Tag: training

My Latest Scheme: 5k-a-day

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It’s been two months since my ultramarathon and I’m bored. I haven’t really been running due to injury – first there was the post-ultra knee problem, which seemed to clear itself up (mostly) so I ran a half marathon. Then I’m 99.999% certain I cracked a rib playing rugby – moving/breathing heavily hurt for a couple of weeks, so I returned to wallowing in self pity. So being a bit twitchy and even more restless than usual, today I decided to start a new mini-challenge: I want to run 5k a day, indefinitely.

Having somehow completed the 50mile (80km) ultra, 5k feels like a silly little distance. However, I’m working on convincing myself that it’s a nice distance because it’s so manageable. It only takes 25 minutes (or that’s the target, at least..!) so it’s not really a chore and it fits easily in at any time of day.

Also, it gives my “fitness regime” (sounds WAY more impressive than it is) some kind of structure; I’ve always liked the thought of being a planner, but when it comes to actually planning stuff it turns out I’m naturally more of a “turn up and wing it” kind of person. I go to the gym fairly often, but I’m a bit scrappy – I might go five times one week and not at all the next, and I haven’t followed a plan since doing less weights work and more cardio. Same with running.

So by forcing a set distance within a set timeframe upon myself, I hope to ease myself into some kind of routine. I’d also like to get better at running and by doing 5k regularly I hope to see tangible results in a) the time, and b) the effort that it takes.

I say 5k a day, but if I miss a day (I have been afflicted by the occasional hangover in the past) I won’t beat myself up as long as I make 35k each week, and I’ll definitely accommodate longer runs too. Believe it or not I intend to do more ultramarathons…

The other major motivation behind this idea is that I’d like to get others out running too, and 5k is a good starting distance. Running with other people helps massively with motivation and is a fun (I promise) social activity, plus it helps keep your friends healthy, alive and – in my case – less neglected (there are lots of people I don’t see nearly as often as I’d like!).

So if anyone would like to join me for any 5k excursions I’d be delighted with the company, and I’m happy to travel about to try different routes. If you slow me down I’ll be glad to go at your pace – I get sick of beating myself up, and all that really matters is getting the miles in. If I slow you down please feel free to run off and get a pint in ready for me at the end… a cold cider will rarely go amiss 😉

Today’s run… 5k number one

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

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.

 

On Kayaking

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There’s something so liberating and solitary about kayaking on the open water, suspended between the earth and the sky and just existing. Keep still and you’ll feel simultaneously numb and hypersensitive; weightless and isolated, but acutely aware of sound, light and the feel of the air.

 

Perhaps my favourite thing about it is having the freedom to move without diversion.  On land our direction of movement is constantly influenced by paths, roads, walls, barriers and landforms, but on the water there are no waymarkers or boundaries beyond boats, buoys and the occasional rock. Without these predetermined “invisible arrows”, you have 360 degrees of glassy expanse to carve your way through before the water swallows up your trail. You could be the first and last person to ever take that exact route; echoing the eternal Fleetwood Mac, you go your own way. You’ll know what I mean if you try it.

 

Being in such a small vessel enables you to explore places you’d otherwise never see and discover creeks, beaches, woodland and countryside you didn’t know existed. At risk of sounding like the Youtube “Gap Yah” guy (I wonder what happened to him?), you’ll feel at one with nature as you immerse yourself in a new, bustling world of plant, bird and marine life.

 

Nature, enlightenment and self-discovery aside, paddling is great for core and upper body strength because it uses muscles that are often neglected, particularly in the shoulders and back. There’s something so satisfying about stretching out your arms and pulling yourself through the water, feeling your strength translate into each powerful stroke, and the burn in your muscles is one of those oddly “nice” aches. You also use your legs a surprising amount to stabilise, brace and manoeuvre the kayak.

 

Once you settle into a rhythm the repetitive motion is really therapeutic. This, combined with the healthy dose of fresh air and gentle lapping of the water, makes it both relaxing and invigorating. I particularly like messing around on tidal rivers as there’s something refreshing and restorative about the tang of salty air – it works wonders at blowing out cobwebs caused by one too many drinks the night before.

 

All that said, it’s a surprisingly versatile activity which doesn’t have to be all about flat water and balmy air. Getting out on a choppy sea or a fast-flowing river affords plenty of opportunities to try some whitewater action, which is understandably less relaxing but (depending on your outlook) more exhilarating.

 

I got out on the water last week for the first time in a while and it reminded me how much I love everything about it, so I thought I’d pay tribute to kayaking on my blog. If I convince one person to hire, buy or borrow a kayak I’ll be delighted and I’m sure they won’t regret it. And if anyone wants someone to go with, count me in.

Swimming Rediscovered

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I’m probably the most impatient and restless injured person on the planet, and unfortunately suspected “tib post tendinopathy” has sentenced me to an unknown period of no running. Desperate to keep my fitness up, this week I’ve been cross training, rowing, cycling and – for the first time in way too long – swimming.

 

I used to be a really ungainly swimmer. I learnt quite quickly but messed around in swimming lessons and was never interested in technique. After getting a part-time job as a lifeguard in 2011 I decided to get better, so I slipped (literally) into the pool a few times and worked on my stroke, kick and breathing. Hours of lifeguarding swimming lessons and being forced to watch people swim (the most monotonous job you could imagine) probably helped, and now I’m marginally less ungainly.

 

I haven’t been for ages and have some poor excuses. My hair is really long and I’m certain there are little pool-demons that tie it in the most inextricable knots. I know the lifeguards so I’ll end up chatting and/or being made fun of. Pool water is really disgusting – full of people’s body oils, skin cells, wee, hair and dissolved farts (by far the truest and most legitimate excuse).

 

Excuses aside, I turned up at the pool on Thursday intending to do a mile (64 lengths) and expecting to struggle with fitness and boredom. Stretching my arms and legs out in a relaxed front crawl felt great for about 10 lengths, until I felt unfit and bored. Then I found myself secretly racing the fastest person in the fast lane, a 50-something year old swimmer with a super-efficient looking technique.

 

Safe to say he was out of my league, so I got tired, frustrated and splashy. I rested and chose to stick to the slightly slower pace set by “swim hat lady” as I had no idea how quick I should go. She helped me a lot, and I started to settle into a (slightly messy) rhythm.

 

Two things slowed my progress, both involving my cheap H&M bikini bottoms: my waist-length hair kept tangling in the tie-strings, and I didn’t trust them to hold fast as I kicked off from the wall. It would  be no fun for anyone, least of all me, if they decided to go whereabouts. Tip: buy actual swimwear designed for actual swimming.

 

As the pool became less busy, I focused less on whether I was getting in anyone’s way and more on my technique. I’ve always breathed on every fourth stroke, always on my right side. I have a bad habit of holding my breath rather than blowing bubbles under water. I decided to try breathing every third stroke as I’d heard something about muscles developing/tightening non-symmetrically if you only breathe on one side. It felt unnatural and awkward but more doable than I expected, and my stroke became a bit smoother the more I lumbered through the water. Breathing this way actually felt more natural after a while, so perhaps every fourth stroke had  always been too long.

 

I finally felt I had settled into a good rhythm at about length 55, despite getting foot cramp and swimming a couple of half lengths looking as if I’d been shot. I felt so good after a mile that I decided to bump it up to 100 lengths (I’m a bit obsessive about round numbers) and oddly enough it only got easier as I relaxed more, despite calf cramp kicking in at length 87.

 

Every time I lost count I rounded down, so I ended up doing 106 lengths (2.65km) according to my borrowed Swimtag band. I felt so good that I’d have kept going if the pool didn’t close. I just couldn’t believe that a) it took 50-60 lengths to settle into a comfortable rhythm, b) after 64 lengths I felt less tired than after 10, and c) changing my breathing stroke helped so much. Okay it took about an hour, but I did keep pausing to de-mist goggles, untangle hair and have a drink.

 

I know this is probably a really boring post but I wanted to document my return to swimming. Despite the arduous fight to detangle my hair in the shower I really enjoyed it; there’s something so therapeutic and solitary about being in the water, particularly once you push past the initial “wall” and settle into a rhythm. I recommend giving it a go. I’m glad to have rediscovered a low impact, non-self-destructive way to keep fit, and I think I’ll invest in more suitable swimwear and (maybe) a swim hat. Even though my heart is in the lakes, rivers and seas, sometimes the pool just has to do.

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

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…