Tag: yoga

Positive steps (with a bit of a lithp)

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A slightly odd run tonight. The original plan was to go to the group and run there, but we ended up doing a 4 miler a deux. This means that we probably went a bit further than if we were out with other people, but also a bit slower. Our speed wasn’t helped by the need for a bit of a loo stop in the first couple of miles – the end result being that we ran/walked a bit/ran the first two miles, went to my mum’s (thank god she was in, she’s let me down before with near disasterous consequences) and then ran the two miles back again.

To be honest, it was nice just being out without stressing about time/pace/distance (although she did refer to my “bloody garmin” because I made us keep going until we hit 4 miles, I’m not bloody stopping at 3.95 I tell you. So there.). It was a little scary on Saturday as even the thought of going out for a run made me feel anxious. I appreciate how weird this sounds and I don’t really have a reason for it, although I wasn’t in the best of spaces head-wise over the weekend (I’ve perked up since then). The sweet irony is that I sometimes have to do anxiety management at work and I know all of the theory about challenging negative thoughts, grading and practising tasks, riding out the anxiety feelings, flight or fight, the lot. I’m just crap at putting into practise with myself when I need to. The upside of this is that I have a good stock of anecdotes to give examples from, I think the latest one can be filed under “Examples of Black and White Thinking – if I do a run that isn’t 100% perfect to me, it’s a crap run and I’ve failed. Ergo, I may as well not run as I will inevitably fail”.

Husband has suggested that we have a bit of a Decemberthon to keep me motivated. I like the idea, apart from the fact that I can’t pronounce it without sounding like Violet Elizabeth Bott, Juneathon is a lot easier to say than Dethemberthon. Add to this the fact that the running bully and I are planning a bit of tag team bullying to get us back on track, we’ve a canalside run booked in for Saturday morning and a 4.5mile race in Santa hats in a month. All very positive steps, I think you’ll agree.

Next run, round the village tomorrow 5pm pre-yoga. Ooooh, actually, I can test a hypothesis that a pre-yoga run will be as effective as a pre-yoga nap for keeping me awake during meditation (and the nap is very effective, despite it taking me nearly a year of falling asleep in class to realise this).

Older, wiser, drunker – it’s the birthday post

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I have made the transition from one decade to another – ladies and gentlemen, I am now in my thirties.

I’ve got to say that I’ve had a splendid birthday (and still got 2 hours of it left) and have had lots of lovely pressies (but more of that in a tick).

Monday was racketball day, very much fun but it’s made me realise that I don’t respond well to being asked to do any kind of exercise drill – run up and down a squash court bouncing a ball on a racquet? Well yes I will, but this is the sort of thing that I became an adult to avoid, so if you don’t mind I’ll just go back to hitting squash balls at my husband in a highly competitive fashion. Thanks. Oh, and if I want to be called a girl, I would go back to primary school and then I might be cajoled into doing shuttle runs as well. And yes I know it’s fun and a bit of a giggle, but please stop telling me that. In short, the session was run by a very enthusiastic chap with very good intentions (encouraging women [note ‘women’] to try a new sport) that I support wholeheartedly – it just tapped into the part of my being that hated PE and  feeling like a fat crap kid.

Tuesday was group run night, which was a session in and around the park (conjuring up lots of flashbacks to a. lurking around the park on the swings and b. traumatic cross country in giant pants). Wednesday was yoga (lots of strong leg work and I suspect that warrior poses are going to be the core of our 8 week session – go quads!). Thursday was supposed to be a run, but I finished work for 4 days and had that Friday feeling (and a pile of ironing), so I did nothing.

Friday was supposed to be my long run day. I woke up feeling more tired than when I went to bed and grumpier than a bear with an empty picnic basket. Having set a target of 8am to go out, I eventually went out at the end of Desert Island Discs at 9.45. If I’d have trusted my judgement, I would have run straight up to my mum’s (about 5 and a bit miles) rather than try and extend my running time (I’d only done 1 other run this week, it was already too warm and I didn’t take water). As it was, I stuck to my plan and ran a very winding way to mum’s (we were setting up for a birthday bash there the next night), up a very long, slight hill and then down to the canal. I just about managed an hour and then wanted to give up. So I did. But was still 3 miles away from my destination with no way of getting anywhere else. I was stupidly dehydrated (I don’t seem to learn) and found myself plodding up the canal thinking “I could drink canal water couldn’t I. No, it’s dirty, think of the rats and the weil’s disease. But it’s so wet and cold and I’m so thirsty”. I walked a bit, started to try and run, did a minute, whimpered slightly, walked some more and then pulled myself together and managed another 20 or so minutes. And then had to walk again. Then decided that if I was going to run-walk, I might as well run at a decent speed and did a bit of an interval stylee for the last mile. As my friend very kindly pointed out, this was the last run of my twenties (thanks love) and as a momentous one, it was a bit a shit. But I’m not that bothered – it’s just made me realise that if I’m serious about upping my mileage I need to a. take things more seriously and b. listen to my body.

At this moment of time, I’m full of a cold and gently infused with some lovely real ales, so obviously I need to work on point a. a bit more.

My birthday pressie list has been very interesting and is scarily revealing about how my head works. On the one hand, A Piece of Cake and Red Velvet and Chocolate Heartache (which at least contains veg). On the other hand a lovely running top (much more figure hugging than I would ever choose for myself and will go ever so well with the Ronhill capri pants I won in a raffle), What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, the promise of a new pair of trainers AND….. My very own Garmin. Yes folks, I’m a Serious Runner With A Garmin, see me roar. This will solve many things that I have been whingeing about recently (husband suffers me swearing as I plot my route on walkjogrun, complaining that I can’t pace myself and fretting that I’m over or underestimating my mileage – I suspect that his motivation wasn’t entirely selfless when he chose it) so prepare yourselves for being bored senseless as I figure out what it does.

Oh, and apparently this means that I have to do the half that I’ve been threatening to do.

Juneathon 23-26: Beginning to read at verse 3

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And on the fourth day, she rested and looked on the previous days, thinking hmm, I’m not quite a slacker, but nearly.

It’s been another busy few days so I’m afraid the Juneathon activity has included a bit more walking than it should have done, but that was an emergency measure to make sure that I didn’t weasel out of the ironing. Again. If I’m good at weaseling out of running, I’m an elite weaseler when it comes to the ironing pile and as we’re off on our jollies next week, I wanted to take command and scale the mountain of laundry.

Day 23 Tuesday: Ironing marathon (can I claim it as being an Ironman? No?) tonight. So I conned husband into going for a walk after tea. The clouds were a bit dark and ominous as we left the house, so Husband grabbed the brolly and set off with the intention of getting a new water holdy thing for our camping trip from the village caravan dealer. Unfortunately, 15 minutes too late for the water holdy thing, but we ventured on and back through the fields. Which is when the rains came… By the time we got back to the main road, we were passed by quite a few of the neighbourhood animals lining up two by two as the torrents of water flowed down the kerbside. 2.4 miles, jeans soaked to the knees, big pile of ironing waiting for me. Yay.

Day 24 Wednesday: Wednesday night is of course Yoga night and, in honour of Sunday’s new moon, did some moon-based postures. The first pose lead to upward facing dog (the first time I’ve done it) and then a sequence in kneeling which was very similar to this mini-sun salutation, but included upward facing dog instead of cobra. As usual I had to keep one eye on people to make sure I was up to the right bit. It then got a bit Iyengar, which I later learned that is very focused on precision so not really my cup of tea. There was some falling over and I got distracted during the meditation. Again.

Day 25 Thursday: Now, I’m quite chuffed with Thursday as it demonstrates the power of the Juneathon. I was on a day’s training and then hopping on the train to meet a friend for tea, normally this would be enough to write off any chance of exercise. Not in June though! 5.30 my alarm goes off. 5.40 I curse the fact that I’m doing this through choice and set off for a 30 minute plod up the road and back. Home, shower, recycling out, bus at 7.30, train at 8.00, land at 8.15. Realise I’m in plenty of time to get to where the training is(car left at home to enable a couple of beers later on) and enjoy a sunshine-filled walk taking in the sights, sounds and smells of the city over 2.4 miles. The only downside was that it started to feel like a day off, whereas in actual fact I spent 7 hours in a small stuffy room doing IT training.  Still, my tea was yummy and I had a couple of lovely pints of Ginger Marble to round the day off.

Day 26 Friday: Another bit of rogue exercise – I played squash for the first time in nearly 15 years. It was against Husband (who I learned has played squash before. Once) and was splendid fun. I forget how much I enjoy hitting stuff. Considering the cheese string shoulders, the lack of coordination and my reluctance to engage in any kind of sudden movement, I should hate racquet sports, but they’re the only sports that I’ve been slightly decent at and, more importantly, enjoyed. We borrowed racquets and a ball for free (apparently we looked trustworthy enough not to be charged a pound for them. Fools), had to get directions to the court and probably should have asked for a rule book. I don’t think we were playing to exact championship laws, but it kind of worked and we finished up with a win and a half each (due to running out of time). Definitely going to do it again. Or bribe Husband into playing badminton cos I beat him last time we played…

And now I sit on my arse watching glastonbury on the beeb, muttering darkly about wacky types with face paint and glitter.

Juneathon Days 12, 13, 14 and 15. Crikey.

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Hello! There’s been a bit of a break in transmission because of a rather splendid weekend’s camping in Anglesey, but it’s been Juneathon all the way (certainly in spirit).

Day 12
Friday morning was a very hard early morning run. Not hard in terms of distance (2.9 miles) or speed (slow) but definitely in terms of opening eyes, moving body into upright position and leaving the house. After the previous night’s yummy Thai (pork and prawn dumplings, chicken panang curry and storm trooper birthday cake), which was a 50 mile round trip, we detoured to do a spooky late night camping shop in Tesco. With all the shelves being re-stocked and the staff listening to their own tunes on stereos, you feel as if you shouldn’t be in there. The upshot is that it was gone midnight when we got in and when the alarm went off at 5.45 it was like someone had taken a cheese grater to my eyes.

Work over, car loaded up and off we went down to Newborough.

Day 13
Early start, bacon butty eaten, packed lunch packed, factor 25 slapped on and off we go on a coast and country walk that clocked in at 11.5 miles. It was definitely an amble, with stops for paddling, lunch, looking at stuff and getting lost.

This was where we went:

11.5 miles ambled

11.5 miles ambled

And this is some of the stuff that we saw.13062009030.jpg

We set off through fields and into the forest, me keeping a beady eye on the weather (I have an optimistic attitude to packing for camping – in my head it’s always sunny. Add to that a particularly chaotic pack 5 minutes before we left and I was cagoule-less and wearing flipflops).

Eventually, we emerged into the sand dunes and onto the beach, albeit not quite on the path that we had intended to. Although we both know that it’s not a good idea, we had ended up (not for the first time) navigating using a map on the back of a leaflet. Erring on the side of caution, I made Husband promise that we wouldn’t attempt Snowdon using this leaflet and flipflop style of orienteering.

13062009043Onward we trekked, this was around mile 5.

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And lots of nature too, including a very hairy (and possibly very hungry) caterpillar.

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By this time, the weather had settled into blue skies and shiny sun. So much so that I exposed below my knees to the outside world for the first time since about 1999. I don’t know what you’d call my leg colour, but it’s fair to say that if I ran wearing shorts in winter, I wouldn’t need to bother with any hi-vis. I’m not sure who was more scared, me or the other poor souls in the forest.

The calories that we burned were completely offset by restorative beer, curry and bombay mix. And I was quite narked to discover that during the walk my locked phone had somehow connected to the internet and signed me up for a £4.50 a month subscription to one of those ringtone and “amaze your friends! X-ray your hand with your phone!” websites. Normally I struggle to connect to the internet intentionally using the power of the my thumb. Grrr.

Day 14
The day didn’t start well. I’ve had a cold lurking for a bit and it chose Sunday to break forth. Running was totally off the cards (not least cos my feet were still achey from Day 13) so I yoga-ed next to the tent watching the clouds speed past overhead. Felt a bit of an arse, but then really didn’t care because it was so nice.

Day 15
Woke up snuffly, snotty and feeling like someone had been hitting my face with a lump hammer. From the inside. Having had a hectic day at work and a whole banana for dinner, we decided to invoke the lovely walk clause of my Juneathon and pootled 2.5 miles up a new bit (well new to us, it’s been there for years….) of the canal.

More nature was waiting for us.

There once was an ugly duckling

There once was an ugly duckling

And best of all, a Mystic Horse. He was lovely. He was standing in a clearing,  looking very serious and quite unicorn-like. Even more mystic was that as we walked back along the towpath, Mystic Horse appeared to have vanished. Less mystically, he turned up in the next field having magically transported himself through a gate.

Mystic Horse

Mystic Horse

Fingers crossed that I feel better tomorrow. I think that an early run is unlikely, but have plans for going after work either alone, with chum or with the running group.

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

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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?