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".