RUN, RABBIT, RUN RABBIT, RUN, RUN, RUN


What was that I said yesterday about being able to run? Let me take it all back in an instant. I haven't had a worse experience running since I did an horrific 5mile run up the Long Mynd when I was marathon training.

I may have mentioned before that I am a very slow runner. I know I should try to speed up, but I find it incredibly difficult. Plus I never know when I'm going to get an opportunity to run, so usually run alone, which isn't great for speed work. Recently running has been taking a back seat as a) I have been swimming/playing tennis more and b) my sciatic nerve is causing me a lot of gip which has put me off. (I know, I know, I need to get back to the physio, but I just haven't had time).

Yesterday being the first day of the holidays sproglets were all totally wiped. They are also cranky because of the heat. I let them lounge around watching far too much tv in the morning and then got them helping me sort out the play room before lunch. The playroom isn't very big, and is really an ante room, next to our kitchen. It is also stuffed full of all their games/books/colouring stuff, none of which ever gets put away properly. I have been looking at in horror over recent weeks, and decided that the children needed a lesson in how to put their toys away properly. So, before lunch I got them sorting through all the puzzles and throwing away any that weren't complete.

Sadly, after lunch their enthusiasm waned, and after one quick hot sprint around the garden, they all wilted like little flowers and lay limply draped across various sofas. So like the little red hen, I was left to clear out the rest of the junk... It's so great being the one in charge.

As a result, by the evening, I was shattered, and fractious with the children. Spouse was meant to go the gym, so I had arranged for lovely mil to babysit while we were out. However, Spouse's partner blew him out and I therefore ended up leaving him in control (and slicing and pickling beetroot).

I arrived at the place where we were supposed to be meeting, early, and couldn't see a sign of anyone I knew. I drove round twice just to make sure, and on my second circuit encountered another runner. Eventually several more people turned up and the instructor sent us all off. We stopped after half a mile or so to pick up another runner, and by then we were being caught and overtaken by the fast runners.

En route I discovered the particular form of torture this run was going to take. We were doing something called interval training, where you run fast, then walk - all aimed at improving your speed.

The idea is to run for a minute as fast as you can without knackering yourself completely (what's your 5k pace? someone helpfully asked. Yikes! I have no idea - I've only ever run the marathon and one 10k!), and then walk for a minute. You then up it to two minutes, then three, till finally you're running for five minutes. You then slow right back down again. The instructor follows us on his bike, and whistles when it is time to start or stop.

The first minute wasn't too bad, though I was aware immediately how much slower I was then everyone else. The second minute was hell, though, and I was flagging fast. So the instructor told me that when the next whistle went, I should turn around and walk back. What? All the way back? I felt utterly humiliated. Was I that crap that I couldn't even carry on all the way round?

Actually, what he meant was that I should start walking and run again when the others caught me up, but I didn't know that at the time. Added to my discomfit was that a couple of dog walkers chose to arrive at that time. I am wary of our canine friends at the best of times, but all alone on the common feeling like the last in the sack race (again) I was not best pleased to see them.

Once the others caught up, I was off again, panting pathetically, and soon at the back of the pack again, even thought they had all run far longer then I had. I have never been so glad to hear the sound of a whistle.

The next two sessions were equally tough - I was miles behind everyone else, and felt utterly despairing at points, although they were all very encouraging. I had no idea it was going to be this tough. And while the only way is up, there is part of me thinking, shit the bed, I don't HAVE to do this... it's only me making me. But I am stubborn old bugger, and while I know I will probably never be a very fast runner, it would be nice to run a bit faster. And nicer still not to always be the last in the sack race...

By the time we got to the five minutes section, I was so far ahead of everyone I lost sight of them, and once I was overtaken, I lost sight of them again. It was a most surreal experience, like entering some parallel universe. There was me doing my slow thing, and whoosh! out of the blue all these other runners sped past me, and were gone, leaving me wondering if I had imagined their whole existence...

By the time we were on the home straight, I was thoroughly demoralised, utterly knackered, my back was killing me and I was running out of water.

OTOH, I had now run all the way round the common - somewhere I frequently get lost with the children - so at least I had a better idea of where all the paths go. And though I was slow, I was still running.... Hold onto that thought...

The last two minutes were the best, in that though I was behind, at least I didn't lose sight of everyone.

For the last minute we had to sprint, and let me tell you, never has a minute seemed so long...

We then walked/jogged slowly back to our cars.

I got home to find the kids had been bathed and were ready for bed, but no 4 wanted a story, which I read to her as I bathed my aching limbs in an ice cold bath.

The rate I'm going I doubt I'll ever be able to complete a triathlon. And on a longterm basis I can't commit to running round the common every other Wednesday as it causes too much mayhem at home.

OTOH, if I as suggested by my marathon mum friend I get myself a sports watch, and practise interval training in the local park, perhaps my pathetic times will improve.

And maybe pigs will fly....

I think I'd rather run a marathon.

TEETERING TOWARDS A TRI...

Two years ago, when I was just starting out on this running malarkey, and was looking online for runs I could take part in, I came across a mention of the London Triathlon. The distances didn't seem too idiotic, and I like swimming (in fact that was my exercise of choice before running or children), and cycling. Perhaps I should have a go at that?

I've created a monster, was Mad Twin's not unnatural response when I told her, and I thought no more of it for a while. However, a few months ago I got chatting to another marathon mum (a proper one, not like me - she's done it four times!), who told me that she had joined a Tri Club. They do swimming on Monday evenings, she said, come along...

I blogged about my first pathetic attempts in the pool on maniacmum, so if you want a laugh at my expense, you are more then welcome to go there, otherwise you can laugh at me here too. Two for the price of one, howzat?

After several weeks where I managed miraculously not to drown, but came home so bunged up I couldn't breathe, and was so demoralised I was on the verge of giving up, I bought a nose clip and slowly things have been improving.

Viz, when I first started I could only do one length at a time on my side. I can now do two like everyone else. And sometimes I even catch up with people. I must be improving a bit, as my lovely, cheerful (and only partially sadistic - if he says, Do it again, one more time, I may not be answerable for my actions) instructor has got me doing the same drills as everyone else now.

So most weeks the routine goes something like this:

2 lengths on my side head, not using my arms, kicking with my legs, putting head from side to side in water.

2 lengths superman - same routine with one arm out.

2 lengths shark - one arm outstretched, as I put my face in the water, I lift the other arm out like a shark's fin

2 lengths shark, but I keep my face down and lift my arm up for a second time.

So far so good. I can mostly do that now.

But then he introduces the stroke and I go all to pieces. I can cope with getting my head in the water, I can manage to roll from side to side. Most of the time I am not swallowing the pool, but the minute I have to think about what I am doing with my hands I am all over the shop. It doesn't help that I am totally uncoordinated and have never been able to rub my tummy and pat my head at the same time. So the minute Lovely Instructor starts telling me to bring my arm, bend my elbow, make an s shape with my hand AT THE SAME TIME as I get my head in the water, it all goes pear shaped, and I haven't a clue what to do.

The week before last I was actually feeling quite smug, as I had managed to get some sessions in the pool outside my lesson and I felt my stamina was improving. I had also managed to work out how to swim a length with a maximum stroke count of 18, which made me feel quite cheerful. Not only that, I did a five mile run and a six mile bike ride that week. Now if I can only manage to put them together...

This week by contrast was an illustration in humility, and not getting above meself. It was baking hot and the kids were really scratchy coming in from school. I ran around like a maniac tidying up after them/shouting at them/cooking tea/doing a head lice trawl (we sadly have hundreds of the little buggers, most of whom seem to have taken permanent residence in my second daughter's head.) etc etc. I rushed out late and was last one in the pool, arriving in a state of high stress and exhaustion, which didn't make for the greatest of starts.

To begin with things were ok. I managed to keep up with the crowd and felt I was holding my own. Then my wretched nose clip kept falling off, my goggles (which really belong to the children, but I haven't had time to buy my own) kept getting filled with water, my hair was escaping from my swimming cap (which also belongs to the children), and I just couldn't get my head round the instructions I was being given. At one point I was pulled up (quite rightly) for not getting it right and when everyone else went on to the next thing, I was left behind doing an easier version of the stroke. It was totally stupid, but I felt like the last one in the sack race. Christ I'm 41, and I was at the back of the pack feeling like a lemon, and wishing I was anywhere else but here. I did manage to resist the urge to burst into tears and leave the pool, but only just...

Things did just about come good in the last few lengths, but the rate I'm going I can't ever imagine that I'll manage to compete in a tri. It will take me years to get even part way good enough....

Tonight I'm going out for a run with the club for the first time. That should be a laugh.... I expect I'll be at the back of the pack there too. But at least I know I can run....

Update

As it's been nearly a month since I launched Running on Empty in a blaze of non-publicity I thought I'd give you an update of what's been happening since.

To date I've sold around 70 books which isn't fabulous by proper publishers' standards, but pretty good by mine, as there is only me to do all the publicity/marketing etc and I do only have soooo much time.

Some of my sales are definitely coming via the internet, so do let people know about the book. You can email me direct at: jules@marathonmum.com , to get an order form and you can pay me by cheque or by paypal. You can also order it via amazon or through your local bookshop. And shortly I hope it will be available with an online bookshop run by the Running4Women Website.

Brenda Earnshaw and Brian Porter did a great job of promoting the book at the Freckleton half marathon on 18 June and I know of two direct sales as a result. If there are any other of you Freckles out there, it's still not too late...!!!

I am hoping to be in my local paper this week - and did my first radio interview last Saturday on BBC Southern Counties Radio. I was interviewed by Sally James and William Marden and they were very kind to me. Which was just as well as it was 8am and I had a bit of a hangover... My only mistake was I told them that at the start and they mentioned it on air... They also very kindly gave away a copy of my book with free tickets to see Status Quo at Epsom Downs this Thursday. I suspect whoever rang in for the Quo might have been a bit nonplussed, but hey, maybe I'll convert someone! Anyway it was jolly good fun, although Dave did question why anyone wanted to be famous if it means getting up at 7am on a steaming hot Saturday morning. Particularly as I then had to get back to sort out our six year old's birthday party.

Which is how I came to be icing a mermaid cake at 9.10 an hour after I'd been on air. From the sublime to the ridiculous, methinks, but it kinda sums up my nutty life, so it seemed quite appropriate really...

On Sunday I ran the Race for Life with my eldest daughter- actually I use the word "ran" in it's loosest possible sense, with 4000+ participants, and being accompanied by a ten year old meant not a lot of running came into it. It was also blazing hot, and we started late, so my daughter moaned a fair bit. A run which I could have probably done in 30-35 mins therefore took us just over an hour. But I was able to point out a long line of people behind us to my daughter, and given that she has of late been feeling rather pathetic about her lack of sporting abilities (sadly she takes after both her parents in this regard), it cheered her up no end to see how many people she beat. (I didn't let on most of them were probably so unfit they'd never walked 5k let alone run it, but somethings are best left unsaid...) Getting over the line before me was even more of an achievement, so though basically the experience was pretty grim: it was hot, badly organised, there were no water stations etc, it was really worth it seeing her face as we came over the line. In ten years time I do hope we're doing proper races together - then she will be beating me hands down...

And finally, earlier this week Ginia and I went to St Thomas' for a party at the Twin's Research Unit to celebrate National Twins' Day. It was great fun and they very kindly gave us the opportunity to talk about our marathon experiences. And we have our picture in today's Daily Mail too boot. Typically, I haven't bought a copy...

If there are any twins out there reading this who would like to take part in the very important research The TRU you does, you can find out more by contacting:

Twin Research & Genetic Epidemiology Unit
on: 020 7188 5555
email: twinrecruitment@gstt.nhs.uk
website: www.twinsUK.ac.uk


So that's it for the moment.... will post more news here when I have it...