards - my back, knees and hips have started to ache horribly, to the point on the last couple of runs where it's been actually more painful to stop & walk than it has been to keep running! It doesn't make for a happy state of mind, and I think this contributed to my horrible slump in mood and motivation last week (which was relieved by a great night with the Radleys, my very good doctor friends and their respective OHs - thanks guys!). Pain is terribly demoralising, as anyone who has ever suffered with a chronically painful condition will tell you. And I only had to bear it for a few hours - well, until the post-run stiffness sets in, that is!

So, having meant to follow this plan for the past couple of weeks, yesterday morning I actually remembered to take some ibuprofen before I set out on my run.

Sheer Bliiiiissssss.

Apart from usual tired-leg feeling, I felt great all the way round. No achey back, no achey hips, no achey knees. I really wish I'd discovered this earlier in my training...!

What I did discover was a) I'm fine with Lucozade Sport as a drink, which is lucky, being as this is what they are serving up on FLM day (so I thought I'd better give it a test-run), and b) I could do with a gel every 3.5miles or so. I took four out with me, which is all I had as I'd forgotten to buy any more, and it wasn't really quite enough. The new belt I purchased was good, though - much better balanced and fitted than my previous cheapo job.

Unfortunately, having done a very thorough scour of the B-road I had planned to run down using the satellite images on G-maps, ensuring it had a footway all the way along it, I hadn't done the same for the Bromsgrove Feeder road which comprised the last 3-4 miles of my run. So it was knees up and running along uneven grass verge. Which was actually a bonus, as it used muscles I hadn't been using so much in the rest of the run.

I think it took me about 3:45. I say think, because in a spectacularly blonde moment, I stopped my Garmin to cross over a fairly busy road in Bromsgrove, and then forgot to restart it until about a mile or so later when I realised I really had run further than the 13.8 miles that I had apparently run about ten minutes previously. Blast, blast, blast. Oh well.

So, overall, I'm feeling much better and more positive about running a marathon than I was this time last week. Bring it on!

I have the answer!

In relation to my previous post, the answer to how best to get from one side of London to the other has come from an unexpected source.

When my copy of Top Gear magazine arrived today it contained a free DVD of the Stig's greatest moments, including the challenge which looked at how best to cross London at 8:30am on a Monday morning. Richard, James, Jeremy and the Stig each had a different mode of transport to use.

So, thanks to this, I know exactly how to get across London on raceday:

Does anyone have a speedboat I can borrow?

...and I've got to negotiate London on raceday!

Included in Cathy's FLM race pack was Transport For London's handy (all things are relative) guide to which DLR and Tube stations you need to exit from in order to get to appropriate bits of the course. It tells you where the best vantage points are, and where to avoid.

That last section was the shortest. It just said, "London".

In fact, the entire first page was a list of the bus route numbers for those routes that wouldn't be going where they normally go on race day. There are three starts, and two different meeting places at the end, depending on which letter of the alphabet you've decided to meet at. We've chosen "X". Everybody else has probably chosen this as well.

Apparently, the Cutty Sark will have limited access on race weekend. Does this matter? It's not as if I was planning to sail it anywhere.

Our hotel is near to the start. The only logical way to get a bus from there to a DLR station (the nearest Tube station is nearly an hours walk away) would be to plough though the marathon route. So I think I'll have to take a train from Blackheath station. Although I'm not sure where to.

At least I know that our little group of supporters will be easy to spot, for since the get-together at Matlock at the start of the month I've been privvy to the cunning plan that a couple of them have cooked up. There'll be no missing us on race day. We might even get on the telly!

Meantime, all Cathy has to do is run on the nicely cordoned-off roads from the start to the finish, at which point there will even be some kindly folk to take her timing chip off her trainers for her.

Sometimes I think the runners have it easy...

This Thing, It's Taking Over My Life

I was chatting to our receptionists this evening. About half way through evening surgery, I realised that I'd been dating things incorrectly all day. I'd been writing "19.03.09" on things. Observant types amongst you will notice that today is the 20th.

"Oh dear, Cathy, " said one of the receptionists, "What's the matter with you? Oh, I know what it is, it's all this running, that 17 miles yesterday has addled your brain!".

She may not be far wrong. Marathon training does take over your life. If you're not actually running, you're recovering from running - stretching those aching muscles, taking nice long hot baths, and possibly hobbling around a bit for 24 hours. If you're not recovering from running, you're thinking about running - how far you're going on your next run, where you'll go, what drinks/gels you need to take with you. If you're not thinking about running, you're eating or drinking for running - taking on protein immediately after a long run, stocking up on the carbs, making sure you're well hydrated with electrolyte drink, or making sure you're energised-up for a run with energy drink. If you're not eating and drinking about running, you're talking about it and getting people to sponsor you for the Big Race. If you're not talking or fundraising, you're probably dreaming about running. If you're not dreaming about it, you're probably engaging in some positive mental visualisation by imagining your perfect race, or perhaps (dare I say it) visualising yourself crossing the finishing line in London.

I also now appear to have regressed and lost the ability to drink from anything other than a bottle. Currently, my SIS bottle is sitting next to me, filled with orange squash. There is no logical reason for this. I could drink it from a pint glass (except for the fact that there is more than a pint in the bottle). I seem to have become surgically attached to the bottle. It's a very nice bottle, but this habit could put me in a bit of bother in a posh restaurant, for example.

Thankfully, I am still able to drink tea and coffee from mugs.

And this morning, my FLM race number arrived.

It's amazing how your perspective changes. For years, I have watched the London Marathon on the TV and been sort of inspired by it. I've nebulously thought, "I could do that" in a kind of I-must-get-fitter fashion, but never really thought of really doing it. It was always something that someone else did. No-one I knew had ever run a marathon. The furthest my Dad and brother ever ran when they were running together during my teens was a 10k race. For quite a long time, 10K was some huge unattainable distance for me. Now, it's a short run. And in a moment of vague insanity, I entered the ballot for the London Marathon in May of last year. I think my mindset was more, "I'll try, and well, I probably won't get in". The odds are certainly against you getting in the first time you apply through the ballot system. And I didn't get it. But then a tiny mad thought entered my head, and, in one of those brief flashes of insanity that seem to creep into my life now and then, I emailed Francine Heggie at Asthma UK with a "business case" for them giving me a Golden Bond place. I sent it not really thinking that much would come of it.

Then, of course, she phoned me up and the rest is history.

And this morning it really hit home.

Oh my God, I'm running the London Marathon.

Kidderminster! (Or: The Agony and The Ecstacy)

Originally used as the "posh person's term for 'toilet'" in a Bottom sketch, Kidderminster is actually a town in the vague vicinity of Halesowen. Sort of.

It was also the destination of my long run this week.

My original plan was to run down the A456 to Hagley, then branch off down the A450 (Worcester Rd) to Stone, cut along the A448 on the outskirts of Kiddy, then run all the way back down the A456 back home.

It was a lovely afternoon for a run. I loaded up the Camelbak, stuffed a few gels into my belt, and plodded out into the sunshine.

I can tell you, you don't half feel a complete tool running through a residential area with a Camelbak on. Thankfully, though, within about half a mile of our house you get into the kind of area where it doesn't seem quite so odd. And anyway, after a few miles you really do stop caring what you look like....

I got to Hackman's Gate, not too far short of Barnett Hill garden centre on the A450, when the foot way abruptly ended. The verges deteriorated into the kind of terrain that would complement a ploughed field quite nicely. A quick glance over the top of my sunglasses confirmed that there was no further footpath as far as the eye could see.

I had three options: risk turning an ankle on the ploughed-field verge, risk death by running on a national-speed limit road, or turn back. Guess what. I turned back.

I took the road to the left at the crossroads at Hackman's Gate. Thankfully I am blessed with a vaguely good sense of direction, which, combined with a reasonable knowledge of the major routes around our wider area, means I can normally find my way OK using a system of educated guesswork. I headed down Belbroughton Road, which, can I say, has some really rather nice houses on it. I even picked out a couple that I'll go and buy up when I win the lottery. That's the beauty of running - it'll take you past places you'd never normally go, and allow you to take in the detail of those common places you never really noticed before.

Happily, as per my vague internal compass, I came out in Blakedown and set off towards Kiddy on the A456. Nice to see that the good people on Bromsgrove District council value the safety of their pedestrians, having built the crash barrier for this (also national speed limit) dual carriageway on the non-road-side of the pavement. Ha. Got to Brewer's, the lovely wallpaper place where we got out bedroom wallpaper from. I'd done 9 miles at this point, and I had a bit of a stretch. For the last few miles, I had started to feel incredibly bloated and a wee bit sickly, and the thought of taking on more fluid or gels was a bit of an anathema, despite the warm weather. This probably contributed to my later fatigue, but at least it's a lesson learnt before the marathon and not during it. The last few miles were a real struggle, but I still managed to get back home to complete 17 miles in 3 hours 32 mins. Interestingly, my half marathon time was probably about 2 hours 30. That's the difference racing makes (and possibly not having done another half just four days before...!). My average HR for the entire run was 155bpm, with most of my miles being 11-12 mins - gradually getting slower as I toiled up the Hagley mile on my way home! Man, was I hurting by this point. The sides of my knees and hips were quite painful, with the only positive point being that it actually hurt more to stop than it did to keep going. What a motivator, eh?!

Got back and ran the bath. Ahhhhh, sheer bliss. A nice hot bath after a long run is like Lemsip for a cold. Very soothing and with some added therapeutic benefit. Once the ibuprofen starts kicking in, it's like heaven. Next week, I'm going to try taking some ibuprofen with my pre-long-run meal, to see if that helps stop the onset of joint-grot in the later miles.

Spectating in the forest

The Forest of Dean is one of those places that, because of my work as a gigging musician, I've been to but never really seen. One of the venues I play(ed - because the dance there has been cancelled) at is in Cinderford, "Gateway To The Forest Of Dean".

The marathon was south of Cinderford, and so I got to drive through bits of the forest I'd never driven through before...

Our aim is usually to arrive at a race about 45 minutes before it starts, and here that was absolutely perfect timing. Just as we arrived they opened their overflow car park, and we were one of the first half-dozen people to park on it, meaning I could stick the car in a "no-one's going to block me in" kind of position.

We made our way to the start, and I discovered something about female runners - they are incapable of correctly using portaloos. Actually, this is an unfair sweeping generalisation - one particular running club (who will remain nameless) was to blame. There was a decent queue for the ladies' loos, and there were three toilets available. The problem was, the ladies from this particular running club hadn't prefected the art of "talking and looking at the toilets at the same time", which meant that people were leaving the loos but no-one was going in to the empty ones! Three times I had to yell out to the person at the front of the queue that one of the loos was empty, and the lady queueing just behind us suggested that I should be the toilet marshall; I think some from that running club would still be waiting there now.

With five minutes to go, I left Cathy at the start to head back to the car and read a book for a couple of hours. Catching sight of a large route map, it occurred to me that locating the finish line might be a good idea. I approached the map and was joined by one of the runners. "It doesn't look that far on the map," he suggested. "No," I replied, "but I notice they don't put the scale on it." With this, he swore at himself and wandered off!

After sitting in the car for about 45 minutes I noticed a group of marshalls skittering about behind me. In one of those "how convenient" moments, it appeared that I'd parked next to the suggested pedestrian route to the finish line - in fact, I was less than 400m away from the finish. Bonus. Back to my book.

At the finish line, two things made me chuckle. First was the woman who crossed the line at 2h 01m, looked at her watch and yelled a rather fruity swear word. I think, perhaps, she was hoping for a sub-2 hour time.

Second, about five minutes later, was the return of the bloke I'd met before the start. He'd just learnt that one of the other members of his running club had finished 3rd overall. "I don't know whether to congratulate him or hate him," was his assessment of the situation.

All in all, a great day. Lovely weather, Cathy knocked just over 10 minutes off her personal best, and treated to a carvery lunch at The Belfry Hotel in Littledean.

Next stop, the Asthma UK 10k. Remember your umbrellas, folks!

The Forest of Dean - where "Undulating" means "Actually rather hilly, you know".

FoD Half Marathon Stats
Distance: 13.17 miles
Time: 2:12:24
Av HR: 172bpm
Max HR: 183bpm

Mile Splits: 10:21, 9:52, 9:36, 10:07, 11:00, 10:21, 11:07, 9:59, 9:55, 9:27, 9:57, 9:35, 10:09, 0:50.


It was a very lovely day for a half-mara on Sunday. The FoD was bathed in glorious sunshine, but with a cooling breeze playing merrily through the trees.

There had been some debate going on on the RW message boards regarding the best shoe for the race - i.e., trail shoe vs road shoe. The race is officially a "trail" race, but obviously, there are trails and then there are trails. If you catch my meaning. The race organiser had posted to say that, although there was a little mud early on, he reckoned road shoes would be OK. Now, I bought myself a new pair of road shoes and a new pair of trail shoes a few weeks back. Neither of them had really been properly broken in, but the road shoes had gone on a couple of longish runs, whilst the trail shoes had only been worn around the house a bit, and had done one short trail run whilst we were away in Matlock. During this run, however, I had noticed that on the short section of road I had run on, the trail shoes weren't a patch on the cushioning that the road shoes provided. After much ummm-ing and ahhh-ing, I opted for the road shoes. But took the trail shoes along, just in case.

It was certainly the correct choice. There was a bit of mud, ish, early on, but only a little and only for a short distance. There after it was hard, compacted trails and some forest road. It made for excellent going. Apart from the ruddy great hills.

Runs are graded by their ascent/descent according to four categories: flat, undulating, hilly or very hilly. FoD was classified, apparently, as "undulating". Now, for those of you who live round my way - Portsdown Road, right? Steeper than that. Twice. Plus an absolute slog for the first couple-three miles up oh-so-gradual incline that saps your legs. Happily, there were also some "steep descents" (I know this cos there was warning signs, innit) which helped to refresh the old muscles.

My only real moan about this race was that the water at the refreshment stations was given out in cups. Can't run and drink from a cup, well, not unless you want to win the wet-t-shirt competition. However, it was probably a good strategy (and indeed one that has been advised for first-time marathoners) to walk through the water stations.

I was really pleased to have wiped ten minutes (and about fifteen seconds) off my half-marathon PB, particularly as it was over quite a hilly course. It affirmed that I have actually been doing some decent training over the last few months....!

I was met at the finish by my Chief Bottle Holder, who duly handed me the bottle. Mum and Dad also made it down, which was very kind of them, and then took us out to lunch at a nearby pub. Mmmmmm, carvery. The only disappointment was that I couldn't really do it proper justice - distance running somehow shuts down my digestive system (I could go into details about gastric paresis etc but I won't.. ;)) so I find it difficult to shovel in great amounts of food afterwards. To this end, I've found quite a good solution in the form of SIS ReGo, a protein-based recovery drink - it's a bit like a malty strawberry milkshake, only more palatable. It's generally recommended that you have some kind of protein-based meal/snack in the 30-60mins following a long run, and I've found it much easier to sip this concoction than to try to eat anything.

I still managed roast beef and Yorkies, though :-D

Frustration

Well, I'm still sidelined with this virus. Just when I thought it had gone. A week last Thursday, I got up and thought, "Oh great, seems to be better". Voice back, feeling fine, so I went out on my 16-miler. Felt generally OK, apart from that ever-so-slightly starchy feeling at the bottom of the lungs. My goodness those last few miles were painful, though. Got up on Friday and felt bad again, coughing, blergh, and, having not had any lung related symptoms, feeling tight again. Rubbish!

Went away for the weekend with some of those Mad Asthma people. Spent a lovely time in Matlock and even had a successful stroll over the Heights of Abraham. Went shopping at a local Outlet Village on the Sunday, and discovered that Next can't make their mind up about how they are going to size their jeans.

So this week, I decided to be sensible (don't look so shocked) and not push it, and just try to allow myself to get better. However it hasn't reaped the benefits I was hoping - still coughing, bit tight, not done any running, and with a half-marathon to do tomorrow, I'm starting to doubt the benefits of Allowing Nature To Run Its Course. I have spent the last few days having a slight mental battle as to whether I'm actually going to go and run the half tomorrow, but I think I've come to the conclusion that I will go and have a go - and not be too disappointed if it doesn't all go to plan.

I shall continue to chunter quietly about how I have managed to go the entire winter without getting so much as a sniffle, only to have these little microscopic critters gunk me up six/seven weeks before possibly the most important race of my life. Bah. *chunter chunter chunter*

The SIS drinks and gels seem to be good though, and haven't caused any "gastrointestinal distress" (as they like to put it, bless 'em, they don't like to be crude). Found out that Tescos sell 'em cheaper than their own website, too, so that's a bonus.

Adios. I'll hopefully write in with a race report tomorrow.

Postal Purchasing

I love shopping online. Adore it. A larger range of products than you'd ever find in a shopping centre, combined with any necessary advice/reviews from people who've used 'em, and with all the time you like to browse and decide without some pushy or stroppy sales "assistant" breathing down your neck.

My SIS pack arrived yesterday - 2 sachets each of Go Electrolyte, Go PS22 Energy & Rego Recovery drinks, plus a few gels of each flavour to try. I'm always slightly wary about new energy drinks, as many of them contain artifical sweeteners - and these, as we all know, "when consumed in excess, can produce laxative effects". Yeah, that's a brill idea, isn't it. Put something in an energy drink, designed to be used on long runs, that can give you stomach cramps and the trots. Sensible. Anyhow, trying it out beforehand is always a plan, so I've drunk a sachet of the Go Electrolyte drink this evening and haven't suffered any ill-effects. It was vaguely reminiscent of Dioralyte. I'm not sure that's a good thing. However, going on the old adage "if it tastes bad it must be doing you good", then it's probably alright.

I'm not really sure about that adage though - I'm fairly certain cyanide isn't too healthy for you.

Last night, I indulged again by ordering a Camelbak (rucksack thingy which carries water) for my long runs, and a Powerbreathe. I was a bit cynical about Powerbreathe when it came out, thinking it was just other gimmick, but the research seems promising, and, frankly, if it'll offer any further support to my truculent twins (AKA my lungs) - then brilliant, I'll give it a go. If it's naff, well at least it's an avenue explored.

Happily, the URTI seems to be on its way out. I've been more back to my normal self today, and my voice is returning too. Mr Steve seems a little disappointed. ;-)

So, let's all keep fingers crossed for an upturn in the weather over the next few days and a continued improvement in the state of my upper respiratory tract. Hopefully, then, it'll be back to it for me.

I can't finish my blog entry today without saying a big thank you to some special friends who have, tonight, brought my fundraising total above the £700 mark. Thanks, guys - it means a lot.

Increasing the population of London in one easy step

London is the most populous city in Europe. There is absolutely no reason to increase the number of people in it at any given time.

Mindful of this, they decide to organise a marathon there every year with 46,500 entrants.

If you were to assume that Dr Cath was an average entrant (something I'd never do, of course) then this would mean an extra 940,000 people descending on the Capital on race day - increasing London's population by 12.5%

That's a lot of people, and it doesn't include all of the support staff, official and other folk who will be required just to run the thing.

It also doesn't take into account the fact that Dr Cath is far from ordinary in one respect - the sheer number of people who will be turning up to support her! There are roughly 20 people expected at the moment, but every time we mention the event to someone new, we get more people threatening to join us.

Supporting Dr Cath should be straightforward, for two reasons. Firstly, Asthma UK have a couple of support stands that we can congregate at - and Asthma UK's "snot green" corporate colour scheme is both blindingly obvious in a crowd and bloomin' vile.

Secondly, a number of our friends are intending to do something that will make them "un-not-spottable" in the crowd. Now, quite what this is I'm not sure, but knowing who they are, I'm both certain it will be stunning and deeply worrying.

Let's just hope the car makes it to London without deep frying its electrics again...

Physician, Heal Thyself

Blast, blast and triple blast. I have an URTI.

Have done really, really well and lasted the entire winter without coming down with any Lurgy (but being very careful in touching wood and not crowing too much about the fact), eight weeks before the London Marathon, I've got the grot.

It's not too bad, but it seems to have targetted my larynx, so it's been quite quiet over the last couple of days for me as the only way I can speak is in a low-volume husky croak. The main beneficiaries have been my husband (no nagging), receptionists at work (no gossiping) and, vicariously, some of my patients (highly amused that doctors get colds too).

I am keeping fingers crossed that it stays at larynx level, and doesn't feel any inclination to head further south. I need to get well and back to the training ASAP - I'm supposed to be running 16 miles this Thursday.

In other news, having been unable to run, I have geekily been statistically analysing my runs over the last two months. In February, despite having a week off for snow, I ran 50 miles and was on my feet for a total of 10 hours. That is quite depressing...

Love Hearts Can Be Surprisingly Accurate

When you're running Awfully Long Distances, you can't just run and run and run. You need fuel. Over the last few months I've experimented with a few different things, based on ideas from the RW fora and magazines. When I started out doing what are now shorter distances - 6 miles or so - I'd rely on just a carb drink (Lucozade Sport) to get me through. When I started to extend the distances, I tried Jelly Babies. This resulted in me returning home one afternoon to quote the immortal line, "There's a Cry-Baby Boobles at the top of the by-pass". There was. Really. I dropped it on my way down and only noticed when I stumbled past it again on my way back. Some small rodent must have thought it was Christmas come early.

Jelly Babies require some chewing though, and need a fair slug of liquid to rinse your mouth out. I tried Love Hearts initially a few weeks ago, then last week I thought I'd give a go with these fancy energy gels. I bought one - a Lucozade Sport, orange flavour - a few weeks back, and decided it was time to try it.

What I discovered was that they'd omitted to add two words to the flavour description, and in fact it should have read "Orange Wallpaper Paste Flavour". I had to expend more energy getting it out of the tube-packet than I actually gleaned from consuming it (I have to say "consumed" because the texture of the gel precludes using the words "eating" or "drinking"). The initial flavour was OK, but once it had started to go down - EURRRGH. Quick, pass the drink. It was, as we say in the Black Country, extremely "clarty" in the mouth, and really did seem as though I'd accidentally swallowed a small quantity of Solvite.

So, this week, I've ordered some gels from SIS (Science in Sport), which were top-rated by RW, being far more palatable and less pastey than other gels. In the meantime, though, it was back to the Love Hearts.

So, 14 miles yesterday. I started getting depressed by the prospect when trying to plot a route on G-Maps Pedometer and realised that I could run to Stourbridge Ring-Road and back and still not have covered the distance. And the prospect of running through Lye really wasn't appealing. Twenty-odd curry houses is great when you've had a few beers on a Friday night, but when you're stone-cold sober on a Thursday afternoon and you've still got to run back to Halesowen, it's a bit tough. So I decided to run up to Romsley instead.

It was certainly picturesque. The error I made, though, was forgetting exactly how much uphill is involved in getting from Halesowen to Romsley. About 2-3 miles, is how much. Mind you, it was very picturesque when I got up there - it was a perfect afternoon for it, the sun was out, and the Clent Hills always look great - even in the rain. And, following the inescapable laws of gravity, I got to run down it again the other side.

After that, it was the inescapable loop down the by-pass and back. By the time I was getting towards the top of the Hagley Mile - about 11 miles by this point - everything below my waist had started to dissolve into a kind of numb pain. By which I mean I was fully aware of the fact that things were painful, but I had started to lose appreciation of exactly how much. To give you an idea, after my run last week, I was getting in the bath when I clonked my left kneecap against the side of the bath. Usually this would be enough to at least make me turn the air blue and hop around a bit (this all relates to going ar*e over t*t in Portugal whilst running a couple of years ago, and landing directly on my left knee cap). I barely noticed it, but the bruising was very evident over the next few days.

Anyway, so I'm trudging on, some kind of bloody-mindedness causing me to put one foot in front of the other. It is almost overpoweringly tempting to stop at the Badger's Sett for a pint of lemonade, barring the fact that I have no money. But I carry on, and decide it's time for another Love Heart (I have been steadily letting them dissolve in my mouth over the past six miles, like a kind of glucose drip-feed). For some reason, I decide to read this one. I think I was getting a little desperate for distraction.

"CRAZY"

Nuff said.

Black Snot and Endorphins (Week 7)

So, I had a busy busy week last week. So much so that I didn't have time to blog. Golly, I'm awful at this whole blogging regularly thing.

We spent the weekend in London, it being mine & Mr Steve's birthdays (me on the 15th, him on the 20th). The journey down was....interesting (Carry On Driving-style, you can read all about it elsewhere), but we made it to the theatre on time to see "Oliver!", which was superb.

On the Saturday we met up with Adopted Daughters 1&2, went to the Science Museum, and had a meal together. Adopted Daughter No. 1 bought me a rather splendid running-themed book, "Running on Empty", by a bloke who used to write for Runner's World. It gives a great humourous look into the world of running, and he doesn't take himself too seriously, which makes it an engaging read (particularly for others like myself, who don't take running *too* seriously!). Of course, I should also mention Adopted Daughter No 2's present, for want of making her feel left out. Not strictly running-related, it was a splendid pair of cow-slippers. Marvellous.

Anyway, why am I waffling on about London? Ever since my second foray to the capital (my first was with my parents in my early teens, when we drove through it but didn't stop) I've come to the conclusion that it has to be one of the worst places to even think of running, or indeed doing any kind of exercise. At the end of the day, you go to your place of abode, you blow your nose and you get...Black Snot. Now, praise the Lord and give thanks for your nasal cilia, is all I can say. Those tiny hairs, beavering away to stop all this particulate rubbish from getting any further. But you can't help wondering about all the bits that they don't catch. All that lovely airbourne carbon and other diesel stuff that might make its way down to your bronchial tubes....mmmmm, splendid. Who on earth came up with the bright idea to stage Britain's flagship marathon in what is the lung-equivalent of a sewage swamp?

Mind you, according to RW magazine's feature this month, Birmingham isn't much better. "...the city is almost the most polluted in term of asthma-causing PM10 diesel particles". Note the "almost", please. When, as someone with an irritating lung condition who normally lives in a relatively clean-air area, you take a foray into a city centre, you certainly notice the difference.

In the world of respiratory medicine, a recently emerging concept is that of "One Airway, One Disease". Put basically, if inflammation is present in one part of the respiratory tract (which extends right from those lovely nasal cilia to the base of your alveoli in the lungs), then that can also mean inflammation in another. Relate this back to the splendid Black Snot, and you can see that this might result in a few problems.

So anyway, back to the actual running. This week it was 12 miles - the second-longest distance I've ever run. I gave into my insanity and ran down, and subsequently back up, the Hagley Mile. Disappointingly, I confirmed what I had previously suspected - the current entity known as the Hagley Mile isn't actually a mile. It's 0.7 miles. And when you're running back up it, it's 0.7 miles of not-so-sophisticated torture. Mind you, I didn't do too badly, considering the weekend dose of Black Snot. And the fact that I'd already run up Portsdown Road (incidentally, I realised I hadn't properly purged my MP3 player at the point, whilst turning puce and gasping, it started playing "Take My Breath Away". Not funny. Stop laughing). Got round the lot in 2hrs 10, not bad considering it was at "LSR" pace and the two hills.

Running a long distance does slightly funny things to your psyche. Getting through the first 30 mins is a challenge - it's a bit like making a truculent toddler do something it doesn't want to do. Namely, it spends a while throwing a strop, then settles down and grudgingly complies. Then, a few miles later, you get insidious thoughts leaking into your mind. "This is daft, I'll never make it. Stop it." If you manage to circumnavigate those, you're rewarded by a little boost a while later with a rush of those friendly endorphins, who envelope you in a lovely warming glow. "Well done," they seem to say. "You've made it this far. You can do it, just keep going." Then those 'orrible thoughts break through again (usually co-inciding with a hill, or similar), and we're back on the roller-coaster again. Given the fact that you're already running, going on a roller-coaster is just a bit rude. It just shows that sometimes, running is as much a mental battle as a physical one.

Neglect - On So Many Levels

I'm sorry, I really am. I've been a thoroughly rubbish blogger over the past week or so. Sorry. Etc.

Well, snow, eh?! What about that, then. Well, I'll tell you what - it's brought my training to a halt, that's what. I did consider going out for a run - for all of about ten seconds. Then my "sensible" gland kicked in and told me "Don't be stupid, that would be foolish, you'll fall over and break/twist/rupture something". Thankfully, for once, I listened to my sensible gland. Frankly, it seems to be becoming somewhat over-developed nowadays.

So, whilst watching the snow fall and the pavements ice up, I have been consoling myself with the thought that it doesn't really matter how long it takes me to get around London, as long as I get round. And slipping over on black ice would seriously jeapordise that.

Fundraising - we're now up over the £400 mark, thanks to my incredibly daft but lovely husband. Thank you all!

In other news, I have my running jacket now. I still hadn't heard anything six days after placing the order (estimated shipping time - 2-3 days), and neither had any money left my bank account, so I dropped them a little email enquiring as to my jacket's whereabouts.

Roughly 30 minutes later, I received the following response:



Hmm, anyone else thinking that's an "Oooops, we forgot that one"-kind-of-email?!






Anyway, it duely arrived the next morning. Opened it and proudly brandished it to show Mr Steve.

"Hmmm...," quoth he. "That's......bright".

Somewhere, I think he's missed the point a bit...

(Attractive photo of me wearing the new bright jacket with my suit. Do you think it's a fashion that'll catch on?!)

Week 4, Day 1

No dayglo-yellow jacket yet. Hurry up, Parcel Farce.

4 easy miles on Saturday. Having a break tonight - going to do a 6-miler tomorrow.

Oh, current fundraising total = £115 - marvellous!

Mr Steve's firstest post

Things that I have learnt over the past few weeks:

1.
If Dr Cath goes for a training run and, whilst she's out, it starts raining a frankly ridiculous amount, I need to be waiting in the porch when she returns with a washing basket so that her running stuff doesn't drip all over the hall carpet.

2.
I should check Dr Cath's running timetable so that I'm aware of which days she needs her running gear washed by. On a related note...

3.
Our washing machine lies. When the countdown timer says there is one minute to go, there are still five minutes to go.

4.
No company has ever made tastefully-coloured running gear, and probably never will.

5.
Ron Hill and Ken Wood are similar.

At the moment I'm avoiding being long-suffering, I think. Attending the training races that Cathy has been on has been quite pleasant, especially the summery one at Market Drayton that netted us a free tray of "Muller product". Yum.

Even the "Christmas Pudding" 10-mile run that Cathy did just before Christmas wasn't too bad. The bitterly cold conditions were tempered by the hot chocolate that the school canteen were serving.

For the time being I'm safe from inclement weather in that regard. Cathy's next training event should be a half-marathon (location unknown as yet!) in March, followed by the Asthma UK 10k in April.


Which takes me back to the last Asthma UK 10k, last year - an amazing event in which every possible adverse weather condition occurred in the same place within the space of one hour. Snow, hail, sleet, driving rain, gale-force wind, and even some sunshine. This year they're apparently planning a tidal wave, an earthquake, and an eruption of the long-dormant volcano on which the Eton Rowing Club built their new clubhouse. After the hour mark they're sending in a plague of locusts to hurry up the stragglers, and the whole complex will explode in a spectacular and expensive fashion if people are still running after 90 minutes.

Or it'll be quite mild and sunny. One or the other.

Week 3, Day 5 - The Things I Do For Asthma UK

So, today is a rest day - I've turned my thoughts to fundraising.

I've accepted what is known as a "Golden Bond" place in the FLM for Asthma UK. Basically, charities "buy" places from the FLM organisers, in order to pass them on to people who will (hopefully) raise a decent amount of mulah for them. Being as I've accepted one of their places, and paid the entry fee, I need to raise at least £1,500 for AUK. And, being a bit ambitious, I'm really hoping to raise £2,000.

Obviously, this kind of money is not going to just drop into my lap. In previous years, when I've poked/prodded/bribed people into running the AUK 10K in Windsor, we've managed to raise a decent amount of sponsorship between the team* simply by the traditional badgering-people-method, with an online sponsor page at Just Giving. This time, though, I think I'm going to need a bit more than that.

I'm just about to email a lady who works for Virgin Vie, Mr Branson's cosmetics company, to ask if she's still happy to do a "party" for me at some point next month. She's done a couple for my friend in order to raise funds for an animal charity, and I had a word with her at the last one regarding holding another party for my marathon attempt. Hope this one comes up trumps!

I'm in the process** - as I type - of printing out some business-style cards with my Just Giving address on. I'm hoping to hand these out to people so they can take them away and give due consideration to sponsoring me, without me pressuring them on the spot!

Other thoughts that have crossed my mind: bag-packing, a dance/disco, mass emailing (working on this one)...the Facebook option is already active, and any other ideas are welcome.

Right, off to calm down the husband, who's screaming at the printer. Laters, folks.


*Not meaning to blow our own trumpets, or anything, you know, but as a team we were one of AUK's top three fundraisers for the 10K in 2008 - I estimate in the end we raised about £2K.

**Well, I've done all the design work, but now the printer's playing up, so Steve's sorting that bit out :-)

Week 3, Day 4 - What I Learned From My Run Today

1. Running down the Halesowen by-pass in the opposite direction to usual is infinitely more preferable.

2. My sanity hangs by a thread. I actually considered running down the Hagley Mile (which would, of course, according to Newton's laws of physics, mean that I would have to run back UP it). The thread, however, is my saving grace, because I didn't actually do it.

3. Love Hearts make a good alternative to Jelly Babies. Note to self: don't try to inhale them. This causes transient breathing difficulties.

4. Going at hills like a bull at a gate CAN work, and actually makes the pain briefer.

5. "Take My Breath Away" is neither an amusing nor helpful track to have on your MP3 player whilst running. Especially whilst running up one of the steepest hills in Halesowen. Similarly, "Leave Me Breathless" and "No Air" will be finding their way into the laptop Recyle Bin tonight.

6. A 10-mile run in cold weather results in approximately 500mls fluid loss. What percentage dehydration is that? Must find out.

7. A three-minute loo stop to account for an episode of Jogger's Trots can actually revilatise a long run somewhat.


Things that I already knew, but failed to remember:

1. Mortons Toes* can be a proper pain in the....well, toe, really. Especially if you've cut the nail wonky. Now have nail-shaped hole in skin.

2. My nose runs in the cold. Therefore, I should take tissues on a run, to save using the old-standby - the sleeve.

*Fancy name for having your second toe longer than your big toe. Cleopatra had 'em, apparently.

Long run today - 10 miles. Average HR 161. Felt pretty good generally - last mile was a bit tough though. I have surprised myself over the last few months, in that I have started to not mind hills. Really. Still working on the actually *liking* hills, but that might come in time. Orrrrrr maybe not.

I've also ordered a water-resistant running jacket today, from Ron Hill. I was spurred on by going out for a short run a week last Monday when it was just lightly drizzling; a mile out, and the heavens opened. Complete deluge. Flash flooding in the gutters. You get the picture. I got back resembling a rat that's been drowned in a storm, then revived and dumped in a reservoir. Well, I was quite wet, anyway. I'm hoping the new jacket (in Dayglo yellow, much to my husband's chagrin) will prevent future occurances of this...