London Marathon News (?)

Good evening browsers, skimmers and readers of blogs of questionable quality!  How goes it?  A friend offered to create a guest post for my little corner of the Internet (sorry said corner is a bit dusty.  Don't think I'll ever get the hang of the whole  "regularly maintaining your website" thing...think of it as looking "lived in" or "shabby chic" as opposed to just "a bit shit").  This offer reminded me that if I am going to be popping other people's work up onto an online platform alongside my word vom, then I should probably at least put something new up myself. 

Also watch this space for said guest post =). 

So. Yass.  New stuff.  Biggest news this week is...fanfare, please.  Failing that, jazz flute interlude/recorder solo:

I did not get into the Virgin Money London Marathon 2017! 

Boo.  Also hurrah!  I had properly mixed feelings about whether or not I wanted to get in and when I found out that I didn't, I felt sad; Opportunity of a lifetime/bragging rights forever/being part of a historic event, amazing sense of achievement blah blah etc etc. 

Then it dawned on me that I'm not doing it.  I'm. Not. Doing.  It.  I don't have to do it!  For the first time in about 3 years, I have no races on the horizon to nurse semi crippling excitement and anxiety about.  I don't have to worry about whether my tantrumming foot will fall off.  I don't have to run for hours and hours, beating myself up because I want to cry and I'm not fast enough (root cause of this emotion?  Generally hunger).  While I probably will end up caving and signing up to the next thing offering me a shiny medal for turning up in shorts and turning a bit puffy and purple, it's nice to entertain all of the things that I can do now that I know I won't be sacrificing 3-4 months to the running gods:

Things I Can Do Instead of the London Marathon

1.  Be warm - With no races to train for, I can opt for the cozy, swear and sweat warmed surroundings of my gym for a while instead of the endless putting on and taking off of layers involved in winter night time running where your body is BOILING and drenched in the sweat layer between your skin and your coat, but your fingers have turned into frozen carrots sticking out of your palms.

2. Do more of this shit (except maybe with less of a derpy expression and single as opposed to double chin):

I fully expect to be able to bench press a bus load of obese pensioners and their shopping by this time next year.  I mean, is this not the face of a super hero?

 "I'll save you! Hurr hurr!"

3. Develop a "normal person" relationship with food.  

Okay, bit of a long shot, but when you're both constantly hungry from putting all your energy into "da milez" and bragging about all of said miles you've covered in training, your (my) body tends to go into desperation (greedy a.f) mode and it craves anything that requires little to no preparation, preferably made mostly/entirely out of sugar,  i.e ALL OF THE SWEETS!  AAAAAALL OF THE CAAAAAKE!! Logic takes a 4 month nap in which terrible, high calorie, low to zero nutritional content munchies is inhaled because "My body needs FUEL and I DESERVE THIS!!"  I still haven't switched out of this mindset and haven't run a marathon in about a year and a half, but I can hope that time will fix me.  Blind optimism works, right?  Right??

4.  Drink without guilt/remorse

I was just going to write "drink" there, but my super healthy, no booze regime leading up to the Liverpool Rock 'n' Roll Marathon last year had more loop holes that a pair of poorly made, knitted crotch less knickers.  I wasn't to drink during training..unless:

- Is a special day such as birthday, holiday (Christmas etc), weekend or any other day ending in the letter "Y."

- Am being forced to rest an injury.  Medicinal, you see.

- Am thirsty.

- I need the calories because do you know how far I've run this week??

5.  Be in denial that, in fact, even though it's probably the best thing for my slightly wonky, broken body right now...and I'll have so much more time to play with for a few months..and it'll give me a chance to throw myself fully into CrossFit for a bit instead to develop my strength...part of me is still a bit sad that I didn't get into the London Marathon.

Because I'm so not. You are.  Look at you with all that repressed temptation to sign up to the full marathon that's coming back to Cardiff next year instead.  What's the matter with you??

I Don't Wanna Clean the Bathroom

I am an evil genius.  I've tricked myself into starting a blog post by turning it from "something I should be doing" to harmless procrastination.  I'm sitting on an unmade bed, awash in a sea of clothes that need to be hung up and a bunch of forms that I really should fill in to renew my passport.  Am so smart!

I can already hear my mum telling me that this isn't something I should be celebrating.  Good job she doesn't know that I've not cleaned the bathroom properly for a fortnight either.

Oops.

Now I'm here, I don't have a clue what I'm going to talk about, so I think I'll just waffle at you about stuff I've done until I figure out what sort of life admin I can ignore next that'll make cleaning the house seem like a fun distraction. In the meantime, if you have any bright ideas, please feel free to throw them my way. 'Kay? 'Kay.

The Rowathon

I can't believe this was a full week ago.  Still getting a major hit of the warm fuzzies whenever I think about it.  Last week, an incredible lady at my gym, together the the coaches that run the place organised a 24 hour event where 12 rowing machines were to be more or less constantly on the go.  She wanted to raise money (and still does - I'll pop the link below) for two other incredible ladies in her life who both have families and are both working to kick the shit out of cancer for the second time in their lives:

 

Link for more info & to donate - Please, please donate! 

Some brave souls (translate: fucking nutters) did the thing for 12 hours, or even the whole 24, only occasionally hopping (and later flopping) off the rowers for a quick bite of cake and a banana.  I appeared for 7 hours in total in 3 shifts over the course of the event to have a crack and LOVED it.  Even at 4am, Outcast Strength & Fitness was heaving with rowers.  Music was blaring long after all the local nightclubs kicked out their last punters.  A couple of the gym's members even turned up in their glad rags with cans of Carling after a party and did the best "ha ha fuck it!" style of rowing I've ever seen.  The atmosphere was incredible.  Dozens of people all through the course of the days and night coming in to do this crazy thing.  Just..ugh.  Feelings.

 The face of a person who obviously doesn't fully comprehend what a ridiculous thing this is to be doing at 3am.

Zombies! Run! Spring virtual race

Gah, I love this game!! Got to a point where a run doesn't feel like a run if I don't sort of feel like I might have have my brains eaten at any given moment.  The app that I'm nothing short of obsessed with released its second ever virtual race this month, where you follow a story on your phone and compete with people all over the globe to get a decent place on an online leader board.  Pushed myself to the point of "ooh, might do a little sick!" and machete'd (this is a zombie apocalypse after all) 4 whole minutes off my personal best.  Holy balls!  Didn't even do the little sick I'd fully expect to do.  Also got a very cool t shirt (will show you when I'm feeling less lazy) and medal for my efforts.  Winner.

And I've seen that Wil Wheaton is also into Zombies! Run! and that he also has the virtual race medal and t-shirt, and he's been on the Big Bang Theory, so my compulsion to play it must be cool, yes?  

Shut up, the answer is yes...Double winner.

I've run out of "stuff what happened that I can report" now.  Unless you want to hear about the cool £2 coin I found the other day, or when my dog patted me on the head earlier until I patted him back (ow, my cold, dead heart!), then that's about it!

Got a 10k (yet another 2016 event where I have done little to no race specific training in the run up.  Huzzah! Also heh, "run up"...the irony) race to get did tomorrow at the National Botanical Gardens in Carmarthenshire.  Expecting lots of hills, funky plants and some sort of cake in the cafe at the end.  All in all a good day for the taking. Cake is an excellent full stop on any kind of thing. Or question mark.  Or explanation point, depending on how the thing goes.

I'm off to find the next thing that I can wedge in between me and adult responsibilities now. Did you get any suggestions together like I asked?  Come on, come on!

Half Arsing Llanelli Half

Finiiiiiished!

Those jubilant, slightly shocked faces belong to three people who attempted to run the Llanelli Half Marathon on little to no (edging more towards the "no" end of the scale) training miles and actually managed to complete the bugger.  It is possible! Now I know that when (not if.  It's going to happen and we have to be prepared) the zombie apocalypse comes, I will be able to evade the undead for miles and miles and miles.  Provided the undead keep it to a slow shuffle with frequent walk/limp breaks.

Last night, due to the near total lack of actual preparing for this race, I felt as though my knees had been subject to a light "tickling" from a combine harvester and my arse was making its complaints known by sending "Ow. Ow. F*!!*#g OW!!" impulses to my brain each time I stood up or sat down, but the warm fuzziness of a magical morning did something to ease the fact that it hurt to move.  Or keep still.  Or just sort of have a lower body.

Here are some memories that I have of the event for your perusal:

Pre race: Why aren't I nervous? WHY?!!

Spent a good chunk of the morning dissecting my total lack of nerves.  Usually on the morning of a half, I spend it worrying about what I've eaten, whether it will be hard (to which the sane answer is "yes. You have chosen to travel 13 miles on foot.  Yes it will be hard. Div), if I've forgotten something important like my legs, whether this will be the day my body says "enough now!" and adopts the fetal position until it knows the event is over.  

Yesterday morning?  Serenity.  The sun was out for the first time in what feels like months.  I had no expectations of myself speed-wise (which is just as well as the highest velocity I was going to get on that amount of training was akin to Mr Blobby fighting through a wind tunnel).  I felt good.  Relaxed. So, naturally, I worried about the fact that I wasn't worried, thus successfully bumping myself back up to my usual, comfortable level of mild neuroses.  Ahh, palpitations.  Much better!

Don't leave me hanging, bruh.

My friend Gareth (off of the left of the top picture, in red) was full of enthusiasm the moment we broke through the start line and began to bimble along our merry way.  He gathered speed ahead of me, taking in the festive atmosphere and the modest crowd of onlookers.  He went to high five a small child as he passed, as he knew that would inevitably inspire it to tackle a half marathon of his own one day.  Gareth would be his hero.  

Small child remained motionless, giving him a look that way halfway between "STRANGER DANGER!" and "Do not touch me, peasant!"  

Priceless.

The coastline

Aw, man, the views!  The last time I did this race was in 2014, where everything was grey and I was being rained on sideways.  It's hard to take in the scenery when you have rain water shooting into your ear holes and filling up your skull.  The Llanelli coastline is gorgeous in the sunshine.  All rocks and sand and stuff.  Well, you've seen a beach before, haven't you?  It was like that.  Beaches are nice and they are nice to look at.  When you're sweating from every orifice and looking for ANY distraction from counting down how long you have left to run (spoiler: the answer is always "FOREVER!!"), a thought like "ooh that's pretty!" is about as deep as your brain can go, and you are grateful for giving your eyes something to do other than looking for the next sodding mile marker.  After 6 half marathons and one full one, I've come to the conclusion that mile markers are the work of Satan himself and should be banned from races.  They are only there to make grown ups in stretchy pants want to cry.

Mile 7

I changed my mind.  Mile 7 is the work of Lucifer.  I think they should cut out mile 7 if they must insist on markers, like lots of office buildings have a 12th and 14th floor, but not a 13th.  As is usual for me (don't know if this applies to all half marathoners.  Would be curious to find out), realising you're over half way does naff all to spur you on.  Quite the opposite.  In Llanelli, I was happily shuffling along with the rest of the front-of-the-back-of-the-pack-ers (mah people, mah homies), convinced I was invincible as I'd not needed to slow to a walk not even once yet, merrily flipping the race the finger to show it who's boss:

 

And then...mile 7.  Every bloody time.  It hits me like a trowel to the shins and turns me from "Ha, I could run forever!  They could mine my sweat to create everlasting batteries!  I will be rich!" to I'M GOING TO RUN! No, I need a little walk. I'M RUNNING AGAIN- Oh, no, wait, I need to walk, I'M..no, false alarm, I need another walk. Goddamn, it, mile 7!

Is anybody out there?

Llanelli half is a relatively small race. 1,500 participants when sold out, I think.  It gives it a lovely, family feel, but it also feels like said family has taken a sneaky right turn while you weren't looking in a bid to lose you because you're cramping their style.  At one point, I looked ahead of me and behind, and convinced myself that I'd ambled off course down a random cycle path by accident because I could see no other human life forms anywhere.  Thankfully, we were all just very spread out and the cluster of runners I'd following like the lame calf of the herd were just around a bend I couldn't see.  


All in all a good morning!  I'm desperate to cover that distance again and finally slay mile 7 by not immediately shuffle-run-hobble-walk-ing from that point onwards through to the end, but that would involve actual training and planning.  Ew.  We shall see.  I wisely booked today off work because I'm an unlovable, grumpy shit the day after a half.  Is there such a thing as a post race hang over?  Either way, I'm going to slouch over a big coffee now and glare out my living room window at the incessantly cheery sunshine now.  Byeee!

"We survived!!"

So, I Ran a Marathon...

Ran a marathon on Sunday.

No biggie.

I RAN A BLOODY MARATHON!!!! HOLY SHIT, IT ACTUALLY HAPPENED!!  

After nearly a year of boring my friends and family about injuries, mileage, food, trainers, posture, gels and that all encompassing fear of not finishing, I only went and bloody finished!  Proof? They wouldn't have given us shiny, shiny medals, a free pint and bright yellow T-shirts if we hadn't!

....I'm the one who looks like I'm on my knees on the left.  I am, in fact, stood up and, no, the marathon didn't shave a few inches off my legs.  If it had, you would be seeing only my forehead.

The last time I had that level of sick-maky fear before I did something was when I was seventeen and about to take my driving test.  I giggled, babbled, nearly wept through bouts of swearing and had to pee every two seconds.  Sunday was no different.

"HahahahaHAHAHA, what are we doing? Where is my gel belt? What if I don't finish?! HAHAHA this is so stupid! Fuckfuckshit hold my things, I have to go pee!"  

Didn't help that with each wave of nerve induced nausea I felt, my knees went a bit wobbly.  Like in a cartoon.  I kept having flash forwards of myself getting to the start line and my knees just giving out under me.  

"3, 2, 1... Nope!"  

Mercifully, that never happened, and myself and Amy (my long legged compadre from above picture) made it over both the start and finish line without incident.  I say without incident.  At one point, I jabbed myself in the eye with my own finger whilst trying to remove a fly from my face, and a small child sprayed me right in the gob with a water gun.  Oh, and I went to gleefully high five another small child on the side of the road and in the process knocked a big bag of marshmallows out of its hand... Sorry, tiny human.  I hope most of your squashy treats stayed in the bag!

The most surreal thing about the whole experience (bar the fact that we actually managed to travel 26.2 ACTUAL MILES on our own, human feet) was how it didn't suck.  At all.  I spent the whole thing waiting to hit the wall, but it never happened.  I took my time and walked when I needed to...Which was often, and I was more than fine with that.  

I firmly and comfortably (and proudly - I've learned that it takes a fair bit of grit to keep moving for that much longer than the speedsters already enjoying their pints at the finish line while you're still sweating in places you didn't know could sweat. finished at the back of the pack with the last few hundred marathoners (eek, I'm a marathoner!!).  Perhaps the trick to never hitting the wall is running behind it.  Maybe the wall has little wheels on it like a trolley, and it's pushed along by all the faster people?  Thank you, faster people for keeping the wall a safe distance away from me!

The route was lovely - dipping in and out of park lands so I got my greenery fix, and threading around ginormous, significant looking buildings that screamed "I am historically important, even though you have no idea why, uncultured swine!"  And those hills I feared for the first 8 miles?  Come on!  They were mostly gentle inclines in the end. When you grow up in Wales, your expectation of what a hill is is a little squiffy compared with others'.  Liverpool has merciful, friendly hills that don't want to see your legs shredded into a thousand tiny, hurty fibres, and for that, I am grateful to whatever deity is responsible for hills.  It's nice to have the odd incline to keep your brain from flat lining, but not so much when you feel like they're breaking the laws of physics and never actually coming back downhill.  I'm looking at you, Tenby Half Marathon!

*glare*

The finish line was awesome.  After three miles of the longest flat I have ever traversed, I somehow managed to find the energy to sprint through the resilient crowd who should have been given medals for clapping for over five hours straight, and into the Echo Arena, where I fell face first into my goody bag and pint.  

I still don't quite believe it's happened, because I'm not hurting as much as a tough CrossFit session would be hurting me, and I suspect that the two days of pizza and napping that followed the event had more to do with the Jager Bombs and wine that I happily chugged right after it.  Amy and I somehow had plenty of energy left for some Sunday night merriment (still wearing our medals, of course). I think that the slight soreness in my backside is more due to my showing off that I could still slut-drop after that kind of distance than as a result of the race.  Weird.  Adrenaline and the  musical stylings of Kesha have a curious numbing effect when combined.

The fact that I managed to do this insane thing has more to do with other people than myself.  If it weren't for the Run Like a Ninja course at Outcast Crossfit Swansea I was able to sign up to, and regular trips to Rosie the Magical Osteopath at Swansea Body Kinetics, I would never have made it to Liverpool, let alone the finish line.  Same goes for my nearest and dearest who put up with my months of blathering without once telling me to take my moaning elsewhere and take up a hobby that required less effort (despite my already having watching TV box sets, sleeping and eating in my list of passions).   If I could break off bits of my medal and chuck them at you like that bit with the tiara on Mean Girls ("A piece for Gretchen Wiener..."), I would.  But I can't.  So I'll just have to keep it for myself!

Wanna see the medal?  It's got glitter on it!

 You go, Glen Coco!

So... What the hell do I do now?!

Marathon Training Week...14(?)/Effed Up Dreams

Well, it's not every day that you're told that your face is in a regional newspaper.That information can make you jump to all kinds of conclusions!  Luckily, my super secret double life as a criminal mastermind/evil super villain remains a closely guarded one, and I'm in there for nice reasons.  A couple of weeks ago, I drafted an article about the running routes I was discovering on my on-foot travels around Swansea and sent it to the news website Wales Online. Because sharing is caring and all that. They kindly accepted my runwaffle and published it on their website, much to my excitement.  

Click below if you fancy a nose.  The top of the article features a very pretty and not-sweaty-at-all runner who I secretly hope readers who don't know me assume is me.  Not-me "me" is rocking the fuck out of that crop top and ponytail.

Wales Online - A Runner's Guide to the Best Runs in Swansea

There was no mention of it leaping out of the interweb and into print in my communications with Wales online, so was quite a shock to find that the article has been renamed "Run Rebecca Run" and is now a two page feature in today's Western Mail.  Chuffed is not the word.  Seeing my name in print makes me crazy happy.  Lookit!! 

  Say whaaat?!

Of course, now that I'm a leading authority on running (and getting selfies into local newspapers), I reckon I'm going to suck it up and do the full marathon in Liverpool fo sho.  I'm feeling good about it now.  It'll hurt, but it's meant to.  I have no doubt that the experience is going to blow my fragile little mind.  I'm getting into taper territory as of next week, so I'll be reducing the mileage, which will allow for lots more time for numbing my fears with cheese and losing control of my bladder as I completely freak out about the task ahead of me.  Should be a relaxing time for myself and the poor bastards that see me every day.

Good luck, friends and family!  You can get through this.  I believe in you!

Running longer distances in training has been a lot of fun.  I've learned loads about myself.  For example, if I am tired and frustrated enough by the fact that "I've still got bloody FOUR miles to go and I'm HUNGRY NOW!!", I am not above loudly huffing "AGH, FUCK IT!!" at nothing and no one whilst out in public.  Oddly enough, it does make you feel better. I've also learned that it's at around the fifteen mile mark that I start to get insatiably snacky.  Still clinging to the fruitless hope that there will be a magical cake station at around that point in Liverpool.  That would be the dream.

If you live in Liverpool and intend to spectate on the day - Battenburg, please and thankyou.

Running aforementioned distances has also screwed with my sleeping patterns, because staving off naps for me is like trying to stop an oncoming train with a broom handle.  It's just not possible.  As a result of this, I've been having some really vivid and slightly screwy dreams.  Want to hear a few?

1.  A capella Cats

A and I return home (probably from one of our never ending "pops to the shop".  We never seem to have food in.  No idea why...)  to see all the neighbours outside their doors watching all of the neighborhood cats singing classic hit "Stand By Me" together in perfect harmony.  When they are done, there is much applause and elation.  So much so that someone sets a pre programmed fireworks display off.  As you do.

Oh, God, the blood.  There was so. Much. Blood.  The one tabby that was stuck to the Catherine Wheel will haunt me forever.  

Cheers, brain.

2.  The Roof, the Roof, the Roof is on Fire

Am at home enjoying daytime TV.  In this particular show, an interior designer surprises families by giving their homes a fancy, fancy make over.  The families are survivors of house fires, which is a really lovely idea.  Except in this one, the houses are mid collapse and a little bit still-on-fire.  The part that I was watching in the dream was where they were in the middle of "the big reveal".  The mother didn't like the olive green kitchen cupboards they were given, which is an odd thing to be focusing on when you're missing one entire outside wall, and your staircase is ablaze.  Some people seriously need to reframe their situations.  Sort it out, lady.


3.  Sugar, We're Going Down

A and I in an aeroplane, off on our hollibobs.  Hurrah!  

Lightening strikes one of the wings, causing it to snap off and sending us hurtling towards to ground at hundreds of miles an hour.  A is frozen in fear and refusing to hold my hand, which I find mildly irksome.  To placate myself, I eat some peanuts and hum "if you're happy and you know it" to myself in my head.  Turns out dream-me handles the whole plummeting towards an untimely demise thing in quite a chipper way.  Who'd have thought? 

Maybe we could learn something from that?  No matter how bad it gets, there's always snacks and a cheery sing-along to be had. Unless there are no snacks.  In which case, everything is fucked and the world is ending.  *shrug*
There have been WAY more dreams than that, but those three are the ones I recall the most clearly.  I certainly have a vivid imagination when I'm unconscious.  Small wonder I'm always so bloody knackered!  I'll be off, then.  I need a coffee and something to chew on.  T'raa!

Marathon Training Week 8/ Run Piggy, Run!!

Roll me in newspaper with some chips, for I am battered! Busy weekend! Here's my week in training...Please bear in mind that this week looks nothing like the actual plan I have stuck to my freezer:

Mon      Rest day
Tues     Rest day
Weds    3 miles + CrossFit 
Thurs    4 miles
Fri         Rest day
Sat       Invncbl mud run (6 miles)
Sun      Final Run Like a Ninja + 6 miles: The number I managed to get in before my butt intervened by completely cramping up thanks to yesterday's activities.

The Invncbl obstacle course I did in Margam Park yesterday was like nothing I've ever experienced.  It.  Was.  Awesome!  6 miles and twenty something slop covered obstacles.  And to my profound relief, no electric shocks!  Not even a bit of static off of my T-Shirt.  Phew.  It was after only 3 of these that I started to resemble a grinning swamp dweller, when I took two steps into some knee-deep mud and fell flat on my front.  The obstacles turned out to be a lot friendlier than I expected, and much, much muckier.  Turns out, I love being caked in ick and wading through brown water.  I was obviously a sewer rat in a past life.  Or a pig.  

  

Run, piggy, run!!

The only bits I found especially tough were the many, many, MANY hills we had to climb. Even after we reached the peak of the mountain and "aaaaaw!"d at some fearless bambis that bounded into our midst, we still seemed to be going up.  That mountain defied physics!  This sewer rat most definitely needs to squeeze in some hill repeats before marathon day, or she may well keel over at the first hint of a bump in the road.  Better off realising this now rather than six miles into my jaunt round Liverpool. 

"Oh, is that a hill?  Never mind, I'll just go home."

So, yus.  Despite a water station running out of water at the top of a big, fuck-off hill (resulting in several semi feral people -myself included - sniffing half empty bottles to see if they were "okay to drink"), and one or two of the obstacles being shut down early on because people were spraining ankles, and apparently breaking a leg (literally, not showbiz style), the memory of flinging myself over walls and wading through muck will be a favourite for a long, long while.  The sense of camaraderie was immense, especially as both my running club Run 4 All, and the Outcast CrossFit box were all running in the same wave.  Was an insane experience to be surrounded by that many familiar, filthy faces and to share the experience with all of them. 

No one worried about finishing time, because both groups (I entered with Run 4 All) chose to stick together and to leave no man behind.  Everyone was too busy regressing to being six years old, when mud was for throwing and water for splashing around in to be concerned about something as silly as how quickly they could finish.  It's a sentiment I hope to keep with me in my future races.  Might have to remind myself that lobbing clumps of dirt at people isn't quite as socially acceptable in city events, though.

What I got out of Invncbl:

 A too-big T-shirt because they'd run out of all other sizes

 A new medal (shiny shiny shinyyy!!)

 A refreshed outlook of speed < fun

A smug-ass grin.  Look at her and her smug little face.

I'm off out to roll around in the garden and climb a tree now.  

I think I might need to be re-socialised.

Happy Sunday!

How To Make Running Suck

WEEKEND!!

I mean, hello! Hope you've found this Saturday as relaxing as I have.  And by relaxing I mean: 

• A morning spent at a women-only CrossFit session with Outcast Swansea. No smelly boys to slow us down!  Except for the coach.  Who wasn't smelly, and who refused to tolerate any slowing down.  At all.  And he tried to kill us with burpees.  Like, kill us dead.  It was touch and go for a moment there, as I wondered whether I'd ever get my breath back, but I loved it, and survived to tell the tale!

• An afternoon unwisely spent in town Christmas shopping, which is a fancy term for spending 45mins parking and 10mins dodging elbows in the shops, getting too stressed and shuffling back to the car with tail between legs and a single pair of jeans.  Tis the season to be elbowed in the boobs by browsing strangers. 

Week's not been a bad one either for getting off my backside. I went to one other CrossFit class on Tuesday which featured a lot of core/ab/that middle bit where I keep my cookies work, and after several minutes of overly enthusiastic "fuck yeah, I'm NAILING this!!"ing and a smug night's sleep, I spent the following 3 days unable to pull myself up into a sitting position.  I hadn't realised how much I needed my mid-section until I tried to get out of a bath and nearly drowned myself;

"Okay, time to get ou-AAAARGH IS THAT A HERNIA?!!"

Needless to say, I don't suffer DOMS (stands for "death of muscles. Shit.") graciously.

On Monday, I went for a short jog that turned into a magical, hilly 10 miler, because I'd discovered that we've got one of those electric signs that detects cars' speeds on a hill near our house, and I childishly wanted to try and beat my time.  On one loop, 26mph flashed up, but it turned out that there was just a car behind me.  Shame.   Anyway, I figured out that if I run downhill with all my might and just a bit of arm flapping, I can reach a princely speed of... 7 miles per hour. 

My cheetah-esque abilities aside, I really enjoyed that run.  Distance in double digits (the name of my first album/book/autobiography...whichever comes first) is usually a daunting prospect for me.  I've done it, but not all that many times, and I almost always have to grit my teeth through it, at the very least towards the end.  There's something special about those runs, of any distance, that end up being much more enjoyable than you initially though it would be.  The more often I do this putting one foot in front of the other thing, the more handy little tools and mental games I'm picking up to help me pass the time and to get more out of a run.  

That being said, I have a WAY bigger list of things I've learned the hard way not to do when I'm out on my shuffles, so I'm going to dispense those findings to you instead.  So, here is my list of the multiple ways you can make a regular run completely suck balls.  Don't say I never give you anything.  

1.  Look at your watch/tracking doohicky regularly to see how far you've gone/how much time has passed.  I guarantee it will be less than you wanted, and you will want to cry.

2.   Expect the run to be easy, because you've been doing it lots now, and this is only going to be a slow one.  I don't think I've ever found a run easy, or that I ever will.  My opinion is that it never any less difficult (though there is a small chance I've just been doing it wrong the entire time...Let's not rule that one out).  You just learn to embrace being challenged.  Unless you're hungry, or it's windy out. Then it's totally okay to just sit in the house and eat chocolate spread on toast.  Especially because you've just discovered that Maltesers does a crunchy spread now, called Teasers and it's the best thing in the effing WORLD!  Beautiful, glorious, evil sugar-paste. Mmmmm.

3.  Eat something heavy immediately before you head out the door.  For energy and that. And by "that", I mean vomit.

4.  Worry from start to finish about how slow you are and how that elderly gentleman that whizzed past you on his mobility scooter was definitely smirking at you like he was in a convertible sports car and you were in a Morris Minor.  Whatever, guy.  Morris Minors are cool. 


5.  Make sure you have enough noisy change and keys in your pockets in order to be driven slowly insane.

6.  Forget to take music with you.  

7.  Try to distract yourself from the fact that you're running and that your legs/lungs/bum cheeks/entire body hurts.  It won't make everything seem ten times worse, honest.  Go ahead.  Try so hard to "engross yourself in nature" that dog walkers wonder why you're so angry at their pets.

8.  Make your strides unnaturally long so that it's all over with faster, or so short that you're emulating that classic, British "trotting across the car park" run that people do when they see cars coming but are too civilized to break into a full on jog.  

9.  Constantly calculate how much further it is you have to go. Are we there yet?  Are we there yet?

...Are we there yet?

10.  Pick a completely flat, out-and-back route with no decent views.  That way, both your brain and body get a big, fat slice of boredom.  Yippee, hooray!

And there we have it!  Plenty more where that came from.  I am most definitely shirking my calling as a personal trainer, aren't I? Such motivation.  Much positive. Wow.

Happy running, peoples! =)

Choons!

Moooorning!! Rota'd day off work, and last (and only, really) long training run day before the Cardiff Half, which I am...well, I'm shitting my pants over it, to be frank ("Can I still be Garth?").

Got through the Swansea Bay 10K on Sunday by the skin of my teeth.  Had to walk parts of the last mile just to get to the end, which I normally wouldn't need to do during a race of that length.  Lack of speed isn't bothering me so much as enjoyment.  I'm never going to win any races, especially at my current level of "fitness," so my main focus should be fun.  And when my lungs feel like they want to escape out of my butt, it goes without saying I'm not going to be having the time of my life. Lesson learned: training is important, even if you aren't expecting to be Sonic the Hedgehog (fast - not blue and naked bar shoes).  Nevertheless... medal!

 

 

Pure terror of running anything further than "to the fridge for cheese" of late has forced me to get creative.  I'm easily distracted and pretty soggy willed when my motivation levels aren't high, so I needed something to get me excited about pounding pavements for 2hours +.  So, I'm currently putting together a Spotify Premium playlist to see me through the event.  I've not moved from my computer all morning.  I'm having a bloody blast!  As I type, I am currently bouncing to "The Bitch Song" by Bowling For Soup. 

I love clicking through the "related artist" feature and coming across bands I'd almost forgotten I loved as a spot ridden, angsty,  pasty skinned teen (not much has changed.  Slightly less spots, but I certainly haven't gotten any wiser, taller or less pale).  I don't know if most other people in their twenties are the same, but my taste in music seems to have stalled at around age fifteen.  I still LOVE American pop/punk. Love, love love it! I also seem to have developed a taste for shameless pop music, which is ideal for grinning to yourself while you have headphones on because no one bar you knows that you're secretly getting your groove on to 5ive.  I miss 5ive...

Can't wait to get off my arse this afternoon for a playlist test drive. I plan to bounce around Swansea to the musical stylings of Blink 182 and New Found Glory, Something Corporate... (remember them?! I didn't!)  Maybe in the spirit of regression, I will also wear eyeliner down to my chin and sport some black and purple shag bands.


Or maybe I won't.

Behold some gems from my Cardiff Half playlist for your inspiration/revulsion:

In Too Deep - Sum 41
Sk8er Boi - Avril Lavigne
My Favourite Game - The Cardigans
Hella Good - No Doubt
All Downhill From Here - New Found Glory
Punk Rock Princess - Something Corporate 
Dammit - Blink 182
Fatally Yours - Alkaline Trio
All My Best Friends Are Metalheads - Less Than Jake
She Hates Me - Puddle Of Mudd
I Want You To Want Me - Letters To Cleo
Sell Out - Reel Big Fish  


If you're on spotify too, you can have a nose at my debatable taste in music here:
cardiff half

..."Rock" on, honorable ones!

\m/ \m/

Back In The Shire (The Swan...shire)

I'm baaaack!! Spent the previous week on my back in a foreign country (Lindos, Rhodes).  

Not like that! Filth. 

I've returned with a smile on my face and have also changed in colour from transparent white to a more opaque beige.  Closest thing to a tan I've ever had.  Might even be able to pass off as a human for a little while.  Needless to say, I'm gutted to be back in reality, where all the cooking and cleaning isn't done for me while I'm busy pickling my liver with local beers and cocktails. Also, it's hard to leave behind something that looks as pretty as this:

 

Pretty surroundings not own back/backside, but thanks for saying! ;)

 I had a go at that "relaxing" thing I'd heard so much about, and I think that for a couple of days, I think I even managed to crack it!  Burned through two really bloody good books:

• Maya Angelou - I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings (suggestion courtesy of http://shewantstoread.blogspot.co.uk/ if you're looking for summat to eat with your eyes.  Handy blog!).
• Karen Joy Fowler - We Are All Completely Beside ourselves

Came to the conclusion that for me, food + booze + books + heat = complete and total bliss.  Who'd have thought?  Only trouble is, all the fooding and the boozing has only served to reinforce how much I love fooding and boozing.  Which is making my resolve over last post's grand announcement about going sober for October go a bit wobbly.  Much like a drunk person's.  We'll see.

Another side effect of all the relaxing I've been dabbling in is that I seem to have further hindered my ability to run.  All the focusing on CrossFit and sitting on my backside in between sessions has rendered my cardiovascular fitness all but fucked.  I tried to run three miles yesterday, and had to walk even during that, which rarely used to happen unless I'd hurt myself.  Seems I'm back to square one-and-a-bit on the running front.  I have a 10k to do tomorrow along Swansea's sea front and Cardiff half marathon to do in a couple of weeks.  Daunted isn't even the word!

On the other hand, I find my new total lack of aerobic fitness strangely encouraging.  Because I now know that my recent inability to run very steadily or far is more physical than mental, it feels much more fixable.  Fitness is simpler.  You just do more of the thing you find yourself crap at until you're not as crap anymore.  I got complacent with running, and my sudden onset rubbishness has given me a point to start from all over again, so I'm able to make it a priority without hating every single second of it.  If that makes even a blob of sense.

The next two races I'm going to do are going to be a nightmare, but I know I'll finish, whether it means crawling around the route and weeping for my mummy.  But by jove, I'll be doing it!  Cant wait to tell you about them =).

Home Town Showdown - Running (and Walking) The Swansea Half

Today, I feel like I'm experiencing the runners' equivalent of one of those rare occasions where you go out for a wine or twelve and miraculously have no hang over the next day.  I ran Swansea's first ever half marathon yesterday, and my legs don't appear to have noticed.  Yet.

They're fine.  No aches.  Nothing.  It's freaking me out.  Maybe my legs are still drunk and they're shortly due to wake up, recall what they've done and kick my arse into next week for putting them through two half marathons in two weeks?

"Yeah, it's weird, I feel great!  Let's go for a walk, or a skip, or.... OH MY GOD, THE PAIN!!!"

Been well over 24hrs though, so... If it does kick in soon, it will be the most literal case of delayed onset muscle soreness I've ever had. Or maybe I've put them through so much "ouch" during those few CrossFit sessions that they've finally given up and just let me have this one as a freebie?  Hmm.  We'll see.

Yes.  Swansea Half marathon.  An event I very, very nearly skipped in favour of a night on the lash. Caught up with some friends I'd not seen in a while on Saturday evening during one of their number's birthday night out.  Combining the fact that I really wanted to celebrate  with them with the bloody beautiful sunshine, which always drives me to cider (fizzy apple juice for grown-ups), it was a tough decision.  But I feel I've made the right one.  Because now I have a medal.  

Obligatory "Honest guv, I was there!" post-race selfie:

 

I walked some of it again.  There.  I said it.  I'm refusing to feel bad about it, though, for reasons thusly:

• I did two half marathons in two weeks.  Two!  If you take out the six days in between, I ran a whole marathon this month.  Technically.
• Medal.
• I did it in pretty much exactly the same time as March's Llanelli half (2hrs35) - throughout which I had no walk breaks.  Which means that I must have gotten at least a bit faster during the bits that I ran in Swansea.  
• I ran at a decent (for me) speed all the way up to mile 9 before my resolve began to crumble.  Not shabby going, considering I usually start to feel "the rage" at about mile 6 or 7. 
• My legs have never felt better during or after a half before, so I must be getting stronger.  I just need a bit of a kick up the jacksie with my mental stamina.  It's aaaaall in my head.
• It was H-A-W-T out! The weather went from beig a bit cloudy and muggy as fuck to no shade, you-can't-hide-from-me-bwahahahaha sunshine, which was decidedly muggy-as-fuckier.  You heard me.  Fuckier. 
• Medal.

Despite the last 4 tapdancing-through-hellfire miles, it was the most fun I've had at a half marathon (and I'm an expert now, with my four, 'kay?), and I was chuffed to be a part of it.  Here's a few of my favourite flashbacks from yesterday's shennanigans:

1.  Because it was local, loads of people I knew were among the grinning crowd of supporters.  Not least Run 4 All, who hijacked most of the race by sneakily posing as marshals.  One of the coaches even put in the effort to wear our flag as a skirt and spent the whole event shouting our names and deafening us with a rave whistle.  This prompted a few "Do you know those people?"s from other runner around me.  Yes, sweaty comrade!  Yes I do!
2. Swansea is a chuffing BEAUTIFUL place.  The majority of the race followed the curve of the bay's coastline.  Swooping seagulls, paddling dogs, lapping waves... all especially lovely when you're tripping balls on sunshine and mild dehydration.

3. Apart from one little, humpy hill, the course was blissfully flat.  

4. A gang (gaggle, herd, flock?) of firemen were on hand towards the end to hose runners down.  Fire engine hose obviously set to "sprinkle", otherwise would have been blasted to the finish line in record time.  Wouldn't have complained. Maybe should have requested "WHOOSH!" setting for self?

5. The sense of cameraderie between supporters, volunteers and runners was awesome.  There was talk of one qualified first aider helping out lots of runners whom the heat had got the better of, and he'd only come down to watch.  Hero!

There were only a miniscule number of things that could have improved the day:

•   I nearly cried when they ran out of energy gels on the sixth mile - really could have used the boost in that weather.  
• The only t-shirts they had left at the end by the time I came shuffling on through were either size L or XL.  But, hey ho, I now have a new snazzy dress/nightie to prance about in, so not a total loss.
• The last few miles were around an (admittedly pretty) estate mostly made up of office blocks - one of which I used to work in (woo!), that looped and twisted around itself.  I found that part quite disheartening because I knew the finish line was nearby, but I had to keep looping back away from the bugger!  Would have preferred it if they'd just let us bimble a little further up the coast before turning to head back to the finish instead.

Nothing of enough significance to ruin what turned out to be a bloody brilliant morning, though.  Can't wait til next year!  Now, I'm going to go back to sitting very still so as not to disturb the dormant pain receptors in my legs.... Gently does it....

 

"Hey, guys, wait for me!!"

Wales Half Marathon (aka What Was I THINKING?!)

Welp.  Just completed the Wales Half Marathon in Tenby.  It's a race that can be quantified as 20% downhill slopes and beautiful scenery, and 80% pure, burning NOPE!  

It is the single most horrifying thing I have ever put myself though, and for that reason, in my screwy, special brand of logic, I loved it.  Sort of. Afterwards.

I've pleased and surprised myself by actually finishing the damned thing.  There was a lot more walking on my part than I'd intended, but I've justified it to myself as being the only method that would have got me around the course today.  At mile two (no typo, mile two), I was already texting A to inform him that the race was a massive (insert unsavory expletive referring to lady parts here), and I didn't think I was going to be able to do it.  He responded with a "That's okay, just do what you can."

Which is a trap.  A knows full well that if he told me that he knew I could do it, I would instantly go on the defensive, tell him to piss off, hijack a cow from one of the nearby fields and haul ass back to the start.  Probably pouting at onlookers and flicking them the V sign.  By giving me permission to give up and ruin my own day/goal/self confidence, it made me get my sorry act together and shuffle grumpily on.  The hills were like nothing I've ever seen.  The inclines were numerous, and I'm pretty sure the top of my head was grazed by the actual moon at one point. We were that high up.  Honest.

Moaning aside, here were the highlights:

• Around halfway, the hills temporarily (important word here, chaps) disappear and this fantastic view of horses, beach, landscape and one pretty cool castle opens up, like the race giving you a little treat for getting that far.  This was also a trick.  The hills are around the corner, hiding.  But at least it was nice while it lasted.
• Little bystander girl informs me firmly that her best friend is also called Rebecca and that, obviously, I am going to win the whole race because of this.  For a second, I actually believe her.
• The coolest couple I have ever met overtook me.  They were doing the full marathon (how?!! How can it be done??) as a "nice finisher" to their whole weekend at Tenby that involved a plethora of events that involved swimming, running, cycling and a number of other terrifying feats of physical activity.  Did I mention that they were holding hands the whole time I saw them?  Assume they just did this at the marathon.  Can imagine hand holding would hinder swimming ability.
•  Everyone in Tenby coming out of their homes to give us all their sweets and say nice things.  
• Hosepipe lady, spraying us all down outside a pub.  I told her I loved her.  I meant it.
• The mile or so of "weeeeee!!" inducing downhill (verbal, not actual wee) after about mile 10 or 11.
• The red carpet at the end, where they called out everyone's names on a microphone, making everyone cheer for us individually.  Felt like a rock star.  Albeit one whose fringe is plastered to her head with sweat.
• My lovely, patient(ish - I successfully narked everyone off this morning by directing us to the wrong place, creating a 20 mile round-trip detour thingy during  I blamed everyone/thing except for myself.  Obviously.) sisters and gentleman companion grinning and waving at me as I sprinted(...ish) towards the end, hoping to convince them that I'd been sprinting all along - despite the fact that my "long sprint" had taken me nearly 3 hours (2hrs50 if interested) to complete.  I love 'em and other soppy stuff. What? Shut up.

Downsides?

1. The hills.
2. The hills.
3. OHMYGOD, THE HILLS!!!

To be fair, a lady acquaintance by the name of Laura from Run 4 All bloody nailed them - ran over every single one like a magical robot trooper.  One day, I will do the same.  Today, I was just overjoyed to be toeing the finish line without giving up/dying/puking.  That was a victory in itself.

Obligatory YAY, SHINY, SHINY MEDAL!!! photo.  Also me sporting invisible handbag & shocked/manic face at finish line.

Quick CrossFit update before I go:

Second of the two on-ramp sessions completed on Friday.  "Arm stuff" worked its magic on me to the point that I needed assistance putting my bra on this morning because I have lost my ability to grip things to DOMS - aka delayed onset muscle soreness. Or "Dying! Oh, my stars!" 

Also, when I got home from that session, my arms had taken on a mind of their own.  In the shower, whilst aiming with my pouffy loofah thing at my armpits, I ended up giving my chin a good scrubbing.  Turns out I have the upper body strength of soggy spaghetti.  Have decided that this is a good thing, as any future progression I make will seem all the more impressive compared with how unforgivably crap I currently am at picking things up. That's rational, right? 

Right?

I hope your weekend was enjoyable and that if you required one, you were able to put on a bra all by yourselves!