Footloose

After my mammoth 12.5 mile run Friday my feet hurt... lots! So I waddled off to the local running shop to get my "gait" analysed. For the uninitiated, this means filming you running on a treadmill and then analysing the footage to see how your feet land and take off, helping identify where you need support and thus the right shoes!

So feeling like a real pro in my Nike 15s on I hopped, proudly proclaiming "my pain got worse at mile 8 of my 12.5 mile run this morning", and "Yes! I am in training for The London" (I am learning the running lingo!). As the treadmill came to a halt, I smugly sauntered over to the screen to watch the footage (in my mind I looked like Jessica Ennis, in reality I was more Jessica Fletcher (AKA Mrs Murder she Wrote)). Oh how reality bit in that moment and I wanted to cry. Why?

• Firstly (and most humiliatingly), the camera is angle was arse to ankle... from behind! Now I don't know about you but I have never seen myself from behind, apart from those strange angled changing room mirrors, and it’s a traumatising experience I never want to repeat!
• My beautiful fluro Christmas present shoes (can't get used to calling them trainers) were so obviously not supporting my right hand ankle. This was leading to the inside of my arch taking the full brunt of every step causing the pain.

The long and short of it is that I am now £100 lighter and I have another pair of shiny shoes. The silver lining is that the fluro Christmas pair is not wasted and can still be worn on shorter runs and for cross training!

So tonight whilst whiling away another hour on the treadmill I was trying to analyse whether the new shoes felt any better (there is still residual pain so probably too soon to really tell). Anyway it got me wondering what a battering my poor plates of meat are being subjected to. My tootsies are normally lovingly housed in fluffy slippers and buffed and loved and painted on a regular basis in various shades of hot pink, cherry red and black cherry purple. But since the training began they have become horrors; I have already lost big toenail and have a blackened second toe and that is just for starters. The only upside is thank goodness it is not flip flop season... yet!

Anyway I decided to do some mental arithmetic so counted the number of steps I took in a minute and then used this to calculate the total steps I am likely to take during my 100 hours of marathon training.

160 steps per minute x 60 minutes per hour x 100 hours = a MASSIVE 96,000 steps! No wonder they are not happy!

Naturally my podiatrist has been way ahead of me as usual and procured a myriad of foot loving items to help my tootsies recover and keep pounding the streets and here are my 3 foot loving criminals (see what I did there... and yep Scooby Snacks is on the running pod – click here to remind yourself)

3rd criminal

2 pairs of super special, anti blister socks. Hardly Jack Wills in the fashion stakes but they lovely and soft and cushion my ball and heel and so far NO BLISTERS! If only they came in a colour way which was a little more on trend and coordinated with my running outfit!

2nd criminal

£200 of trainer wear - who knew I could spend this footwear and it not have heels and sparkly bits?

1st criminal

Like us you have probably seen the advert, chuckled at the naffness, and wondered who bought these items? Well now you know! The only moan is you only get one; what you really need are two so you can tickle your tootsies together!

So with that chav admission shocker I have one final bit of cheese to add.... yes Footloose is one of the cheesy songs on my running pod – click here to enjoy a bit of Kenny.

F off!

I am suffering today from what I believe to be runners fatigue; this is a term I have completely made up to describe a combination of:

- Five weeks of hard training
- Foot pain caused by the repetitive and constant pounding foot on tarmac (or ice!) for hours and hours, week on week
- Fuel deficit
- Fatigue

And if that is not enough Fs for you it feels like Flu! So Thea and I spent a hour this morning creating our very own nutritious "energy bars" which I have to say are delicious; sunflower seeds, pumpkin seeds, pine nuts, raisins, apricots, flax seeds, oats, coconut, honey..... yum! That should see the Fs off!

I have also awarded myself a very deserving rest day and am sat on the sofa with a hot water bottle doing some much needed venue research for the charity ball. Let's hope I get some positive responses so we can book in the date and begin the task of selling tickets, bombarding requests for auction items and researching the perfect frock!

Hot on the heels of yesterdays post, I have also drafted a lovely fetching label which will adorn my copper banks (see relevant post here).

What do you think? Wouldn't it look fab on your desk / in your staff room / propping up the bar in your local establishment...? So far I have only had one request for these copper banks, but I am positive that now you have seen the beauty of these beasts you will all be begging for one! Just comment on this post that you want one and I shall put your name down. And remember there are only 100 of these unique and desirable collectors items so grab one before they go - they will one day be worth a few hundred (pence) and that is when I will be around to empty them into the 1,000,000 pence coffers.

Top of the Pops

Like most busy parents of young children, contact with my family is usually a hurried call in between bath and bed routines, or whilst cooking supper. Sound familiar? Anyway today my family got lucky. Having finished my 12 mile run and eaten a nutritious lunch of poached eggs on toast I tackled the ironing mountain (oh the glamour that is my life!). As usual just as I started the job in hand the phone rang and I immediately recognised the number as my folks. Answering the phone "Hi Mum" I was surprised to hear the deeper tones of a male voice on the end; Pops!

Now I don't know about you but it is very rare that my Dad calls me and it always makes my heart skip a beat immediately imagining the worst! I am delighted to reveal that on this occasion nothing serious was being reported, indeed the opposite.

It transpires that my dear pops had taken the concept of one million pence on a roadshow. Today he went about offering to relieve acquaintances of their loose change all for the 1,000,000 pence cause.  Two pockets later my cause was 252 pence richer. Now whilst this is nothing to write home about but as is our unofficial slogan (borrowed and tweaked from a household supermarket where horseburgers are all the rage) every penny helps!

Now the exciting bit (on the edge of the sofa yet?) is that 2 or 3 people mentioned that, like most people, they have a change jar at home. Apart from the occasional raid of silver for school dinners or parking the dull coppers are left lonely in the jar. So it transpires that these lovely people have pledged their copper jar contents to the 1,000,000 pence cause which is great news. I mean who really EVER pays for anything with a copper? And do you know anyone who actually cashes it their change jar? They (and the annoyingly little 5ps) just clog up purses and pockets across the land, rarely being passed into a till, let alone reaching the heady heights of a bank safe!

And so it got Pops and I chatting about how we can give a home to these lovely tarnished coins. A few hours later and I am the proud owner of 100 x 8oz paper cups (minus the tea bag!).

Now I plan to fashion a "piggy bank hole" in the lid and brand with 1,000,000 pence for colleagues, friends and acquaintances to pop on their desks/ in their staff room/ by their change jar so they are constantly prompted that we are more than happy to accept the brown stuff. Their insignificant change is one step closer to the million. So if you want one please add a comment to this blog and I will be sure to deliver one in person!

So where some dads seeing their daughter take on a challenge similar to mine, might sign up to the run the marathon, others might pledge huge sums of money, and some might simply smile and mutter "that's nice dear", in my Pops together with his creative might and confident quirky approach to everything really is Top of the Pops!

Going for gold

It's official. My golden bond place is now confirmed and I am an official entrant of the Virgin London Marathon 2013 for Breast Cancer Care - GULP!

Up until today all my training advice and support has come in the guise of friends, previous marathonites experience, books and magazines (that is a whole other blog believe me - bet you can't wait!). However now I am an official entrant with a golden place I have the opportunity to attend a "Golden Bond Meet the Experts" training seminar taking place next weekend in London.

So whilst I would normally scoff at spending the day listening to "Expert Speakers" discuss training techniques, diet, injuries and clothing but I am (whisper) really excited and am already thinking about what I can quiz the experts on; How can I calculate my marathon time? What should my marathon pace be vs my short run pace? What is the difference between an ache and an injury? Can I increase my natural stride length? Are short sessions like Kenyan hills / Fatlek / Interval training really helping me as they seem too short? yadda yadda yadda

Who knew that the term "pacer groups" would grab my attention? And, even though I realise that this context of "clothing" doesn't mean the latest from Paris, but rather the latest from Lycra, I am still itching to get a day pass to attend and get my foot scanned my Adidas. Seriously where has my life gone? It appears there has been a keep fit queen hidden within this couch potato all this time... fancy unlocking your closet green goddess?

Little pricks

Having been inspired by Alice Pyne (see previous blogs here and here) I signed up to the bone marrow registry a week ago. The requirement for my age group required that I do it via the blood donation route. No problem, this is something which has sat on my to do list for many, many years, particularly when I discovered whilst pregnant with my 7 year old that I was “special”. It seems my blood is quite rare (like the rest of me I hear you cry) and it can be used on any blood patient regardless of blood type; ideal in an emergency before "cross match" has happened.

 

My blood donation appointment arrived a couple of days ago; it appears the vampires were due to visit our local town today and so I agreed to a hot date with a needle. So off I went with a spring in my step ready to do my thing smiling inanely at the receptionist... only to be told I had already registered 5 years ago at an old address but never turned up. At this point my face reddened and I felt the need to give the most over embellished story to justify my actions. To be honest some feeble excuse such as the dog ate my registration letter would have actually been more believable.

 

Whilst waiting for the nurse to call me I sat people watching (ie being nosey) and checking out the competition other donors. What surprised me most was that I was one of the youngest, and believe me that happens less and less these days. I would estimate the average age must have been fifty something whereas I had been expecting the room to be full of other harassed working parents doing their bit. But if I am a classic example of my age group maybe that explains the empty seats and missed appointments. Darn dogs eating those registration letters!

Anyway I was called after only a few minutes and given a form to read about how to keep blood pressure high during the extraction process (squeezing your butt checks and then relaxing them) I swear at this point the old chap next to me gave me a wink as he clenched his rear! Next thing I am hearing the immortal words "little prick" and my middle finger was attacked and squeezed in order to test my iron levels. A couple of "hmmms" later and another middle finger prick. Another "hmmm" was followed by the nurse informing me that she would need to take another blood sample, this time from my arm, in order to establish a more accurate reading of my iron levels. In short, normal, non-anaemic blood has a minimum iron reading of 115. In order to donate blood the exact reading must be 125 or more. In simple terms it appears that this allows for 10 units to be removed and not compromise the existing iron supplies of the donor by taking them below normal levels.

1 minute later I had a plaster on and was offered a cuppa tea. REJECTED! My reading was close by not close enough: 124! I have rebooked for three months’ time and have been given instructions to eat lots of dark chocolate and drink red wine... apparently both are good for increasing iron. Silver linings and all that!

 

S'no joke!

This recent deluge of snow has had me in a real quandry. Usually I am the first one chanting for snow and building snowmen but this week I have watched the weather reports in alarm. The forecasted snow reports put my carefully devised and systematically followed training plan in danger. Seriously I have become the type of running bore (AKA big brother) that I used to tease!

Having missed yesterdays run due, in part, to the 3 foot of snow that lay on the ground but also as a precaution from an injury sustained during my extreme sport class on Monday (ballet) I spent far too much time last night pondering my options instead of sleeping:

1) accept a missed weekend of training
2) undertake a short training programme on the treadmill
3) attempt 2 hours on the treadmill

None of these were proving acceptable options as I have become paranoid that missing just one long run will undo all my training thus far. And so in true Mad Dog and Englishmen style I donned my gear this morning and went on my 12 mile run. 2 hours later I had perfected the art of ice-running ... which looks very similar to i've-had-an-accident. In fact some sledge pulling, baseball cap wearing teen even shouted out a less polite version to me which was quite some highlight. It seems I have reached the age where I no longer provoke wolf whistle reactions but rather suggestions of incontinence. Wow how rock and roll.

Anyway it was such a beautiful run I stopped to take some pics (another reason for the poor pace I like to think)

Yes I ran along these and managed to get home intact. And having read the importance of ice baths I decided to use nature and ice al fresco!

And before you ask... yes my luminous shorts do match my luminous trainers and yes they did look  ridiculous but gave me some derrier warmth. And yes those are leg warmers - normally only used  for ballet (and fancy dress naturalment) so it was good to get some additional wear from them. I have to admit I do look rather fetching and would have blended in perfectly at an 80s keep fit convention. Talking of which it did prompt me to add "Let's get physical" by the gorgeous Olivia Newton John to my running playlist. Hilarious video - click the link above.

And whilst I think about it I have added one more beaut to the running playlist. "We Speak No Americano" by Yolanda Be Cool. Doesn't ring a bell? If you have watched the Inbetweeners Movie and the hideously embarrasing dance scene in the club... link here for those of you who want to watch it again. I actually do some of the arm moves whilst running and then start laughing... oh dear me.

So my determination is keeping me focussed and the donations are slowly coming in (we are now at £180 thanks to a recent donation from Karen - thank you!) but if you haven't already sponsored me then please think about the hours and pain and commitment this marathon is and click here to sponsor me. I promise to refrain from closing each and every post with a plea for cash but today I have even impressed myself with how deep I dug but it is not just me who is impacted; Tom and Thea lose mummy for a portion of the weekend whilst I train, Mark supports me in every way possible and more, friends have agreed to have Thea so Mark and Tom can come and support me in London without having to amuse an inquisitive 2 year old, other friends have arranged my pre marathon shelter at their brother in laws in Greenwich and many more people. I know this just the start of a year where my friends and family will amaze me with their love, support and generosity. So thank you!

With friends like these...

After my unexpected high of achieving 10 miles last weekend - I had no idea that getting into double figures would give me such a sense of achievement. Until now every long run was just met with me doing the mental arithmetic causing mass huffing and puffing about the mountain ahead (26 miles less 9 miles = 16 MILES WTF!)

Anyway as I was saying, after my unexpected high of achieving 10 miles last weekend I was amazed and touched to find the following on my desk Monday morning (and it is Gluten Free too!). Thanks Kate.

The power and immediacy of the internet has enabled the 1,000,000 pence pledge to swiftly be absorbed and, hopefully, enjoyed. This has created an unexpected and most appreciated tidalwave of support, questions of my sanity and general love. I am amazed that my most popular post (Size does matter... I wonder what people were expecting with that gem!) has received 84 views. Now I know that for most people that is a very small number but to me I find it overwhelming that I have generated so much interest in just 18 days... how I hope this trend continues.

It is also thanks to the wonder of the interweb all my friends, family and colleagues are being kept (whether they like it or not) up-to-date on my progress via Facebook. As I have mentioned before this keeps me focussed and stops me from dropping training sessions as I am under the, probably deluded, impression that my friends are actually keeping tabs. Someone commented not long ago that I am the equivalent of a diet angel; every time they go to eat a pork pie / slice of cake / cheese board they do the Facebook check and immediately get faced with yet another Smug Map My Run posting from me forcing them to replace fattening food item and go in search of something far healthier. Maybe I am on to something. Forget excruciatingly, humiliating public weigh ins and just "Like" me and I can guilt you into eating better...

Sign up TODAY and pay £5.99 for the rest of your life and get access to your very own personal Diet Angel.

Dragons Den QVC here I come.

Now if you are struggling with the January diet please don't hate me but I am scoffing for England! Now that isn't because I am the size of a flea or because I am one of those hateful people who "can eat anything" but because all (and I mean ALL) the training manuals, books and experts underline the importance of not losing weight during marathon training. For those of you that know me, it is rare that I actually listen to (or indeed seek) advice but on this occasion I realise that EATING EVERYTHING IN SIGHT is good with me and advice I ought heed... What are the chances of me becoming the world’s first Marathonite to actually put on weight!