Chapter Fifteen - Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

Well, it’s finally happening.  Not sure I quite believe it yet, but somehow I have made it through pre-training pretty much on schedule and now the hard work really starts.  Day Two of my official London marathon training has arrived.

Chevin Chase was a joy.  Not as sparkly as last year, but I ran faster, and for longer.  I even ran up the whole of the first killer hill.  If you don’t know the Chevin Chase, this will mean nothing to you, but believe me, it represents a big improvement on last year.  There was an eight-minute wait at around mile six whilst we tippy-toed over a frozen stile, but even so I shaved a second or two off last year’s time.  I’m subtracting the delay and calling it an 8-minute PB.  Next year, I’ll leave the eight minutes in so that I have the chance of beating it all over again.

 

Leeds inagural Christmas parkrun



Other than that, this week has been all about Christmas.  Oh, and the first ever Leeds Christmas Day parkrun.  Fifty-five runners and a good sprinkling of volunteers turned out to spread bonhomie and Christmas cheer, before repairing home to eat and drink too much.  I was feeling all smug, having got up at 7.00 to open presents (the fact that the boys are 19 and 16 doesn’t stop us wanting to rip into the goodies), but was soon brought down to earth by my failure to load and post the results until Boxing Day.  If I’m honest, I couldn’t even manage it then – I had to be helped by the ever-helpful Tom Williams. 

I think we’ve started a trend though; I'm already planning next year's Christmas Day parkrun, even though the big day doesn’t actually land on a Saturday.  I hope to see you all there.





Chapter Fourteen - Ain’t too proud to beg

It’s been a very charitable few days.  Christmas seems to have brought out the good in people, and I, for one, have shamelessly exploited it.  So this chapter is dedicated to all the people who have responded to my pleas for support, sent by the medium of Christmas cards.

I’ve been touched by the generosity people have shown, even when accompanied by strangled exclamations of surprise; nay, amazement.  You see, for many of my friends from the past, I’m remarkable only for my sloth, and my determination to avoid exercise at all costs.  The Liz Jones (Barnes) they knew is a whole sack-full of couch potatoes, who shudders at the very thought of breaking into a sweat, and who can’t even spell “run”, let alone do it.  How we do change when confronted with our own mortality.

I’m not the only charity trail-blazer.  My good friends Russ and Joe have been raising money too – Russ by running 78 miles in subzero conditions, and Joe by busking likewise.  Looks like Project 65 (Russ) and the Desk and Chair Foundation (Joe) will be seeing a bit of Christmas cheer as well as Age UK.  Add to them the Wise Man who raffled a star, and it’s all looking warm and cosy.

Runs this week have been mainly short and slow (indeed, two of them turned into walks) but a crisp cross-country in Middleton Woods proved the perfect start to my Christmas break.  Short hill session tomorrow, then parkrun Leeds on Christmas Day.  Bring it on, Santa.

Chapter Thirteen – 59th Street Bridge Song

It’s been another good week.  The much-vaunted Stockport 10 goody bag was faintly repellent, but the race was great – friendly, smiling marshals, a challenging but not too horrid course and a 10 mile PB to round it all off.  Not bad.

I knocked more than 6 minutes off my previous 10m PB, so I think it was the real deal.  It didn’t feel quite as tough as Guy Fawkes, but it was certainly on a par with 2009 Bradford 10 miler, so I have safely achieved my pre-Christmas aim of running faster over shorter distances.  With PBs at 5k, 10k and 10 miles, I’ve got myself pretty much to where I wanted to be.  Maybe I need to slow down.

It’s been nice to run without snow as well.  I suspect that my rant of Chapter 11 has led people to think I love the snow and hate snow-haters, but this isn’t true (I just hate whinging).  I was getting fed up with the ice by the time it left, and Chris has worn the shovel to a pitiful stub.  Who knows, if it had lasted, I might even have whinged myself.

So it was grand to see just how quickly ice can vanish when it puts its mind to it.  I’ve enjoyed running off-road in the snow (it’s taught me to pick my feet up), but I’ve missed not being able to run on the pavements, or in the dark.  I like running in a carpark as much as the next gal, but I’ll be glad to be on familiar runclub territory this week.

Still, the snow helped me tick off another first – me and Chris running together.  We don’t usually do this, as he can’t run as slowly as I can, but snow is a great leveller, and with a bit of running-back-to-pick-up-the-slower-runner (me), we managed a thoroughly enjoyable trot round Eccup reservoir.  I fell on the ice in Golden Acre carpark, but I was very brave, didn’t cry, and ran on regardless.  The scenery was beautiful, the sussurating ice at the edge of the reservoir was positively musical and life felt good.    

PS – People of my generation will know why I picked this song title – younger boys and girls may have to Google it.

Chapter Twelve – Pushing an elephant up the stairs

When he was about 10 or 11, Harry said to me; “Mum, how old you have to be before you stop running upstairs?”  This stumped me then, and it still stumps me now. 

When I was a kid, I always ran upstairs.  Now, I always walk.  I’ve no idea when the transition occurred, and whether it was gradual or sudden.  But somewhere along the way, it got harder to run, so I walked.

It ought to be easier to go up faster.  If you’re driving up a hill, it’s best to have a bit of a run at it.  Horses don’t often go upstairs, but when they do, they tend to go for it at a fair lick, and I’ve never seen a rabbit go uphill at anything less than breakneck speed (though that might just be due to their little front legs).

All of this leaves me no nearer knowing why I walk upstairs, or when I started to do so.  But one thing I do know – stairs are assuming a frightening significance in my training routine.

I work on the 5^th floor of a large office block.  I park in the basement.  Between car park and desk, there are more than 170 stairs – equivalent to over a dozen domestic flights.  I am now resolutely walking up every day, and I even have plans to run (maybe every other flight to begin with).

The aim is to strengthen my pathetic, pasta-like quads.  I’ve started to get some knee pain, and I suspect it’s because of a quad/hamstring imbalance.  The process of running up the office stairs may not be pretty, but I’m hopeful that the outcome will be. 

Thunderthighs to ironthighs in four months – surely that’s possible.

Chapter Eleven – Ice, ice, baby

In the time-honoured tradition of Marathon Talk, (http://www.marathontalk.com/) this chapter contains a rant and a rave.

Rant

The snow is here.  It’s beautiful and sparkly and delightful… and it’s brought out the whingers.  Sorry folks, but it has to be said.  Here are my five most-hated whinges.

1. Why don’t they clear all the side roads/my road/the pavement?

Coming from an academic background, I treat all questions as requests for information.  It doesn’t matter whether it’s a genuine question (“Please can I have a flapjack?”) or a rhetorical one (“Why on earth is Anne Widdecombe still on Strictly?”), there is something in me that believes I have to give an answer, even if that answer is; “Well, duh, because we won’t pay for it.” 

There is a finite amount of money, and an almost infinite number of good things one could do with it.  Therefore, some good things will not get done.  It’s either grit or libraries or meals-on-wheels.  Buy yourself a shovel.

2. If you clear the snow outside your house, and someone falls, they can sue you

Well, they can try, but unless you have caused an obstruction (by throwing your snow onto the neighbour’s bit of pavement) or a hazard (by pouring water on the snow, so that it ices over), they won’t succeed.  Clear your paths, people, and then we can all get through.

3. They don’t have these problems in Finland/Sweden/Norway/Chicago

No, they don’t.  You’re right.  This is because they have a lot more snow, and therefore they spend a lot more of their citizens’ money on clearing it.  Their snowploughs are in use for half the year, and earn their keep.  Ours are in warm storage for all but about four weeks, creating headlines like “Councils waste taxpayers’ funds on unused equipment”.  They also have bye-laws requiring householders to clear the pavements.

4. I was in nose-to-tail traffic for four hours yesterday, and I never saw a single snowplough.

Well no, you wouldn’t.  They couldn’t get past you.

5. If I was in charge, I could sort it all out in about three days

Please, please, stand for election.  Whatever your politics, get involved.  The council needs your expertise.

Rave

The snow is here.  It’s beautiful and sparkly and delightful… and it’s brought out the happy people.  Here are six lovely things I’ve seen this week.

1. Two middle-aged women sledging on the Chevin, sans enfants

When I first caught sight of these two, it was from behind.  It was only when I overtook them that I realised they were about my age.  Stupidly, I didn’t go back and ask if I could play. 

2. A bunch of students building a barricade in a garden on Otley Rd

Boy, did this take me back.  At primary school, we spent hours making barricades in the snow, so that we could have proper snowball fights.  Usually, by the time we’d built the barricade, playtime was over, and by the following day, the snow was gone.

3. Richard and Abinesh running in Headingley

I run through Headingley most weeks, either with runclub or on my way to work.  I’ve never seen anyone bounding around there with such vim and joie-de-vivre.

4. All of my team turning up for work

There were massive gaps at the office, but every single member of my team got in, despite having travelled (separately) from Roundhay, Silsden, Addingham and Sheffield.

5. Chris clearing the drive

If you’ve made it this far, you will have gathered that I have a bit of a thing about clearing your own snow.  But even I pale into insignificance beside Chris, who has been up every day at 6.00 to clear the drive so I can get to work.  His shovelling is a joy to behold.

6. Harry going off to do his paper round.

Three of the things Harry hates most are getting up, going for a walk, and doing things according to someone else’s timetable.  So delivering papers in the snow is not exactly his most favourite thing.  None-the-less, he delivered.  Respect.

The keen-eyed amongst you will notice there are more raves than rants.  Sparkly snow can do that to a girl.

Chapter Ten - There is a green hill far away

Chevin Chase 2009 was one of the highlights of what I laughingly call my running career.  So when I concocted my proper race plan for VLM, I started there.  Day One – run Chevin Chase, preferably faster than last time.

It seemed like such a good idea, but that was then, and this is now.  Now, that green hill is all too close, and I need to figure out a way of getting up it, down it, and up it again.  What’s more, I need to do it with more grace than last year.  This year, I do NOT want to have to walk up that first brutal mile, and I do NOT want to come to a complete standstill at Surprise View, leaning on my knees and gasping like some sort of stranded fish.  Most of all, I do NOT want to end the race with the ludicrously red cheeks I developed last year.

Unable to put it off any longer, Nicky and I thus set forth for a trial run on Friday.

We didn’t follow the Chevin Chase route, but given that the blithering thing is vertical wherever you attack it, I don’t think that matters.  What we did do was force ourselves to run downhill at every opportunity, thus ensuring that we had to run back uphill if we wanted to get home.  Six and a half miles – rinky-dinky.

On Sunday, my planned race (Thirsk 10) was cancelled, so I did it all again.  The good humour brought on by the events of Chapter Nine gave me a bit of pep, but I still failed to catch Chris, who was walking.  I did give him a head-start, but even so, it’s depressing.

Still – I didn’t stop (other than to admire the view), and I didn’t gasp.  And as for the red cheeks – I think I’ll just cover them with makeup.

Chapter Nine - Spice up Your Life

How many emergency blogs can you do before people start to think you’ve lost the plot? 

On top of my most successful running fortnight ever (PBs at 5k and 10k, plus a second and third prize at HPH annual awards) comes my most successful fundraising day.

OK, OK, not strictly my fundraising day.  More like Jaz and Ken’s fundraising day.  She cooks, he pays.  What’s not to like?

Thanks, guys. 

Liz

PS – for those who don’t know, Jaz has offered to cook a vegetarian Indian meal for any of our friends, including a chapatti-making lesson, in return for a donation to Age UK.  Not content with a) being the first person to donate to my justgiving page, and b) generously forwarding his Abbey Dash sponsorship to me, Ken has now become Jaz’s first customer.

Double-dog thanks

Chapter Eight - Jump

Dawn Hogan and her husband Mick are amongst the nicest of the West Yorkshire running fraternity.  They are also very useful to me and Chris, as they provide a good barometer of form – Dawn’s somewhat faster than me, and Mick’s somewhat faster than Chris.  They aren’t so far out in front that they are untouchable, but they are fast enough to offer a proper challenge.

So when I managed to pass Dawn yesterday at the Abbey Dash, and at the same time got down to below one hour for 10k (for the first time ever), I did feel justified in celebrating a bit.  It’s a feeling I’m going to hang onto, because I’m under no illusions.  Dawn is fundamentally faster than I am, and that ain’t about to change.  She’s training for London, too, so I can look forward to seeing her back plenty more in the months to come. 

Still, it was nice while it lasted, and I can now set myself up as a role model for Chris, as he follows Mick.  Other people might try to keep up with the Joneses, we try to keep up with the Hogans.

58:29

PS – This is an unscheduled, emergency blog, brought about entirely by the need to show off.

Chapter Seven – Roadrunner

The best gig I ever went to was Jonathan Richman and the Modern Lovers.  This will mean nothing to anyone under 50, but those of my age may remember “roadrunner”, and indeed may have been at that very gig (1977, Leeds Poly Students Union).  ‘Twas a great night.

I’ve always especially liked the line “going faster miles an hour”.  It’s non-specific, yet implies improvement.  I think I’ll have it as my mantra.

I’m a bit of a mantra freak.  I have dozens of ‘em, ranging from the instructive (hips high and light) to the ridiculous (embrace the hill) to the downright delusionary (this is easy).  I’m not sure whether they work or not, but I am a woman obsessed.

Sometimes I use single words (“surge” is a favourite because it makes me think of the Atlantic at Inch beach in Co Kerry), and sometimes they are so long they practically qualify as essays (“strong, relaxed, faster and faster” is a current chart-topper).

It’s certainly all in the mind.  Last week, I knew I was going get a PB at parkrun from the moment I woke up.  Last time I got a parkrun PB was exactly the same – I knew I would do it, so I did it.  The only problem is that on current evidence, this knowledge only comes around once every two years or so.  In between, despite the mantras, I am certain that I can’t run under 30 minutes for 5k, that I can’t break an hour for 10k, and that I definitely can’t do a marathon.

So this week, I’m going to take my mantras to the Abbey Dash, and see if they can get up that bloomin’ slip road.  I’m in love with the modern moonlight, I’ve got the radio on.

Chapter Six - Country Love

This week got off to a great start with the first PECO cross-country of the season.  We never did cross-country at school, so I never got chance to be put off it, although at the time I would probably have been nicking off round the corner for an Eccles cake.  I was too much of a wimp to smoke at school (even though in those days it was still possible to buy cigarettes in ones from the corner shop), so I had to build my rebellions on pastry.

This fresh-faced innocence means I undertook my first X-C (I have the jargon, you know), last year, in Ilkley.  People who ran it are now shaking their heads and saying, “Oh Lord, that puddle!”, but for me it was a revelation.  A boring, smelly course that went round and round and round a field, but Joy of Joys, a humungous muddy puddle in the middle that you had to go through six times.  I was converted.

And so, on Sunday, to Pontefract racecourse for a 5.7ish mile trot in the sharp winter sun.  Not exactly a great course, with rather too much road, but some nice bits across fields, and guess what?  I didn’t walk once.  Nor did I wheeze, or whine, or collapse in the last half mile.  I even had a (sort of) sprint finish where I passed several people, and only one person (thank you, Jill Stocks, of Kirkstall) passed me.

What I really enjoyed was the excellent spirit amongst Hyde Park Harries and the other clubs.  The PECO league is definitely competitive, but friendly at the same time, and we had a great turn-out, with new members and old; speedy and not-so-speedy.  Caught up with some old faces (ie Adrian and Bev) before repairing to Kay’s house to look at the PECO catalogue (how apt).

This week, I also clocked up a good session with runclub and a completely unscheduled three miler through the streets of London town with heavy rucksack before wimping out of my planned Thursday hill session with Nicky.  Best of all; the week ended with a PB at Leeds parkrun – first time EVER under 29 minutes.  Go, me!

Chapter Five - November Rain

Now this can’t be right.  Several weeks in and I’m still feeling motivated.  I even ran up Scottish hills I had no need to do (ie on my own, and not in a race) in the pouring rain, and enjoyed (almost) every minute of it.

When put into context (I was in Scotland anyway for a conference, and running gave me a reason to get outside for an hour) it doesn’t sound too grand.  But six months ago I would never have done it.  What’s more, I came back on such a post-run high that I sailed through three hours of work that I had considered ignoring before I went out.  When I started this malarkey I was concerned about how I would fit running in around work, but it turns out that it actually makes me work longer, faster and better.  I was right – this can’t be right…

Another wonderful thing happened to me in Scotland.  I won a vacuum cleaner in a raffle.  Given that I was at the conference representing the Association of Healthcare Cleaning Professionals (the voice of choice for all matters relating to healthcare cleaning) this was rather apt.  As I lugged the blessed thing around Edinburgh airport, I wished I’d got the £100 John Lewis vouchers, but once home I changed my mind.  I’ve even vacuumed the stairs, and anyone who’s been to my house will know that this doesn’t happen often.

Top wonderful thing?  £60.01 raised by Jaz parkrunning with no makeup.  Personally, I couldn't see the difference, but people stumped up none-the-less.

This week I have mostly been wet, clean and happy.

PS – phrases you thought you’d never use…

“post-run high”

“enjoyed every minute of it”

“ran up hills … in the pouring rain”

“vacuumed the stairs”
"£60.01"

PPS – I know the lyrics of November Rain have nothing to do with the topic, but the title was too good to pass up

Chapter 4 - How beautiful are the feet?

My good friend Helen, who has forgotten more about marathons than I’ll ever know, tells me I should take a photograph of my feet now, at the start of training.  I can’t imagine why.  Surely these pink little piggies are safe.  I mean, I’ve seen Chris’s feet, and they are not nice to behold, but I can’t imagine mine will ever be mashed up in that way.  After all, it’s only 26.2 miles.

It’s all about balance.  Time on the feet (not enough) coupled with siz of feet (way too big) and enormity of feat (don’t even go there).  Add this to the fact that my so-called best friend once told me that my feet were ugly (not her exact words, but it’s what she meant) and I’m starting to worry.

So here they are – my lovely feet.  They are going to take a hell of a bashing in the next few months.

On the training side, I’m pleased with what I’ve done so far, even though it hasn’t been much.  I’m pushing myself harder at runclub, I’ve put in a few extra races, and I’ve gone out running when I didn’t need to.  My Achilles (Achilleses?) are quietening down, and I’m feeling motivated.  Nicky and I devised a great hill circuit last night, and by Christmas I intend to be able to run it all the way without stopping. (I did manage most of it last night, but only the most sunny of dispositions would have called what I was doing “running”).

I’m still scared of the fund-raising, but Jaz is helping keep me sane.  This week, she’s parkrunning with no makeup, so I’m going to return the compliment.  I can’t help thinking that she’ll look rather better than me!  I’m determined not to overegg the charity pudding, but I am truly grateful for all the help I’m getting.  Thanks, Folks!





Chapter Three - Theme from The A-Team

First week of marathon training over, and I’m feeling OK.  Achilles still painful, but I shall soldier on.

I’ve been amazed at how generous people have been.  I always said I’d never do a charity race, because it seems a bit of a cheek to ask people to give me money to do something I wanted to do anyway.  Sponsoring me to tidy the house, or wash the car; now that would be a challenge – but as you can see, I’ve very carefully not taken that route.

One person was clever (and generous) enough to sign onto my justgiving page (http://www.justgiving.com/LizJones1) when I wasn’t even sure I’d managed to set it up (thank you Dr Fox!), and I’ve been genuinely humbled by how many others have pledged their support. My hairdresser (Roberto, from the excellent RMUK on Eastgate) has even offered to donate a haircut, so that not only do I get to put a nice wodge of cash into my account in his name, I also get to start the race looking sleek and well-groomed.

But top of the leader-board – as expected – is Jaz.  It’s been a bit like having a tornado on your side, as the ideas for fund-raising have poured out.  Favourite so far – she’s running parkrun with no make-up.  Might not sound much if you don’t know her, but this is serious stuff.  I am already feeling better about making my target.  Now all I have to do is build on my introductory week with a few more miles, and Bingo!

Chapter Two - Once in a Lifetime

Ever since I got my VLM place, Talking Heads’ “Once in a Lifetime” has been playing on a continuous loop in my brain.  This is not quite as positive as it might seem, as the only line on the tape is the one that goes “..and you may say to yourself, My God, what have I done?”

So I’ve done something – I’ve come up with a Plan.  It starts in January, and in 16 short weeks takes me from jelly-belly run-walker, to finely-honed athlete and (I hope) marathon runner.  Till then, I’ve got a SubPlan, during which I aim to:

• Get control of my asthma
• Shed a few more pounds
• Run faster over shorter distances
• Conquer my fear of hills

The SubPlan plan is to run all the races I like (especially the cross-country ones); to stop whining and start working at run-club; to do at least one decent hill or interval session a week; and to keep the long-runs to a reasonable distance.  No more than 10 miles at a pop, and only 15 or so miles per week (except when I have a longer race).  Loads of off-road stuff to make up for the four months of road-slog to come, and (whisper it) a PB for Chevin Chase and Brass Monkey.

Is it enough?  Can I do it?  More to the point – can I do that and raise money at the same time?  I fear I may need to call on the A-Team. 

Hope I get old before I die

Chapter One - The Story Begins

Something very strange has happened.  I have a place in the London Marathon.  I’m not sure how it came to pass, and I’m wavering between elation and terror.  I’m also wondering what happened to the old Liz Jones, who thought running was what water did, and whose personal commitment to exercise was strictly spectating only.

One thing I know – a blog is obligatory (oblogatory?).  If I work really hard at it, then a blog is the only training I need to do.  It’s like gardening – if you watch enough gardening programmes, you don’t actually have to go outside and mow the lawn yourself.  So here we are – Chapter One – the story begins…

April 2010

Watch Chris run the VLM, and think, “Yeah, I’d quite like a go, but not yet”.  Enter the ballot with no expectation of success, and little concern either way.  Get on with my life.

October 2010

Chris gets in – I don’t.  Am seriously disappointed – and shock myself by realising that I really, really want to do it.  Decide to go for a club place, and plan all sorts of horrible ways of fixing the result (if necessary, kill people).

Look up charity places as a backstop in case I don’t bump off enough Hyde Park Harriers.  Realise that most of them have already allocated their places and start to panic.  Dash off an application to Age UK on the basis that a) I’ve supported them for years via Payroll Giving, so I’ve got previous, and b) I intend to be old one day.

Less than 24 hours later – I’m in.  I have to raise £1,500 (on top of the £100 I’ve paid as a bond) and I have to train as well.  I need a plan…