A failed experiment.

Two of the things I like best about running are: A) it's outdoors, and B) it's free.  So, perhaps I should have known that this experiment was doomed to fail.

As I have mentioned, running is taking up a lot of time by this point.  I have a busy weekend coming up, so I thought that I should try and get an extra long run in on a weekday evening.  Running outside when it's cold and dark is not always my favourite, particularly not on long runs.

So, I took out a one-day membership to a very cheap local gym and decided to try a post-work treadmill session.  If it worked out, maybe this would become a regular thing.

I read a lot in advance.  I knew to set the incline at one degree to better emulate road conditions.  I was prepared for it to be a bit more boring, so I downloaded hours' worth of Desert Island Discs.  I was all set.  Right?

You know by now this isn't going to end well.  I just really, really wasn't prepared for HOW boring it would be.  It was so weird.  I love running.  I really love it.  Yet on a treadmill, after about ten minutes I pretty much wanted to kill myself.  I'm barely even exaggerating.

It didn't help that I hadn't anticipated gyms to be so NOISY.  What with that and my crappy iPod headphones, the gentle tones of Kirsty Young were barely getting through, so my plan for a DID fest had to be grumpily abandoned.  I cranked up some No Doubt as an alternative (I never said I was cool).  Still not cutting it.  And if Gwen can't inspire a person to exercise their arse off, I don't know who can.

So I was grumpy and bored.  Without fresh air whipping around me (and let's not even start on the fluorescent lighting), I was also extremely hot and sweaty.  It's weird, but the unnatural conditions of running on a machine felt all wrong.  It was harder than it should have been and time seemed to slow down to an evil creep.

I managed a grudging 10K and then decided that life is just too short.  Running usually makes me happy and this was doing the opposite.  I'm just going to have to fit some more running in this weekend, somehow.  Lovely, outdoor running.

In a funny way, this small experience has made me appreciate my usual runs all the more.  I don't care if I have to have no social life between now and April; I have to get the miles in and I now know that treadmills are not an option.  I can't wait to get running outside again.  Even the windiest, rainiest, coldest nighttime run is better than THAT.  Oh, outside - how I love you.  It took me a long time to realise it, but I am totally the outdoor type.

So, a failed experiment but one that has left me all the more inspired to get on with it.  That plus the fact that a lot of wonderful people have now sponsored me (thank you so much), and I am raring to go.  Just not under fluorescent lighting.

Flexibility

Ooh, this week has been the first week that I've had to shift my runs around a bit.  I was busy yesterday, so am doing my usual Thursday 4-mile run today.  This is making me feel disproportionately panicky.

There's a lot of training still to go, so I really need to chill the f**k out about this sort of thing, I think.

In other news, yoga for runners would also probably be a good idea.

Tin Rattling

I would like to preface this by saying I don’t expect you to sponsor me.  (I hope that would be obvious, but I want to make sure I’m being polite about this.)  However, you can if you would like: here.  I would be extremely grateful.  I hope that raising money for a charity that I really believe in will both do some good in the world and help me to make it around that 26.2-mile course.

I am very aware that sometimes it can feel as though we are being constantly bombarded with requests to be sponsored – for everything from a 5K walk to just not having a drink for a little while.  It gets ridiculous, particularly if you work in a big office or other workplace.

I feel that selecting the charities I choose to support is a very personal decision, and I don’t like people trying to pressure that decision.  In case you’re interested, I give small monthly donations to carefully chosen charities, but I am really happy to make one-off donations to people who are doing worthwhile things for great charities – so I hope you don’t mind me asking whether you would like to do the same.

I decided to run the Brighton Marathon for the Katie Piper Foundation because my mum does a lot of work with them.  This means that I have been to some of their events, met some of their team, and seen first-hand the great work that they do – something that feels very important to me.  I honestly wouldn’t have done this if it were for some arbitrary faceless charity, just because I quite fancy running a marathon.

KPF’s work, in a nutshell, is built around the ethos ‘making it easier to live with burns and scars’.  In practice, this means that the aims of the charity are to:

·      improve outcomes for burns survivors

·      deliver – directly or indirectly – intensive, comprehensive burns rehabilitation (post acute care discharge) in the UK

·      support burns survivors throughout their journey of recovery.

Katie is an inspiring woman, to say the least – you may recognise her from the documentaries she has made about both her story and the Foundation.  If you haven’t seen them, I recommend having a watch (should be free on the Channel 4 website, but I’m not sure how/if this works for my international friends).

It sounds fatuous, but many of us really take for granted how much easier life is when you look ‘normal’.  The Katie Piper Foundation’s work is really important and I am happy to do all I can to support it.  Running a marathon is quite a big deal for me and I hope that all my hard work will be worthwhile.

So, a quick recap…  You can find out more about the charity here.

And sponsor me (if you would like to) here.

Thanks very much for reading.

Some improvement.

I was determined that last night's 'medium' run should not be a repeat of last week's pathetic performance.

And (hurrah) it wasn't.  I set out determined to do much better and I powered up the hills I had inexplicably struggled with last week.  I did this by the use of cheesy mantras in my head, which kind of went: 'you are getting better at this; you are doing the training and it is working; you feel stronger all the time'.  Etcetera.

And it worked, cheesily.  I completed my eight miles and made it home in record time, as well.

However, in the interests of full disclosure, I should probably also mention that this may also be because I have almost finished Dr Sleep (Stephen King' new sequel to The Shining) and could not wait to get home and pick it up again.  It is truly terrifying, so the adrenaline of panicking about what might happen next powered me along at a good clip.

Horror novels are clearly the key to fast running.

Keeping On.

I'm into week three now.

On Saturday, I ran 16 miles.  It felt... really OK.  No aching afterwards - after my last long runs, I found myself walking sideways up and down the stairs for a good 24 hours.  Not this time, which I hope is a good sign that I am getting stronger.  I'm doing the training and it's working - I hope.

This might sound really thick, but the most challenging thing now is that the runs are getting so very bloody long - in terms of time rather than distance.  I know that getting the hours and the miles under my belt is the only way forward.  But I don't want the training to eat into my entire weekend.

On Saturday morning, I made it out by eight o'clock.  I thought this was not bad going.  I was running until eleven - I am quite a slow runner.  Obviously, over the next few weeks, the runs are going to get longer.  I am just going to have to get up earlier.

This last week has been the first in which I have really struggled to fit running in around my social and work calendar.  Deadlines and meetings and lunches, as well as some really fun parties and activities.  Lucky me.  Still, on Saturday, I had barely an hour after my sixteen miles in which to get cleaned up for my dad and his girlfriend visiting; then on Sunday, I was disproportionately pleased with myself only to have two glasses of wine at my best friend's engagement party.  It's kind of my own fault, but the whole weekend felt as though it revolved around that one big run.

I love running but I like to do other things as well.  I may have to become a bit nocturnal, or at least get these long runs started while it's still dark in the morning.  It's only until April, right?

Just so as not to leave a bum note at the top for now.

Today: A great day on many levels.

Running: Only three miles tonight.  Pouring rain.  Neighbours think I'm crazy.  Every step a delight.

Fin.

Meh.

What makes the difference between a great run and a really-quite-rubbish run?  Is it a million little things that are barely discernible to the human eye?  Maybe a bit of work stress, naughty foxes hanging out outside your bedroom window at night, that lump of cheese you ate this afternoon?  Who knows?

Tonight was only seven miles - the route I so enjoyed last week, but with just one extra mile added.  For some reason, or none, it felt SO HARD!  This is the sort of distance I have been super comfortable with for years, way before this marathon training lark began.

It's quite a challenging course, with lots of hills - but my 'medium' runs are supposed to be harder than the long ones.  Tonight it just felt like Too Much.  I hit a real slump about halfway around, and even 'had' to do some run-walk-run-walk intervals going uphill.  I say 'had' because there was no real reason for it except that my legs felt really heavy.

At one point, I could have taken a shortcut that would have lopped the last couple of miles off my route.  I seriously considered it and paused for a second at the crossroads while I thought about it.  Happily, in the end, I didn't.  While they were by no means glorious miles, I at least completed the requisite number of miles.

I'm always telling my new-to-running friends that you can't expect an upward trajectory every single time, don't be disheartened, etc.  I know this is true.  But this is marathon training, dude - I'm supposed to be taking it up a notch!

Well.  It will be better next time, hopefully.

I was embarrassingly happy to get home to a hot bath and 'Where D'You Go, Bernadette?'.  The latter is as good as everyone says; I really recommend it.

15 mile lessons.

15 miles this morning.

If last Saturday's run was about getting out and getting it done, then today's was definitely about learning.

Usually, I am a great proponent of just hauling myself out of bed, lacing up my trainers and running straight out the door.  The earlier the better.  This has always been fine, as I usually run an average of 5-10 miles on a weekend morning route.  However, after last week's run - which was fun but very hard work - and some lovely people's advice, I was starting to suspect I was making things tougher for myself than they needed to be.

With that in mind, this morning, I had a bit of toast before I got dressed, and drank a glass of water.  (I know this isn't rocket science and my previous habits of running on empty were pretty dire; please don't judge!)  I took one of those hand-shaped water bottles out with me, and put some energy gels in a handy little bumbag.

In her excellent book 'Running Like A Girl', Hemmo (running spirit guide for so many not-really-athletic women) describes energy gels as "jizzy".  I could not get this word out of my head.  And when I first tried the stuff (energy gel, I mean!), it was absolutely vile.  The gel had got unpleasantly warm in my bumbag, which really did not help.  It felt just like when you're a kid and would suck the dregs of a melted Calippo ice lolly.  Only way more disgusting.

Fortunately, I'd been advised in advance (thank you, Leonie - seriously, THANK YOU!) that energy gels can be rough on the stomach.  So, I ingested it sporadically in tiny half-mouthfuls.  Had I not been pre-warned, I'm sure I would have necked the lot and promptly vommed.

As it was, one energy gel sachet (High5 'citrus burst', if you were wondering - I braved GNC and even spoke to a nice young man at length about various options) lasted me the entire run, consuming it fairly frequently but in tiny spurts.  I have no idea if this was totally ridiculous of me or quite sensible (the instructions suggested three whole sachets per hour during exercise, which sounds dreadful to me?!), but I felt totally full of energy and, most importantly, had no gastric/loo-related emergencies.

I was also assisted by the perfect weather conditions, the kind I dream of for marathon day.  Clear, cool, bright and barely any wind whatsoever.

After last week's wind-swept and under-fuelled run, today's honestly felt ten times easier.  I ran the whole way, with no walking whatsoever.  I tweaked my route slightly so as to avoid uphill stretches and crowds of dawdling shoppers during the last few miles, which also made a massive difference.

I got home not feeling completely wrecked and, actually, still pretty full of energy.  I felt like I could have kept going.  Hopefully this is a good sign..?

The first week.

As of this afternoon, I have finished my first 'proper' week of training.  (As per The Plan, I have designated Saturday as my 'week commencing' day, as that's when I am hoping to get most of my long runs done.)

So, one long run (14 miles); one medium run (6 miles); and two short runs (3 miles).  Not bad.  A few ticks on the chart, which is always satisfying.

Overall, it's been fun.  It's been pretty all-encompassing, but I kind of hope that is due to the current novelty value and will wear off a bit.  Fingers crossed, before too long I will just be getting on with the task at hand, rather than devoting most of my waking thoughts to the whole thing.  Otherwise these next few months are going to be exhausting (probably more for my poor boyfriend than for me, to be fair).  I just want to be good friends with running, not marry it!

A day off tomorrow, and then 15 miles on Saturday to kick off Week 2.

Medium run.

So, The Plan basically involves one long run per week (which I'll do at the weekends), two short runs (which I can squeeze into weekday lunch hours), and one 'medium' run, which I will have to fit into a weekday evening.

I hate running at night.  I never do it.  Especially at this time of year, once I've got home for the evening, the idea of willingly going back outside seems frankly ridiculous.  Ideally, I would rather be eating a lovely hot curry and watching University Challenge, or similar.

However, I intend to stick to The Plan rigorously, and needs must, etc.  So, I set off this evening for my first medium-length evening run.  It was freezing cold, dark (obviously), a bit drizzly and I was tired and grumpy.  Did I mention that I hate running at night?

Except it turns out that... I don't.  Once I got going, I realised I kind of love running at night.  I'm not sure why I thought I didn't, as I have rarely ever done it.  OK, it does make getting out of the front door that bit harder - but that's always the hardest bit anyway.

My designated run this evening was a modest six miles.  This is the ideal kind of length I usually like to do for fun.  When I've considered signing up for a marathon before, one of my fears was always that it would knock the fun out of these sorts of runs.

Happily, my fear was unfounded.  I picked a route I really enjoy and I loved running it in the dark.  I felt as though I was flying through the night.  Almost superhuman as I passed other people's cosy windows, in houses where they were watching Eastenders or eating a nice warm supper.  On the outside looking in, I practically felt like I could be in a David Lynch film.  I sang Bat for Lashes songs in my head and imagined I was in a spooky music video.

I was particularly struck by the fact that there are a lot of smells when running at night that I never usually notice - open fires, the delicious whiff when passing a chip shop.

I am lucky; running in Brighton is never, ever boring.

The six miles flew by beautifully.  I was having so much fun, I ran a bit further than I intended to, with a sprint finish to my front door.  It was the absolute best kind of run.

I keep telling myself that I am surely due a deep, dark trough soon, but - at the risk of repeating myself - I can only describe tonight's run as pure joy.

Pin.

Yep, I'm probably a very  shallow person, but I have a ridiculously aspirational 'Running' Pinterest board - which you can look at here.

The first training run.

When I start jangling my charity tin in the near future, I would really like people to know that I spent the first Saturday of January getting up before it was light, battling rain and some quite scary winds, in order to complete my first 'proper' long training run.  That was yesterday and the run was 14 miles.

This is slightly further than I have ever run before.  My chosen route took me along Brighton seafront, to Saltdean Lido and back.

I had the strong wind against me on the way out, which I kept constantly reminding myself would be a good thing for the way back.  Which it was.  Which was a very good thing because I was really tired by then.

Actually, the first three-quarters of the run were absolutely fine.  Pleasant, even.  I watched the sun rise over the marina.  I didn't get shat on by any seagulls (it's happened before).  My thoughts were positive.

I enjoyed the certainty of it all.  I had even felt quite excited when I went to bed on Friday night, knowing that this run was going to happen, and that it 'had' to happen.  Usually, I just go as far as I fancy and this often means I don't push myself.  Now that I am following a training plan, and I intend to follow it to the letter so that I can feel I really did my best no matter what, there was no choice in the matter.  Sometimes it's nice to have no choice (except when it comes to abortion, of course).

I knew that I *had* to get a 14-mile run under my belt; that if I ballsed it up then it would completely wreck my training plan and my whole motivation.

'You just have to keep going,' I told myself in rhythm with my feet.  'You are the sort of person who does what she says she is going to do.'

This was really fun until the very last few miles; my little mantras were only for smugness rather than any necessary motivation.  But then for the last few miles, things became a lot less fun.  This may be because I was tired.  My feet, knees and hips hurt a little bit.  I was getting hungry.  Also, my route took me through the edges of some busy shopping areas towards the end - kind of unavoidable given where I live, but I may have to rethink this in some way, because having to navigate around people at this stage made me irrationally angry.  Like, Travis Bickle kind of angry.  (Is this normal?)

Strongest of all was a voice in my head that suddenly kicked in, telling me I was tired and that maybe I should walk for a bit.

'Why?' I asked myself, trying to be rational.  'You are not in agonising pain.  Your feet are still moving.  Your breathing is absolutely fine.  There is no reason for you to walk rather than run.'

But the voice wouldn't shut up, and my legs started listening.  It felt, weirdly, like there was almost nothing I could do to stop it.  Usually, if I'm tired, I try to pace down to a very slow jog - it's better than walking, because I know that I then find it hard to build momentum to start running again.

Annoyingly, I gave in and walked for a couple of minutes up a hill a mile or so from home.  Once on the flat, I resumed running again and carried on until the end - I actually felt a new surge of energy.  But then it was extra hard because I kept thinking about walking again and how nice it would be!

'They' say (apparently) that you run a marathon with your brain more than your legs.  Even with this first training run, I am starting to see how very true that is.  I need to be mentally strong, but I think I also need to figure out some ways to trick my brain into acquiescence.

I know it was my brain rather than my body giving up, because when I reached the end of my road and the finish line was in sight, I felt bizarrely energetic and even did an extra lap around the block before I went home.  I did the lot in about two-and-a-half hours.  I'd really like to work on this time, but it's more important to me that I run the whole course than make a time target.

When I got through the front door and stopped, I could feel that I had done a long run but I wasn't in any major pain.  By the time I'd done some stretches, eaten breakfast,  had a bath, put my onesie on - I felt totally elated.  I wanted to do it all again.  I couldn't wait for next week's long run and all the short ones in the meantime.  Then I had a nap and ate even more food.

This morning my knees ache slightly (again, is this normal?!) but I slept well (which is rare for me) and have woken up this morning feeling full of energy.  I am telling myself that the first run is done - I love ticking things off - and just to tackle it a run at a time.  Yeah?

I thought they changed the name to Snickers.

So, I've signed up for a marathon.  Specifically, the Brighton Marathon 2014, which takes place on Sunday, 6th April.

I've been running for a few years, and I love it.  I do it at least three times a week.  However, I am a total running hippie and have never really 'trained' or done an official event before.  I've been to my local Parkrun a few times, but that's it - I cannot recommend Parkrun highly enough, but it's more of a fun Saturday morning hang-out involving kids and dogs (other people's) and a fat breakfast afterwards.

The longest distance I have ever run prior to this is about half marathon length.  Unofficially, and just for fun on a Sunday morning or whatever.  My usual routine is to do three or four short runs of around 5K during the week, on my lunch hour at work.  Then, only if I feel like it, I do the odd long run at the weekend.  Mostly I just like being outdoors and moving around.  Sometimes.  When I'm not watching films, drinking wine or eating cheese.

So, this is going to be a shock to the system.  The opportunity to run for the perfect charity came up (more on that later, I expect) and it turned out that the idea of challenging myself didn't totally appall me.  I decided to have a go.  Now that I've committed, I'm determined to do it.  Therefore, the worst that can happen is that I don't like it and I never do it again - right?

A bit of background for anyone who doesn't know...  I'm a 32-year-old female.  I am a writer and editor.  I live in Brighton - so this is going to be a hometown marathon.

I didn't want to flood my regular blog with too much marathon talk (as it's usually about writing, books and general cultural silliness).  But I must admit that I am a bit obsessed with this new idea of me as marathon runner and all that goes with it - training plans, kit, food, etc.  Plus, I am someone who likes to record things; the prospect of running the full 26.2 miles is quite a complicated and emotional one, and I make sense of things by writing them down.  I am quite a slow person, both in running (my nickname is Pony - due both to my Shetland pony-like proportions and my slow trot of a running style; plus, my shaman tells me that my spirit animal is a horse, so...) and in figuring things out.

I would also love any input from people who have run a marathon before.  Or those who haven't but might have some good ideas on the subject.  Basically, at the moment I would love to chat about running non-stop and don't want to inflict it too much upon the mostly uninterested people in my life!

So, I thought a little marathon diary might be a good idea.