Despite an attempt to soundtrack my life with a musical score by Paul Simon (Mainly Graceland, obvs, but also Rhythm of the Saints), the bubbling over of positivity and motivation is fails to last more than a few minutes, and I'm finding it really hard to actually begin running again...
I've had the odd run since the winter, but nothing that resembles any kind of regular commitment. When I'm into a running schedule, there's nothing easier then getting up and outside, in the mornings, when I'm home from work, lazy sundays, whenever. When I haven't been running, the excuses are plentiful: my knee, my self-conciousness, my hair, I'll somehow manage to convince myself that a 5 km run can be equated by half an hour of cleaning my kitchen. I've drawn up a training scheme, the first part of which begins officially in May but I'd like to be running 2-3 times a week before I start that. However, at the moment I feel massively fatigued. I've had a couple of busy weeks but I still feel that I'm more tired than I should be - especially as the springtime is usually when I feel at my very best.
I'm possibly being a little hard on myself as I was in loco parentis of two (sometimes three) dogs last week and consequently walked over 25+ km in the space of a week, which is not to be sniffed at. However, walking is one thing (and one thing that seems to result in inordinate tiredness....), actually running is another, and my mind appears to be interpreting for my body, and making it sound like a teenager: "Guuuuuuuuh.... I'm TOO TIRED!". It does literally feel like my legs are full of concrete whenever I entertain the notion of popping out. And even when that's not the case, all those other excuses pop up. It doesn't matter how much I tell myself how good I will feel afterwards, or promise myself ice cream, or how certain I am of how ineffably easier it will be to continue than it was to start. Basically, I need something to force me to get out and pound the path around Roath Lake. Happily, there is brightness on today's rainy horizon: Wednesday is my day to walk Spud the collie, who needs to lead, loves running and won't take the piss out of me when I stopped jogging halfway round the route. So this evening, come rain come shine, I will be, in all my bright pink-faced glory, panting my way with a stony expression, past the swans, geese, ducks and pedalos to a new, bright future, the main difference of which is that it contains me running more frequently. Rome wasn't built in a day, people.
Wednesday, 18 April 2012
Wednesday, 11 April 2012
Exploring places that I think I know
So it's been a unpromising couple of weeks. And by unpromising I mean: I have not been for one run. I have managed a couple of walks though - this is my only achievement in the running stakes.
However I do have a reasonably good excuse that isn't (directly) related to excessive chocolate intake - I was hosting a week-long tour of Americans (two of them). I met John whilst I was travelling in China (where he was working as a school teacher) with two of my friends, and we all four of us spent many nights up together sharing stories about the significantly different places that we had grown up. I was lucky enough to go and visit him in South Carolina last year, and the favour was returned (by whom I am unsure). I had raved about how beautiful the countryside and the coast of Wales are, and I was pretty chuffed that even my descriptions hadn't prepared the two of them for some of the most breath-taking and dramatic scenery that the UK has to offer, if not the world. It's a bit of an assumption that we as a country do not have particularly amazing beaches, and if your UK beach trips have been limited to the South Coast, this is understandable. But in fact, we (not just Wales) have a wealth of amazing beaches of various types with stunning vistas, quirky wildlife and fantastic surf - I guess it's just the weather that limits enjoyment. Our trip took in Gower, the Brecon Beacons, honey ice cream in Aberaeron, Southern Snowdonia (including the cottage where Led Zeppelin wrote a number of their songs, Bron-Yr-Aur), North Wales, the Midlands, Cardiff, Bath and London. Going on an adventure in my own locality was one of the best decisions I've made recently, and the chance to get to see everything that I know so well through new eyes was an opportunity that came as a complete surprise, and reminded me how proud I am of all the places I am from specifically, and from the country I am from in general. Nothing like a little sunshine (and pouring rain and snow flurries) to help one see things in a more positive light.
This may not be a great revelation to everyone else, but it's a reassuring one to me. Paradoxically, it seems to me, that whilst the world is getting ever smaller, your own areas are actually much much bigger that most people might realise. There's a massive wealth of things to discover practically on your doorstep, from the best bread in the city to real-life wildlife displays (red kits, hawks attacking crows, lambing, wild horses scratching behind their ears, and the most massive pig you've ever seen in your entire life) to a B&B that's been in the same family for 500 years.
So that's me for today, I'm off to plan my now-cemented desire to take a long weekend cycling around Northumberland this summer. The next post will hopefully be about how I'm channelling this optimism, via lots of Paul Simon, into tackling my training regime, which is now extant, with gusto.
Enjoy where you live!
No matter how many times I walk it, I still love Garn Goch:
However I do have a reasonably good excuse that isn't (directly) related to excessive chocolate intake - I was hosting a week-long tour of Americans (two of them). I met John whilst I was travelling in China (where he was working as a school teacher) with two of my friends, and we all four of us spent many nights up together sharing stories about the significantly different places that we had grown up. I was lucky enough to go and visit him in South Carolina last year, and the favour was returned (by whom I am unsure). I had raved about how beautiful the countryside and the coast of Wales are, and I was pretty chuffed that even my descriptions hadn't prepared the two of them for some of the most breath-taking and dramatic scenery that the UK has to offer, if not the world. It's a bit of an assumption that we as a country do not have particularly amazing beaches, and if your UK beach trips have been limited to the South Coast, this is understandable. But in fact, we (not just Wales) have a wealth of amazing beaches of various types with stunning vistas, quirky wildlife and fantastic surf - I guess it's just the weather that limits enjoyment. Our trip took in Gower, the Brecon Beacons, honey ice cream in Aberaeron, Southern Snowdonia (including the cottage where Led Zeppelin wrote a number of their songs, Bron-Yr-Aur), North Wales, the Midlands, Cardiff, Bath and London. Going on an adventure in my own locality was one of the best decisions I've made recently, and the chance to get to see everything that I know so well through new eyes was an opportunity that came as a complete surprise, and reminded me how proud I am of all the places I am from specifically, and from the country I am from in general. Nothing like a little sunshine (and pouring rain and snow flurries) to help one see things in a more positive light.
This may not be a great revelation to everyone else, but it's a reassuring one to me. Paradoxically, it seems to me, that whilst the world is getting ever smaller, your own areas are actually much much bigger that most people might realise. There's a massive wealth of things to discover practically on your doorstep, from the best bread in the city to real-life wildlife displays (red kits, hawks attacking crows, lambing, wild horses scratching behind their ears, and the most massive pig you've ever seen in your entire life) to a B&B that's been in the same family for 500 years.
So that's me for today, I'm off to plan my now-cemented desire to take a long weekend cycling around Northumberland this summer. The next post will hopefully be about how I'm channelling this optimism, via lots of Paul Simon, into tackling my training regime, which is now extant, with gusto.
Enjoy where you live!
No matter how many times I walk it, I still love Garn Goch:
Sunday, 25 March 2012
Leg stretching and dog-exhausting
In honour of the splendiferous weather, and to avoid jumping straight into any kind of training regime, I took Bronwen, who is temporarily in my care, out for a walk along the Taff Trail. Initially I just thought I'd wander round the parks but it was absolutely rammed. Whilst I've no fear about her behaviour per se, she doesn't really pay any attention to anyone else around, walking, running OR cycling, so not wanted to leave anyone with severe falling-/tripping-related injuries, I thought I'd wander in the direction of Castell Coch, which resulted in a 12.1 km long walk, in around 2.5 hours. Bronwen was ecstatic to be out, running around like only a collie can. I was a little worried at one point ans she started to go into a sheepdog-like crouch when we came in sight of some small fluffy white dogs. Luckily I managed to distract her with a stick - which quickly turned into a series of sticks of various shapes and sizes:
Post stick-collection, at least three thorough shakes are required.... otherwise you ended up with a bedraggled lump of ginger fur....
She's now conked out at my feet - I would be proud that I'd outwalked a collie but to be honest, she probably went about three times as far as did I, with the odd spot of swimming too. But she remained zoned long enough for me to plant some marigolds - for the nematodes - apparently they're good for protecting just about any veggies?
Congratultations to the Scarlets, who we watched beat the Cardiff Blues yesterday evening, accompanied by some lovely choral singing, including Calon Lan and Yma o Hyd, Cwm Rhondda and of course, Delilah. Llongyfarchiadau, Y Scarlets!
Friday, 23 March 2012
Second step on a 13.1 mile journey
Once again I'm dipping my toes into the blogosphere (previous travel blog here) although sadly I'm no longer travelling around the world, so I suppose I will have to up the stakes in terms of actual writing quality.
I decided to start this blog as I've recently taken a decision to achieve what until recently I would have assumed to be impossible, and run the 2012 Cardiff Half Marathon. This may not seem a big step but for years I have assumed I am lazy, overweight and incapable of achieving significant physical milestones such as this. I did a 5 km run years ago when I was first told I should lose weight, and it worked, and massively improved the way in which I see myself. But I never would have run longer distances - 5 k or 30 minutes was really my limit.
Then, a couple of years ago, the unthinkable happened and my wonderful father, to whom I was extremely close, died suddenly in a freak hot-air balloon accident. It sounds like ridiculous fiction; it's true. This is not the post in which to write how I felt about that - maybe that will come in the future. However, suffice to say, I found one of the only things that would let me escape my own internal monologue was completely exhausting myself through running, and so I took it up again.
For the last 2 years or so I have kept a spreadsheet with my speeds and distances, because that is the kind of dork I am (and proud of it) so I can track my improvements, which are small but significant.
Last year I entered the Race for Life 10 km in Clapham, London. Unfortunately, the course was messed up and I didn't actually end up running the full distance. Not achieving my very simple goal (RUN TEN KILOMETRES, IDEALLY IN SIXTY MINUTES!) just meant that I promptly had to enter another race in Cardiff. This one I completed, in 67 minutes. The very fact that this was achievable set me to wondering whether all the people who had exclaimed to me how surprisingly easy it was to run 13.1 miles may actually be right in assuming that the same might be the case for me. So it was that 3 days ago I finally bit the bullet and entered myself and my wonderous friend Sophie into the Cardiff half.
It's a long time away however (7 months and counting), so I need to get a ball of motivation rolling, and build up such momentum that I can hit my targets and achieve the formerly-impossible. To help me in that, I've decided to write about my next few months, including the highs and the lows and various & numerous opinions about the world, even if it's just for my own personal posterity. Alright, mine and my mum's....
I decided to start this blog as I've recently taken a decision to achieve what until recently I would have assumed to be impossible, and run the 2012 Cardiff Half Marathon. This may not seem a big step but for years I have assumed I am lazy, overweight and incapable of achieving significant physical milestones such as this. I did a 5 km run years ago when I was first told I should lose weight, and it worked, and massively improved the way in which I see myself. But I never would have run longer distances - 5 k or 30 minutes was really my limit.
Then, a couple of years ago, the unthinkable happened and my wonderful father, to whom I was extremely close, died suddenly in a freak hot-air balloon accident. It sounds like ridiculous fiction; it's true. This is not the post in which to write how I felt about that - maybe that will come in the future. However, suffice to say, I found one of the only things that would let me escape my own internal monologue was completely exhausting myself through running, and so I took it up again.
For the last 2 years or so I have kept a spreadsheet with my speeds and distances, because that is the kind of dork I am (and proud of it) so I can track my improvements, which are small but significant.
Last year I entered the Race for Life 10 km in Clapham, London. Unfortunately, the course was messed up and I didn't actually end up running the full distance. Not achieving my very simple goal (RUN TEN KILOMETRES, IDEALLY IN SIXTY MINUTES!) just meant that I promptly had to enter another race in Cardiff. This one I completed, in 67 minutes. The very fact that this was achievable set me to wondering whether all the people who had exclaimed to me how surprisingly easy it was to run 13.1 miles may actually be right in assuming that the same might be the case for me. So it was that 3 days ago I finally bit the bullet and entered myself and my wonderous friend Sophie into the Cardiff half.
It's a long time away however (7 months and counting), so I need to get a ball of motivation rolling, and build up such momentum that I can hit my targets and achieve the formerly-impossible. To help me in that, I've decided to write about my next few months, including the highs and the lows and various & numerous opinions about the world, even if it's just for my own personal posterity. Alright, mine and my mum's....
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