Wem-ber-ley, Wem-ber-ley….

Hurrah! Another non-running post. Excuses go:
Wednesday: Waking to rain lashing against window, not condusive to early morning run. Also fell asleep at kitchen table while reading the paper – I felt that this suggested a certain level of tiredness.
Thursday: Made the mistake of going to my mum’s to get changed. Got caught up in the loveliness of having a chat in the kitchen.
Friday-Sunday: Set off for Wembley at 8 o’clock. First beer opened at approximately 9 o’clock. Alternately drunk and hungover for much of the weekend.
Monday: I’m optimistic for later on, but am still feeling the effects of Friday-Sunday.

Basically, I went down to Wembley for the rugby league Challenge Cup Final. We do it as an annual trip and it’s an amazing weekend that is usually fuelled by quite a lot of beer. This year, I had the lovely idea that I could take my running kit, take it easy on the Friday night and go out for a restorative plod on the Saturday morning. I love the idea of running in London (or any city). Whenever I see city runners, especially at lunchtimes, I get running envy and start to whip up fantasies of how, if I had a proper job with a proper lunch hour (instead of 30 minutes eating at my desk followed by 10 minutes trying to shake couscous out of my keyboard), I would be one of those runners. I would also be thinner, less red-faced and have a perky ponytail that bounced as I bounded through the streets. My plan for the weekend was scuppered by the fact that we were staying quite a way out of central London and also that twelve years of experience have taught me that this isn’t the weekend to try and run.

As it was, I was rough as a badger’s arse on Saturday morning, much to the amusement of my husband. He had to endure me whimpering gently as I complained that it was far too hot, my head hurt and I really didn’t want to put clothes on. It took me approximately 45 minutes to get dressed. I was a pitiful sight. I’ll not go into detail about what put me right as it was quite unpleasant, but the end result was that I perked up and set off for London Village for a lovely breakfast and a bit of culture visiting the BP exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery, of which I think this was my favourite.

It’s lucky that I had a spare week in my training plan, as I’m now a week behind (oops). I’ve also found out that the day that I’d planned for my race is the day after a charity do to raise money for Help For Heroes and Myeloma UK (and to raise sponsorship for a Myeloma UK place in the London Marathon). This poses the dilemma of do I do the race, stay sober and have an early night (bearing in mind that I have the breaking strain of a kitkat)? Find another race (which I’m finding a bit tricky as I’m running out of races)? Or admit defeat and weasel out of it til next year (and crown myself Queen of the Weasels)? Answers on a postcard please.

EDIT: I’ve been thinking about this and have realised that I’m absolutely petrified about doing a race as they’ll all be full of proper runners and I’ll be at the back.

Is someone stealing time from me? Eh? Eh?

When I decided to have a go at following a proper training plan, I looked at the schedule and marvelled at how little 3 days a week looked. In reality, I’ve not dragged out my sorry arse since Wednesday morning. And I appear to be prioritising the easy weekend runs, whilst neglecting the interval sessions, I can’t imagine why…

It’s tricky trying to do different stuff (especially when you’re a wuss like me) when you’re running with company. My friend’s still a bit demotivated on the running front and wasn’t keen to get dragged into a 5miler with fast bits in the middle – I got into enough trouble when we reached my front door only for me to announce “well we’re nearly at 3.7 miles, so we might as well make it 4…”.

My note to self from today was “turn off the garmin’s autonag setting when out with other people” – I don’t think it helped the demotivated friend to be harrangued by what sounds like an angry doorbell whenever we slowed down.

Juneathon Day 10: A (downward) dog’s life

Yoga tonight, which was certainly beneficial as a) I’ve been satisfyingly achey in various limbs this week and b) I’ve learned just how tight my left achilles tendon is.

It’s been niggling after lolloping for a couple of miles, nothing too painful, I’m just aware of it and don’t like it. Tonight we did lots of lovely leg stretches, including some in downward facing dog where we had to ‘walk the dog’ by bending alternate knees. I found that I can get my right foot flat on the floor, but you could fit a copy of War and Peace under my left heel and still have room for Heat magazine. So I’m now on the hunt for some more good stretches to avoid anything going twang in the near future.

It’s gently tipping down with rain here – splendid for the garden, rubbish for me having to drag myself out at 6.15 tomorrow morning (any athletic endeavour will be offset by going out for Thai tomorrow night). On a normal month, I’d be thinking of excuses already, but seeing as its Juneathon… AND I’ve just had my hair cut which normally sees at least a 24 hour embargo on exercise (it’s a bit like giving blood….) so the only people to have seen my good hair will be Husband (currently being smacked in the face by panda heads on the wii before I have to give it back tomorrow) and yoga people. The sacrifices we make for the cause eh?

Juneathon Day 3 – Promise fulfilled

I didn’t think I’d have chance to post after yoga, hence my short pre-yoga post earlier. Events have conspired to mean that (a) I have possession of the computer and (b) I am awake, so I can do a proper post. Aren’t you lucky?

I’ve been going to yoga classes since January and really have enjoyed them. It’s helped combat some of my work stress, I feel more balanced (in more of an actual less clumsy sense than a spiritual way) and at times I can convince myself that I’m longer and leaner than I am (except when doing anything a bit plough-ish and then I get a faceful of flabby squishiness, which spoils the illusion somewhat. It’s a bit like being suffocated by bread dough). It’s very much a mixed ability class and I don’t do anything half as scary as Ashtanga yoga like Running From 30, which would kill me without a doubt.

Although I had mixed feelings about not running this morning, I’m glad that I did (or didn’t…). It dawned on me a bit back that if I try to run everyday, I’ll have an initial burst of enthusiasm and then get bored and give up. There’s no way that I’d keep up with theĀ  press-up and sit-up challenge (as created by Hauling My Carcass), so after a bit of thought I’m trying to use my non-running days to either
(a) do a lovely long walk somewhere nice with the husband
(b) do something energetic that I’ve not done for ages but used to enjoy or
(c) try something completely new.

So far the list includes swimming, squash, badminton, golf, tai chi, aqua aerobics, crown green bowling (which is more just an excuse to justify a day in the pub), ladies racketball and some form of aerobics class (because I’ve never done one cos they seem too scary). This is how I’ve ended up signing up for a body combat/boxercise/ultimate fighting type combo class after work tomorrow. Working for a health conscious employer who likes us to practise what we preach (and not go off sick), our trust is running a bit of a get fit for summer thing and is hosting various 8 week classes. High on the excitement of Juneathon, I found myself sending a tentative enquiring email, which was soon followed by one saying “can I come on Thursday please?”. I never do anything that impulsive. Damn Juneathon.