Tag: running

Ultra Training Update: Week 15.5

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An addictive personality is like Voldemort, as described by Mr Ollivander: “terrible, but great”. Falling for running, cycling, climbing and so on will make you fitter, healthier and more focused. But falling too hard will leave you injured, frustrated and restless.

I’m blessed and plagued with a tendency to throw myself into things blindfolded and headfirst, without self-control, moderation or any kind of plan. An idea gets into my head and I get tunnel vision: all my energy goes into performing or achieving that idea, at the expense of everything else.

For example, I read a book about running. Got inspired, went for a run and didn’t stop until I’d done a half marathon and was late to an appointment. Got drunk that night and entered an ultramarathon. Sobered up and started training. Ran 40 miles in less than a week and got shin splints. Had to stop running for 2 months. Am still suffering, but finally back running – today I ran my second ever 13.1 mile (21.1k) half-marathon.

I’m interested to find out how far I can push myself because today’s run felt great. I set out intending to do 10k or so (about 6 miles) but felt so good that I just carried on. I’ve been “easing myself back in” for a few weeks, squeezing in a handful of 5-12k runs, and wanted to start running properly. Initially I thought I’d have to cut it short today as my shins started to ache despite copious amounts of KT tape, but (and some physio somewhere will tell me off) it subsided so I didn’t stop.

I actually felt stronger after an hour; my form improved and I got quicker. This is despite my decision to weave my way around, up and down St Catherine’s Hill on the edge of the South Downs, along rocky paths, up mega-steep sections and through walls of brambles (coming out the other side grinning and bloody-kneed).

I stopped at half-marathon distance because my feet started to ache and I didn’t want to get injured again, so maybe I am learning. I did it in 1hr 52mins 48secs, so it wasn’t fast but I’ll have to get even slower. Fitness-wise I felt fresh as a daisy and I actually wanted to keep running, so I think it’ll be my feet/legs that let me down first when it comes to the ultra.

So I’ve never run more than 13.1 miles and in three and a half weeks I’m supposed to run 50. Have I pulled out of the ultra? No way. Do I think I’m going to complete it? No way. I know that I’m not physically capable of running that distance – I’ve barely trained, I’m still recovering from injury and I’ve never done anything even close. But I’ve accepted that and I have nothing to lose, so I’ll run, walk and hobble for as long as I possibly can.

I won’t be disappointed if I make 20 miles, and I’ll be delighted to make 26.2 – marathon distance. I know I’ll look like an idiot next to the seasoned ultramarathoners (at the start, anyway!) but that doesn’t bother me; as far as I’m concerned, I’ll be the only person in the Peak District. This is the beginning – one day I’ll be eating 50-milers for breakfast.

In the meantime, I believe I have a hydration pack, blister plasters, vaseline and some trail shoes to buy…

See also The Accidental Half Marathon, Ultra Training Update: Week 1, Too Much Too Soon, Ultra Training Update: Week 4.5

The Norfolk Broads for Adventure-Seekers: 10-point summary

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This year’s family holiday took us to the Norfolk Broads for a week. I didn’t know what to expect  as I’ve never explored that part of England before; family holidays usually took us West to Wales or Devon/Cornwall, and I was a bit apprehensive at the lack of sea, hills and mountains.

Despite this we managed to fit in plenty of activities and do a fair bit of exploring. We travelled around on a boat and moored at a different place each night, so saw plenty of the National Park – I’ll write a brief journal in a separate post.

Here are some highlights and key observations from my Broads trip:

1. Flatness

It’s SO flat. I knew this before we left but didn’t appreciate just how un-flat everywhere else must be – previously I considered the New Forest the flattest place in the UK. It probably didn’t help that I was in the Lake District a few weeks ago.

The landscape and the skies are vast and open, which makes you feel really small in a similar-but-different way to hills and mountain ranges. The nights are dark (not much light pollution), quiet and still.

2. City, towns and villages

Norwich is great – it has a lively buzz, a cathedral, a castle, a nice bit of river, plenty of history and a good indoor climbing/bouldering place called Highball.

Wroxham is apparently seen as “the capital of the Broads” by some, but I wasn’t that impressed. Too many big shops, more zimmerframes and dentures than I’ve ever seen in one place before and a bit tired and scruffy.

Other towns and villages were okay but I wouldn’t say they were picture-postcard, although apparently Beccles in the South Broads is lovely. Ludham and Coltishall were probably the prettiest we stopped at.

The thing I didn’t expect was the “water streets” on the outskirts of towns and villages. Pretty houses of all shapes, sizes and styles were fronted by boats instead of cars, boathouses instead of garages and water instead of tarmac.

3. Wildlife

There are loads of birds – the more “exotic” (coming from a Hampshire girl) ones I saw include the great crested grebe, curlew and marsh harrier. Masses of reeds and foliage of every shade of green line the waterways, so it’s not surprising that it’s such a haven. I wish I’d looked out for more wildlife but I spent lots of time reading, painting and planning.

There are also lots of insects – dragonflies, damselflies, thunderbugs and funny little red things. Oh and midges and mosquitos, expect to be bitten – particularly around stagnant water. Luckily I don’t seem to taste as good as the rest of my family.

4. Wild swimming

90% of my research told me not to swim in the Broads because of a) toxic blue-green algae, b) human waste and c) 42lb pike (big teeth, bitey). I took heed of the other 10%.

Swimming probably won’t kill you, although I’d judge it on how the water looks. The blue-green algae can be irritant and toxic if ingested; it’s really thick in some places, particularly up creeks where the water is stagnant – there were parts of Barton Broad I definitely wouldn’t swim in. I wouldn’t worry about pike as it’s pretty unlikely you’ll get bitten, and re: human waste – avoid swimming where there are loads of boats and don’t swallow anything (particularly solids…). Around Salhouse Broad was a nice spot for a dip.

The thing you should be really aware of is boats, as it’s easy to miss swimmers. Bright colours, paying attention and avoiding busy areas should help you stay safe. A support boat is ideal.

5. Cycling

Don’t expect to go mountain biking – Rocky (my lovely old hardtail) had the gentlest ride of his life on the cycle path between Wroxham and Aylsham. The Broads offers easy, relaxing cycling which will give you a different perspective of the National Park.

6. Kayaking

As a National Park by virtue of its waterways, the Broads is perfect to explore by paddle. You can access creeks beyond the reach of boats, see loads of wildlife and get some exercise – see On Kayaking. I was surprised by how few other kayaks there were and couldn’t believe that I couldn’t hire a SUP anywhere!

I should probably say be careful of blue-green algae, which can be irritating to skin if flicked onto it by a paddle. However, I’ve been in contact with it several times and never suffered any ill-effects, so it’s your call.

7. On foot: running/walking

Plenty of footpaths allowed me to run or walk alongside the water when I got restless. I particularly enjoyed a 12k run between Stokesby and the edge of Great Yarmouth along the Weaver’s Way (and only passed one person), although it was a difficult surface to run on as it was soft, thick, dry grass. I also enjoyed a 5k at Norwich and Coltishall on more forgiving ground.

The terrain is so easy underfoot that it’s more gentle rambler’s territory than thrill seeker’s, and it doesn’t offer breathtaking views in the same way as hiking up mountains. However, I think it’s worth seeing for the novelty. The landscape is attractive, with pretty windmills dotted among swathes of reedbeds and golden fields. I enjoyed the bizarre sight of boat sails gliding across the fields, hulls just out of sight!

8. Fishing

I enjoy fishing but my catch rate is abysmal and wasn’t improved upon here. Apparently there’s plenty of freshwater species such as bream, perch, roach, tench, dace, rudd, trout and pike, but our maggots and sweetcorn failed to entice anything during the evenings. We saw other people haul in decent sized fish (annoyingly!).

You’ll need a rod licence to fish in the Broads (I paid £12 for an 8-day one, which covered two rods) and in a few areas you need extra permission.

9. History

The waterways were made by peat digging between the 12th and 14th centuries, until the ditches flooded and became used for commerce and communication. The landscape is dotted with pretty windmills, which were used to grind corn and drain excess water from the fields into the river system.

There are also lots of lovely churches, thatched rooves, the remote ruin of St Benet’s Abbey and a cute little museum at How Hill.

I could get geekier but basically the history is interesting, not least because this apparently natural landscape is actually man-made.

10. Pubs

Last but never, ever least, there are loads of pubs along the Broads. Most have free mooring and I found that (in comparison with Hampshire) drinks were cheap and portions were generous. Need I say more?

Norfolk Broads trip map

Green line shows our route, with each number corresponding to our overnight spots

Parkrun #1 (and why you should try it)

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I thought I was relatively fit until this morning. I haven’t ran for 5-6 weeks due to injury (see Too Much Too Soon) and my leg was okay tramping round the Brecon Beacons last weekend, so I figured it’s time to get back to Ultramarathon training. I headed down to Winchester Parkrun for 9am, expecting a casual 5k bimble alongside gentle, chatting joggers enjoying a spot of exercise before coffee and brunch.

That was a misconception. There were easily 400ish people milling around in parkrun t-shirts, running club vests and colourful sports kit, talking, grinning and looking (almost uncannily) delighted to be there. I asked a marshall how it works and he explained that everyone will set off together, run around the fields a couple of times and collect a token at the finish line that gets scanned with the barcode I’d printed out at home. A nice, straightforward setup.

After a speech and a few rounds of applause (John’s 100th parkrun, welcome Bruce from Sydney etc) a whistle went and the colourful mass swarmed off. There were pacers in orange high vis vests; on my own I’d usually do 5k in about 25mins, so I thought I’d push it and stick as close to the 23min pacer as possible.

Having not run for a while, I felt so good at first that I sped off like a gazelle (or so I thought), overtaking lots of people – including Mr 23mins. I had a lovely time for about a mile, then I realised I’d been way too optimistic. My legs started feeling heavy, I started getting overtaken and couldn’t settle my breathing into a steady rhythm. Exactly what I deserved for flying off at an unprecedented pace on my first run back from injury, and as usual I knew I only had myself to blame. I felt less gazelle, more moose.

Mr 23mins glided past me as I sweated and puffed away, wondering why on earth I ever thought taking up running was a good idea. The next mile dragged, and it only started getting easier as I turned the final corner towards the finish line. Annoyingly I’ve often found that it takes a few miles before I can get into a rhythm, so the run was practically over by the time my breathing started to settle. I crossed the finish line, collected my token and stretched my leg (which barely twinged!) among the still-grinning, sweaty, colourful finishers.

My Nike Run app says I did 5.5k in 23:55, averaging a pace of 4:21 per km. That’s 5k in 21:52, which I’m pleased with, and it would explain why I struggled, given that I usually stick to a fairly relaxed 5min/km. That made me feel better. Parkrun’s results say I was the 11th female out of 153 and 1st in my age group, which gave me another boost. But given the tens of people ahead of me I’m still not quite happy, so I’ll be squeezing some training in alongside exams and assignments (which I should be doing instead of writing this) – and I’ll definitely be back!

It was extremely well organised and the volunteer support was incredible. The marshalls were really positive and helpful, the token system ran smoothly despite the huge volume of runners and I was e-mailed and texted with my results within a couple of hours. It made me realise just how fortunate I am to be able to take part in such a community-led, efficiently organised and fitness-oriented… event? thing? phenomenon?… for free.

What struck me most was that despite the incredible diversity – small children, grandparents, teenagers, pram-pushers, dog-draggers, lean, muscly, round, tall, tiny, black, white, two-legged, one-legged, no-legged – everyone wore huge, ear-to-ear, idiot grins (including me, I realised at the end). I heard countless words of encouragement, cheers from onlookers and just a little bit of friendly competition – not a hint of hostility.

It was a lovely feeling, being amidst this huge, supportive community. Having experienced my first taste of parkrun, I’d urge anyone – and I mean literally anyone, no matter how unfit you think you are – to get up on Saturday morning and give it a go. I get the feeling that running is just a part of it.

Ultra Training Update: Week 4.5

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Anyone who read Too Much Too Soon will know that I was (predictably) too enthusiastic about having signed up to an ultramarathon as I managed to injure myself within a week. Having seen the lovely Hampshire rugby physiotherapist, I have suspected tib post tendinopathy. I won’t bore you with the details but it kind of falls under the umbrella term shin splints. This means that, since week 1 of training, I haven’t been running – not the best start.

 

Unfortunately I’m the most impatient, gung-ho person on Earth so this has been mega frustrating. However, it has encouraged me to diversify my training. I’m still yet to develop a consistent exercise programme as I’m more of a “wing it” person than a person capable of sticking to rules and schedules, but (like my uni work) I know this is something I should really do.

 

It turns out there’s more to cardio than running. In the gym I’ve spent a lot more time on the cross trainer, ventured onto the exercise bike and dabbled with the rowing machine, as well as trying to maintain my weights routine. The cross trainer was particularly good as I managed to get some uni reading done and watch a few things on iplayer, but I had to limit my time on it after it started to make my shin ache. Cycling also got my heart rate up and rowing is surprisingly tiring but, like anything, seems to get easier once you’ve pushed through the initial tough 15 minutes or so.

 

I also dipped my toes into the pool, as you may have read in Swimming Rediscovered. I’ve only gone three times, for which I blame my pain-in-the-backside knot-forming, slow-drying hair (a rubbish excuse I know) but each time I’ve done at least a mile and it’s felt really good. I also swam in the river at Shawford (very cold) and the quay at Bosham (almost balmy), which were both invigorating experiences that I’d only recommend if you’re okay with unseen things touching your feet.

 

Over the early May bank holiday a miracle happened: the sun got lost and ended up in England. I dug my beloved and too-long-neglected Specialized Rockhopper out the shed and treated it to a beautiful ride in the New Forest. I’ve always considered myself a through-and-through mountain biker, but this 20-ish mile route around the North West of the Forest showed me the light of road cycling (but that’ll be another post).

 

Two days later I cycled the short (16 mile round) distance from Winchester to Alresford and back and was reminded of the simple formula that prevented me ever achieving regular cyclist status: saddle + bottom = ouch.

 

Between these bike days I braved the sunny Sunday traffic down towards West Wittering beach – big mistake. Over an hour’s worth of traffic later we launched the kayak at West Itchenor and spent a glorious afternoon paddling 6-ish miles around the creeks – the good, steady workout which inspired On Kayaking.

 

I went to rugby training last week to try a gentle jog on grass, and I was delighted that it felt okay – barely a twinge. I plan to start running again this week, and this time I really do intend to take it uncharacteristically gently and slowly.

 

All in all, I’m equal parts furious and exasperated at myself for causing this first hurdle, but also a little bit pleased to have had so much fun with other forms of exercise. I’ll definitely be incorporating cross trainers, rowing machines, bikes, kayaks, pools, rivers, seas and anything else I can get my hands on into my cardio regime, and fingers crossed I’ll be running around like a clueless, grinning idiot again soon.

 

Time to ditch our running shoes?

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In Christopher McDougall’s Born to Run, a guy called Barefoot Ted swears by running with minimal foot protection and it kind of makes sense. Our feet evolved over millions of years to transport us everywhere, and we’ve have been running the entire time. Da Vinci called the foot “a masterpiece of engineering and a work of art”, and McDougall compares it to a complex, super-strong suspension bridge. It has 26 bones, 33 joints, 107 ligaments, 19 muscles and some tendons (thanks Google). Thousands of nerve endings make the feet mega-sensitive to stimuli (hence they’re ticklish).

 

Such acute responsiveness to pain taught our ancestors to run the way evolution intended, not the way running trainers enable us to. In contrast with the super-long-term evolution of the foot, the cushioned, supportive, “corrective” running shoe has been around less than a century. 80% of trainer-clad runners strike the ground heel first, whereas we naturally run with a forefoot strike – as illustrated by the Tarahumara running people of Mexico and other runners from non-Westernised cultures. Try it; the impact on the uncushioned heel makes it too painful on the foot and the shock shoots up the lower leg, jarring the knee.

 

McDougall is critical of the corporate giants pushing the latest state-of-the-art, mega-cushioned, super-corrective miracle running shoes on unwitting consumers (I’m guilty as charged). He points out that the best tried-and-tested models are often pulled from shelves to encourage runners to stockpile favourite shoes, and that there’s always some brand new “technology” to entice buyers with its promise of easier runs and faster times. Not to mention any names, Nike (again, guilty as charged), but the big names definitely have a vested interest in convincing us success comes from the purse.

 

McDougall describes how a top running coach at some American university experimented on his runners. He bought one group top-of-the-range, big bucks, high-tech running shoes and another group cheap, minimalist trainers. He found that the expensive shoes caused the runners to tire quicker and suffer more injuries than the cheapie ones. Similarly, another running  expert advocated the use of worn out, battered old shoes that  had lost much of their spring over brand new trainers. Hmmm.

 

Born to Run highlights the lack of injuries suffered by native runners with minimal or no footwear. It suggests that joint problems associated with repetitive pavement-pounding are more likely to be caused by the poor technique and unnatural gait which result from the over-compensation and over-protection of modern trainers. Constant support, particularly under the arch of the foot, weakens the soft tissue as it’s no longer needed to do its load-bearing job.

 

Running shoes enable us to run faster and further than our bare feet would, and prevent us feeling the pain that we evolved precisely to respond to. It’s easy to run too much in trainers, particularly when beginning a training programme as I recently have. The cushioning prevents our feet telling us when enough is enough, so our joints, muscles, tendons and ligaments end up absorbing way more shock than they’re accustomed to, resulting in injury.

 

I tried running barefoot on the treadmill and was amazed at the difference. My arches ached very quickly and my feet were much more sensitive to what was underneath them; I trod really lightly and much slower than usual. It’s the sort of thing you’d have to build up really slowly (remember that our ancestors started building up shoeless foot strength and tough soles since they learnt to walk) but I imagine it’s really liberating once you get there.

 

So perhaps trainers weaken our feet and make us run wrong. Perhaps they don’t. I just wanted to write about this because I found it really interesting. All in all, I won’t be ditching my Nike Pegasus Air Zooms just yet but I do plan to invest in some of the funny-looking five-toed running shoes that act as a second skin (once I find some money) to give barefoot running a go. I’m by no means an expert in anything foot, running or anatomy-related, but the barefoot theory seems logical to my keen little brain, and I could do with saving a small fortune on my next pair of shoes.

Too Much Too Soon

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These four words sum up my life. I’ve always had a propensity to jump into things headfirst, blindfolded, at the deep end, hands tied behind my back. In 2008 I went on a bike ride, decided I loved mountain biking and (aged 13) saved up about £550 for my trusty Specialized Rockhopper. Then I spent £60 on a full face helmet. Within 6 months I rode down the steepest side of the steepest hill I could get to, resulting in an irreparably buckled wheel – a further £60.

 

I think I’ve done it again. After my last naively optimistic post, which gushed about how I’d fallen in love with running and run almost 40 miles in 5 days, I semi-rested on Friday, Saturday and Sunday. On Sunday I walked 7.5miles around the New Forest (in flip flops, of course) and noticed a sharp, twanging pain shoot occasionally through the inside of my left shin. I had noticed a slight ache on last Thursday’s 9-mile run but thought nothing of it.

 

Yesterday I went for a gentle run and noticed it hurt about half a mile in; I applied my normal “rugby attitude” and decided to “run it off”. I only intended to do 2-3miles but the pain went away and I felt great so I did 6. Fitness-wise I felt unstoppable but knew I should turn towards home when it started to hurt again at about mile 4.5; I realised I had altered my gait to compensate for the pain.

 

Google helped me self-diagnose shin splints but I’m not 100% sure it’s that. I’m quite surprised as I’m a forefoot runner – the ball of my foot hits the ground first – and from what I’ve read most runners are “heel strikers”, which places more stress on the legs as the foot doesn’t absorb the shock. Also I’ve always done a lot of sport, run roughly every 2-3 weeks, go to the gym three times weekly and play rugby most weeks, so I thought I’d be fit and strong enough to not pick up a silly injury so soon.

 

The pain is bearable at the mo and I’m desperate to run it off, but I’m terrified of making it worse and having to rest properly. I’ve bought compression socks, kinesiology tape and ordered insoles (instead of paying uni fees) and I’m weirdly excited to try them out.

 

I’m concerned for the sake of my ultramarathon training, rugby-playing and general hyperactivity, so if anyone would like to offer help, advice or shin splint-related services please get in touch, Facebook has proved invaluable already. Just one proviso – if you’re going to tell me to rest, do it as last-resort-advice and please break it to me gently. And mention the words “stress fracture” at your own peril. #prayfornay

Ultra Training Update: Week 1

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It’s been almost a week since I signed up for an ultramarathon at 2am after an impromptu drinking session and for some reason I haven’t cancelled my booking. Friends have told me I should postpone it until another year to give myself enough time to train (alongside study and work), among them a personal trainer and an ex-marine.

 

Perhaps that’s why I’m keen to give it a go; being told I can’t do something triggers my resolve and makes me dig my heels in, absolutely determined to do (or at least attempt) whatever silly thing it is. So far it hasn’t proved fatal.

 

Anyway this week I started “training”. I’m reluctant to use that word as it seems too formal and serious, when really I’ve just been running a few times. I looked up 4-month 50-miler training plans, but a) they were aimed at seasoned marathoners, and b) I didn’t like them anyway. So instead I just ran. Maybe I’ll devise a written plan at some point, but for now I’ll focus on putting one foot in front of the other and not dying.

 

After last Saturday’s 13.1 miles, I ran 2.5 miles on Monday (with a friend, otherwise I would have gone further) followed by 10mins barefoot on the treadmill. I’m keen to train my body to run barefoot after reading Christopher McDougall’s Born to Run, but that’ll be another blog post. I did 7 miles on Tuesday followed by 12mins barefoot treadmill, 5 on Wednesday (with another friend) and 9 on Thursday. I probably shouldn’t have run Weds or Thurs because of the blisters on the balls of my feet – from the treadmill, although I’m reluctant to admit it – but I have an addictive personality and I was addicted.

 

Unfortunately yesterday and today I admitted that I should let my feet heal (and my legs rest, although they’re itching to run) before I make them worse, so no running. Somehow one blister has extended to between my big and second toe, where the flip flop strap goes, and has left a sore, red split in the skin. This is super annoying as you’ll rarely catch me in anything other than flip flops or barefoot from April to October. If it wasn’t for that I’d be running now. I hate resting.

 

So far I’ve found that the first couple of miles are easy, the next three-ish are the toughest, then it gets easier again. At the end of each run I thought I could happily carry on, but stopped because I had plans or felt I should go easy on my body to begin with. I’m the most impatient injured person ever to have existed. My breathing has been fine, I’ve had no joint pain and the initial calf soreness seemed to ease after going barefoot on the treadmill, stretching and using a foam roller. I’m being kind to myself by focusing on distance, not pace, and enjoying each run.

 

Blisters on the balls of feet are particularly irritating as plasters don’t do much, seeing as you put pressure on them every time you take a step. I’d never burst a blister running until Thursday’s 9-miler, when I was happily into mile 7 and all of a sudden it felt like my left foot landed on one of those washing machine liquitab things. I didn’t even realise that blister was still there until then, but it was horrible. Would not recommend.

 

We’re coming to the end of a mini heatwave which started on Wednesday, so the 5 and 9-milers were  balmy. The meadows, fields and streams I stumbled through on Thursday’s run were picture-postcard lovely, but I felt like I attracted, inhaled and swallowed enough flies to hit my protein target for at least the next week. At one point I tried and failed to extract one from my eye mid-run, only to come across it later as I attempted to apply mascara on my way to the pub.

 

Another thing I noticed on that run was that when I went exploring and ended up on rocky, rooty, hard mud-ridged narrow paths, it got easier and I got quicker. I was amazed that I’d been struggling a moment before on the smooth road, yet I hit more technical terrain and ran better. I suppose that goes to show how significant the mental aspect of running is – despite considering myself relatively resilient and self-aware, I was sub-consciously focusing on my tired legs until I was forced to concentrate on my footing in order to not break a leg.

 

So that’s where I am with four months to go. I’m hoping to get a run in tomorrow, foot-dependent. In other news, I finished Born to Run and started Eat & Run by Scott Jurek, an ultramarathon legend who featured in the former book, I’ve got a couple more blog posts planned (very loosely, in my head), and today I swam in a cold, dirty river. Uni is boring and I’m still poor.

 

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The Accidental Half-Marathon

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Two days ago I downloaded the audiobook version of Christopher McDougall’s Born to Run to occupy my hour-long commute to uni. I wanted something outdoorsey-adventurey to remind me of the great big world beyond law books and inspire me to push on through my last couple of months in education. Perhaps I’ll reward myself with some crazy exploit in July-August, I thought, which will give me an incentive to work hard in the meantime.

 

I won’t review the book now as I’m only halfway through, but it’s good. So good, in fact, that today I accidentally ran a half marathon.

 

I enjoy running but rarely get round to doing it; I’ve only been once since February. Like anything, I think it’s about getting in the habit. I have a feeling that will change – having listened to the book, I’ve realised that I should run for running’s sake, not specifically to get faster or fitter. That way it’s not a chore.

 

Today I did that. I let myself enjoy each step the way a child enjoys aimlessly tearing around a playground, and didn’t beat myself up for not hitting sub-five minute kilometres. I planned to run from Winchester to Alresford via the back roads, about 8 miles. I think the furthest I’ve run before is about 10 miles, and that was a long time ago for a one-off charity event.

 

The first 2-3 miles were a breeze and I enjoyed not focusing on achieving a “good” pace. I felt a blister heat spot about 4 miles in but didn’t want to stop running, so ignored it. Miles 4-7 were probably the toughest, but then I realised that it had got easier – I had settled into a rhythm and wasn’t struggling despite the hills. My breathing was slow, the blister had eased (or gone numb) and my legs moved (almost) effortlessly. Perhaps I had got over the “wall” that runners go on about.

 

I felt so at ease that I decided to extend the run, first to 10 miles, then, when I still felt good, to 13.1 – a half marathon. I find that when I have a finite endpoint the last bit is tough, so the last half mile was a bit of a slog. Nevertheless I think I could have kept going, but I wanted to get to an exhibition that closed at 4pm (which was well worth it – How Many Elephants). I did it in 1hr55 and averaged 5mins 28secs per kilometre – not my best pace as I like to stick as close to 5-minute kilometres as possible, but I don’t mind as I didn’t expect to run that far.

 

To conclude (in a rush, as I’m already late for my plans), please go running. It took me 1hr 55mins to fall in love. Let yourself enjoy it, go as fast and as far as you feel like going, and realise that you’re capable of more than you think. Book review to follow…