marathonmummy

How lovely, on a horrible rainy day, to receive a Sunshine Award for my blog. It’s from my friend Paula and it’s just what I needed on a day like today. Bring Me Sunshine is a song that Dad used to sing to us when we were little, so it’s brought back some lovely memories after a difficult day yesterday.

In other news, well, there isn’t much really. It’s half term, the treadmill is my only option, and on Tuesday night I did a horrible interval training session, which was one of those runs. I ended up thinking I’d be better off taking up knitting instead (and anyone who has seen the only jumper I ever made knows that’s a bad idea).

Talking of music, I’ve been creating the ultimate running playlist, which is only really suitable for the plodders of this world. I think proper runners like music at about 160bpm. Mine is, er, not.

Zoe and I had a theory that lots of songs with meaning to us would get us round the marathon. Some people might think training would be more helpful, but we’ll gloss over that little detail.

Rod Stewart – Baby Jane and Do Ya Think I’m Sexy? (my dad used to sing these with the windows down in the car, usually in the middle of town, and we would die of embarrassment)
Placebo – Every You, Every Me (reminds me of being pregnant, hence reminds me of birth, which will make running seem like a walk in the park. That’s a bad metaphor. My running speed already IS a walk in the park.)
Pretenders – Back on the Chain Gang
Dirty Pretty Things – Bang Bang You’re Dead
Toni Basil – Mickey (I have no shame)
Come Dancing – Ray Davies (you’ve got it in your head now, haven’t you?)
Killers – Mr Brightside
Kings of Leon – Sex on Fire (aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah, my legs are on fire)
Scissor Sisters – Take Your Mama Out
Supergrass – Richard III
Monkey Wrench – Foo Fighters
Idlewild – American English
The Automatic – Monster (what’s that coming over the hill? is it a monster…oh no, it’s Rachael, running)
Snow Patrol – Run (haha!)
Foo Fighters – This is a Call
Marilyn Manson – Rock is Dead (and so will I be after 26.2 miles)
Longpigs – She Said
My Chemical Romance – Welcome to the Black Parade
Radiohead – Street Spirit
The Stranglers – No More Heroes
The Go-Gos – We Got the Beat
Marilyn Manson – The Beautiful People (not me after running, I look like a beetroot)
The Knack – My Sharona (RIP Doug Fieger)
The House of Love – Shine On (reminds me of school)
The Fray – How to Save a Life (will make me cry, but that’s okay)

Any suggestions, anyone? I’ve already had a few: how I could I forget Don’t Stop Me Now and Keep On Running, as well as the Glee soundtrack? Thanks C and G!

I started this post this afternoon in a half term grump, but I’m finishing it on an endorphin high after 50 minutes on the treadmill. It was just a plod, but every mile counts. Every boring mile on the treadmill, and every boring mile on my own on featureless country roads will be worth it.

2 months, 6 days, 14 hours, 8 minutes, and counting. London, here I come.

If this the runner’s high, I think it should probably be a class A drug! Just done the BEST run ever on the treadmill.

Started with a five minute gentle jog, then I did run 2 minutes, walk 1 minute for almost an hour on 1% incline, finishing with a couple of minutes run on a 5% incline. It was amazing. I’ve been reading about running styles and I had a feeling that if I could get out of the heelstriking habit I’d be able to solve the whole pain in the shins, legs giving up before I ran out of breath problem.

I ran the whole thing landing on my forefoot, and I felt a million times lighter, which isn’t bad going for someone who is about as far from a runner in physique as it’s possible to be. I’ve noticed before when Jessica runs she sort of floats along (Jessica is now going to comment and say something disparaging about herself, I predict) and I think that’s partly down to the fact that she is a forefoot runner. Oh, and partly down to the fact that she probably weighs about half what I do.
This is all a bit inarticulate because I’m so excited about how easy it was tonight compared to any other run, and because it was so good I want to bounce up and down squeaking with glee. That doesn’t translate very well to the written word though, so just imagine it.

I have an addictive personality. Current addiction: mad endorphin rush after running in the morning. I am also quite competitive, which is not a good thing when you’re married to Mr Naturally Fit who has gone in the last couple of months from nothing to running 5 miles in the evening without even looking particularly tired. Mr NF (actually, I think that name rather suits him) ran two half marathons in his younger days with only a few weeks of training. I, on the other hand, am just not a runner. Every plodding step is hard for me, which means when I get my sponsorship form for the marathon, you all need to remember that and give me loads of money.

Anyway. Addiction. So I spent all yesterday thinking about getting out this morning, which is not really a good thing, because The Book says three times a week to start with, and rest days are important. So I thought sod the book, I need more endorphins and I need them now.

Net result: sore leggies. Ow. I write this with my legs up on a chair, with ice packs on my shins. Having had shin splints as a running student, I’m not taking any chances.

This morning’s effort: 1m r, 1m w, 1 m r, 1m w, 1m r, 2m w, 30 sec actually running at what I consider a decent pace*, 2m w, 1.45m r, 2m w, 1m really-pathetic-shuffling-gait-that-can-barely-be-called-r, some minutes (forgot to press stopwatch button) walk. Quite a bit of stretching and muttering against a tree, in the manner of a mad person. 1m feeble r and then walked all the way home, because I was tired and my legs hurt and I wanted to lie on the floor.

*I blame the actual running for the sore legs. I know all the stuff about upping distance before speed, but as I said, I can’t help being competitive. I’m the same when we’re skiing: if he can do it, I’m going to do it (even when that means learning to do a sport which involves getting over a lifelong fear of heights).