It is countdown time and I am officially in panic mode! Until the Bath Half I was going great guns with the training and had clocked up nearly 300 miles. But since then I have barely managed 30 miles. My knees are causing me all sorts of issues and costing me a fortune in physio, peas and a silver lined (healing properties apparently) full knee support!
Since the weekend though I have been back running. Baby steps of 2 miles on saturday followed by 5 miles last night and I am delighted to announce that my right knee seems happy. Sadly the left is now feeling unloved and has started to niggle so I am wearing the support much of the time. Like attention seeking siblings I feel like knocking my knees together but it appears that this was the problem in the first place. I am seriously considering drawing a happy and sad face on my knee when I run London - surely this has got to be a pound of two? If you can't beat them join them!
So with the crucial third month being lost to injury I am now in panic mode. Having spent the first few months of the year longing for April, the warm weather and the beginning of taper (2 weeks of officially being allowed to "kick back") I am now dreading the arrival of the Fools Day! My quandry is how much I should run. My last long run was 10th March (6 weeks prior to the marathon) and 5 miles nearly killed me last night - I was so out of breath. If I do too much I risk injuring my knee again, but if I do nothing I risk not completeing the course! Only 26 days and I will know whether I made the right choice and my every waking hour (and insomnia induced waking hour) is consumed with this dilema! #Iamarunningbore!
But on a positive note I have now organised the quiz night (the Friday before the marathon - milking the Friday night drinkers for all they are worth) although the charity ball is still under debate due to the number of bedrooms we have commit to (38!).
Tuesday 26 March 2013
Monday 18 March 2013
Coming together
Well I am nearly at the end of Q1 of 1,000,000 pence and, true to form, have started many projects but am yet to complete any:
- The marathon is underway (5 weeks yesterday I will HOPEFULLY - and knee permitting - be proudly wearing my medal)
- Charity ball - venue about to be booked and 2 auction prizes confirmed (a Porsche racing day and a gorgeous sequined shrug) but still SOOOOOOOOOO much to do before September
- TMP has talent - booked but needs marketing!
- Marine challenge - 10idiots team buddies have agreed to take place just need to book us in for our October mud fest!
- London 10K - keep talking about doing it, need to book it up
- Quiz night - keep talking about it but little more
- Penny pots - with £100 in pennies on my desk at home this is a great fundraising scheme.... just to get around to "bagging" it all up and banking it
My growing to do list is massive and growing and doesn't even begin to include my mummy duties. To be honest I don't ever need to write these down. Not because I am a perfect mummy; far from it. I just have a 7 year old who will quite innocently highlight my mummy faux pas, usually in public; "Mummy why didn't you make my bed today?"! However I do recognise that my to do list gives me real significance and makes me feel needed - I know totally non-sensical and I often wonder if I am alone in this odd attitude?
Anyway I digress. I like to think that I have now reached my "base camp". Foundations are firmly in place but there is still a huge mountain in front to climb. Now I am not by nature a "completer finisher". I am far more comfortable being an "ideas generator" and leaving the organised professional folk to make it happen. So not only is 1,000,000 pence seeing me get fit, but also grow a pair of "see it through" wings. Who knew this pledge would turn into some pretty intense personal development?
And apart from refining my project management skills, one of the most amazing by-products of this journey has been the interactions with people I would otherwise not have had; Playground mum chums sharing their stories and giving a much needed pat on the back along with offers of additional childcare to help me with training. Colleagues and their amazing generosity and interest in my latest running scrape (I am certainly corporate entertainment at the moment). Friends offering huge amounts of support, encouragement and direction. My Mark - for everything he is doing whilst I am not doing it (his to-do list is also growing expedentially), and for not once moaning about me taking on "yet something else". And finally strangers. People I would never have come across had I not undertaken this crazy challenge. People who make my challenge look like a picnic in the park. Who undertake their own challenges with such focus, dedication and without a moan, they are the real heros of the piece. They are the ones who are really battle hard and make a 26.2 mile run look easy. And one such lady, Claire Grant, is someone I have recently come across via the power of the interweb and PR. Despite a terminal cancer diagnosis she is fighting it with every cell in her body and still finding time and energy to raise £10,000... suddenly my challenge looks pretty easy by comparison! And one of the ways she is raising money is not with paper cups with a cut slit in the lid. Hell no, she is way more talented than I. She is creating these lovely bracelets made with her own fair hands and blinged up with Swarovski crystals.
They are made to order and cost a mere £5 each. Why not choose a red or pink one and wear it with pride. Simply pay via the Virgin Money Giving site here and let Claire know your choice and details via her Facebook page here (and whilst you are there why not like the page as well!). Then sit and wait by the letterbox for your new bling to arrive!
- The marathon is underway (5 weeks yesterday I will HOPEFULLY - and knee permitting - be proudly wearing my medal)
- Charity ball - venue about to be booked and 2 auction prizes confirmed (a Porsche racing day and a gorgeous sequined shrug) but still SOOOOOOOOOO much to do before September
- TMP has talent - booked but needs marketing!
- Marine challenge - 10
- London 10K - keep talking about doing it, need to book it up
- Quiz night - keep talking about it but little more
- Penny pots - with £100 in pennies on my desk at home this is a great fundraising scheme.... just to get around to "bagging" it all up and banking it
My growing to do list is massive and growing and doesn't even begin to include my mummy duties. To be honest I don't ever need to write these down. Not because I am a perfect mummy; far from it. I just have a 7 year old who will quite innocently highlight my mummy faux pas, usually in public; "Mummy why didn't you make my bed today?"! However I do recognise that my to do list gives me real significance and makes me feel needed - I know totally non-sensical and I often wonder if I am alone in this odd attitude?
Anyway I digress. I like to think that I have now reached my "base camp". Foundations are firmly in place but there is still a huge mountain in front to climb. Now I am not by nature a "completer finisher". I am far more comfortable being an "ideas generator" and leaving the organised professional folk to make it happen. So not only is 1,000,000 pence seeing me get fit, but also grow a pair of "see it through" wings. Who knew this pledge would turn into some pretty intense personal development?
And apart from refining my project management skills, one of the most amazing by-products of this journey has been the interactions with people I would otherwise not have had; Playground mum chums sharing their stories and giving a much needed pat on the back along with offers of additional childcare to help me with training. Colleagues and their amazing generosity and interest in my latest running scrape (I am certainly corporate entertainment at the moment). Friends offering huge amounts of support, encouragement and direction. My Mark - for everything he is doing whilst I am not doing it (his to-do list is also growing expedentially), and for not once moaning about me taking on "yet something else". And finally strangers. People I would never have come across had I not undertaken this crazy challenge. People who make my challenge look like a picnic in the park. Who undertake their own challenges with such focus, dedication and without a moan, they are the real heros of the piece. They are the ones who are really battle hard and make a 26.2 mile run look easy. And one such lady, Claire Grant, is someone I have recently come across via the power of the interweb and PR. Despite a terminal cancer diagnosis she is fighting it with every cell in her body and still finding time and energy to raise £10,000... suddenly my challenge looks pretty easy by comparison! And one of the ways she is raising money is not with paper cups with a cut slit in the lid. Hell no, she is way more talented than I. She is creating these lovely bracelets made with her own fair hands and blinged up with Swarovski crystals.
Sunday 10 March 2013
Knee Jerk
I feel like the Titanic sinking. Yesterday disaster struck and in true OTT Whetton style I am now convinced I won't make the starting line on 21st April. Surely there is Hollywood blockbuster in there somewhere?
[To be heard in Hollywood voiceover man's voice] "In a world where Saturday's usually mean Under 9s football and where mountains of washing consume the adults. One woman stands firm in her fight against the impossible; 26.2 miles. Every moment in her life has led to this huge undertaking but can 3 months of intense training undo 37 years of bodily abuse; chocolate, alcohol and general couch potatoe-itis are proving too much for her old knees to bare. Can she beat the odds? Will a knee replacement be the answer? Will an intense regime of drugs and physio work? Is ice better than heat? Will she reach the goal on the Mall? So many questions, such intrigue and right now no one knows. Watch the story unravel before your very eyes"
This is my tale of allure, romance, determination, pain and then heartbreak. Some details may be slightly embellished for the purpose of this blog. All characters appearing in this work are non-fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely non-coincidental. blah blah blah...
Picture the scene: 11am Saturday morning lying on the couch of a rather young, male physio, naked from the knees down, his young, soft hands gliding along honey coloured limbs, toned to perfection with toes painted the most vivid shade of on trend cherry red.
Now the picture reality: 11am Saturday morning lying, breathless (due to the usual Saturday morning groundhog day of looking for matching football socks, goalie gloves, shin pads, trainers etc etc) on the couch of rather young (so young I wonder if he has started to shave yet and feel strangely maternal towards him) physio, naked from the knees down (dressed in borrowed football shorts as I overlooked the fact that my skinny jeans would not roll up sufficiently for inspection), his young, soft hands prodding my pasty white (and only partially shaven; well it's so cold that only the bottom of my calf gets an airing and that is only when I am running so why bother with anything above the "plimsoll" line?), cellulite rippling and toes emblazoned in the most vivid shades of bruised black, blue and yellow.
45 mins and £35 later I leave feeling embarrased and was strapped in a multitude of bright blue tape my knee cap resembling a face. Having been touched, rubbed and strapped I feel worn out and can virtually hear "Alans" pub chat with his Rugby team about the 37 year old yeti he is treating!
But no time to worry about that. I had 20 miles to run and so run I must do. But sadly one bagel, 3 gels and a bottle of lucozade later and my knee was more than unhappy. It was shooting pain through my leg with every stride. I gallantly continued on, singing inspirational songs "Chattanooga Choo Choo", "We'll meet again" and "It's a long way to Tipperarey" but nothing stopped the pain. I dreamt of my pinup, tried visualising the Mall and the thousands of people cheering me on, I thought about the huge sums I was going to raise but yet the tears still fell and I accepted I was beaten. One phone call later and my own cavalary arrived, a little aghast at my mascara'd face and hysterical wails but full of hugs, sympathy and Sainsburys finest petit pois.
And so the movie closes leaving audiences across the globe on the edge of their seats. How can one knee possibly heal in 6 weeks? How can our heroine make up the 5 miles missed in training? How how how....? Who knows but I can assure you the sequel will most definitely feature best supporting actor "Alan".
[To be heard in Hollywood voiceover man's voice] "In a world where Saturday's usually mean Under 9s football and where mountains of washing consume the adults. One woman stands firm in her fight against the impossible; 26.2 miles. Every moment in her life has led to this huge undertaking but can 3 months of intense training undo 37 years of bodily abuse; chocolate, alcohol and general couch potatoe-itis are proving too much for her old knees to bare. Can she beat the odds? Will a knee replacement be the answer? Will an intense regime of drugs and physio work? Is ice better than heat? Will she reach the goal on the Mall? So many questions, such intrigue and right now no one knows. Watch the story unravel before your very eyes"
This is my tale of allure, romance, determination, pain and then heartbreak. Some details may be slightly embellished for the purpose of this blog. All characters appearing in this work are non-fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely non-coincidental. blah blah blah...
Picture the scene: 11am Saturday morning lying on the couch of a rather young, male physio, naked from the knees down, his young, soft hands gliding along honey coloured limbs, toned to perfection with toes painted the most vivid shade of on trend cherry red.
Now the picture reality: 11am Saturday morning lying, breathless (due to the usual Saturday morning groundhog day of looking for matching football socks, goalie gloves, shin pads, trainers etc etc) on the couch of rather young (so young I wonder if he has started to shave yet and feel strangely maternal towards him) physio, naked from the knees down (dressed in borrowed football shorts as I overlooked the fact that my skinny jeans would not roll up sufficiently for inspection), his young, soft hands prodding my pasty white (and only partially shaven; well it's so cold that only the bottom of my calf gets an airing and that is only when I am running so why bother with anything above the "plimsoll" line?), cellulite rippling and toes emblazoned in the most vivid shades of bruised black, blue and yellow.
45 mins and £35 later I leave feeling embarrased and was strapped in a multitude of bright blue tape my knee cap resembling a face. Having been touched, rubbed and strapped I feel worn out and can virtually hear "Alans" pub chat with his Rugby team about the 37 year old yeti he is treating!But no time to worry about that. I had 20 miles to run and so run I must do. But sadly one bagel, 3 gels and a bottle of lucozade later and my knee was more than unhappy. It was shooting pain through my leg with every stride. I gallantly continued on, singing inspirational songs "Chattanooga Choo Choo", "We'll meet again" and "It's a long way to Tipperarey" but nothing stopped the pain. I dreamt of my pinup, tried visualising the Mall and the thousands of people cheering me on, I thought about the huge sums I was going to raise but yet the tears still fell and I accepted I was beaten. One phone call later and my own cavalary arrived, a little aghast at my mascara'd face and hysterical wails but full of hugs, sympathy and Sainsburys finest petit pois.
And so the movie closes leaving audiences across the globe on the edge of their seats. How can one knee possibly heal in 6 weeks? How can our heroine make up the 5 miles missed in training? How how how....? Who knows but I can assure you the sequel will most definitely feature best supporting actor "Alan".
Friday 8 March 2013
A dry run in Bath
I did it. I actually got around my first official race and in a decent time too; 13.1 miles in 2 hours 13 minutes. Not bad huh! Being part of the reason a city grinds to a halt for 12,000 crazy individuals who decided at some point in 2012 to accept the Bath Half challenge was amazing. Being amongest so many charity runners doing something selfless for the good of others is a powerful emotion. Being over taken by a banana... humiliating!
As a complete novice I had absolutely no idea what to expect, least of all the nerves which seemed to rise the closer the train drew to Bath. I thought I was pretty well prepared; well trained, had a target time, carb loaded... And whilst I realise the previous 48 hours had not been ideal pre race conditions (late night, early mornings and a 3.5 mile hike) the Bath Half was really more about experiencing a real race before the marathon.
So what did I learn? For me the most important thing was don't panic. The first mile or two was at a very slow pace due to the crowds and I did what every book, article, blog and expert cautions against; I went too fast to make up for the loss. Lucky this was my "easy week" so having built up my core stamina and mental abilities over my long runs since Christmas, I was able to just about continue the race at this higher pace. It was helped considerably by the fact that I had £40 riding on finishing in under 2 hours 15 mins (thanks Nicole, Lorraine, Jude and Pip). But believe me this is not something I would be able to do across 26 miles and so NUMBER ONE lesson is: listen to the experts they really do know what they are talking about.
I had already planned to write my name on my running shirt for the marathon but the benefit of this was made even more apparent in Bath. The crowds really seem to carry people - and for me in Bath the deep routed psychology of not hearing my name shouted and supported (like the the kid at school who no-one liked) was really de-motivating.
Take a bag. I had assumed that as I had supporters they would "hold my stuff". But it was only as I started stripping off my warmer outer clothes (trackie bums, sweatshirt and coat) and witnessed the growing bundle of clothing that I realised I hadn't even bought a bag. At all big races there are luggage tents so this is the place for belongings... not for your supporters to carry (especially when they also have a 7 year old, a 2 year old, a supply of snacks, entertainment and nappys! to carry and manage).
Have post race fuel ready in your kit bag. The Bath Half post race goodie bag was full of quick hit sugar rushes (and a random Corss and Blackwell cooking sauce!?) but having spent the past 2 hours chewing/drinking and sucking a veritable smorgasbord of sugar packed, artificial flavoured sweet things I was in desperate need of a savoury hit. For once a Mars a day just wasn't going to help me rest and play!
At the end of challenge number 1 I have raised a tremendous £1300 and, selfishly, have my very first bit of metal - engraved with my name and official time - and my name listed in the Bath Chronicle. I hadn't realised how proud I would be of these items and I can't begine to imagine how amazing I will post marathon. With only 5% of the population ever undertaking a marathon this is huge (and I will be milking it!).
As a complete novice I had absolutely no idea what to expect, least of all the nerves which seemed to rise the closer the train drew to Bath. I thought I was pretty well prepared; well trained, had a target time, carb loaded... And whilst I realise the previous 48 hours had not been ideal pre race conditions (late night, early mornings and a 3.5 mile hike) the Bath Half was really more about experiencing a real race before the marathon.
So what did I learn? For me the most important thing was don't panic. The first mile or two was at a very slow pace due to the crowds and I did what every book, article, blog and expert cautions against; I went too fast to make up for the loss. Lucky this was my "easy week" so having built up my core stamina and mental abilities over my long runs since Christmas, I was able to just about continue the race at this higher pace. It was helped considerably by the fact that I had £40 riding on finishing in under 2 hours 15 mins (thanks Nicole, Lorraine, Jude and Pip). But believe me this is not something I would be able to do across 26 miles and so NUMBER ONE lesson is: listen to the experts they really do know what they are talking about.
I had already planned to write my name on my running shirt for the marathon but the benefit of this was made even more apparent in Bath. The crowds really seem to carry people - and for me in Bath the deep routed psychology of not hearing my name shouted and supported (like the the kid at school who no-one liked) was really de-motivating.
Take a bag. I had assumed that as I had supporters they would "hold my stuff". But it was only as I started stripping off my warmer outer clothes (trackie bums, sweatshirt and coat) and witnessed the growing bundle of clothing that I realised I hadn't even bought a bag. At all big races there are luggage tents so this is the place for belongings... not for your supporters to carry (especially when they also have a 7 year old, a 2 year old, a supply of snacks, entertainment and nappys! to carry and manage).
Have post race fuel ready in your kit bag. The Bath Half post race goodie bag was full of quick hit sugar rushes (and a random Corss and Blackwell cooking sauce!?) but having spent the past 2 hours chewing/drinking and sucking a veritable smorgasbord of sugar packed, artificial flavoured sweet things I was in desperate need of a savoury hit. For once a Mars a day just wasn't going to help me rest and play!
At the end of challenge number 1 I have raised a tremendous £1300 and, selfishly, have my very first bit of metal - engraved with my name and official time - and my name listed in the Bath Chronicle. I hadn't realised how proud I would be of these items and I can't begine to imagine how amazing I will post marathon. With only 5% of the population ever undertaking a marathon this is huge (and I will be milking it!).
Saturday 2 March 2013
Where to start?
Tomorrow is race day! Having booked the Bath Half last August in the midst of Olympic frenzy it seemed so, so far away. I had not intended it to be a fundraising effort but more a huge personal goal inspired by Jess Ennis' amazingly pert derriere (don't pretend you hadn't checked it out green with envy)! Considering my previous running form was the heady distance of 3 miles this really was going to be a mammoth challenge for me.
But since that moment of pert bottom inspired madness our world has been rocked by the unwelcome re-appearance of cancer into our midst. It's funny; before we had the rude intrusion I hadn't appreciated how painful cancer could be. Like most I was pretty ignorant and had only ever considered the physical impact of cancer (be it hair loss or surgery scars) which certainly can't be underestimated. I was aware of chemo and the induced nausea it brings but certainly didn't understand it or appreciate the pain, despair and gloom that can also creep in. And if I am honest I wish I was still ignorant. That would mean that this nasty illness had not crept into our world, unannounced and unwelcome. But it has and it was only having witnessed it first hand that the enormity hit me. Seeing it up close and personal and comparing it to my own now insignificant pain (a mere rubbing toe nail at mile 4) inspired me to generate some fundraising and led me (in a moment of Glycogen depletion madness) to approach Breast Cancer Care andask beg for a golden ticket at the London Marathon. It appeared I was "lucky" that day late last November and was awarded a last minute place. Oops this was serious and if I was going to stand a chance of actually crossing the line at mile 26.2 I was going to have to dedicate much of my already limited time to training (a minumum of 5 hours a week). And if I was going to put my family and friends through this (and the constant moaning, begging for sponsorship and general sweatyness) then it deserved recognition. Recognition in the form of financial reward. Not for me but two wonderful charities; Macmillan nurses and Breast Cancer Care.
And hell why stop at the marathon. Why not dedicate a year to raising a significant amount something along the lines of 1,000,000 pence? If I had stopped to think long enough about HOW I was going to raise such funds I would never have started. In fact I was advised to half the target by my lovely mentor but being a little stubborn and, to be honest, offended at the very question that I might not actually achieve it, I simply did what I always do; ignored the advice and continued anyway. It is only on reflection that I wonder if I was double bluffed!? And so 1,000,000 pence was officially launched at the end of 2012 and has raised, in just 61 days, over 100,000 pence - an incredible £16 per day (which equates to nearly £6000 in a year!)
And so now I must focus and prep for tomorrow - carb loading is underway, outfit ready, gels selected and trialled and bed calling. And I find my mind wandering towards the delightful Dermot O'Leary, who wouldn't? He, too, is running Bath tomorrow for Coppafeel (www.coppafeel.org); a charity focussed on ensuring breast cancers are diagnosed as early as possible to inrease survival rates.
And whilst my outfit is my usual shocking 80s throwback get up, it is nothing on Dermot who really will be looking a right tit... Maybe I'll share my joke with him as we line up on the start line. I am sure he will see the hunour and think how original and witty I am!
Wish me luck now!
PS 4 lovely Uffington ladies drunkenly promised me £10 each if I beat 2 hours 15 mins tomorrow. Jude, Nicole, Lorraine and Pip get ready to show me the colour of your money!
But since that moment of pert bottom inspired madness our world has been rocked by the unwelcome re-appearance of cancer into our midst. It's funny; before we had the rude intrusion I hadn't appreciated how painful cancer could be. Like most I was pretty ignorant and had only ever considered the physical impact of cancer (be it hair loss or surgery scars) which certainly can't be underestimated. I was aware of chemo and the induced nausea it brings but certainly didn't understand it or appreciate the pain, despair and gloom that can also creep in. And if I am honest I wish I was still ignorant. That would mean that this nasty illness had not crept into our world, unannounced and unwelcome. But it has and it was only having witnessed it first hand that the enormity hit me. Seeing it up close and personal and comparing it to my own now insignificant pain (a mere rubbing toe nail at mile 4) inspired me to generate some fundraising and led me (in a moment of Glycogen depletion madness) to approach Breast Cancer Care and
And hell why stop at the marathon. Why not dedicate a year to raising a significant amount something along the lines of 1,000,000 pence? If I had stopped to think long enough about HOW I was going to raise such funds I would never have started. In fact I was advised to half the target by my lovely mentor but being a little stubborn and, to be honest, offended at the very question that I might not actually achieve it, I simply did what I always do; ignored the advice and continued anyway. It is only on reflection that I wonder if I was double bluffed!? And so 1,000,000 pence was officially launched at the end of 2012 and has raised, in just 61 days, over 100,000 pence - an incredible £16 per day (which equates to nearly £6000 in a year!)
And so now I must focus and prep for tomorrow - carb loading is underway, outfit ready, gels selected and trialled and bed calling. And I find my mind wandering towards the delightful Dermot O'Leary, who wouldn't? He, too, is running Bath tomorrow for Coppafeel (www.coppafeel.org); a charity focussed on ensuring breast cancers are diagnosed as early as possible to inrease survival rates.
And whilst my outfit is my usual shocking 80s throwback get up, it is nothing on Dermot who really will be looking a right tit... Maybe I'll share my joke with him as we line up on the start line. I am sure he will see the hunour and think how original and witty I am!
Wish me luck now!
PS 4 lovely Uffington ladies drunkenly promised me £10 each if I beat 2 hours 15 mins tomorrow. Jude, Nicole, Lorraine and Pip get ready to show me the colour of your money!
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