Juneathon 20/30 – nagged

At the stroke of midnight, as day 20 of Juneathon burst into life, I was cleaning up a sick-covered child. Not being a particularly sicky baby, I’m not too sure who was more shell-shocked by the experience. After I’d scooped him out of the cot, I sat down with him, thinking “I have never dealt with this situation and yet I am supposed to be able to solve it. Oh crap”. But then I think this probably sums up most aspects of parenthood. The de-sicked child perked up remarkably when he was allowed onto our bed, which is when he lulled us into a false sense of security and then puked on our bed too.

After a bit more sick, some mardy cuddles watching CBeebies and an epic nap,  Mini-Ginge seemed to be recharged and ready to nag mum into going for a walk. His nagging is subtle but effective. It mostly involves yanking me by the hand, stealing the house keys and trying to unlock the door. We made it about a quarter of a mile before he was spooked by two elderly ladies at the bus stop and demanded that we head back. Despite the fact that he decided that his legs didn’t work any more, he was determined to stay out so we weeded the gravel at the front of the house before heading in.

Where he promptly legged it to the back door and demanded to go out again.

Anyway, a short toddler speed walk is enough for a blagged Juneathon, but I didn’t want to blag today, so I did day four of my Beginner’s Bootcamp. This turned out to be a strong leg day, lots of squats and lunges, which might prove interesting on tomorrow’s long run.

(and can apologise for this being mostly a post about vomit with a brief mention of exercise)

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. 

Juneathon 11/30 – later

I swear my son can mind read. I used love early runs (and relied heavily on them when I did hardcore Athons) but since Mini-Ginge came along, I think I have done one. At the most. He’s never been a brilliant sleeper, he’ll get off ok, but then decides that he wants something during the night. We’ve just had a good run of three nights sleeping through and I had planned to do an early interval session this morning. 

What happened is what always happens when I plan an early run (and by early I mean a 5.00 alarm call) – somehow he knows and wakes up around 1 or half past. Even if he settled quickly, I’m still on pins waiting for the delayed waaaah to come through the wall (he is also psychic for knowing just when I’ve decided that he’s settled and have settled down to sleep myself). 

So when 5.00 came, the alarm was switched off. At the time, I did think that I lay there contemplating getting up , but with hindsight I realise that I actually dreamed this… So no early run.

After work the sun was still doing its thing, which is lovely but I’m not built to run in the heat. By the time the boy was in bed, we’d had tea and I’d given it an hour to go down, I was getting much less inclined to go out. But I did. 3 mile loop, first half mile was tricky, then a mile of brilliance, then a pause to contemplate life and some sheep. The return was a bit wonky as my body kept reminding me that it wasn’t that long since I’d scoffed a big plate of fish and noodles. But I did it and finished with a warm glow of satisfaction and achievement, not to mention a fetching sheen of sweatiness. 

Juneathon day 4/30 – lost property

Today I have been let down by technological failures. And by ‘technological failures’ I do mean ‘my ability to organise technology’. And by ‘technology’ I do mean ‘myself’. 

Last night I thought ‘I must charge my Garmin’. I got in from work today, fell asleep for an hour and then realised that I had a very dead Garmin. 

Plan B! I thought. I shall do Audiofuel intervals instead. 

So I looked for my shuffle. And looked. And looked. And looked. I keep rotating round the three places where I usually dump it and shuffling whatever’s there in the hope it will magically appear. 

So I decided to run as far as my Garmin battery would hold out for and then run back again. Turns out it was 0.28 miles, so I did 0.56 miles, which is a decidedly poor effort. 

Must try harder.