Juneathon 16/30 – late again

Despite me not breathing a word about wanting to go for an early run, Mini-Ginge clearly had got wind of my plans and woke me up at 2.30. 5.00 running alarm call was duly ignored. 

My plan b for an early evening run was scuppered by a tired boy who needed to go home, rather than wait for his sweaty mother. After an episode of The Clangers, he was put to bed and I embarked on a mission to make tonight’s tea, tomorrow night’s tea and my dinner for work tomorrow. Then Ginge came home, we had tea, we washed up and it was gone 10. 

So at 10.20, I changed out of my work stuff into something a bit more Lycra and did day 2 of Bootcamp. This was a session of upper body work that reminded me that above the waist, I am as weak as a kitten. I have very wonky shoulders that clicked and clunked and wobbled all the way through. I also had to improvise on the weight front, using 2 tins of chickpeas instead. 

There was lots of encouragement to do things at your own pace and progress as you get stronger. This was timed wonderfully to offset my thoughts of “I’m rubbish at this, it’s pathetic”, so go psychic Julia! On one exercise (I think it might have been in the warmup) it took me a while to figure out my rights and lefts, and arms and legs. It’s great to be able to pause and rewind something I’m not sure about. In reality, if I went to a class, I would get all hot and flustered before giving up. 

I suspect things may ache in the morning…

Juneathon 15/30 – bootcamp

Anything involving the word ‘bootcamp’usually has me running for the hills, or more likely, skulking away and muttering curses. However, several things have come into alignment and I am trying out the Beginners Bootcamp by personal trainer Julia Buckley. 

I’ve been aware of her stuff on social media for ages and the lovely Sue (who I first met during the Athons) is a fantastic poster girl for the results that you can get with Julia’s workouts. 

The workouts are designed so that you can do them at home with the minimum of equipment. But I hate doing stuff at home, I feel wonky and uncoordinated, I’m sure I’m doing stuff wrong and then I give up. I’m totally new to all of this squatting and lunging  and as far as I’m concerned burpees are what you do to babies. 

The problem is, I want to get stronger. I get weird pangs of jealousy when I read about people’s strength training. Joining a gym isn’t an option so maybe a home programme is worth a shot. 

A version of the Beginners Bootcamp is still free on YouTube, so I had a look at the introductory video and it was like Julia was talking to me! All of the fears and anxieties I hoard were covered and solved, all of the mistakes I make, she knew about them. 

So tonight I did my first workout, in the kitchen, hoping none of the overlooking neighbours could see in. I was wobbly and wonky and I can’t do any form of press up, but it was nicely hard work and I finished it with a rosy glow. 

Juneathon 14/30 – positive & negative

Two ways of looking at the same run:

The negative

  1. I ran-walked. A lot. 
  2. Especially up hills. I chickened out of hills. 
  3. I can’t control my pace, I keep going a bit too fast then having to walk. 
  4. There’s no way I can do a marathon. 

The positive

  1. I covered 7 miles, which is the longest I’ve done since 2013. I’ve also not done a full 6 miles for a few weeks (due to illness and falling over halfway through last week’s)
  2. It’s a hilly route and I did manage the first couple of uphills that I didn’t think I could do. 
  3. My overall pace was pretty much what I would have been aiming at. 
  4. No one is making me do a marathon tomorrow, I’ve got until November. 
  5. Nothing hurt and I didn’t fall over. 

I think, overall, I managed to shout down the negatives.

Juneathon 13/30 – parkrun

I am a rare attendee at parkruns. They usually coincide with either an Athon or the attendance of Louise doing some Northern tourism. I thought that I’d run Preston twice before today, but it turns out that meeting up with Louise for a brew and a chat didn’t actually count.

In a spectacular bit of miscommunication, neither Ginger or I took our phones, so the opportunity of lots of lovely photos was lost. Sigh. But this is what happened. Actually let’s skip back to before we left…

(imagine some wibbly wobbly flashback thing going on here)

At work I always joke (kind of) that as long as I’m there and I’m dressed, I’m doing well. For today’s parkrun, I nearly managed to fail on both counts. Organisation is a key part of survival when you’re a parent (so I am told) but unfortunately this is is gene that I lack. I love the theory of organisation and truly believe that the next notebook/diary/filing system/set of boxes will be the one that redeems the last 35 years of chaos. I am nothing if not optimistic. When it came to getting dressed this morning, I spotted my tights escaping from some clean washing, but then couldn’t find a sports bra. I unearthed a clean one but then couldn’t remember for the life of me where I’d seen my tights. Scrabbling through the washing baskets like a deranged mole, they eventually turned up only narrowly avoiding me recycling a pair from Thursday. Then I lost Mini-Ginge’s coat, but I did know where his shoes were, which is an improvement on most days.

I was all set to sack parkrun off and go for a grumpy run, but was shepherded into the car by Ginge (who does not get the credit he deserves for motivating and putting up with me) and whisked off to Avenham Park. Arriving with minutes to spare, I was in time for the introductory chat and was reminding that mass applause and niceness brings a lump to my throat every time.

Preston is a three lap course with a hill fairly early in the loop. I chickened out of trying to run up it, even on the first loop. My legs felt heavy and as I glanced over to see the front runners at the start of their second lap, my ridiculously negative head kicked in. I can’t do this once let alone three times. And if I can’t do this, how the hell am I going to do a marathon. Oh god. Luckily the headmistressy part of my head took over and gave me a brisk talking to.

As I completed the first circuit, I was lapped by a chap saying “I’m doing the Rock n Roll marathon in Liverpool tomorrow, so I’m saving some for that” AS HE LAPPED ME. Git. Just after the hill of the second lap, I spotted Ginge and Mini-Ginge. The smaller of the two looked a bit bemused by the whole thing, but hearing “It’s Mama” as I lumbered past has to be the best bit of cheerleading EVER.

The third lap saw a bit of walking creeping in. I know full well that this was the negative brain as I had enough in the tank for a sprint(ish) finish past a woman who I had been hovering behind for most of the route. I did feel a bit guilty about this.

When the results came in, I found that I was nearly three and a half minutes slower than when I last ran Preston (January 2013, about three weeks before I found out that I was expecting) which certainly gives me something to aim at. Especially as they let you ring a bloody great bell if you get a PB. Ding dong!

Juneathon 12/30 – nostalgia

Tonight I have mostly watched TFI Friday and been very nostalgic for my youth. Going out at 8, 99p a pint, last orders at 11… Sigh. Back in the 90s I should have been in my prime, but I couldn’t run for a bus let alone for a mile. Ah well, they do say that youth is wasted on the young. 

Anyhow, tonight I have tried to get Ginge to teach me how to do a press up with hilarious consequences.