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.