AT LAST - TIME TO TRAIN...

Since I last posted time to train has been hard to come by, mainly because it was the summer holidays and the kids took up all my time.

We went on an epic camping trip to Europe (about which I have blogged ad nauseam on http://maniacmum.blogspot.com ), during which I had had fond notions of getting up early and going for runs, and, as part of the holiday was spent by Lake Constance, I even fantasised about swimming in the lake. Sadly the weather was so lousy (and by lousy, I mean lousy) I didn't get to see the lake most days, let alone swim in it. I managed one paltry run round the campsite and that was it. I did get a few quick swims in various pools in France (and though I practised my drills as said pools were so short there wasn't a great deal of opportunity to improve my style).

Once back home, of course I didn't have Spouse, so I got out running a couple of evenings and that was pretty much that.

But that is all about to change ... and how.

Because, finally, after eight years of being at home with the sprogs, my youngest is now in full time education and my time is my own once more...

So last week I got in two runs and a swim (and surprisingly the swimming felt ok).

And this week I have managed:

to play tennis on Sunday (badly it has to be said as I was incredibly hungover).

an interval run home from school. I actually managed a mile in about 10-11 mins, which believe me, is fast for me.

a swim on Wednesday, in which I finally began to feel the swimming is coming together. I am still very very bad, but at least now I can manage two lengths on the trot, even if I am puffing and panting like a beached whale when I get to the end.

a swim on Thursday - this was even better. I decided I was just going to see how much I could actually swim, rather then concentrating on the drills. I managed four lengths together which I was pretty chuffed about and swam 20 in total. Half of what I could have done breaststroke, but much much better then I could do before. Maybe I am a triathlete in the making... (or maybe not, I took the kids to the park on our bikes the other day and mine has sprung a puncture. It being YEARS since I changed a tyre, my bike being somewhat more complex then the one I used to have, plus being fitted with a kid's seat which I'll have to take off, I have a ghastly feeling it may stay in the garage for some time...)

I also went to the gym on Thurs night, to keep Spouse company as he hasn't been for months, and did a speedwork session on the treadmill, which knackered me out, but was pretty good.

So this morning I decided I would strike out for a longish run - time having been against me for so long now, my long runs have faded into memory rather. As I have also rather foolishly signed up for a 10k next Sunday (memo to self, I really must let Spouse know!) I decided I needed to prove to myself that I could still go that distance.

My plan was to drop the kids at school and just go for it. However, things being what they are in my house that didn't quite happen. To begin with it was raining, so when no 3 pathetically asked to go in the car, and no 4 pathetically said she was tired (which having just done her first full school day followed by tennis yesterday, she is), I gave in and drove. I HATE driving to school as the roads are so busy, we have a fairly newish MPV and I am terrified of bashing it, and the kids squabble so much I get distracted. However, needs must and all that...

I couldn't set off straight after drop off, because no 3 has been chosen to sing in the choir at assembly so of course I had to go and watch. Still, I did revel in the luxury of sitting in the assembly sans autre enfants as I have had to do in the past.

It was 9.35 by the time I got back home, and I had a wavering moment when I thought shall I skip it. But the thought of not completing that 10k was too much to bear, so I made myself.

I am such a slow runner I have said I will do the 10k in 1.15 to be on the safe side, but really I would rather do it faster. The only other 10k I've done was years ago, pre children and I managed to clock 1:03. But I was a lot younger then...

As I set off the sun came out, and within minutes I was sweating buckets, so took my top off by the traffic lights in the town centre. My route was not a very exciting one, and chosen purely because I know it is six miles door to door to the set of traffic lights I run to and back.

I was pleased to see as I ran past the clock tower that graces our high street, that I had got into town in ten minutes (mind you it is all down hill), as I had deliberately been running slower, as I usually make the fatal mistake of going too fast and running out of steam very quickly.

Coming out of town there are two undulating dips - the upsides are pretty steep, so I slowed down even more. My sciatic nerve which has been bothering me for months chose that moment to remind me of its presence, so while I wasn't in agony, I wasn't comfortable either, which was very annoying as the previous day on the running machine it had felt fine. I got up to the quarter way point (marked by the church clock on the common) in another ten minutes. Hmm - twenty mins to do 1.5 miles, that would mean 100 mins to do 6 - or 1:20. Surely even I couldn't clock such a crap time?

Heading off towards the next quarter I was back in familiar territory. This was the beginning part of my long runs when I was in marathon training proper. The run is on the road and takes me past the common, rather then round it. Call me a wuss, but I don't like the idea of running alone on the common, which is very wooded, so I always go via the roads. What I need is to find someone to run the common with me...

The next bit of the journey incorporated two more dips and as I plodded along I remembered somewhat belatedly that this is one of those roads that seems sooooo much further then it really is.

Eventually, the traffic lights I was aiming for hove into view. Thank god for that. Blimey I'd run three miles, felt absolutely knackered and my sciatic nerve was stepping the pain up a level. I checked my time - 37mins to run three miles. Over 12min miles. Pretty crap then. I had a drink and set off home again, reflecting that I was going to be sorely disappointed by how long the return journey took me.

Luckily on the way back, some weird reverse psychology came into play and it actually seemed quicker then on the way out - even though one of the uphills was so steep I was merely plodding.

I got to the church in twenty minutes. If it took me twenty more to get home, I was now heading for 1:17 - so I'd managed to save three mins then...

Actually, as it happened I got back in 1:10. Not the fastest time in the world, but better then anticipated. And maybe I can do better on the day.

It wasn't one of the best runs I've ever done, but it did remind me why I get out there and do it.

What I love about running is that you can just pull on your running shoes, head out the door, and off you go. It's just you and your body battling against the distance. And when the sun is shining and the wind is on your cheek, to me however badly I'm running it's the best feeling in the world.

What makes you get out there and go?