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.