The Dirty Weekend

Two years ago, as part of a crazy work challenge, I entered the Mudrunner Oblivion event at Eastnor Castle. This is a 10k cross country course, with lots of uphill sections, obstacles, and wading through mud, which is up to waist height in places. It took me three hours, and I hated every second of it, but having paid my entry fee, and with a dozen colleagues and assorted friends waiting for me at the end, I struggled on and vowed never to return again.

However, the pain of that day had faded, and needing a bigger challenge than the 5k parkrun, I signed up again this year. The event has grown since the intial event, and was now being held on two days and has been named the Dirty Weekend, with camping within the grounds of the castle overnight. I opted for the Saturday event on the basis that I would be able to enjoy a cider or two afterwards, and watch my more ambitious mates complete the course on Sunday. 

Saturday afternoon was bright and warm, and I was actually quite excited driving to the venue. However, this excitement quickly turned to blind panic on seeing the hill at the start of the course. I have not done any proper hill training since November, and ended up strolling up the hill with all the other people who had opted to start the race in the slow wave. Still, it was very scenic, and at least I had time to enjoy the view.

The course then progressed through deep tracks of mud, which is so gloopy that it rips your trainers off your feet, and a variety of obstacles - fences to climb over, monkey bars (which if I'm honest I took one look at, then chose the alternative crawl under a cargo net), a spiders web of ropes, a quick dip in the lake, and then a mountainous slope of solid mud where you need to pull yourself up on a rope:

 

This is me a few seconds before I fell flat on my face, and was left dangling on the rope, before some random man took pity on me, and hauled me very inelegantly over the ridge at the top of the slope by my arms.  The final obstacle is another longer dip in the lake, before an uphill jog to the finish line.

This is me and my friend Vicky at the end, very glad to have finished the course. I was not particularly fast, but I didn't come last either. However, unlike last time, I absolutely loved taking part. I am now suffering from the type of pain which is agonising but strangely satisfying at the same time - I started today on a care of the elderly placement as part of my course, and struggled to keep up with the chair based exercise class aimed at my 90 year old patients, as my legs will barely move, but it is all worth it.

For the past month, I have been on a acute respiratory placement, including working with patients in intensive care. I think this has made me realise just how fragile life is, and how much I take my good health for granted. None of us know what might happen tomorrow, and from now on, I fully intend to make the best of the opportunities that I have. Some challenges are not meant to be easy, but that makes their completion all the more satisfying.

The story behind the name.

Over the past week, a couple of people have asked why I chose to give my blog the name that it’s got. So I thought I had better explain….

Anyone who knows me well will know that I have a rather colourful dating history. For many years, I have tended to be attracted to men who are bad for me – in fact with one recent notable exception, they have been varying degrees of vile. Of course, I have been oblivious to this until long after it is over. I had the dubious pleasure of bumping into one of them in a pub back last summer, and I told him during the course of our conversation of my intentions to sign up for the Bath half marathon. Spluttering into his beer he told me that I would never manage to run even a mile as I am far too fat and lazy. To be fair, I was perhaps rather foolish of me to expect him to be in any way supportive as his pet name for me was, and in fact still is "Lard".

Another equally charming ex, on terminating our relationship told me that he had made an exception for me, because normally he only dated thin, pretty girls. That statement has stuck with me ever since.  It would be understandable if he had the benefit of supermodel looks himself, but sadly he does not.

I am well aware that I am not exactly skinny. I haven’t been since I started working in McDonalds and discovered beer when I was 16. But I have come to realise that even if I had been a size 6, those men would still have made those comments – I wasn’t about me, or how I looked, it was about them and their odious personalities.  And as they both march quickly towards middle age, and all the disadvantages that go with it, I am becoming a better person than they ever deserved.  I will probably not ever be skinny again, but I will be happy and that is sometimes the best revenge anyone can get.

Fat or thin, I will complete the Bath half marathon, and I will do it with a smile on my face. And I will do it just for me, because I can. I have named this blog in celebration of who I am, and when I do complete the race it will because the things that they said about me made me stronger.

  

So there you go, my sad little story.  I could actually write a book on the men I have known and their strange habits. Maybe that will be my next project.

On a more cheerful note, I ran 5 miles this week without stopping. It was a bit slow at times, as it was on the road out of Abergavenny where I am currently on placement with university, and much of it was uphill, but it felt fantastic to complete that distance. If I can repeat the same next week, I think I might try to find a 10k to enter, and again I will finish it with a smile on my face.

Back to parkrun

After several weeks of putting it off, the time had come for me to face up to my fears and go back to parkrun - scene of the big fall nearly 6 months ago now. I had considered going to the Cardiff one instead, but I like the route at Newport, and somehow it would have felt disloyal to Lliswerry Runners who organise it to go elsewhere. 

So the alarm was set for 7am in order that I could fuel myself with porridge ready for the big event - it doesn't taste any better when its two months past its best before date, but as a humble student I wasn't going to let it go to waste.  A tablespoon of sugar eased the discomfort a bit, but I still think its disgusting.

It was a lovely clear morning today, but not too hot, so perfect conditions for a little run.  However, going back for the first time was never going to be about whether I could physically run 5km. I know that I am capable of dragging my flabby self around that distance without stopping. The problem was the fears in my head, especially when I thought about the part of the course where I fell, and due to the double lap of the route, I had to run that bit twice. 

I was actually quite calm about it all until I pulled into the car park, where I had to fight the urge to drive home again and get back into my warm bed. I think I had probably chosen a good week, as most of the club members that I knew were off an another event, so I was left alone with my thoughts, rather than having to make conversation before the start. I decided that I would just concentrate on getting round, and not worry about the time it was taking me. Summer appears to have brought out a whole lot of new runners; usually I am near the back and after the first 500 metres I am mostly on my own. Today I found myself running with people the whole way, and even managed to overtake three people. It is great to see that parkrun is bringing running to the less athletic in society though - although its good that there is a competitive edge amongst the front runners, most of us will never achieve a sub 20 minute PB, and I personally think that there is much more for the organisers to be proud of when someone new to exercise finishes in 50 minutes, than when the course record is broken. 

In the end, it was ok. I was terrified the whole time, and it was probably one of the toughest mental challenges that I have ever faced, but I made it in one piece and even managed a little victorious sprint towards the finish line. I was very pleasantly surprised on receiving my confirmation email to learn that I had smashed my PB for the course by 66 seconds, finishing in 33.55 - faster than I ever thought possible when I started, and creeping closer to the sub 30 minutes that I'm ultimately aiming for. 

So all in all not a bad day. Thank you for reading.

 

Beach run

I’ve taken advantage of a “reading week” at university and removed myself out of the rat race down to my parent’s caravan in Devon. The weather is glorious, and since it’s not the school holidays, thankfully the site is almost free from screaming children and barking dogs.

I thought it might be a nice idea to go for a little run along the beach, and had visions of me striding, Pamela-Anderson-in–Baywatch-style across the sands through the breaking water. Hmmm.  It didn’t quite work out like that. Running on sand, whether it be dry (gets in your trainers) or damp (makes your feet wet) is actually bloody hard work. The blazing sunshine probably didn’t help either, and the fact that I was wearing black made me sweat like a pig. Still I impressed myself by managing to go 2 miles – although very slowly, without having to stop.

I then decided that I’d run back on the coastal path, which has the most stunning view of the beach, and is surrounded by fields filled with happy little lambs, and it almost made me glad that I had made the effort. Apart from the uphill bits, which I had to walk because my lungs still don’t do uphill. For anyone who knows the area, I went from Woolacombe beach to Putsborough Sands and back along the south west coast path.

All in all, I’d managed 4 miles, with just a tiny little stop in the middle. It took me 47 minutes, which I know is not very fast, but I am proud of myself for making the effort. I might try it again later in the week and see if I can do sub 45 minutes.

Due to a limited internet access I have struggled to find an appropriate motivational quote for the week. However, I did find the following on my phone which seemed appropriate. It struck me while I was on the coast path, between desperate gasps for breath, that however much I might have been struggling at that moment, I was actually incredibly fortunate to have the good health to be there at all, and the freedom to just go for a run. Sometimes I do like to moan a bit and I forget that actually I am incredibly blessed in life. 

Thank you for reading.

Gadgets and gizmos

My parents very kindly bought be a fancy Garmin Forerunner 110 for Christmas - ironically purchased on the very same day that I fell over, and therefore it has remained in the box ever since. However, spurred on by reports of friends doing brilliantly in various 10ks and half marathons over the last two days, I thought it was about time for me to get moving again. 

According to the box "Hotfix GPS helps you get started with your run faster than ever". Maybe this little device is just what I have been looking for. The box contains the watch device thing, a plug, a usb cable and 12 separate instruction manuals in different languages - which seemed like a bit of a waste of paper to me. Surely there could be a single leaflet directing people to their website, which they could put the instructions on instead of this:

Despite this, the watch is nice and easy to use, and I didn't even need to set the time, as it gets that from the satellites. This did unfortunately involve me hanging around on a street corner for five minutes, while it searched for the satellites, making me grateful that I was clad in lycra and tatty tshirt, otherwise I may have attracted some unwanted attention.

I headed out after dark - I suspect this will become more of a problem within the next month because I don't really fancy going out after 10pm as summer approaches, but I'm yet to get over my fear of being seen by someone that I know. I pressed the start button, and off I went. This handy little gadget keeps a record of the distance and the current pace, and beeps every half mile just to let you know its there. 

Unfortunately, I have regressed to even worse than when I started back in November, and my lungs felt like they were on fire after 200 metres. However, I managed to keep going for 2.24 miles before I had to stop, which is further than I thought I would be able to do. My legs feel fine and could keep going; it is my breathing control which is the problem. I know that this will improve quite quickly - I just need to stick with it. I'm going to aim for for 3 miles continuously by this time next week. 

Plugged the little watch into the laptop on my return home, and it really is quite cool. It produces a little map and shows all the stats (including how pathetically slow I actually am!) just like this:

I think it will help with my motivation when I can see how I am improving as the weeks go by, and I just need to believe in myself a little bit more than I do now. I like that it tells me how many calories I have used as well, I can justify the supersize of my chicken nugget meal by running an extra mile now.

As usual, I will finish with today's motivational quote. Thank you for popping by.

 

I'm back with a boob

It's now over four months since my little fall, and apart from the occasional twinge, my ankle feels almost back to normal. So inspired by my little brother's amazing performance in the London Marathon on Sunday I have decided that it is about time that I removed my increasingly lardy arse off of the sofa, and got back to my plan to become an athlete.

I thought that going for a little swim to get myself back in the swing of exercise might be a wise idea, so yesterday I grabbed the only swimming costume I could find and headed down to the pool for a few lengths. It did not go well. Turns out that the swimming costume was a size too big, and after having happily completed a few laps, I stood up only to find that my right boob had escaped and was now on display to the entire pool - including several children who were having a lesson at the time, and will no doubt now be traumatised for life. I escaped as quickly as possible before I could be stopped by the staff for being a flasher. Not my finest moment. 

Anyway, its back to the running club tomorrow night, and I'm just hoping that it isn't one of the hideous hill sessions. I have also signed up to the Cardiff Half Marathon in October, and will be training with my housemate for that so hopefully we'll be able to keep each other motivated. 

Here's my little motivational quote for today: 

 Thank you for reading.

Sadly, not this year.

Well, nearly a month has passed since my little fall, so thought it was about time for an update.

Sadly, I do not think that I will be running the Bath Half this year, as my ankle has not healed as well as I had hoped it would, and at present walking remains a bit of a struggle. I have seen a physio a couple of times, who thinks that there is damage to the achilles tendon, which would account for the swelling that is still there. I am very sad at having to admit defeat in this challenge - but I will be doing it next year, even if it means being pushed around in a shopping trolley.

I've not given up though - I'm aiming for one of the autumn half marathons - Cardiff, Bristol or Birmingham, and any recommendations as to which one would be best would be great.

I've noticed that in the last week that my arse has increased in size without the regular exercise, and therefore I have joined weightwatchers before I turn into a lump of wobbliness. So therefore I am currently obsessing over the points value of cottage cheese, and have filled my fridge with fruit and vegetables in anticipation of a much healthier diet. Hopefully weighing a bit less will make running that little bit easier when I resume my training, and will also make my legs a lot less likely to give way from underneath me again.

I saw this and it made me smile:

Thanks for reading.