Everyone's At It...

...running that is.

When I started this new regime I downloaded a brilliant app for my iPhone called Couch To 5K. I love anything gadgety, geeky or remotely iternet-related. So to find something that was all of these rolled into one was a brilliant incentive to get me off my ass. And the fact it was called couch to 5k meant it was practically written for me! (although I'm conveniently trying to blank from my mind the fact that I'm doing a 10k and that I've got double the work...)

This is how it works. I put my headphones on, select the week and day I'm on in my training program, and start running. The intervals change every time I do it so in week one I'd run for a minute, then a voice interrupts the music to tell me to start walking. Then after a minute walking he tells me to run again, and so on. He tells me when I'm halfway through, and there's literally no better sound than his robotic faux-American voice at the end when it says "cool down."



I'd never heard of this application before, but since I started, I've discovered loads of people in my office are using it. And even more people are out running regularly. Just about everyone I know is currently training for a 10K or other. Maybe this was always the case but I always tuned it out before. Now I find myself having around six or seven conversations about running a day. It definitely seems THE cool thing to be doing at the moment. And now the clocks have gone forward and the nights are lighter, I can only imagine it's going to get more popular. I'm even considering buying new trainers and running gear after pay day. (Pay day traditionally being a day reserved for me to buy CDs, takeaways and more unecessary items of jewellery).

Tonight the man in my earphones made me run around the park for eight whole minutes before I got a break. Then I walked for five and then ran another eight. This is the longest I have managed to date and it wasn't as difficult as I was expecting. I ran all over Westburn Park tonight and for the last two minutes, when my calves were starting to really feel the strain, I ran uphill. I was so pleased to come to the end and discover that I still had more puff in me and could have carried on for longer.

I've started leaving the dog behind for these runs because they are getting longer and longer and I need all my concentration. It's not that he can't take the pace (he really can - trust me). But he has a habit now of veering off to one side in front or behind me, and this causes mid-jogging pirouettes to stop his lead winding around me legs which just make me look weird, frankly.

Now there's a big milestone looming. The next part of my training plan says I've got to run for 20 minutes without stopping. I'm quietly confident that I'll manage it, and if I do this will give me a strong conviction that I'll manage the whole 10k in just under two months time. So I'm a little excited but a little anxious. One thing that's for sure is the man in my earphones is getting more and more sadistic.

Gorillas In The Mist

You know that scene from The Exorcist when the priest turns up to do the exorcism and stands outside the house? Big plumes of fog and mist billow past him as he looks up towards the bedroom window and the whole scene is horribly eerie and atmospheric? Well tonight I went running in that!



Living by the North Sea means that every now and then we get a combination of temperature, wind levels and moisture in the air, to form a phenomenon known as haar. I grew up in Glasgow where "haar" is just the noise you make when clearing your throat, and it was only five years ago when I first moved here that I experienced this bizarre weather for the first time. It's basically sea mist. But it's a mist so powerful that when it comes rolling off the sea, it envelops the whole city under a foggy blanket all the way from the seafront, far above the city to the housing estates beyond. Walking through it drenches your clothing and even the straightest hair springs into wild curls within a few minutes.



When you've got asthma, running in it is a one-way ticket to an asthma attack and I again found myself relying on my inhaler for a few moments midway through. The pain in my calf muscles continues to throb. As a rule, if I leave a day between runs then I really enjoy going out and I just feel merely fatigued afterwards. However if I run two days in a row then halfway through the session my leg muscles start to really hurt. They hurt so much that I almost don't want to stop for my walking intervals because as soon as I do, that's when the pain really kicks in.

So far I have stuck to my training plan 100% and am advancing well. I ran to band practice and back again last night, and it didn't destroy me half as badly as it did last week. And although I have not lost one single ounce according to the scales, my clothes are getting a little looser and a colleague said today that my face wasn't as round as usual which is definitely a good thing.

I'm going to give myself tomorrow off and I might go to the gym on Saturday for an easy peasy go on the treadmill (people keep telling me it'll seem a lot easier than running outside). Then I've got a big milestone coming up - my first 20 minute run without stopping. Wish me luck!

Change Of Scenery

Believe it or not, it was actually a beautiful sunny night tonight here in Aberdeen. After three days off from my regime, I was itching to get back out and a pink sky full of fluffy clouds made for a very picturesque background. It seemed to be the perfect conditions to make a change to my usual route and take to the beach.



The path that runs above Aberdeen beach is around 2 miles long and mostly flat, apart from the occasional, brief slope. The road that runs above the path also forms a big part of the Baker Hughes race, so it's very popular with runners, especially at this time of year when the nights are getting lighter and the cold chill is disappearing from the air. It was about 5.30pm when I set off and there were lots of runners dotted up and down the coastline, of varying ages and ability. Some ran in little clusters, all keeping pace with one another, while other more serious runners ran alone with earphones on, clocking up many more miles than the rest. There were a few spritely pensioners putting me to shame, and lots of young students chatting as they jogged. I was the only one running with a dog lead in one hand and a terrier at my heels, but I'm getting used to that.



One thing I knew would happen, happened very fast - my lungs got tight. I've had asthma all my life and can tell very quickly when my body is preparing to go into an attack. I've had them sleeping on floors, stroking cats, walking around stables, cross country PE at school- many other situations - including jogging at the beach. There's something about a coastline and a ragged cold wind that makes my airways shrink. It feels like breathing through a straw - you just can't get enough air in one breath to fill your lungs. I had an inkling this would happen so I had my ventolin inhaler in my pocket and puffed on it a little heavily for about 30 seconds., continuing to run. After that it mostly passed and I was able to carry on with no problem. My legs felt a lot better than last week and I managed a pretty good run.



When I was done I rewarded the dog by finally letting him down to the sand. He loves the beach so much that even as I'm drawing up in the car, he starts whining like a creature possessed, like I'm going to drive off again without letting him out. Opting to do my cooldown walk on the sand was pretty hardgoing, as you have to push so much harder against soft sand than you do against tarmac. With all my muscles all ticking and cooling down, going onto the sand was like adding an extra workout onto my run. How anyone actually manages to run on sand, I have no idea. And Pamela Anderson made it look so easy!

All Work And No Play

Last week I ran 4 nights in a row and it almost broke me. So I gave myself the weekend off.

Now that sounds like an easy decision to make, but believe me it wasn't. I was on such a high from Monday to Friday due to stretching myself beyond what I'd thought possible, that not managing a fifth night seemed like giving in.

In my last entry here I was in pain (..but not suffering, remember?). That was Wednesday. By Thursday night I was as close to suffering as it's possible to be! Each day I'd been pushing myself that little bit further and delighting myself in the slow progress I was making. It might not seem much to most people, but to me it's pretty monumental. For someone who used to practically have an asthma attack running to the end of the road, being able to do a couple of miles in half an hour is nothing short of monumental.

The thing is, throughout this experience I've got this little pang of anxiety undercutting everything I'm doing; this little worry that I've only got two months. And that's not really that long to go from zero fitness to 10K level. That couple with the incredible generosity of everyone who has sponsored me (£690 to date and counting) and I reallyreallyreallyreallyreally want to run the whole thing in a oner and make everyone proud of me. Of course I know that it doesn't matter if I don't run the whole race, and just walk some of it. But I've set myself the task and I'll be damned I I don't give it my best shot.

But Thursday night I reached a limit. I took the dog to his weekly obedience class. (yes - I am one of those people). With him suitably knackered, I parked up by the running track and left him to snooze in the boot for the half hour that the Sports Village was still open. So there I was, 9.45pm at night, stretching by the side of the deserted athletics track, with the wind whistling in my ears. I started my program on calf muscles that were still sore and crampy from the night before and just went for it.

I believe the 10k is the equivalent of running around the track 24 times. It's a hefty reminder of how long I still have to go, despite how far I've come. A training session currently sees me completing around 8-10 laps, with some walking interspersed throughout. Although by the end of this week, it'll have increased still more (eeek don't want to think about that just yet).

So I set off, running to the same program as I'd done at the start of the week. Then I'd mastered it in somewhat of a euporic daze. But this night it was as if all my limbs were full of wet sand, like some taxidermied thing dragging itself in big slow circles. It. Was. Rough.

By the time I got to my final 5 minute stretch it felt like my calves were screaming out at me to stop, the buildup of acid in them was so overwhelming. However, so much of learning to run is about overcoming things psychologically and distracting oneself from the physicial pain. Even when you think you can't go on any more, the body can continue for much longer. So I kept going - in retrospect, a little foolishly. When I did stop my legs practically buckled under me and although I stretched each muscle slowly and carefully, I had to get back in the car and sit for 5 minutes before I felt confident that I could work the pedals in the car and get myself home.

After a hot shower, I stretched myself out on the couch and was in agony. There were cramps from my toes to my knees, and every inch between. It was the previous night's pain, squared. And I had to promise myself that I would give myself two days off, just to let my legs recover and let the muscles knit themselves together again.

The next day I'm sitting in the office, the sun streaming in the window over my shoulder, thinking "I could just go for a quick jog round the park" - but I wouldn't let myself. But I was really and truly itching to go.

Instead I had a weekend full of fun: I went to Nandos. I went to the cinema. I cleaned the flat from top to bottom. I enjoyed a dinner party with some of my favourite people. I walked the dog on the beach at 8am. I went to Makro for crying out loud. I napped on the couch and tonight I had a sushi lesson.

After the lesson I parked the car and, with a paper bag full of maki, I allowed myself a 10 second sprint to the flat. It still hurt. My body has a long way to go to catch up with my enthusiasm.
Now it's bedtime and I'm happy to be laying out my sports gear for tomorrow. I've got two days to make up for.


P.S McNulty got the weekend off too.

Pain Is Inevitable

So I started reading a great book given to me by a friend and work colleague, not to mention recommended by numerous others: What I Talk About When I Talk About Running by Haruki Murakami. Murakami has basically stolen my fantasy life and is living it. He's Japanese; is a hugely successful novelist; and he spends his summer running in Hawaii (apart from the running part that sounds pretty good to me). He writes beautifully about the sensation of freedom and contentment as he runs in sunny climes, with the trade winds cooling his sweaty brow. Then after a hard day's writing and running, he enjoys a meal of fresh fish looking out to sea before going to bed, sated and satisfied. You truly can't get much further from what I did tonight.

Let's compare: Following a day's work, I started my evening at Union Square where I had a meeting about my forthcoming summer Relay For Life. The team and I discussed fundraising plans over some coffees. I am delighted to have raised more than £500 to date in sponsorship for this and my 10k, and it's really spurring me on right now to train hard.
Then I went to Yo Sushi for a quick feast of edamame and hairy prawns (Murakami points = +5). Before dinner had a chance to digest I had to go to my band practice, with 15 minutes to spare. 15 minutes of running, oh yes. While Murakami gets to enjoy the sounds of the Hula Hula along the beaches of Hawai, I dodged pedestrian and pensioner and some other unmentionables as I hared it towards the centre of town. No gentle swells of the Pacific for me, but I did hear a few honk honks from the harbour as the oil service and fishing boats trundled out to the North Sea. My run took me up Market Street dodging seagulls and spilled kebabs, to the windy Castlegate and along King Street till I arrived, breathless, sweating and collasping in a bid to get my diaphragm back to normal singing function. Two hours of practice later and I opted to run the mile home again, pausing only for a few short moments of around 10 seconds or so to cross roads on the way.

Apart from the sushi, Haruki and I have nothing in common. However I am trying to glean pearls of wisdom from his brilliant insights. And one of the concepts he floats is this: "Pain is inevitable, suffering is optional."

Pain is inevitable:
This I can wholly attest to. As I type this my calf muscles are literally seized up in painful cramps. Even when I was going to the gym three times a week, my muscles didn't hurt like this. From my ankles right up to my knees, every fibre of my lower legs feel twisted, knotted and sore. It's no wonder because since I started reading Murakami, I've run every night this week. So my training session on Monday became a quick mile after work on Tuesday and now today I've upped that again, to two miles, one on either side of band practice. And given that I live a mostly sedentary lifestyle, it's no wonder that I'm hurting so much.

Suffering is optional:
Now this is interesting as it implies I have a choice. Right now I am acknowledging, nay moaning, that I am in pain right now, but am I also suffering? Well if I'm really honest with myself I'm sort of revelling in it, marvelling at all the muscles I never felt do anything before and writing it all out here like I should get some extra props for my pain! Furthermore, how much can I really be suffering since I'm so puffed up and proud of myself for the extra miles I've clocked up this week already, and I'm already planning my next run?

So thank you Murakami for reminding me that in choosing to run, I will inevitably get quite sore but in continuing to run I embrace the consequences. Suffering is what happens when you have pain forced upon you.

But if I can't walk tomorrow when I get out of bed, I need you to write a sick note to my boss - thanks.

Tonight's run was mostly sponsored by the 80s

So tonight I began week 4 of my training regime - running for 5 minute intervals. The most amazing thing to me is how quickly I am improving. Week 1 of the regime was hard. Really hard. And I was only running for 60 seconds at a time. Tonight I ran for 5 minutes, walked for 2, ran for 5 etc, until I'd reached half an hour. And I managed it without too much trouble. Week 4 was easier than week 1! Who'd have thought it possible? Still a long way to go though and it's never more apparent than when obviously good runners sprint past me at about 5 times the speed I'm going at.



I feel properly tired tonight. But it also felt amazing doing that last 5 minute run. With 10 seconds to go my calf muscles were absolutely burning; I was panting like crazy and my hair was all stuck down with sweat. But I literally wanted to punch the air with both fists as I did those last few seconds, because I'd actually completed it, and I could have kept going for longer...I really could. I didn't punch the air though because I had a dog lead in one hand and an ipod in the other - which leads me to the subject of this post: music to run to.

There are some songs which are utterly brilliant to keep step with. The type of songs you can do your hoovering to and that stick a little extra spring in your step.
I've been adding to a playlist every week since I started and I'm at the stage now that I skip over certain tracks and run like mad to others.

Great running tracks that spur me on:
Don't Stop Believing - Journey AND the Glee version
You Are My World - The Communards
I Feel Love - Bronski Beat
She's A Maniac (Michael Sembello - from the film Flashdance)
Total Eclipse Of The Heart - Bonnie Tyler
Like A Prayer - Madonna

Rubbish running tunes that were good to begin with but I now skip over:
You Don't Have To Say You Love Me - Dusty Springfield (it's a cracking karaoke tune but is just not so good for keeping a steady pace too)
One Love - U2 (I've realised I pretty much hate Bono)
Without You - Nilson (More of a mascara thinner than a running tune)

All of my top tunes are from the 80s - even Like A Prayer. If anyone can recommend any other good tunes for me then please send them my way. They help me haul myself around the park just that little bit easier.

Aberdeen jogger in leg cocking frenzy

Things not to do when you have a hangover:
1 - Take an adolescent puppy out who is obssessed with cocking his leg on every upright structure, manmade or otherwise.
2 - Pick up dog shit.
3 - Run.
So far today I have done all these things, and it's not even 11 o'clock yet.

It went like this: So we're into March, the nights are a little lighter and as I edge closer to the end of a working week the emails start flying in.
Fancy a pint after work?
The Globe after work?
Do you want to go sit outside The Globe after work?
Well it was hardly warm or sunny. But it was at least dry plus they have those giant heaters on stands. So we sat outside The Globe. All night. (Well until they shut the beer garden and we moved inside). So my quick drink after work turned into several hours. Oh and I had a kebab which is never a good idea(I can still taste it now - yuk). I didn't even get home in time to see Jonathon Ross which is my Friday night standard, although I was tucked up in bed by 1am.

This morning it is actually bright and sunny and I went out with the dog. He's 9 months old now and has reached that stage in his adolescence where he's sniffing every damn thing that moves. If he can't eat it, he generally tries to pee on it. This in itself is not a problem, but it makes jogging that bit trickier when you've got a fuzzy head and none of the wherewithal to avoid getting tangled around trees, benches, other people's dog leads etc.

Next - if you've got the slightest dodgy stomach, due to say, an ill-advised doner kebab at midnight the night before, picking up dog shit isn't the best idea. The waft of doggy innards is unavoidable and wretchworthy.
>

And last, the running part is trickier. You get a raging thirst on immediately and every step the blood is beating behind your eyeballs. All in all, it makes a faint, burgeoning hangover turn into a full-blown death-destroyer.

Actually I exaggerated that last part as I've had a shower now and a pint of coke zero and I actually feel, dare I say it, o-kay.



As for the running, my dodgy knees that have been bothering me are hurting less. I think it's because I'm picking my legs up more when I run now - maybe even crossing from jogging territory into actual running. Next session I'm up to running in five minute intervals. Am I really ever going to manage to run for an hour?

Hair of the dog anyone?

My dog likes me more today than yesterday

So today I came home from work, changed and grabbed the dog for a quick run. It was a nice night (by this I mean it was dry and cold - not like running head first into a monsoon at the centre of a tornado like last week) and it was still light outside. The corresponding negative point to this is that there were people around. People who could actually see me. This is not good. However I have to get past feeling self-conscious if I'm really serious about running this 10k as it's an event that people literally line the streets to see. And it's time to face facts - I am not going to be gracefully cantering along, a slight sheen of sweat giving me a healthy glow. No. It's not going to be a pretty sight. There's going to be sweat, snot, wheezing and a lot of people watching. So it's time to suck it up (and possibly suck it in).

Tonight's training schedule saw me repeating the run from last Thursday when I felt I was going to be sick. I didn't feel like I was going to be sick tonight (apart from when I jogged past the guy with the can of Special Brew, who looked a bit like he was already being sick - thanks for that).

I was running in 3-minute blocks again, with breaks in between for walking. I started on the streets before arriving at Rubislaw Gardens - the park where the dog often gets an evening walk.



Part of him seemed delighted at my running, yet confused. It went roughly like this:

I start jogging, gradually picking up the pace as I go.
DOG: Hang on. What's up with this. She's actually moving faster than me. Wait...there's a twig there I want to eat...GODDAMMIT.. ok I'll show her what running is.

The dog catches me up and for a few moments we've got a good little rhythm going on.
DOG: This is great. This is really great. This is the greatest thing that's ever happened.

The end of the three minutes approaches.
DOG: Wait I was just getting going there. What's going on. Come on, pick up the pace!

I slow to a fast walk. Dog pulls and pulls and pulls at me to speed up again.


If you repeat this for roughly half an hour you have an idea of how it went. At the end I had one tired out dog. He usually tears up the stairs at a rate of knots after a walk whereas tonight he fell in step beside me.



I on the other hand walked up them like an old woman (I always do)

First post

Hello and thanks for stopping by. You are probably here because you know me and I emailed you a link to this blog. It's yet another novelty to trick me into feeling motivated to run. There's nothing wrong with that, I'll take all the motivational tactics I can get.

Here's the background:

For years now I have latched onto various fads to keep me fit. I spent 6 months learning to kickbox. I spent a year with a personal trainer getting fit only to gradually let it slide again. Now I have a dog and go out for walks every day, but I'm still hardly what you'd call a fit person. I just don't have that same drive that some of my friends and family do. Plus I find it really hard to fit everything into my week as it is. Currently I am: working full-time; singing in two bands; taking care of and walking my dog; going to dog-training classes,trying to write, and so on. This is pretty standard living for me. When you factor in all the TV I have to watch and all the nights out I enjoy going on, there doesn't seem much time left over for anything else.

So why am I putting myself through the pain of training to run? (And trust me, it is painful). Well this year I am helping my friend raise a lot of money for Cancer Research. We are committed to a series of fundraising events and I figured one more couldn't hurt. Enter the 10K.

I am currently quite unfit. But bear in mind that even when I have been fit, I have still been crap at running, indoor or out. I can do 20 minutes on a cross trainer and feel great afterwards. Stick me on a treadmill for 30 seconds and I'll be wheezing and panting like a dirty phonecall before you can say "on your marks".

I have asthma, dodgy knees and am carrying a few extra pounds. So in starting to run I am literally taking it in baby steps. I have a beginner's running program which I began three weeks ago. Then I was walking a minute, running a minute and so on. Three weeks later and I am running for three minutes and walking for three minutes. I have 12 weeks till D-day and the idea that I could be fit enough to run for an hour non-stop seems insane.

So I am writing this blog in an effort to keep anyone who is interested updated on my progress. I hope to pick up a few extra sponsors along the way, and you'll find my sponsorship page elsewhere on this site. The thought of people donating money is a big motivation.

I am training with a group of practically professionals. David organises all our sessions. He came 14th out of 2,500 runners in the 10k last year. Then there's Rita, an American girl who won a sports scholarship to a big college in the States. And her professional footballer fiance. Honestly, he plays in the Highland League. There's a few others who are all very fit and they all swish swish swish around the track while I tolddle along several laps behind them every week. We train on an outdoor athletics track in the wind, rain and frost.



I am just home from a training session with them and I almost threw up at the end of it. With 30 seconds of running to go I kept thinking to myself "enough...I ....can't....keep....going...any...longer" but the thought of all that sponsorship money people had been so generous to give me kept me going. Then as I walked around the track to cool down at the end, I really thought I might vomit. I have never experienced feeling sick through exercise before. Drink, yes. (SORRY MUM) Food, yes. But never exercise. Even scarier is the thought that this time next week I'm supposed to be able to run for twice as long as I did tonight. I'll give it a bash and hopefully the contents of my stomach will stay put!

Thanks for reading!