It is with a heavy heart, as well as regretfully with a much heavier body that I bring myself to write this post; but them's the rules of blogclub - besides of course 'YOU DO NOT TALK ABOUT BLOGCLUB' - that I have to be honest and give the rough with the smooth. Care to have a punt on which of these you're getting today boys and girls?!! It is a whopping FOUR pounds on, weighing me in at 15 stone 7.8 pounds (oh go on, let me round down just this once??.......worth a try; 15 stone 8 it is then).
Pause for gasp.......
I guess the positive thing (possibly the only positive thing!) is that once again it is not a surprise. I've been full of a cold all week and just can't seem to get it shifted. There have been no trips to the gym. I did try one evening, hoping to put into action the 'sweat it out of your system' principle; unfortunately I succeeded in the slightly less celebrated adage of 'sweating it even further in to your system'.
In addition to the sniffles I don't think I am over-dramatising things when I say that this has been the most unsettled week since way before Fatmantofitman was so much as a glint in its fathers eye. There was the regular stress which comes from being in a sales-related profession (targets to achieve, walls to beat your head against etc), but to compound things I have been presented with one of the biggest and toughest life-choices I have ever had. To protect the innocent (and some guilty too) I can't go into too much detail, but suffice it to say I stand at a major crossroads in the life of Adrian Blaydon (good job I haven't taken a wrong turn and ended up at someone else's junction....look right, look left, look right again.....yep....it's definitely mine). In one direction I have a road of comfort and familiarity which is very likely to lead to frustration and boredom in the not to distant distance; in the other I have a largely unknown road of upheaval and fear (not forgetting of course, hope), which may very likely lead to achievement, happiness, success and all round good stuff. Sounds like a no-brainer, but to consciously forsake comfort and choose the more difficult path that lies ahead - and risk it ultimately not turning into achievement, happiness, success and good stuff - is both an exciting and terrifying prospect.
At the risk of repeating repeating myself myself, it comes down to an all too regular occurring question....'Do I dare?' Am I prepared to make my life intentionally less comfortable in the short term for the successes it could bring, or do I not bother out of fear of failure, settling for the lot in life I currently have? I think I know my answer, but I am almost too scared to give it. Procrastination man.....that's me.
Although 'unsettled' in this case is not an entirely bad thing it - along with the cold - has taken away all my focus, and I have slipped into the old naughty ways again. Naughty way; they are always lurking; looking for their opportunity to take hold again. Maybe not completely fast-food dominant, but a Chinese takeaway earlier in the week and a trip to Macdonalds on Monday night (large Big Mac Meal, large McChicken sandwich meal......yes.....all eaten by me) are hardly contributory factors to a healthy balanced diet are they? Not good is not an exaggeration. Previously I have eaten badly while still going to the gym and got away with it, and on occasion I have missed the gym while still eating well and dodged a bullet; now we know (as if we didn't already) what happens when exercise and diet go to pot.
So what now? Is the challenge in jeopardy?
NO!! I REFUSE TO LET IT GET THE BEST OF ME
There will be a degree of damage limitation required over the next week; and possibly the week after. I can't see myself making it to the gym for at least another week. It's a worry but the damage I could do by getting back on track too early doesn't bear thinking about. I need to eat well; being a bit poorly and losing my ability to exercise does not give me an excuse to give up on my diet aswell (that was kind of how I felt this week). I of course need to make a decision with regards to the above crossroads, but most of all I need to find some peace. My brain is awash with all thoughts of sorts (??!) and I need to find a way to quiet it. I'm not totally sure what I am going to do to achieve that, but I suspect it will involve a very hot bath (topped up regularly by careful big-toe dexterity) and a Kindle which contains that bird with the dragon tattoo.
Don't worry, I am far from beaten........
Wednesday 31 October 2012
Tuesday 30 October 2012
Thank You For The Music - Hypothetical Conversations
What follows is what I oh so wish to be a true conversation between Toto band members - and songwriters - David Paich and Joseph Williams, during the course of creating the hit song 'Africa'. To save having to repeat the names, assume that lines alternate between them......
'Right then; that's the chorus sorted out' (DP)
'Oh go on Dave, pleeeeeeeeease?' (JW)
'Not a chance Jo, there is no way on earth I'm letting you do it; you'll sing it the way it's written'
'You're no fun Dave. Honestly, no one will ever know; and it will be such a laugh'
'No. For the last time Jo; I am not allowing you to sing 'I've left my brains down in Africa', no matter how much you beg me'
'I tell you what Dave. I'll only do it once during the song; and will change when I do it each time so no one will suspect. I'll even fudge, so it sounds a bit like 'I bless the rains down in Africa'; no one will be quite sure exactly what they are hearing. It'll be our secret. Oh go on Dave; live a little!'
(David pauses to rub his chin thoughtfully.......................)
'Alright Jo; I'll do you a deal......I will allow you to slip that line in once during recording - don't tell me when, I don't want to know - if and only if you accept and succeed in my challenge'
'Deal!!!'
'Don't be too sure; you don't know what it is yet....'
'Oh don't be daft David, there's nothing you can challenge me with that I can't manage without so much as a click of the fingers'
'We'll see about that. Okay then. Well we've done the chorus, and I'm going off to the pub and leave you to sort out the verses'
'That's the challenge?!!!'
'Oooooooh no. The challenge is that you have to seamlessly incorporate a line of my choosing somewhere within the lyrics. You have to make it sound like part of the song - to my satisfaction - and not a line that you have just stuck into the song to win a challenge that allows you to to sing 'I've left my brains down in Africa' during the chorus. Then and only then will I agree that you have won the challenge and allow you 'I've left my brains down in Africa' during the chorus'
'Not a problem; what's the line'
'Kilimanjaro rises like Olympus above the Serengeti'
(Long, unblinking stare from Jo to Dave..................)
'You're kidding, right?'
'Nope!'
'Oh do me a favour Dave. How the stuffing hell am I going to get that line into a verse; you're 'avin a larf' (suddenly Jo turns into a cockney, apples and pears, chim chim chereeeee, corrrr bloimey Meeery Poppins...)
'Well, you want to leave your brains in Africa; so you get a rising Kilimanjaro. Of course if you don't accept the challenge.....'
'I didn't say that. Leave it with me, I accept and what's more I will beat your challenge. Have no doubts about that my friend.'
(Three long months go by - okay, months are a clearly defined time span; thank you Professor Hawking - Jo locked in his office; only emerging - crazy eyed and unshaven - to take on meagre rations of food and water. Finally.....the door is flung open and a scrawled-on piece of tear, blood and heaven knows whatstained A4 paper is thrust into Davids hand....a slightly hysterical giggle escaping Jo's lips)
'I don't believe it Jo; you've actually done it. This could become one of the most memorable song lyrics in history; leaving your brains splattered all over Africa seems a small price to pay for such genius (although looking at you, I think you'd better go looking for your marbles aswell as your brain, as they have also clearly departed for another continent). We keep this whole thing between ourselves right?'
(an exhausted Jo, glazed eyes, twitching cheeks, rocking back and forth (him, not the cheeks), gurgling quietly to himself amidst the odd burst of unhinged giggling, gives a barely discernible nod. We leave this scene as Jo reaches a trembling hand for the phone and dials the number for The P.C.D.S......Priory Centre for Deranged Songwriters).
I slightly kinda sort of suspect the potential existence of the fact that there may be limited reality to this story; but at the very least they must have felt pretty chuffed with themselves on coming up with that line. The most perfect combination of rhythm, song and syllables I have ever heard!
'Right then; that's the chorus sorted out' (DP)
'Oh go on Dave, pleeeeeeeeease?' (JW)
'Not a chance Jo, there is no way on earth I'm letting you do it; you'll sing it the way it's written'
'You're no fun Dave. Honestly, no one will ever know; and it will be such a laugh'
'No. For the last time Jo; I am not allowing you to sing 'I've left my brains down in Africa', no matter how much you beg me'
'I tell you what Dave. I'll only do it once during the song; and will change when I do it each time so no one will suspect. I'll even fudge, so it sounds a bit like 'I bless the rains down in Africa'; no one will be quite sure exactly what they are hearing. It'll be our secret. Oh go on Dave; live a little!'
(David pauses to rub his chin thoughtfully.......................)
'Alright Jo; I'll do you a deal......I will allow you to slip that line in once during recording - don't tell me when, I don't want to know - if and only if you accept and succeed in my challenge'
'Deal!!!'
'Don't be too sure; you don't know what it is yet....'
'Oh don't be daft David, there's nothing you can challenge me with that I can't manage without so much as a click of the fingers'
'We'll see about that. Okay then. Well we've done the chorus, and I'm going off to the pub and leave you to sort out the verses'
'That's the challenge?!!!'
'Oooooooh no. The challenge is that you have to seamlessly incorporate a line of my choosing somewhere within the lyrics. You have to make it sound like part of the song - to my satisfaction - and not a line that you have just stuck into the song to win a challenge that allows you to to sing 'I've left my brains down in Africa' during the chorus. Then and only then will I agree that you have won the challenge and allow you 'I've left my brains down in Africa' during the chorus'
'Not a problem; what's the line'
'Kilimanjaro rises like Olympus above the Serengeti'
(Long, unblinking stare from Jo to Dave..................)
'You're kidding, right?'
'Nope!'
'Oh do me a favour Dave. How the stuffing hell am I going to get that line into a verse; you're 'avin a larf' (suddenly Jo turns into a cockney, apples and pears, chim chim chereeeee, corrrr bloimey Meeery Poppins...)
'Well, you want to leave your brains in Africa; so you get a rising Kilimanjaro. Of course if you don't accept the challenge.....'
'I didn't say that. Leave it with me, I accept and what's more I will beat your challenge. Have no doubts about that my friend.'
(Three long months go by - okay, months are a clearly defined time span; thank you Professor Hawking - Jo locked in his office; only emerging - crazy eyed and unshaven - to take on meagre rations of food and water. Finally.....the door is flung open and a scrawled-on piece of tear, blood and heaven knows whatstained A4 paper is thrust into Davids hand....a slightly hysterical giggle escaping Jo's lips)
'I don't believe it Jo; you've actually done it. This could become one of the most memorable song lyrics in history; leaving your brains splattered all over Africa seems a small price to pay for such genius (although looking at you, I think you'd better go looking for your marbles aswell as your brain, as they have also clearly departed for another continent). We keep this whole thing between ourselves right?'
(an exhausted Jo, glazed eyes, twitching cheeks, rocking back and forth (him, not the cheeks), gurgling quietly to himself amidst the odd burst of unhinged giggling, gives a barely discernible nod. We leave this scene as Jo reaches a trembling hand for the phone and dials the number for The P.C.D.S......Priory Centre for Deranged Songwriters).
I slightly kinda sort of suspect the potential existence of the fact that there may be limited reality to this story; but at the very least they must have felt pretty chuffed with themselves on coming up with that line. The most perfect combination of rhythm, song and syllables I have ever heard!
Friday 26 October 2012
Weigh in (69)
Now be honest guys; own up. It's a really nice thing to do, but could whoever keeps sneaking into my house during the week and nobbling my scales please stop doing it?! I have no idea how you are managing it; have you installed a microchip which connects directly to your computer so you can override the read-out? If so am I going to see '24 stone 12 pounds' after you've had a particularly bad week at work and have an uncontrollable desire to Schadenfreude my arse off?! If you stop now I won't come after you....if you don't.....well.....I will not be held responsible.....that's all I'm saying.....
Just kidding......(or am I?)......
More head-scratching, and another weigh-in the millisecond before which I was thinking 'prepare yourself; this time you have definitely put on weight', I almost sound disappointed to reveal that it's another pound off! Actual loss is 15st 5.4lb to 15st 4.2lb. To all of you who want the cut, thrust and drama of a periodic weight gain I am so sorry to disappoint; this is getting a bit monotonous isn't it?!! I make no apologies, this is the sort of monotony I would happily perpetuate.
With the exception of one night, I guess I was by and large a good boy; but on that one night I was very, very, very bad.
The company I work for were taken out by one of our suppliers for a 'bit of a do' as thank you (thank us) for the work we had put their way. There was a ghost walk, there was curry, there was peshwari nan (mmmmmm, peshwari naaaaaaan....gurgle gurgle) and by heavens was there alcohol. I went into the evening thinking 'right, a couple of lagers, a nice poppadom, curry, nightcap, bed before midnight', but it ended up being 'a couple of bitters, walk to another pub, another bitter, walk to another pub, another bitter, walk to indian restaurant, lager, glass of champagne, poppadom, curry, naaaaaan, nightclub, beer, boogying along to 80's classics, beer, cocktails which tasted like Ribena and Tango, walk back to the hotel, glass of wine, in bed gone 4am'. It has been a long time since my stop-out has ever been that dirty!
I really don't know what got into me. The whole concept of 'going clubbing' was lost on me when it became legal to do so (sneaking into Coco Savannah's - Stockports finest club, don't ask - underage was so exciting....and so easy!), but as it turned out I was very much up for it last Friday. I think it was partly the fact that the club we were in seemed to have inside information on the music which has a habit of making me get jiggy with it around my kitchen (B'witched, Tiffany, Spandau Ballet, Duran Duran, Manic Street Preachers.......okay I lied about that last one, just felt the urge to put something a bit cooler into the list.....hello, my name is Adrian Blaydon, and I am a lover of cheesey 80's music........"Hiiiiii Adriaaaan"), but without a doubt the biggest reason was finding a dance partner who can reeeeeeeally dance. Regretfully I cannot go into details - protecting the innocent and all that, as for me...totally guilty - but suffice it to say we clicked on the dance floor; and I fear I will never dance like that again (shoulda known better than to cheat a friend.....guilty feet have got no rhythm........sorry, couldn't resist). For certain I will never listen to 'I've Had The Time Of My Life' again without a smile on my face!
So after a night like that I am amazed at this weeks result. Maybe one nights slip doesn't ruin a week? Or the exercise I was getting on the dance floor balanced things out a bit? As usual I'm not going to overthink it, just hope that it continues as at this rate I should be breaking 15 stone before the end of November and then I can start pounding the streets......running I mean......no images of a nutter let loose with a pneumatic drill.....
In short, it's all going swimmingly.........
(Could I publicly apologise to my spell-checker; all the repeated letters and 80's band names have really put it into spasm. Soooooo sorry!!)
Just kidding......(or am I?)......
More head-scratching, and another weigh-in the millisecond before which I was thinking 'prepare yourself; this time you have definitely put on weight', I almost sound disappointed to reveal that it's another pound off! Actual loss is 15st 5.4lb to 15st 4.2lb. To all of you who want the cut, thrust and drama of a periodic weight gain I am so sorry to disappoint; this is getting a bit monotonous isn't it?!! I make no apologies, this is the sort of monotony I would happily perpetuate.
With the exception of one night, I guess I was by and large a good boy; but on that one night I was very, very, very bad.
The company I work for were taken out by one of our suppliers for a 'bit of a do' as thank you (thank us) for the work we had put their way. There was a ghost walk, there was curry, there was peshwari nan (mmmmmm, peshwari naaaaaaan....gurgle gurgle) and by heavens was there alcohol. I went into the evening thinking 'right, a couple of lagers, a nice poppadom, curry, nightcap, bed before midnight', but it ended up being 'a couple of bitters, walk to another pub, another bitter, walk to another pub, another bitter, walk to indian restaurant, lager, glass of champagne, poppadom, curry, naaaaaan, nightclub, beer, boogying along to 80's classics, beer, cocktails which tasted like Ribena and Tango, walk back to the hotel, glass of wine, in bed gone 4am'. It has been a long time since my stop-out has ever been that dirty!
I really don't know what got into me. The whole concept of 'going clubbing' was lost on me when it became legal to do so (sneaking into Coco Savannah's - Stockports finest club, don't ask - underage was so exciting....and so easy!), but as it turned out I was very much up for it last Friday. I think it was partly the fact that the club we were in seemed to have inside information on the music which has a habit of making me get jiggy with it around my kitchen (B'witched, Tiffany, Spandau Ballet, Duran Duran, Manic Street Preachers.......okay I lied about that last one, just felt the urge to put something a bit cooler into the list.....hello, my name is Adrian Blaydon, and I am a lover of cheesey 80's music........"Hiiiiii Adriaaaan"), but without a doubt the biggest reason was finding a dance partner who can reeeeeeeally dance. Regretfully I cannot go into details - protecting the innocent and all that, as for me...totally guilty - but suffice it to say we clicked on the dance floor; and I fear I will never dance like that again (shoulda known better than to cheat a friend.....guilty feet have got no rhythm........sorry, couldn't resist). For certain I will never listen to 'I've Had The Time Of My Life' again without a smile on my face!
So after a night like that I am amazed at this weeks result. Maybe one nights slip doesn't ruin a week? Or the exercise I was getting on the dance floor balanced things out a bit? As usual I'm not going to overthink it, just hope that it continues as at this rate I should be breaking 15 stone before the end of November and then I can start pounding the streets......running I mean......no images of a nutter let loose with a pneumatic drill.....
In short, it's all going swimmingly.........
(Could I publicly apologise to my spell-checker; all the repeated letters and 80's band names have really put it into spasm. Soooooo sorry!!)
Tuesday 23 October 2012
Thank You For The Music - Running Elite (part one)
Considering the first and only post on this so-called monthly item was well over a month ago the title is a bit daft really, but what the hell! Anyway, back in the mists of time we (I'm not taking responsibility for this on my own you know, guilt by association my friends) opened a subject which represents one of my biggest passions. Music for me is not just the food of love, it is the food of life. I had you - hopefully - playing certain inspirational tracks during the course of the Great North Run to see if the positive vibes would travel through the air and reach my staggering corpse as it trudged through Newcastle. Well, whether you did or you didn't, I made it; so it certainly didn't do any harm!
I also alluded (and believe me, I don't allude very often; and even then only in the privacy of my own home and the curtains drawn) to an elite running playlist; that collection of powerful, motivational and more often than not cheesey tunes which seem to galvanise me into standing proud, picking up my stride, and momentarily forgetting about the mind-altering agony going on below my waist (don't be crude) and indeed above my waist! There may be a few additions and eliminations over the next six months, but by and large this is part one of an alphebtieiissed list of songs which will see me over the London finish line, along with an idea of what makes them so special.....
Born to Run (Bruce Springsteen) - 'just wrap your legs round these velvet rims and strap your hands 'cross my engines' (bit naughty but brilliant line!)
Boys of Summer (Don Henley) - truly a rhythm divine!
Break Up The Concrete (The Pretenders) - 'Shake it, bake it, earthquake it'
Breathe (Prodigy) - 'Breeeeathe with me'
Burning Heart (Survivor) - 'Though his body says stop, his spirit cries - never!'
Crazy Little Thing Called Love (Queen) - perfect running rhythm!
The Crunch (The Rah Band) - no words, just proper 70's instrumental, with the emphasis on mental!
Dancing in the Moonlight - 'It's such a fine and natural sight'
Deeper Underground (Jamiroquai) - funky!
Die Another Day (Madonna) - 'I'm gonna close my body now'
Dr. Fell (Juliet Turner) - Love her northern Irish accent!
Duel of the Fates (JohnWilliams) - Serious choiring!
Easy Lover (Phil Collins/Phil Bailey) - 'Before you know it you'll be on your knees'
Eye of the Tiger (Survivor) - 'Went the distance now I'm not gonna stop.....a man with his will to survive'
Faith of the Heart (Russell Watson) - 'It's been a long road, Getting from there to here, It's been a long time, But my time is finally here'
Faron Young (Prefab Sprout) - 'As obsolete as warships in the baltic'
Free Falling (Tom Petty) - watch Jerry Maguire; that's how it feels to listen to it!
Get Outta Your Lazy Bed (Matt Bianco) - 'GET UUUUUUUUUUUUP!!!!'
Gimme Dat Ding (Pipkins) - just an all-out craaazeeeeee song!
Go Away (Gloria Estefan) - 'Live your live, But live it real far away!'
Gold (Spandau Ballet) - 'You're indestructable, Always believin' you are gold'
The Golden Age (The Asteroids Galaxy Tour) - 'Gonna make these songs for the chicks to dig'
Good Thing (Fine Young Cannibals) - perfect running beat
Greatest Day (Take That) - 'Today this could be, the greatest day of our lives'
Hip to be Square (Huey Lewis and the News) - 'I'm workin' out most every day, and watchin' what I eat'
Hit Me With Your Best Shot (Pat Benetar) - 'Knock me down, it's all in vain; I get right back up on my feet again'
Hit That Perfect Beat (Bronski Beat) - serious energy (used to play this during popmobility classes I used to go to years ago....I still remember the routine!!)
I Hope You Dance (Lee Ann Womack) - 'I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance, Never settle for the path of least resistance'
I Wish I Was A Punk Rocker (Sandi Thom) - 'when kids were wearing hand me downs, And playing games meant kick arounds, And footballers still had long hair and dirt across their face'
In My Arms (Teddy Thompson) - good memory of a great live concert, and just a brilliant song...especially when played loud!!
It's My Life (Bon Jovi) - 'My heart is like an open highway, Like Frankie said 'I did it my way'
Karla With A K (The Hooters) - another one to play loud, gentle intro then.......kapow!
Keep On Running (Spencer Davis Group) - pretty obvious really!
Part two very soon.
That's not a song title, what I mean is part two of the running elite list is coming soon.
That's not a song title either...........and nor is this.........
Who's on first base.......!!!!!
I also alluded (and believe me, I don't allude very often; and even then only in the privacy of my own home and the curtains drawn) to an elite running playlist; that collection of powerful, motivational and more often than not cheesey tunes which seem to galvanise me into standing proud, picking up my stride, and momentarily forgetting about the mind-altering agony going on below my waist (don't be crude) and indeed above my waist! There may be a few additions and eliminations over the next six months, but by and large this is part one of an alphebtieiissed list of songs which will see me over the London finish line, along with an idea of what makes them so special.....
Born to Run (Bruce Springsteen) - 'just wrap your legs round these velvet rims and strap your hands 'cross my engines' (bit naughty but brilliant line!)
Boys of Summer (Don Henley) - truly a rhythm divine!
Break Up The Concrete (The Pretenders) - 'Shake it, bake it, earthquake it'
Breathe (Prodigy) - 'Breeeeathe with me'
Burning Heart (Survivor) - 'Though his body says stop, his spirit cries - never!'
Crazy Little Thing Called Love (Queen) - perfect running rhythm!
The Crunch (The Rah Band) - no words, just proper 70's instrumental, with the emphasis on mental!
Dancing in the Moonlight - 'It's such a fine and natural sight'
Deeper Underground (Jamiroquai) - funky!
Die Another Day (Madonna) - 'I'm gonna close my body now'
Dr. Fell (Juliet Turner) - Love her northern Irish accent!
Duel of the Fates (JohnWilliams) - Serious choiring!
Easy Lover (Phil Collins/Phil Bailey) - 'Before you know it you'll be on your knees'
Eye of the Tiger (Survivor) - 'Went the distance now I'm not gonna stop.....a man with his will to survive'
Faith of the Heart (Russell Watson) - 'It's been a long road, Getting from there to here, It's been a long time, But my time is finally here'
Faron Young (Prefab Sprout) - 'As obsolete as warships in the baltic'
Free Falling (Tom Petty) - watch Jerry Maguire; that's how it feels to listen to it!
Get Outta Your Lazy Bed (Matt Bianco) - 'GET UUUUUUUUUUUUP!!!!'
Gimme Dat Ding (Pipkins) - just an all-out craaazeeeeee song!
Go Away (Gloria Estefan) - 'Live your live, But live it real far away!'
Gold (Spandau Ballet) - 'You're indestructable, Always believin' you are gold'
The Golden Age (The Asteroids Galaxy Tour) - 'Gonna make these songs for the chicks to dig'
Good Thing (Fine Young Cannibals) - perfect running beat
Greatest Day (Take That) - 'Today this could be, the greatest day of our lives'
Hip to be Square (Huey Lewis and the News) - 'I'm workin' out most every day, and watchin' what I eat'
Hit Me With Your Best Shot (Pat Benetar) - 'Knock me down, it's all in vain; I get right back up on my feet again'
Hit That Perfect Beat (Bronski Beat) - serious energy (used to play this during popmobility classes I used to go to years ago....I still remember the routine!!)
I Hope You Dance (Lee Ann Womack) - 'I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance, Never settle for the path of least resistance'
I Wish I Was A Punk Rocker (Sandi Thom) - 'when kids were wearing hand me downs, And playing games meant kick arounds, And footballers still had long hair and dirt across their face'
In My Arms (Teddy Thompson) - good memory of a great live concert, and just a brilliant song...especially when played loud!!
It's My Life (Bon Jovi) - 'My heart is like an open highway, Like Frankie said 'I did it my way'
Karla With A K (The Hooters) - another one to play loud, gentle intro then.......kapow!
Keep On Running (Spencer Davis Group) - pretty obvious really!
Part two very soon.
That's not a song title, what I mean is part two of the running elite list is coming soon.
That's not a song title either...........and nor is this.........
Who's on first base.......!!!!!
Thursday 18 October 2012
Weigh in (68)
Okay, now this is really starting to really get on my nerves. I wouldn't exactly say I am making an effort to gain weight, but yes, I am letting a few more things slip to see how far I can push it before the current downward trend is reversed. If you recall, I have been progressively getting away with more and more of the naughty while still losing a steady one pound a week.
So let's see what's on the board Miss Ford; very healthy eating........with the small exceptions of one and possibly two Chinese takeaways (can't remember...not good!) this week, and a cheeky supersize Burger King Meal on the way to my friends 40th birthday party at the weekend (kind of forgot to tell you about that didn't I Ali?......oops), and the continued invasion of the margarine blobs (they are everywhere...no escape I tell you...run.....flee for your lives!!). So.....not very healthy eating at all then.
The plusses were two regular visits to the gym, as well as an hour's jog just past 8 o'clock on a cold frosty Sunday morning (good morrow masters aaaaaaall!); the latter I am particularly proud of as - being in the foreign lond known as Landon (?!) - finding a nice place to run took a bit of preparation; not to mention the getting off my arse in the early hours, donning the gear and getting out there taking more than a bit of motivation. Nevertheless I downed my homemade blueberry muffin feeling chuffed at already having achieved something with my day...not bad for half nine in the morning eh?
Now you should be thinking what I'm thinking; that there is now way on earth I am going to be able to maintain the trend of losing a pound per week with this performance; and you would be quite correct in that conclusion, as I have actually lost two. Confused? Join the club my friend. In actual fact it is 1.4 pounds from 15 stone 6.8 pounds to 15 stone 5.4, but still; it was a massive shock to see another weight loss; even got on the scales a further three times to make absolutely sure!
I'm not sure how many bullets I am going to keep dodging, but it is inevitable that sooner or later my luck will run out. For now - as I would with a weight gain - I will just accept it and crack on. Don't worry, I have no intention of escalating my diet to three Chinese takeaways, two Burger Kings and a pizza in a pear tree; a diet like the one I have been having recently is not great regardless of what weight I am or am not losing. I am off to a works do (ghost walk around York....oooOOOOOooooh!) on Friday and regrettably we are off to an Indian restaurant afterwards. I have heard that curries are one of the most unhealthy things you can eat; probably why I have lost nigh on four stone through not having one since the start of this blog. Still, I will partake and hope the consequences are not too severe. Other than that I am back on the straight an narrow with the grub....honest.
The next week will see me putting together the training plan to lead me up to London. The Marathon book my bruv bought me is truly dizzying about the types of exercise advised to get you ready for 26 miles. There's long runs, short runs, interval training and hill runs; there is even something called Fartlek training. I don't want to sound all childish by saying the latter makes me giggle because it has the word 'Fart' in it........but it really does make me giggle because it has the word 'Fart' in it. It's the little things...... Anyway; hopefully we will have a schedule to work off within the next fortnight, which at the current rate should be nicely timed for breaking the 15 stone mark and the start of the roadrunning!
There are sure to be bumps in the road ahead, but for now I am loving this plan coming together!!!
So let's see what's on the board Miss Ford; very healthy eating........with the small exceptions of one and possibly two Chinese takeaways (can't remember...not good!) this week, and a cheeky supersize Burger King Meal on the way to my friends 40th birthday party at the weekend (kind of forgot to tell you about that didn't I Ali?......oops), and the continued invasion of the margarine blobs (they are everywhere...no escape I tell you...run.....flee for your lives!!). So.....not very healthy eating at all then.
The plusses were two regular visits to the gym, as well as an hour's jog just past 8 o'clock on a cold frosty Sunday morning (good morrow masters aaaaaaall!); the latter I am particularly proud of as - being in the foreign lond known as Landon (?!) - finding a nice place to run took a bit of preparation; not to mention the getting off my arse in the early hours, donning the gear and getting out there taking more than a bit of motivation. Nevertheless I downed my homemade blueberry muffin feeling chuffed at already having achieved something with my day...not bad for half nine in the morning eh?
Now you should be thinking what I'm thinking; that there is now way on earth I am going to be able to maintain the trend of losing a pound per week with this performance; and you would be quite correct in that conclusion, as I have actually lost two. Confused? Join the club my friend. In actual fact it is 1.4 pounds from 15 stone 6.8 pounds to 15 stone 5.4, but still; it was a massive shock to see another weight loss; even got on the scales a further three times to make absolutely sure!
I'm not sure how many bullets I am going to keep dodging, but it is inevitable that sooner or later my luck will run out. For now - as I would with a weight gain - I will just accept it and crack on. Don't worry, I have no intention of escalating my diet to three Chinese takeaways, two Burger Kings and a pizza in a pear tree; a diet like the one I have been having recently is not great regardless of what weight I am or am not losing. I am off to a works do (ghost walk around York....oooOOOOOooooh!) on Friday and regrettably we are off to an Indian restaurant afterwards. I have heard that curries are one of the most unhealthy things you can eat; probably why I have lost nigh on four stone through not having one since the start of this blog. Still, I will partake and hope the consequences are not too severe. Other than that I am back on the straight an narrow with the grub....honest.
The next week will see me putting together the training plan to lead me up to London. The Marathon book my bruv bought me is truly dizzying about the types of exercise advised to get you ready for 26 miles. There's long runs, short runs, interval training and hill runs; there is even something called Fartlek training. I don't want to sound all childish by saying the latter makes me giggle because it has the word 'Fart' in it........but it really does make me giggle because it has the word 'Fart' in it. It's the little things...... Anyway; hopefully we will have a schedule to work off within the next fortnight, which at the current rate should be nicely timed for breaking the 15 stone mark and the start of the roadrunning!
There are sure to be bumps in the road ahead, but for now I am loving this plan coming together!!!
Saturday 13 October 2012
Weigh in (67)
I really thought I had pushed it too far this week. Over the last fortnight I have been eating okay but not totally naughty-free, and yet still managed to lose a total of two pounds; it is inevitable therefore that my diet is going to get even less naughty-free to see how far I can go before my luck runs out. It is with some surprise therefore that I give you the good news of another pound off (here comes the science.....15 stone 7.8 to 15 stone 6.8, rounding up to a current weight of 15 stone 7 pounds, got it?!).
There were no takeaways, but I distinctly remember the re-introduction of margarine blobs to my diet (they have been away for a long time.....great name for a Doctor Who Episode....Attack Of The Blobs!!); particularly in a rather delicious meal which consisted primarily of mashed potato with so much marg in there it could well have been the main ingredient. I exaggerate.......although thinking about it, possibly I don't!......but you get the gist. I was also over at Mums last weekend and we had our customary not-the-healthiest-thing-in-the-world Marks and Sparks tea and custard tart for afters. All in all, not a very bad boy; but hardly good!
What I can't quite work out is that I am still taking it a bit easier at the gym. Granted I am still knocking off the best part of 30km for the week, but it is a lot less than I was running in the build up to the Great North, and yet it seems to be easier to lose the weight.
I say again that there appear to be physical changes occurring. I'm trying not to overthink it - it's working, just leave it alone and let it happen Blaydon; oroit?!! - but my hunger levels have increased (stronger and more often) so it makes me think that the body has finally given up trying to fight what I am doing; deciding to help more and hinder less. As always, it doesn't really matter why; what matters is the little digital read out which is telling me good news.
The 15 stone mark is going to be an interesting milestone for a couple of reasons. First of all, the last time I was a fourteenstonesomethinger was at secondary school (over two decades ago); it is hard to believe I can turn the metaphorical clock back that far. The second reason is that it will commence the road-running (meep-meep....you think I could get hold of a Wile E Coyote running vest? better still I need to find a running friend, then they can run about 100m ahead of me and wear a Roadrunner vest! I really do need to stop thinking sometimes don't I.....? now you have no idea what I was saying at the start of these brackets do you?...read it again and ignore the brackets this time) phase of training for London. I just about got away with doing all my running on the treadmill for Manchester and Newcastle, but my body has to get used to pounding pavements if I am going to manage doing that for the best part of 5 hours.
Over the next half stone loss ('ark at me, talking about losing half a stone now like it's shelling peas!) I'll be putting together a program of running to take me all the way to April; incorporating road running on a Sunday morning. Until then I'll just keep knocking the kilometres out in the gymmmy gym gym.
Before I go; a quick shout out to June (I do not believe that she is actually busting out all over, although the Red Cross are standing by) who has become a new acquaintance (dare I say friend?!) and occasional running mate at the gym. It turns out she did the Great Manchester Run this year too, and is now back in training; working up to the Blackpool half marathon; running for Leukaemia Research. A lovely lady (Christ, that makes it sound like she is in her 70's....if she is then she looks flippin' good for it). We exchanged our 'why the bejesus are we doing this' stories and she ended up asking me for advice......ME?!!..... ...OFFERING ADVICE ON RUNNING?!!.......WHAT DO YOU THINK I AM, AN EXPERT?!!!!! Nevertheless, I gave her the benefit of my experience and tried to sound like I knew what I was talking about (speak with conviction and noone will ever suspect your talking bol.....derdash). She also said she had told her friend and hubby about a guy she'd met at the gym - a fellow runner - who was a real inspiration; I genuinely did not twig that she was talking about me!
Her race is on April 7th; a fortnight before mine. I sense a bit of joint celebrating come end of April!!
There were no takeaways, but I distinctly remember the re-introduction of margarine blobs to my diet (they have been away for a long time.....great name for a Doctor Who Episode....Attack Of The Blobs!!); particularly in a rather delicious meal which consisted primarily of mashed potato with so much marg in there it could well have been the main ingredient. I exaggerate.......although thinking about it, possibly I don't!......but you get the gist. I was also over at Mums last weekend and we had our customary not-the-healthiest-thing-in-the-world Marks and Sparks tea and custard tart for afters. All in all, not a very bad boy; but hardly good!
What I can't quite work out is that I am still taking it a bit easier at the gym. Granted I am still knocking off the best part of 30km for the week, but it is a lot less than I was running in the build up to the Great North, and yet it seems to be easier to lose the weight.
I say again that there appear to be physical changes occurring. I'm trying not to overthink it - it's working, just leave it alone and let it happen Blaydon; oroit?!! - but my hunger levels have increased (stronger and more often) so it makes me think that the body has finally given up trying to fight what I am doing; deciding to help more and hinder less. As always, it doesn't really matter why; what matters is the little digital read out which is telling me good news.
The 15 stone mark is going to be an interesting milestone for a couple of reasons. First of all, the last time I was a fourteenstonesomethinger was at secondary school (over two decades ago); it is hard to believe I can turn the metaphorical clock back that far. The second reason is that it will commence the road-running (meep-meep....you think I could get hold of a Wile E Coyote running vest? better still I need to find a running friend, then they can run about 100m ahead of me and wear a Roadrunner vest! I really do need to stop thinking sometimes don't I.....? now you have no idea what I was saying at the start of these brackets do you?...read it again and ignore the brackets this time) phase of training for London. I just about got away with doing all my running on the treadmill for Manchester and Newcastle, but my body has to get used to pounding pavements if I am going to manage doing that for the best part of 5 hours.
Over the next half stone loss ('ark at me, talking about losing half a stone now like it's shelling peas!) I'll be putting together a program of running to take me all the way to April; incorporating road running on a Sunday morning. Until then I'll just keep knocking the kilometres out in the gymmmy gym gym.
Before I go; a quick shout out to June (I do not believe that she is actually busting out all over, although the Red Cross are standing by) who has become a new acquaintance (dare I say friend?!) and occasional running mate at the gym. It turns out she did the Great Manchester Run this year too, and is now back in training; working up to the Blackpool half marathon; running for Leukaemia Research. A lovely lady (Christ, that makes it sound like she is in her 70's....if she is then she looks flippin' good for it). We exchanged our 'why the bejesus are we doing this' stories and she ended up asking me for advice......ME?!!..... ...OFFERING ADVICE ON RUNNING?!!.......WHAT DO YOU THINK I AM, AN EXPERT?!!!!! Nevertheless, I gave her the benefit of my experience and tried to sound like I knew what I was talking about (speak with conviction and noone will ever suspect your talking bol.....derdash). She also said she had told her friend and hubby about a guy she'd met at the gym - a fellow runner - who was a real inspiration; I genuinely did not twig that she was talking about me!
Her race is on April 7th; a fortnight before mine. I sense a bit of joint celebrating come end of April!!
Friday 12 October 2012
The One Thing......
So, here we are my friends.....two races down, almost four stones down, and at that point where it could all fall apart. I was about to say 'all be for nothing'; that wouldn't be true - what I have done is of course really something - but getting a place on the London Marathon now looms ever larger on the horizon as the one thing which can prevent me from achieving the ultimate goal. Of course there are injuries, which can be unpredictable; but if I am sensible the only thing that can stop me from crossing the start - and hopefully finish - line darn sarf is not being allowed to!
As you know, being turned down by the British Heart Foundation took the wind well and truly out of my sails; add to that the statistics that only one in seven applicants get a place on the general ballot meant pessimism ruled the roost. I knew I had to get my arse in gear and start applying to other charities, but such was my negativity it was a real struggle. You remember what I have said previously about daring to try? Well, in this instance I was extremely reluctant to do just that. It is laughable when the the fear of failing in my attempt of gaining a race place (which would of course be brilliant, making it an ace race place!) stops me attempting, thus guaranteeing failure. Despite the obvious illogic, that is exactly how I felt.
With the ballot draw imminent (first half of October) I knew that time was running out for me to get applying; so I dragged my fingers to the keyboard, first to Leukaemia Research, then to Kidney Research. The one thing I was determined not to do was be crass and apply to every single charity I could find who were offering places. I wanted to select them because they meant something to me (and in any case the application process always asks you 'why do you want to run for our charity?' I don't think 'because I want to run the London Marathon' is the correct response, do you?!). Leukaemia Research was selected as in 1985 my brother was diagnosed with the illness, and thanks to the incredible dedication of staff and groundbreaking research made in treatment he has been clear now for over two decades and is now the proud natural father of two fantastic children. Kidney Research was in tribute to a lovely lady called Lesley Valentine who whilst playing alongside me for our Badminton league team was also unbeknownst to me undergoing dialysis. She has since had her long awaited kidney transplant and is now looking and playing better than ever! What a woman!!
After that the links between charities and myself were getting more and more tenuous; that was until Monday night (last week) when I had a conversation with my sister about our Mum. She is a quite amazing and still beautiful woman in her early 80's with rarely a bad word to say about anyone. Definitely a Mum to both love and be proud of. Since Dad died over eight years ago she has been rattling around on her own in a house which used to comfortably accommodate a family of eight. With all of us (my siblings and me) well and truly flown the coop and working during the week, it only really leaves weekends available to spend time with her; this lack of company during the week has been a constant worry for me. Being stuck at home for five days without a solid person to talk to can't be good for anyone.
Anyway, back to the telephone conversation. Brother Dom (not a monk! my brother, called Dom) has been banging on for quite a while about contacting AGE UK to see what they can do to help. Doing so proved to be a masterstroke. In that one phone call with my sister I had my eyes well and truly opened about what this organisation can do. They are experts on Mums situation, and given that situation they are experts on what help she needs. They came on board with suggestions of practical help such as an extra handrail up the stairs, or help getting about the house; but most importantly in my opinion they can offer help with Mum's emotional well being; offering confidence-building sessions, opportunities to go out and mix with people of similar age, or even just someone who can come round a couple of times a week and spend some time with her (if the latter is all that ends up happening, it's still brilliant). Let's be honest here, I am not well studied in geriatrics. I flatter myself that my instinct leads me to do the right thing more often than not, but it is an immense source of comfort to know that we have now got a source of professional advice and assistance to make Mums remaining years - may they be many! - with us as happy as possible.
It took a while for it to sink in..........AGE UK.........charity.........helping my Mum........me.......looking
for a charity to run for......but it got there eventually. I filled out my application at about 7:45am, and by 4:50pm I had a phone call......
"Is that Mr. Blaydon? Hi, it's Helen Parsons calling from AGE UK"
"Blimey, you don't waste any time; I only applied this morning!"
"Well we don't like to hang around. Have you got a few minutes to answer a couple of questions about your application?"
"Of course, fire away"
(ensued chit chat about what you already know; race history, my story, Mums story, how I intend to raise money)
"That's brilliant!! Well I'm the coordinator for our runners in the London Marathon so please feel free to call me if you have any questions at all; we want to give our runners every bit of support. We send out packs with advice on fundraising and training, plus we have an experienced marathon runner available if you require any 1-to-1 assistance. On the day itself we have lots of cheerpoints with spotters looking out for runners wearing our running tops so you'll have no shortage of supporters on the big day itsel............."
"Helen, I'm really sorry to interrupt you, but before you go any deeper into the sell of what you can do; could I just say that you are making it sound like I already have a place with you?"
"Yeah, you noticed that did you?!!!"
"Does that mean what I think it means?!!!!"
"In truth Adrian, you have a great story, great determination and a great reason to run for AGE UK; we would be delighted to have you run with us."
"Oh my God....you have made my, week, month and you stand a pretty good chance of making my year aswell! I accept!"
So there we are, I'm on, I'm in! As I sit here, I can hardly believe that I might actually do this. The obstacles blocking me from my ultimate goal are slowly being removed (bulldozed, destroyed; call it what you will); so much so that I can now actually see it. I know there is a lot that can happen in the next six months before April 20th (date for the diaries) but when I think about not only crossing that line, but doing it for such a worthy and personally-relevant cause it brings more of a smile to my face and tear to my eye than ever before. I wonder sometimes whether there is something bigger at work; it almost seems too perfect to run for the British Heart Foundation in memory of my Dad for the first two runs, and the last - and biggest - is for Mum. I ask you.....HOW GOOD IS THAT?!!!
(by the way, I needn't have got my knickers in a twist about getting a place; although I didn't get in through the ballot system both Kidney Research and Leukaemia Research offered me places too!)
So now it only remains to say one thing.....
Let's do this.
As you know, being turned down by the British Heart Foundation took the wind well and truly out of my sails; add to that the statistics that only one in seven applicants get a place on the general ballot meant pessimism ruled the roost. I knew I had to get my arse in gear and start applying to other charities, but such was my negativity it was a real struggle. You remember what I have said previously about daring to try? Well, in this instance I was extremely reluctant to do just that. It is laughable when the the fear of failing in my attempt of gaining a race place (which would of course be brilliant, making it an ace race place!) stops me attempting, thus guaranteeing failure. Despite the obvious illogic, that is exactly how I felt.
With the ballot draw imminent (first half of October) I knew that time was running out for me to get applying; so I dragged my fingers to the keyboard, first to Leukaemia Research, then to Kidney Research. The one thing I was determined not to do was be crass and apply to every single charity I could find who were offering places. I wanted to select them because they meant something to me (and in any case the application process always asks you 'why do you want to run for our charity?' I don't think 'because I want to run the London Marathon' is the correct response, do you?!). Leukaemia Research was selected as in 1985 my brother was diagnosed with the illness, and thanks to the incredible dedication of staff and groundbreaking research made in treatment he has been clear now for over two decades and is now the proud natural father of two fantastic children. Kidney Research was in tribute to a lovely lady called Lesley Valentine who whilst playing alongside me for our Badminton league team was also unbeknownst to me undergoing dialysis. She has since had her long awaited kidney transplant and is now looking and playing better than ever! What a woman!!
After that the links between charities and myself were getting more and more tenuous; that was until Monday night (last week) when I had a conversation with my sister about our Mum. She is a quite amazing and still beautiful woman in her early 80's with rarely a bad word to say about anyone. Definitely a Mum to both love and be proud of. Since Dad died over eight years ago she has been rattling around on her own in a house which used to comfortably accommodate a family of eight. With all of us (my siblings and me) well and truly flown the coop and working during the week, it only really leaves weekends available to spend time with her; this lack of company during the week has been a constant worry for me. Being stuck at home for five days without a solid person to talk to can't be good for anyone.
Anyway, back to the telephone conversation. Brother Dom (not a monk! my brother, called Dom) has been banging on for quite a while about contacting AGE UK to see what they can do to help. Doing so proved to be a masterstroke. In that one phone call with my sister I had my eyes well and truly opened about what this organisation can do. They are experts on Mums situation, and given that situation they are experts on what help she needs. They came on board with suggestions of practical help such as an extra handrail up the stairs, or help getting about the house; but most importantly in my opinion they can offer help with Mum's emotional well being; offering confidence-building sessions, opportunities to go out and mix with people of similar age, or even just someone who can come round a couple of times a week and spend some time with her (if the latter is all that ends up happening, it's still brilliant). Let's be honest here, I am not well studied in geriatrics. I flatter myself that my instinct leads me to do the right thing more often than not, but it is an immense source of comfort to know that we have now got a source of professional advice and assistance to make Mums remaining years - may they be many! - with us as happy as possible.
It took a while for it to sink in..........AGE UK.........charity.........helping my Mum........me.......looking
for a charity to run for......but it got there eventually. I filled out my application at about 7:45am, and by 4:50pm I had a phone call......
"Is that Mr. Blaydon? Hi, it's Helen Parsons calling from AGE UK"
"Blimey, you don't waste any time; I only applied this morning!"
"Well we don't like to hang around. Have you got a few minutes to answer a couple of questions about your application?"
"Of course, fire away"
(ensued chit chat about what you already know; race history, my story, Mums story, how I intend to raise money)
"That's brilliant!! Well I'm the coordinator for our runners in the London Marathon so please feel free to call me if you have any questions at all; we want to give our runners every bit of support. We send out packs with advice on fundraising and training, plus we have an experienced marathon runner available if you require any 1-to-1 assistance. On the day itself we have lots of cheerpoints with spotters looking out for runners wearing our running tops so you'll have no shortage of supporters on the big day itsel............."
"Helen, I'm really sorry to interrupt you, but before you go any deeper into the sell of what you can do; could I just say that you are making it sound like I already have a place with you?"
"Yeah, you noticed that did you?!!!"
"Does that mean what I think it means?!!!!"
"In truth Adrian, you have a great story, great determination and a great reason to run for AGE UK; we would be delighted to have you run with us."
"Oh my God....you have made my, week, month and you stand a pretty good chance of making my year aswell! I accept!"
So there we are, I'm on, I'm in! As I sit here, I can hardly believe that I might actually do this. The obstacles blocking me from my ultimate goal are slowly being removed (bulldozed, destroyed; call it what you will); so much so that I can now actually see it. I know there is a lot that can happen in the next six months before April 20th (date for the diaries) but when I think about not only crossing that line, but doing it for such a worthy and personally-relevant cause it brings more of a smile to my face and tear to my eye than ever before. I wonder sometimes whether there is something bigger at work; it almost seems too perfect to run for the British Heart Foundation in memory of my Dad for the first two runs, and the last - and biggest - is for Mum. I ask you.....HOW GOOD IS THAT?!!!
(by the way, I needn't have got my knickers in a twist about getting a place; although I didn't get in through the ballot system both Kidney Research and Leukaemia Research offered me places too!)
So now it only remains to say one thing.....
Let's do this.
Friday 5 October 2012
Weigh in (64), (65), (66)
What is the collective pronoun (pride of lions, murder of crows etc) for a group of weigh-ins? Let me see.....I know......henceforth it shall be known as a 'creak'; there we have it, a creak of weigh ins.
I assure you that I have still been keeping up the Tuesday night routine, but just haven't got around to writing about them. No excuses; it wasn't like I was busy doing anything else.....ahem. This will hopefully be the one and only creak you get, but in actual fact having three results immediately following a run has been interesting.......
Tuesday 18th September
Two days after the run, and either I was a particularly naughty boy (well, I always am, but in this case with regards only to what I am eating), or the physical effects of a half marathon tend to have echoes far beyond the finish line. Weighed in at a whopping 16 stone 1 pound; representing a gain of five pounds?!!! I honestly did not know what to make of it; granted I did tuck into a particularly creamy spaghetti carbonararahurrah on pre-race Saturday, and my post-race diet was something along the lines of Mr. Creosote (there's a pop culture reference for you, who gets it and who has to look it up?!!) but nothing I could think of could explain a weight gain of that magnitude.
To be honest I was still in the midst of 'I DID IT!!' Euphoria not so much as two hoots were given. Confidence was high that whatever damage done could be undone; plus with over half a year between Great North and a potential (if application successful) London Marathon I had plenty of time to lose the gained weight and do enough training regardless of a week or two of nutritional hedonism.
Tuesday 25th September
This did not bode well. Following on from the previous week's result my diet was quite frankly disgusting (tell it like it is Blaydon......thank you, I will!). As I recall, Tuesday night consisted of home-delivered pizza......oh no, not one; there was a two for one deal on 12 inchers......and I may have thrown in a large cheesey chips for good measure (would it help if I said that the pizzas were thin crust??.....nope?......I would say it was worth a try, but it wasn't even that was it?!! how about if I said that I didn't eat all the pizzas??......mind you, I did finish them off the following morning for breakfast.....). There was definitely a Chinese takeaway in there, and my not so usual these days trip down the road for fish, large chips, meat and potato pie, large peas and regular curry sauce (not to mention about half a loaf of bread.......oh......I just did mention it!). So it's fair to say that when it came to food, I was very much in the debit column. Things did not fare any better for exercise; the week directly following the run I was on holiday from both work, and from the gym; so my days by and large consisted of getting up, having breakfast, sitting down on the sofa, having lunch, having dinner (see above), getting up, going to bed. I absolutely LOVED it, but it did no good for my chances of losing weight. The only positives I could take as I popped on the scales were a badminton match on the Friday, and a first trip back to the gym a few hours before weigh in. I was prepared for the worst.
So could somebody please tell me how I ended up weighing in at 15 stone 9 pounds?!!!! This officially takes me from the biggest weight gain the previous week to the biggest weight loss....six pounds?!!!
You know I mentioned weird physical effects of running a half marathon? It's got to be that hasn't it? My poor body did not have a clue whether it was coming or going, or walking or running. I am guessing that this represents a 'back to normal' weight. Nevertheless it still remains a six pound loss, so yay!
Tuesday 2nd October
Bringing us right up to speed this week, and back on track....sort of. No social badminton on the Friday (fell asleep at 7pm and that was that until gone 9), but fully restored to the usual routine of three trips to the gym; nothing too strenuous, but a nice 12km on Sunday...sweatilicious! So no problem with the exercise levels. Was a fairly good boy with what I was eating; I confess my sin and am prepared for my penance (eating raw carrots?) for eating another Chinese takeaway, but other than that I couldn't find any major straying from 'the path'. With all the to-ing and fro-ing of the past I was just looking for either breaking even; or I even settling for a SMALL gain (not five pounds, that would be classed as a BLOODY HUGE gain). Big surprise and big smiles therefore that I am now an official 15 stone 7.8! Chalk another one pound off the totalizer. Although this challenge was started in the high 18 stones, my heaviest has been 19 stone 7; 0.8 more pounds and that amounts to 4 stone. Happening as gradually as it has, it is hard to believe that I am no longer lugging round that sort of poundage.
For the sake of the blog however it will not be an officially official four stone until I get down to (let me check Weigh in (1) and Weigh in (3), and add the number that I first thought of.....) 14 stone 11 pounds. Getting closer!
Since last Tuesday, I have been noticing changes. My usual routine of bagel in the morning followed by cup-a-soup for lunch and a regular meal in the evening is just not cutting it at the moment. I am rumbly-in-my-tumbly starving way before the next meal. Previously I have managed fine, but I am starting to wonder whether I would benefit from slightly more adventurous breakfasts to get me through the day. I have no desire to eat badly, but maybe I just need to eat a bit more. I'm no nutritionist but I am thinking it might have something to do with metabolism....that's usually the word people use when they can't explain what their body is doing isn't it?!!
I'm not going to dwell on it much; whatever I am doing has got me feeling good, and still losing weight. If it ain't broke.......!
I assure you that I have still been keeping up the Tuesday night routine, but just haven't got around to writing about them. No excuses; it wasn't like I was busy doing anything else.....ahem. This will hopefully be the one and only creak you get, but in actual fact having three results immediately following a run has been interesting.......
Tuesday 18th September
Two days after the run, and either I was a particularly naughty boy (well, I always am, but in this case with regards only to what I am eating), or the physical effects of a half marathon tend to have echoes far beyond the finish line. Weighed in at a whopping 16 stone 1 pound; representing a gain of five pounds?!!! I honestly did not know what to make of it; granted I did tuck into a particularly creamy spaghetti carbonararahurrah on pre-race Saturday, and my post-race diet was something along the lines of Mr. Creosote (there's a pop culture reference for you, who gets it and who has to look it up?!!) but nothing I could think of could explain a weight gain of that magnitude.
To be honest I was still in the midst of 'I DID IT!!' Euphoria not so much as two hoots were given. Confidence was high that whatever damage done could be undone; plus with over half a year between Great North and a potential (if application successful) London Marathon I had plenty of time to lose the gained weight and do enough training regardless of a week or two of nutritional hedonism.
Tuesday 25th September
This did not bode well. Following on from the previous week's result my diet was quite frankly disgusting (tell it like it is Blaydon......thank you, I will!). As I recall, Tuesday night consisted of home-delivered pizza......oh no, not one; there was a two for one deal on 12 inchers......and I may have thrown in a large cheesey chips for good measure (would it help if I said that the pizzas were thin crust??.....nope?......I would say it was worth a try, but it wasn't even that was it?!! how about if I said that I didn't eat all the pizzas??......mind you, I did finish them off the following morning for breakfast.....). There was definitely a Chinese takeaway in there, and my not so usual these days trip down the road for fish, large chips, meat and potato pie, large peas and regular curry sauce (not to mention about half a loaf of bread.......oh......I just did mention it!). So it's fair to say that when it came to food, I was very much in the debit column. Things did not fare any better for exercise; the week directly following the run I was on holiday from both work, and from the gym; so my days by and large consisted of getting up, having breakfast, sitting down on the sofa, having lunch, having dinner (see above), getting up, going to bed. I absolutely LOVED it, but it did no good for my chances of losing weight. The only positives I could take as I popped on the scales were a badminton match on the Friday, and a first trip back to the gym a few hours before weigh in. I was prepared for the worst.
So could somebody please tell me how I ended up weighing in at 15 stone 9 pounds?!!!! This officially takes me from the biggest weight gain the previous week to the biggest weight loss....six pounds?!!!
You know I mentioned weird physical effects of running a half marathon? It's got to be that hasn't it? My poor body did not have a clue whether it was coming or going, or walking or running. I am guessing that this represents a 'back to normal' weight. Nevertheless it still remains a six pound loss, so yay!
Tuesday 2nd October
Bringing us right up to speed this week, and back on track....sort of. No social badminton on the Friday (fell asleep at 7pm and that was that until gone 9), but fully restored to the usual routine of three trips to the gym; nothing too strenuous, but a nice 12km on Sunday...sweatilicious! So no problem with the exercise levels. Was a fairly good boy with what I was eating; I confess my sin and am prepared for my penance (eating raw carrots?) for eating another Chinese takeaway, but other than that I couldn't find any major straying from 'the path'. With all the to-ing and fro-ing of the past I was just looking for either breaking even; or I even settling for a SMALL gain (not five pounds, that would be classed as a BLOODY HUGE gain). Big surprise and big smiles therefore that I am now an official 15 stone 7.8! Chalk another one pound off the totalizer. Although this challenge was started in the high 18 stones, my heaviest has been 19 stone 7; 0.8 more pounds and that amounts to 4 stone. Happening as gradually as it has, it is hard to believe that I am no longer lugging round that sort of poundage.
For the sake of the blog however it will not be an officially official four stone until I get down to (let me check Weigh in (1) and Weigh in (3), and add the number that I first thought of.....) 14 stone 11 pounds. Getting closer!
Since last Tuesday, I have been noticing changes. My usual routine of bagel in the morning followed by cup-a-soup for lunch and a regular meal in the evening is just not cutting it at the moment. I am rumbly-in-my-tumbly starving way before the next meal. Previously I have managed fine, but I am starting to wonder whether I would benefit from slightly more adventurous breakfasts to get me through the day. I have no desire to eat badly, but maybe I just need to eat a bit more. I'm no nutritionist but I am thinking it might have something to do with metabolism....that's usually the word people use when they can't explain what their body is doing isn't it?!!
I'm not going to dwell on it much; whatever I am doing has got me feeling good, and still losing weight. If it ain't broke.......!
Thursday 4 October 2012
Great North Run 2012..........(part 3)
12miles - finish!
The large flashing '1 mile to go' sign was a welcome sight, but one not to be reached before negotiating the steepest - and by virtue most painful - part of the course. 400m of serious incline which after twelve thirteenths of the race very nearly knackered my knees (kneeckered?); and the surprise?....it was downhill.
Suddenly subjecting the joints to movements which were essentially the complete opposite of the previous twelve miles were a bit much. The body was suddenly under strain to stop myself from going too fast instead of not fast enough. It was unpleasant to say the least; but as I said, the slide ended at the glorious notice telling me the last thirteenth of the race had begun.
Fortunately I had been warned about the final stretch, that it literally did seem to stretch (some of the more evil of my acquaintances told me that if you are doing to die of a connery it is usually at that point....that was good of them wasn't it?!!) for miles. I kept my head down and tried hard not to think about the finish, just one step at a time. Lots of 'come-on!'s as the half mile mark hoved into view, a yell from the sidelines where my brother was waiting to cheer me home, and an all-encompassing thought released from deep within, a thought which had kept me going in the gym for those hard months of training; that I was actually going to do it.
The ecstatic crowds were deepening, a sure sign that the finish was not far away. Finally there it was; a simple fibre-glass and steel structure with digital clock at the top; nothing much to look at, but passing under it would mean the two-thirds fulfilment of a now not so impossible dream. Emotions took over; however as soon as I realised how difficult it is to cry when you are completely out of breath. I pulled myself together!
Fists clenched, grimace-smile on my lips.....I crossed the line.
The Aftermath
The next twenty minutes or so were a bit of a blur; punctuated by bouts of pain! I have seen marathons where people are teetering about with rubber legs that look like they are about to buckle, and often do. I now totally understand how that feels. You are told to keep moving, both so that your body can adjust to the fact that you are no longer running, and to avoid clogging up the finish area with collapsing sweaty bodies. It is strange that after running for just over two and a half hours, the simpler act of walking is such a challenge; the legs don't feel like they belong to you, and the adrenaline wears off to leave you with.....well.....pain basically.
We queued up for our goody-bags (tee-shirt, power bars, medal, leaflet entitling you to one bacon sandwich free when you buy five......kidding). As the rain started to pour down, and I started to feel the chill I made for that plastic, tin-foil lookalike blanket (don't think that is the actual name for it!) which you see so many runners wearing. Very effective at keeping you warm, and not only that you can pop me straight in the oven four eight hours at gas mark 5.
The charity village was stacked with tents for every worthy cause you could imagine. I made straight for the British Heart Foundation. On reflection it did make me laugh as the rough statistics within the tent were that there were forty chairs, twenty sat on by runners looking somewhat the worse for wear, and twenty sat on by their supporters.....while more than twenty runners were staggering round the tent looking for a sit down!! I never did enjoy musical chairs at our school parties!
Finally I found a place to take a load off, and not before time as my legs were giving me not unsubtle hints that it was time for a sit. It was then that the nausea started; about ten minutes of really bad seasickness. It did pass, and it was only then - sipping on a cup of tea and chomping on a ham sandwich which one of the volunteers had shoved into my hand - that I could reflect on what I had just achieved; but to be honest I still couldn't process it. Still a bit dazed by the whole thing.
Dom (bruv) came along and it was then that I realised how important it is to have support with you; or at least with me! Someone who can bolster you when you are nervous about the run, and more importantly share in the joy of completing it. It was his honour - in Olympic stylie - to don me with my medal, not forgetting the official clasping handshake (no national anthem). It now stands pride of place at home next to the Great South and Great Manchester......how good does that sound?!!!!
After the Aftermath
Getting home was extremely tricky. The choices were either to get back to the car by the Newcastle Metro (tram) system (a mile queue) or by the ferry from South Shields (half a mile queue). It was after about ten minutes waiting in the latter that I realised an hour of standing up and shuffling forward every fifteen minutes was not for me. I wasn't particularly bothered about getting home quickly, just getting home safe and sound. So a convenient bench came to my rescue and there I sat, watching the queue grind forward to a stage where it was making real progress, and I felt able to make it to all the way to the front.
As luck would have it, I ended up just behind Elaine and David; what a terrific couple. They were there supporting their son, and we inevitably shared much of our respective stories. We must still have queued for quite a while as in addition to the Great North, we covered our respective home towns, our footballing proclivities, the Ryder Cup, holidays, and Davids love of real ale!
What touched me more than anything was that as we neared the front of the queue, we were in that cut off zone which meant the difference between getting on the ferry, and a twenty minute wait for the next one. Elaine and David were in front of me, and I was the last one through before the metaphorical barriers went down. David turned to me and said 'that was lucky; if you hadn't have got through we would have had to swap places.' Something so simple; he didn't have to do it, the right thing to do? absolutely; but people doing the right thing is all too often a rare commodity. We parted as old friends, and Elly and Davie baby (like I said, old friends) said they might even dip into this blog; I replied that they may even get a mention!
I am reminded of a line from Michael Palin's 'Round The World In 80 Days' on leaving a dhow and its crew that made him feel like part of the family.....'as I wave goodbye to them it is almost impossible to believe that I will never see them again'. Elaine and David, if you do read this; I hope that our paths cross again.
The rest of the trip went without incident, and I was home, watching the BBC race coverage and tucking in to my Big Mac meal, McChicken Sandwich meal and McFlurry (not one smidge of guilt) by about half past nine. Watching it on the screen it was again difficult to accept that I was in there, that somewhere within that forest of bobbing heads, was my bobbing head. When you are running, all you see is your little area, the people around you, the few yards ahead; the enormity of it all passed me by. In the days that followed, in addition to the general stiffness, was a slow realisation of what I had accomplished; tying in my own personal images with those seen on the screen. It felt good, and may I tell you it still does. I dip into the memory every so often when I need inspiration, encouragement, positivity; I am not one to live in the past, but if I ever visit, I will never get tired of reliving that day.
The Great North Run 2012, one of my finest hours to date........
The large flashing '1 mile to go' sign was a welcome sight, but one not to be reached before negotiating the steepest - and by virtue most painful - part of the course. 400m of serious incline which after twelve thirteenths of the race very nearly knackered my knees (kneeckered?); and the surprise?....it was downhill.
Suddenly subjecting the joints to movements which were essentially the complete opposite of the previous twelve miles were a bit much. The body was suddenly under strain to stop myself from going too fast instead of not fast enough. It was unpleasant to say the least; but as I said, the slide ended at the glorious notice telling me the last thirteenth of the race had begun.
Fortunately I had been warned about the final stretch, that it literally did seem to stretch (some of the more evil of my acquaintances told me that if you are doing to die of a connery it is usually at that point....that was good of them wasn't it?!!) for miles. I kept my head down and tried hard not to think about the finish, just one step at a time. Lots of 'come-on!'s as the half mile mark hoved into view, a yell from the sidelines where my brother was waiting to cheer me home, and an all-encompassing thought released from deep within, a thought which had kept me going in the gym for those hard months of training; that I was actually going to do it.
The ecstatic crowds were deepening, a sure sign that the finish was not far away. Finally there it was; a simple fibre-glass and steel structure with digital clock at the top; nothing much to look at, but passing under it would mean the two-thirds fulfilment of a now not so impossible dream. Emotions took over; however as soon as I realised how difficult it is to cry when you are completely out of breath. I pulled myself together!
Fists clenched, grimace-smile on my lips.....I crossed the line.
The Aftermath
The next twenty minutes or so were a bit of a blur; punctuated by bouts of pain! I have seen marathons where people are teetering about with rubber legs that look like they are about to buckle, and often do. I now totally understand how that feels. You are told to keep moving, both so that your body can adjust to the fact that you are no longer running, and to avoid clogging up the finish area with collapsing sweaty bodies. It is strange that after running for just over two and a half hours, the simpler act of walking is such a challenge; the legs don't feel like they belong to you, and the adrenaline wears off to leave you with.....well.....pain basically.
We queued up for our goody-bags (tee-shirt, power bars, medal, leaflet entitling you to one bacon sandwich free when you buy five......kidding). As the rain started to pour down, and I started to feel the chill I made for that plastic, tin-foil lookalike blanket (don't think that is the actual name for it!) which you see so many runners wearing. Very effective at keeping you warm, and not only that you can pop me straight in the oven four eight hours at gas mark 5.
The charity village was stacked with tents for every worthy cause you could imagine. I made straight for the British Heart Foundation. On reflection it did make me laugh as the rough statistics within the tent were that there were forty chairs, twenty sat on by runners looking somewhat the worse for wear, and twenty sat on by their supporters.....while more than twenty runners were staggering round the tent looking for a sit down!! I never did enjoy musical chairs at our school parties!
Finally I found a place to take a load off, and not before time as my legs were giving me not unsubtle hints that it was time for a sit. It was then that the nausea started; about ten minutes of really bad seasickness. It did pass, and it was only then - sipping on a cup of tea and chomping on a ham sandwich which one of the volunteers had shoved into my hand - that I could reflect on what I had just achieved; but to be honest I still couldn't process it. Still a bit dazed by the whole thing.
Dom (bruv) came along and it was then that I realised how important it is to have support with you; or at least with me! Someone who can bolster you when you are nervous about the run, and more importantly share in the joy of completing it. It was his honour - in Olympic stylie - to don me with my medal, not forgetting the official clasping handshake (no national anthem). It now stands pride of place at home next to the Great South and Great Manchester......how good does that sound?!!!!
After the Aftermath
Getting home was extremely tricky. The choices were either to get back to the car by the Newcastle Metro (tram) system (a mile queue) or by the ferry from South Shields (half a mile queue). It was after about ten minutes waiting in the latter that I realised an hour of standing up and shuffling forward every fifteen minutes was not for me. I wasn't particularly bothered about getting home quickly, just getting home safe and sound. So a convenient bench came to my rescue and there I sat, watching the queue grind forward to a stage where it was making real progress, and I felt able to make it to all the way to the front.
As luck would have it, I ended up just behind Elaine and David; what a terrific couple. They were there supporting their son, and we inevitably shared much of our respective stories. We must still have queued for quite a while as in addition to the Great North, we covered our respective home towns, our footballing proclivities, the Ryder Cup, holidays, and Davids love of real ale!
What touched me more than anything was that as we neared the front of the queue, we were in that cut off zone which meant the difference between getting on the ferry, and a twenty minute wait for the next one. Elaine and David were in front of me, and I was the last one through before the metaphorical barriers went down. David turned to me and said 'that was lucky; if you hadn't have got through we would have had to swap places.' Something so simple; he didn't have to do it, the right thing to do? absolutely; but people doing the right thing is all too often a rare commodity. We parted as old friends, and Elly and Davie baby (like I said, old friends) said they might even dip into this blog; I replied that they may even get a mention!
I am reminded of a line from Michael Palin's 'Round The World In 80 Days' on leaving a dhow and its crew that made him feel like part of the family.....'as I wave goodbye to them it is almost impossible to believe that I will never see them again'. Elaine and David, if you do read this; I hope that our paths cross again.
The rest of the trip went without incident, and I was home, watching the BBC race coverage and tucking in to my Big Mac meal, McChicken Sandwich meal and McFlurry (not one smidge of guilt) by about half past nine. Watching it on the screen it was again difficult to accept that I was in there, that somewhere within that forest of bobbing heads, was my bobbing head. When you are running, all you see is your little area, the people around you, the few yards ahead; the enormity of it all passed me by. In the days that followed, in addition to the general stiffness, was a slow realisation of what I had accomplished; tying in my own personal images with those seen on the screen. It felt good, and may I tell you it still does. I dip into the memory every so often when I need inspiration, encouragement, positivity; I am not one to live in the past, but if I ever visit, I will never get tired of reliving that day.
The Great North Run 2012, one of my finest hours to date........
Tuesday 2 October 2012
Great North Run 2012.......the race (part 2)
0-6 miles
On finally reaching the start line there was a log jam of people queueing up to high-five with Greg Rutherford and Nicola Adams. I would like to publicly apologise to them both for not doing the same. They are fantastic athletes, who have achieved a quite extraordinary feat; but to be honest Greg and Nic, at the time I had a lot on my mind and slapping the hand of a gold medallist was on my list of 'might be nice if I passed them in the middle of Bury precinct - in fact if that happens I'll buy you a coffee - but not today' items.
The hills started pretty much straight away, as did my fellow runners who went careering of like idiots. On reflection I probably went off a bit fast aswell; swept along by the euphoria of cheering fans, the Tyne Bridge, the various cameras positioned around the course making us all act like waving (not drowning, yet!) crazies, and the sign about six minutes in saying 'don't worry Mike, only 12.5 miles to go!!' (that made me laugh). The distance markers were pretty confusing too, and I got a bit of a nasty surprise on realising the '5' I had passed was kilometres and not miles!
Still, by this time I was into a rhythm which I felt would see me all the way to the end (don't worry Adrian; only ten miles to go!!); helped ably - I am almost ashamed to say...........almost....! - by of all things a ladies bottom! It was purely coincidental that the person I picked who was going at my pace, and therefore the person I would stay behind as much as possible, actually happened to have a nice behind! Finding a pacemaker is an extremely effective tactic I learnt at the Great Manchester; losing concentration would end up with me going too fast, so if I started to overtake her I would slow down and slot in behind her again to avoid overdoing it, thus setting in motion a chain of events that would risk leading me to need - oh the irony - a pacemaker!
It was going pretty well, still cold and still wet; but I was very much in my comfort zone for the first half of the run. I had run six miles before only recently. Fitter and lighter now than I was then, there was no reason that I should have any problems in getting to the turn. Inspirational music (Birdie Song, Shaddappauface) was blaring away in my ears, and rain and hills notwithstanding, I was managing to absorb the energy of the crowd and enjoy the journey.
6-12 miles
It is a very interesting experience pushing yourself to unnatural physical limits; what goes through your mind as well as what happens to your body. I was still chugging along at a nice pace, but the little voice in my head which until then had been dormant - or at least ignored - became more and more insistent; sneakily telling me that the only time I had ever run more than 6 miles was the Great South Run, eight years ago......and after ten miles it was uncharted territory all the way. I won't lie to you, it gave me the collywobbles.
In an effort to silence the demonic voices of negativity, I looked for stimulation, distraction; and may I say people of Newcastle; you did your city proud. In driving rain and chilly temperatures the Geordie lads and lasses were out in their numbers to cheer us on, every moist inch of the way; thoroughly brilliant people. There were those who shouted and clapped us along, but I wondered if I was seeing things - and no I am not kidding - when some of the more imaginative supporters were giving out ice lollies, and yes........occasionally even bottles of lager!! I did not partake of either, but the spectacle of seeing the bemused looks on the faces of runners trotting along with an Rocket (lolly, not bazooka...but what an image!) in their hand was certainly worthy of a giggle!
There is only one word to describe the stretch from 8 mile to 12.....brutal. One long unending road....all uphill. The voice came back with avengeance and did its best to erode my confidence. I focused on the person in front, I looked around and geed up the spectators for a cheer, I grabbed a bottle at the water station, I drank the water, I saluted the British Heart Foundation bus at the 8.5 mile cheerpoint; anything to keep my mind occupied. It was tough, but you know what the best thing about running is? While you are listening to these voices lurking in your head, waving at supporters, cranking up the ipod to drown out the heavy breathing, you are making progress; I knew that as long as I kept going, the mile markers would take care of themselves. I make it sound simple; it wasn't, but nor at any point did I contemplate giving up, or even walking. I was going to finish this, and run it all the way.
On finally reaching the start line there was a log jam of people queueing up to high-five with Greg Rutherford and Nicola Adams. I would like to publicly apologise to them both for not doing the same. They are fantastic athletes, who have achieved a quite extraordinary feat; but to be honest Greg and Nic, at the time I had a lot on my mind and slapping the hand of a gold medallist was on my list of 'might be nice if I passed them in the middle of Bury precinct - in fact if that happens I'll buy you a coffee - but not today' items.
The hills started pretty much straight away, as did my fellow runners who went careering of like idiots. On reflection I probably went off a bit fast aswell; swept along by the euphoria of cheering fans, the Tyne Bridge, the various cameras positioned around the course making us all act like waving (not drowning, yet!) crazies, and the sign about six minutes in saying 'don't worry Mike, only 12.5 miles to go!!' (that made me laugh). The distance markers were pretty confusing too, and I got a bit of a nasty surprise on realising the '5' I had passed was kilometres and not miles!
Still, by this time I was into a rhythm which I felt would see me all the way to the end (don't worry Adrian; only ten miles to go!!); helped ably - I am almost ashamed to say...........almost....! - by of all things a ladies bottom! It was purely coincidental that the person I picked who was going at my pace, and therefore the person I would stay behind as much as possible, actually happened to have a nice behind! Finding a pacemaker is an extremely effective tactic I learnt at the Great Manchester; losing concentration would end up with me going too fast, so if I started to overtake her I would slow down and slot in behind her again to avoid overdoing it, thus setting in motion a chain of events that would risk leading me to need - oh the irony - a pacemaker!
It was going pretty well, still cold and still wet; but I was very much in my comfort zone for the first half of the run. I had run six miles before only recently. Fitter and lighter now than I was then, there was no reason that I should have any problems in getting to the turn. Inspirational music (Birdie Song, Shaddappauface) was blaring away in my ears, and rain and hills notwithstanding, I was managing to absorb the energy of the crowd and enjoy the journey.
6-12 miles
It is a very interesting experience pushing yourself to unnatural physical limits; what goes through your mind as well as what happens to your body. I was still chugging along at a nice pace, but the little voice in my head which until then had been dormant - or at least ignored - became more and more insistent; sneakily telling me that the only time I had ever run more than 6 miles was the Great South Run, eight years ago......and after ten miles it was uncharted territory all the way. I won't lie to you, it gave me the collywobbles.
In an effort to silence the demonic voices of negativity, I looked for stimulation, distraction; and may I say people of Newcastle; you did your city proud. In driving rain and chilly temperatures the Geordie lads and lasses were out in their numbers to cheer us on, every moist inch of the way; thoroughly brilliant people. There were those who shouted and clapped us along, but I wondered if I was seeing things - and no I am not kidding - when some of the more imaginative supporters were giving out ice lollies, and yes........occasionally even bottles of lager!! I did not partake of either, but the spectacle of seeing the bemused looks on the faces of runners trotting along with an Rocket (lolly, not bazooka...but what an image!) in their hand was certainly worthy of a giggle!
There is only one word to describe the stretch from 8 mile to 12.....brutal. One long unending road....all uphill. The voice came back with avengeance and did its best to erode my confidence. I focused on the person in front, I looked around and geed up the spectators for a cheer, I grabbed a bottle at the water station, I drank the water, I saluted the British Heart Foundation bus at the 8.5 mile cheerpoint; anything to keep my mind occupied. It was tough, but you know what the best thing about running is? While you are listening to these voices lurking in your head, waving at supporters, cranking up the ipod to drown out the heavy breathing, you are making progress; I knew that as long as I kept going, the mile markers would take care of themselves. I make it sound simple; it wasn't, but nor at any point did I contemplate giving up, or even walking. I was going to finish this, and run it all the way.