One of my friends posted a picture of herself on Facebook pushing her young children in a very large, very heavy looking double-buggy. The caption was "Who needs a gym when you have to push a double-buggy up that bloomin' hill?" And I've got to say, the very same thought occurred to me when I was spending yet another miserable (for me) morning in the park with my youngest son on the see-saw with me providing the power for it. As I'm pushing it down for the umpteenth time and he's laughing delightedly as he rises up in the air and shouts "More! More!" it suddenly occurred to me that people pay good money to do just this kind of exercise in a gym. Okay, okay - it doesn't rain in a gym. It's nice and cosy and warm, and you can watch Coronation Street while you make your arms hurt, so maybe being in a gym is a bit nicer, but you can't argue with the fact that doing the exact same exercise in a park is a lot cheaper.
Also, whenever I see those people running on a treadmill in a gym, I can never help but feel that it's a bit pointless running on one of those things. It's like all the pain, and none of the pleasure. And there's a lot of pleasure to be had from running out onto the moors or through the woods, particularly at this time of year.
Last week, in my blog, I asked the very same question. Who needs a gym when you can paint a ceiling (oh, yes, the house redecoration in readiness for its impending sale continues - so far I've painted nearly two and a half walls in the kitchen, plus the ceiling - okay, not great progress, but I have got two small children to look after). And there's no disputing the fact that the house move has definitely contributed to my overall fitness. I'm working all hours to get things packed up (we now have a moving date - and a removal firm - booked in for 3 weeks time!!!) and lugging boxes about to stow them out of the way until the big day. The stress has been good for my figure too. I've got to say that despite all the training up to this point, I haven't really lost any weight. In fact, if anything, I'm eating more (of the wrong stuff) because I feel like (a) I deserve it; and (b) - whenever I think about the swim - I need cheering up - so I'm still a bit flabby... but this week, the pounds have been dropping off me. I'm really feeling the stress and it's making me - shock! horror! lose my appetite. I can't wait for this move to be over so I can get it back again. As I said last week, if it wasn't for the training I'm doing, I would surely have been committed by now. It's a real relief to get out of the house and just run. In fact, if things get much worse, I might just keep going just so I don't have to come back and face it all: the half-white/half-blue kitchen, the mess, the boxes everywhere, the whingeing children telling me over and over that they don't want to move house... (We've moved on from patience, encouragement, admissions that Mummy and Daddy don't want to move either, but it will be lovely when we get there to saying "Well, we are doing." in a voice that belies the fact that the speaker is sick of being told the same thing over and over).
Anyway, with all of the above in view, I'm starting to look "athletic" as one person described me last week. "Athletic". Is this a good thing? I'm not sure. One thing's for certain, I've never been described as it before; so if nothing else, at least it's a novelty.
This week hasn't even been that good for the training either. A couple of weeks ago, for the first time ever, I managed to swim the entire mile in training. 32 lengths of Pond's Forge in 50m lanes. I cannot even begin to describe the last 100m. A new definition to the word "pain" sums it up. The lifeguard was hovering at the edge of her high stool. She was poised to jump in and get me, and it was only luck that mean't she didn't have to in the end. And I was slow. I mean really, slow. It took me 55 minutes to swim the distance. At this rate, I could swim the channel in just over a day (24 hours, I'm talking, not just daylight hours). This week, I only managed a paltry 24 lengths. In the first place, the pool was really, really busy. It was like the sea in there. There were groups of kids congregating at each end of the pool, rendering swimming a complete 50m an impossibility anyway. In the second, halfway through the session I had to get out because I needed a wee. (I am generally bursting for a wee halfway through the session - I don't really know how I'm going to manage the whole mile across Windermere without... well, weeing in the lake - and, sadly, the face of the person swimming behind me - let's hope they put me at the back or I'll just not have to have anything to drink for about 3 days before). Anyway, the stop for a toilet break was disasterous for the training and at 24 lengths, I gave up. I suppose swimming in the pool when it is like the sea should be good thing really. It will get me used to swimming in choppy waters. Windermere is most likely to be more like the sea than swimming in a nice, safely enclosed, pool, with both ladies and gents toilets close at hand.
Then all of the stuff I've got to do towards this move is cutting down the training time I have available, so that's hindering me a little too. It's a good job, really, that it's half-term this week and I've got both my children at home. If today was anything to go by (another freezing trip to the park, hoisting kids in and out of swings, propelling roundabouts and once, even, a rocking camel - don't ask) then it's going to be a right workout this week. As my friend says, when you have children, who needs a gym?
Sunday, 26 October 2008
Sunday, 19 October 2008
It's all go...
It really is all go... This week I've felt like I haven't had time to... well... break wind, never mind train. However, I have still managed to get out there for the runs and my weekly swim, so rest assured, I'm not falling behind.
The reason for all of this chaos? Well, as if we haven't got enough on at the moment, what with my eldest son starting school, sustaining both of our jobs and all the other stuff we do, we've decided to move house. This, of course, means selling our own house, which needs redecorating in order to make it appealing to buyers in the current market; so this week, I've been mainly painting the kitchen. I've been having to do it in stages because I've got my youngest son at home with me all day. So when he's awake in the day, I can only spend a very short time decorating and I can only paint things which are out of his reach (i.e. ceilings, and the tops of walls). All of the rest (i.e. the stuff within his reach) is having to be done after both the kids are in bed. I've got to say, however, you can really feel your muscles after a session painting a ceiling. It's got to be good for you. Who needs a gym?
It's not just the practical stuff though, it's the stress involved. My head is just buzzing with the amount we've got to do. Every room I enter in the house requires something doing to it to make it more presentable and I don't even want to think about the twelve years' worth of accumulated crap we've got stuffed in cupboards and in the loft (the loft! AAAAGGH!!) which we are going to have to sift through, either discard, or pack and move.
This, however, is where going for a run or for a swim comes into its own. Surely, there can be no better stress-buster than going out and running so far that you can't feel anything anymore. After a few miles I'm not even thinking anymore; I'm just running. All I can feel is the ache in my legs. It's a relief, I have to tell you. It's a relief to have somewhere to be able to escape from what's going on inside my head.
So I've been training harder than ever; and I've been working harder than ever on the fundraising too. At the end of last week I finally got the T-shirts I'd ordered from the (rubbish) print shop. With this in view, I made an appointment to call into the fundraising office of the Weston Park Hospital to have some photographs taken for them to place on their website. The photos (featuring my T-shirts) are at the top of the page. As you can see, thankfully, the print shop obviously haven't been reading this blog, as they have resisted the urge to write something obscene on the back of my T-shirt. They almost look quite professional, apart from the fact that they promised they'd print the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Charity logo on a white background to make it stand out (they didn't) and also the "r" in "Great North Swim" is a bit wonky when you look at it close up. Still, at least I've got it now. There were also some pictures of my front but I have to admit I got a shock when I looked at them. Do I really look that old? I know I feel it, but that's another story. Needless to say, I have not included them here or on any of the other websites I use. I asked my husband if I really did look that old. He (perhaps erroneously) muttered something about me looking quite young in the pictures. How old do I look without the intervention of a camera? I don't even want to think about that.
Moving swiftly on, the print shop produced another T-shirt for me too, in flourescent green (to make sure I can be seen out on these dark winter nights). It reads "Sponsor me to run the greats in support of the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Charity". If you see an elderly lady out stumbling along in the dark in a flourescent green T-shirt bearing these words, it's probably me. My website is on the back of said T-shirt - make sure you take a note of it and sponsor me.
I've had a few more visitors to my justgiving web page, including sponsorship from someone I've never even met before. He contacted me via facebook and left an extremely touching message about how he had heard that I was raising money for cancer and would he be able to sponsor me because his own mum was dying of a carcinoid tumour. His email moved me to tears. I was amazed and touched by his generosity for supporting me and it gave me such a boost. It was the best stress-buster ever and the best motivation to persevere with the training, even though time, as always, is desperately short.
I've had a few more visitors to my justgiving web page, including sponsorship from someone I've never even met before. He contacted me via facebook and left an extremely touching message about how he had heard that I was raising money for cancer and would he be able to sponsor me because his own mum was dying of a carcinoid tumour. His email moved me to tears. I was amazed and touched by his generosity for supporting me and it gave me such a boost. It was the best stress-buster ever and the best motivation to persevere with the training, even though time, as always, is desperately short.
I am now nearly 10% of the way there to raising my target of £3k. I know it sounds a bit rubbish, but I haven't even started yet. The next few months is going to see me doing some real pestering for sponsorship...
Don't forget, you can sponsor me too. Whether you know me or not, if your life has been touched by cancer, perhaps you'd like to help raise money towards research into treatments of the disease. You can sponsor me now at http://www.justgiving.com/valderbyshire
I would stay and write more, but I've got the kitchen wall to paint...
Sunday, 12 October 2008
Seasons they fly...
The title is from a Tyketto song... "Seasons they fly... Stealing, you never will know why..." Okay, they were a bit rubbish, as were their song lyrics, but during the eighties I loved Tyketto. I once went to see them twice in one week. They were my favourite band, despite the dodgy hair and even dodgier material they produced. What do you mean you've never heard of them? You haven't lived...
But that's not what I wanted to post on my blog this week (although Tyketto are definitely worth looking up if you haven't ever heard of them. Or even if you have. Go on, give them another chance... They weren't that crap). This week I wanted to talk about motivational issues and how hard it is to keep up with the training for the nine runs and one swim I have promised to do for the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Charity, now that it's becoming obvious that the seasons are whirling past us and we are all labouring under the sure and certain knowledge that winter is looming on the horizon.
I mean, how hard is it to get yourself out of the house for purposes of exercise anyway? I find it incredibly hard. I'm always exhausted after a day spent dealing with preschoolers (and there's nothing more exhausting than reasoning with creatures who know no reason) and sometimes I just don't want to spend the tiny, miniscule amount of free time I have slogging up the nearest hill with a stitch and the feeling of an impending heart attack. And that's when the evenings were beautiful, golden, sunny late summer evenings. Now that the nights are drawing in... Well, getting myself out there is even more difficult.
It's not just the swimming, although that is a challenge. After all, who in their right mind, on a dark, freezing October night wants to leave the comfort of their nice warm house with the deliberate intention of immersing themselves in water that feels positively Baltic? Okay, it's not that cold; but it certainly feels a little bit nippy when you first get in. And, okay, the temperature of the pool is being recorded at 27 degrees. But it still feels cold to me. (And, yes, I do know that when I take part in the Great North Swim in Windermere next year the temperature is going to be around 15 degrees, or possibly even colder, and that this is a good 12 degrees lower than the temperature I am complaining about now). But no, it's not just the swimming. It's the running too.
In some ways, training for the running should be easier. I mean I don't have to get the car out and drive to a pool to do the session. All I have to do is step outside of the house (yes, my nice, warm, light, cosy house) and start running. It's hard on these dark nights. In the first place, there's so much thought that has to go into plotting a route. I need to find routes where I know that (a) I won't get mugged, (b) there is adequate streetlighting to keep me safe and so that I can see where I'm going, and (c) it's a route where I'm not going to get mown down by drivers who can't see me out on the road. (At this stage, I should point out that it is very unlikely that I will get mugged. I don't carry anything on me to get mugged for. Not even watch or glasses as they irritate me jiggling around when I'm running, so I leave them at home. And no mugger worth his salt is going to be interested in my running shoes (each shoe a different size as I have one foot slightly larger than the other, and a positive hazard to human health anyway) or my disgusting, sweaty running vest or shorts - well, not unless the mugger has scientific leanings and wishes to discover the new life forms which are inevitably building their own ecosystem in these garments). It's the time it takes as well. I don't run quickly. I think I've mentioned before that I resemble a shambling old woman going out for an incongruous jog - I still do, even after six weeks of training. I suppose this is because I'm not really bothered about race times. I just want to finish the events. I don't care how long it takes - as long as they don't have to reopen the road before I cross the finish line, of course. A six mile run (10k) will take me at least an hour and a half. And time is precious when you've got bugger all of it to spend on yourself anyway.
It mentions in my bible of endurance training by Jon Ackland that time is the most valuable commodity an endurance athlete needs, and because of this (s)he needs to use it wisely. (Yes, alright, the sharp-eyed amongst you, and those in the know, will note that this particular section of the book is on page two and no, I haven't read much further than that. But I'm getting there. I haven't had the time...)
Anyway, the point I'm trying to make is that I have, like all other people who promise to do these events, I suspect, had motivational issues. So this week, I've tried to look on the positive side - which brings me back to the seasons again. Because what can be more lovely than running through the woods on a beautiful autumnal day? The leaves are changing in a riot of colour - every conceivable shade of red, russet, gold and brown is on display. What can be more enjoyable than running down (down, not up - it's far too steep for that) Carterknowle Road and seeing the leaves on the ground from the trees which line the road? What was more beautiful than running through Millhouses Park this morning and seeing the sunlight filtering through the trees and sparkling on the babbling river Sheaf. I can, I told myself, (probably somewhat delusionally) hardly wait for Winter to come so I can see the first snow up on the moor. Imagine how fantastic training in the Springtime will be when I can see the woodland floor as a carpet of bluebells. (Of course, there are distinct disadvantages to the woodland floor - the main one being that certain people do not feel the need to remove the evidence their dogs leave behind from the woods in the same way as they do in, say, the park. In fact, it is almost certainly left behind, indiscriminately peppering the woodland paths making it near impossible to take a run through the woods without bringing something disgusting home with you on the bottom of your shoe. The fact that dog excrement is nearly exactly the same colour as the autumnal leaves only adds to the likelihood that you won't spot it before you've ploughed through it. Unless, of course, it's that weird dog poo which is entirely white - what on earth have those dogs been eating? Seriously, I'd like to know. I can imagine that some dear old lady is feeding their pooches soap powder or something like that. I can't think what else would account for the colour. It would be "Well, of course, the dog died within a fortnight, but for a short while his poo smelt lovely.") But that's just a minor niggle, and as I say, I'm focussing on the positive at the moment. It's the only way I can keep on with the training.
Another factor that's keeping me going is the number of people who have sponsored me to complete these events so far. I can't not get out there and go training, because I would be letting all of the people who have so far believed enough in me to actually part with some cash on the basis that I'm going to complete these events. Rest assured, all of you, I am going to complete these events. It won't be fast. It might not be pretty. (Although, I did, amazingly, get chatted up by someone whilst out for a run the other day. I have to say though the person in question was old enough to be my grandfather. And was possibly either blind or senile. It was right next to an old people's home). It might even be a bit smelly (if I can't manage to avoid the dog poo). But I will do it.
If you want to sponsor me, you can do this at http://www.justgiving.com/valderbyshire All of the funds raised on the donation page will go to the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Charity, which is one of only three UK hospitals dedicated to cancer care. The Weston Park provides specialist cancer treatment services for over two million people living in the South Yorkshire, North Nottinghamshire and North Derbyshire areas, but even if you don't live in these areas, the Weston Park is a leading national and international centre for the research into, and treatments of, cancer, so there's a good chance that if you are unlucky enough to develop cancer (and it touches 1 in 3 of us), the Weston Park will have had some input into your treatment.
Anyway, I've gone on and on again, so I'd better sign off for now. Yes, it's cold, it's dark, and I've got to go running...
But that's not what I wanted to post on my blog this week (although Tyketto are definitely worth looking up if you haven't ever heard of them. Or even if you have. Go on, give them another chance... They weren't that crap). This week I wanted to talk about motivational issues and how hard it is to keep up with the training for the nine runs and one swim I have promised to do for the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Charity, now that it's becoming obvious that the seasons are whirling past us and we are all labouring under the sure and certain knowledge that winter is looming on the horizon.
I mean, how hard is it to get yourself out of the house for purposes of exercise anyway? I find it incredibly hard. I'm always exhausted after a day spent dealing with preschoolers (and there's nothing more exhausting than reasoning with creatures who know no reason) and sometimes I just don't want to spend the tiny, miniscule amount of free time I have slogging up the nearest hill with a stitch and the feeling of an impending heart attack. And that's when the evenings were beautiful, golden, sunny late summer evenings. Now that the nights are drawing in... Well, getting myself out there is even more difficult.
It's not just the swimming, although that is a challenge. After all, who in their right mind, on a dark, freezing October night wants to leave the comfort of their nice warm house with the deliberate intention of immersing themselves in water that feels positively Baltic? Okay, it's not that cold; but it certainly feels a little bit nippy when you first get in. And, okay, the temperature of the pool is being recorded at 27 degrees. But it still feels cold to me. (And, yes, I do know that when I take part in the Great North Swim in Windermere next year the temperature is going to be around 15 degrees, or possibly even colder, and that this is a good 12 degrees lower than the temperature I am complaining about now). But no, it's not just the swimming. It's the running too.
In some ways, training for the running should be easier. I mean I don't have to get the car out and drive to a pool to do the session. All I have to do is step outside of the house (yes, my nice, warm, light, cosy house) and start running. It's hard on these dark nights. In the first place, there's so much thought that has to go into plotting a route. I need to find routes where I know that (a) I won't get mugged, (b) there is adequate streetlighting to keep me safe and so that I can see where I'm going, and (c) it's a route where I'm not going to get mown down by drivers who can't see me out on the road. (At this stage, I should point out that it is very unlikely that I will get mugged. I don't carry anything on me to get mugged for. Not even watch or glasses as they irritate me jiggling around when I'm running, so I leave them at home. And no mugger worth his salt is going to be interested in my running shoes (each shoe a different size as I have one foot slightly larger than the other, and a positive hazard to human health anyway) or my disgusting, sweaty running vest or shorts - well, not unless the mugger has scientific leanings and wishes to discover the new life forms which are inevitably building their own ecosystem in these garments). It's the time it takes as well. I don't run quickly. I think I've mentioned before that I resemble a shambling old woman going out for an incongruous jog - I still do, even after six weeks of training. I suppose this is because I'm not really bothered about race times. I just want to finish the events. I don't care how long it takes - as long as they don't have to reopen the road before I cross the finish line, of course. A six mile run (10k) will take me at least an hour and a half. And time is precious when you've got bugger all of it to spend on yourself anyway.
It mentions in my bible of endurance training by Jon Ackland that time is the most valuable commodity an endurance athlete needs, and because of this (s)he needs to use it wisely. (Yes, alright, the sharp-eyed amongst you, and those in the know, will note that this particular section of the book is on page two and no, I haven't read much further than that. But I'm getting there. I haven't had the time...)
Anyway, the point I'm trying to make is that I have, like all other people who promise to do these events, I suspect, had motivational issues. So this week, I've tried to look on the positive side - which brings me back to the seasons again. Because what can be more lovely than running through the woods on a beautiful autumnal day? The leaves are changing in a riot of colour - every conceivable shade of red, russet, gold and brown is on display. What can be more enjoyable than running down (down, not up - it's far too steep for that) Carterknowle Road and seeing the leaves on the ground from the trees which line the road? What was more beautiful than running through Millhouses Park this morning and seeing the sunlight filtering through the trees and sparkling on the babbling river Sheaf. I can, I told myself, (probably somewhat delusionally) hardly wait for Winter to come so I can see the first snow up on the moor. Imagine how fantastic training in the Springtime will be when I can see the woodland floor as a carpet of bluebells. (Of course, there are distinct disadvantages to the woodland floor - the main one being that certain people do not feel the need to remove the evidence their dogs leave behind from the woods in the same way as they do in, say, the park. In fact, it is almost certainly left behind, indiscriminately peppering the woodland paths making it near impossible to take a run through the woods without bringing something disgusting home with you on the bottom of your shoe. The fact that dog excrement is nearly exactly the same colour as the autumnal leaves only adds to the likelihood that you won't spot it before you've ploughed through it. Unless, of course, it's that weird dog poo which is entirely white - what on earth have those dogs been eating? Seriously, I'd like to know. I can imagine that some dear old lady is feeding their pooches soap powder or something like that. I can't think what else would account for the colour. It would be "Well, of course, the dog died within a fortnight, but for a short while his poo smelt lovely.") But that's just a minor niggle, and as I say, I'm focussing on the positive at the moment. It's the only way I can keep on with the training.
Another factor that's keeping me going is the number of people who have sponsored me to complete these events so far. I can't not get out there and go training, because I would be letting all of the people who have so far believed enough in me to actually part with some cash on the basis that I'm going to complete these events. Rest assured, all of you, I am going to complete these events. It won't be fast. It might not be pretty. (Although, I did, amazingly, get chatted up by someone whilst out for a run the other day. I have to say though the person in question was old enough to be my grandfather. And was possibly either blind or senile. It was right next to an old people's home). It might even be a bit smelly (if I can't manage to avoid the dog poo). But I will do it.
If you want to sponsor me, you can do this at http://www.justgiving.com/valderbyshire All of the funds raised on the donation page will go to the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Charity, which is one of only three UK hospitals dedicated to cancer care. The Weston Park provides specialist cancer treatment services for over two million people living in the South Yorkshire, North Nottinghamshire and North Derbyshire areas, but even if you don't live in these areas, the Weston Park is a leading national and international centre for the research into, and treatments of, cancer, so there's a good chance that if you are unlucky enough to develop cancer (and it touches 1 in 3 of us), the Weston Park will have had some input into your treatment.
Anyway, I've gone on and on again, so I'd better sign off for now. Yes, it's cold, it's dark, and I've got to go running...
Thursday, 9 October 2008
Things I wish my mother had (n't) told me... And things I wish I hadn't told her.
Last week I mentioned the fact that I hadn't told my mother about the fact that I was intending to run 64 miles and swim one, all in the name of fundraising, and I promised, faithfully, that this week, I was going to come clean and put her in the picture.
I mean, I had to, really. The fact was, part of the reason I'm doing this in the first place is because my Dad lost his Dad to cancer when he was only eighteen (in fact the justgiving page where you can still sponsor me - hint, hint - is actually partly in my Grandad's memory). With this in view, it was ridiculous even considering taking part in this fundraising challenge without my Dad even knowing about it - and with this in view, I had actually already told my Dad about it... But not my Mum (too scared to). My Dad, similarly, was also too afraid to tell my Mum about it all and had been keeping it quiet. This, as you can imagine, has put him in a very difficult position. He was having to pretend to know absolutely nothing about it whatsoever and when I actually did come clean this week, and tell my Mum all about it, he had to pretend to look surprised as well. (Oh the tangled web we weave...)
My Mum's reaction, I have to say, was not as negative as I expected it to be. Don't get me wrong - she doesn't want me to do any of the events. In her own words: "I don't want you to do all this running and swimming." In fact, she even urged me to give up on the attempt (Come on, Mum! What kind of advice is that for a parent to give to their child? Weren't you the one who drilled into me from an early age how important it is to keep one's promises? You can't change the advice now, just because the promise I've made doesn't suit you...) Her advice was: "Tell them you can't do it. Tell them you've changed your mind. Tell them anything, but don't do it." And when I told her that this particular advice was way up there with other pearls of wisdom I've gleaned from her over the years, including: "You won't feel a thing in childbirth. Well, you'll soon forget about it afterwards, anyway." (ha ha), and that I wasn't going to take any notice of it anyway, her response was "well, I'm not going to think about it."
Now there's a small part of me that feels that this IS good advice. Sometimes I don't feel like thinking about it either. Sadly, it keeps coming back to haunt me. If I don't think about it, I'll never manage to either complete any of the events or raise any money for the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Charity. I've got to keep up with the running and keep the momentum up with my swimming training, or those 65 miles will probably finish me off for good. And once I manage to get out there and get going, I (usually) quite enjoy it.
This week, of course, it was the Great North Run. I had to work on the day, but because a bookmakers has loads of televisions in it, I managed to watch the event. It was fantastic to watch, I have to say - really thrilling to think that this time next year, I'll be running too (albeit not dressed as a donkey as I saw one man was - how on Earth did he manage to keep running for 13.1 miles in that suit? It was the same size and looked nearly as heavy as a real donkey. Hats off to him - I hope he raised loads of money for the - erm, donkey? charity - he was running for. I'm assuming it was a donkey charity anyway, and this, I feel, is a reasonable assumption, given his attire). I would have really enjoyed watching it, if I hadn't kept getting interrupted by the, quite frankly, selfish customers who were ringing me up, at work, expecting to be able to place their bets for them.
I had a friend running in the Great North Run this year too and besides keeping a look out for him on the television, I'd asked him to give me the low down on what the event is like and how it really is to complete the course.
I wish I hadn't asked. This, I have to say, is a prime example of when following my mother's advice and "not thinking about it" would pay off. For I now wish I didn't know the information he has given to me on the matter. I wish I wasn't party to it. Here is a small extract of what he told me:
"It is quite hilly and hard work so take it easy and enjoy it. Loads of support along the way. Start is great through Newcastle up and down hill but it begins to feel like you have been running up hill forever. At about 5 miles a sign says now 3 miles downhill.....this is not strictly true you still have lots of ups and downs to go but it still feels like a lot of uphill and flat stuff (keep training on those hills in Sheffield it will help a lot).From 9 miles it starts to feel really tough as you are going uphill again I found it almost a deal breaker and loads of people started walking so no shame if that's what you want to do after all you are just completing it for charity. As you turn the corner onto the sea front at South Shields everybody says you are nearly there (crowd encouragement is great) but you still have 1.2 miles to go. This will be THE longest mile of your life (you will not want to walk) and the 800m's to go sign will try and trick you but that is still half a mile."
I know he wasn't trying to put me off, but I have to say... Perhaps not thinking about it is the way to go after all...
I mean, I had to, really. The fact was, part of the reason I'm doing this in the first place is because my Dad lost his Dad to cancer when he was only eighteen (in fact the justgiving page where you can still sponsor me - hint, hint - is actually partly in my Grandad's memory). With this in view, it was ridiculous even considering taking part in this fundraising challenge without my Dad even knowing about it - and with this in view, I had actually already told my Dad about it... But not my Mum (too scared to). My Dad, similarly, was also too afraid to tell my Mum about it all and had been keeping it quiet. This, as you can imagine, has put him in a very difficult position. He was having to pretend to know absolutely nothing about it whatsoever and when I actually did come clean this week, and tell my Mum all about it, he had to pretend to look surprised as well. (Oh the tangled web we weave...)
My Mum's reaction, I have to say, was not as negative as I expected it to be. Don't get me wrong - she doesn't want me to do any of the events. In her own words: "I don't want you to do all this running and swimming." In fact, she even urged me to give up on the attempt (Come on, Mum! What kind of advice is that for a parent to give to their child? Weren't you the one who drilled into me from an early age how important it is to keep one's promises? You can't change the advice now, just because the promise I've made doesn't suit you...) Her advice was: "Tell them you can't do it. Tell them you've changed your mind. Tell them anything, but don't do it." And when I told her that this particular advice was way up there with other pearls of wisdom I've gleaned from her over the years, including: "You won't feel a thing in childbirth. Well, you'll soon forget about it afterwards, anyway." (ha ha), and that I wasn't going to take any notice of it anyway, her response was "well, I'm not going to think about it."
Now there's a small part of me that feels that this IS good advice. Sometimes I don't feel like thinking about it either. Sadly, it keeps coming back to haunt me. If I don't think about it, I'll never manage to either complete any of the events or raise any money for the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Charity. I've got to keep up with the running and keep the momentum up with my swimming training, or those 65 miles will probably finish me off for good. And once I manage to get out there and get going, I (usually) quite enjoy it.
This week, of course, it was the Great North Run. I had to work on the day, but because a bookmakers has loads of televisions in it, I managed to watch the event. It was fantastic to watch, I have to say - really thrilling to think that this time next year, I'll be running too (albeit not dressed as a donkey as I saw one man was - how on Earth did he manage to keep running for 13.1 miles in that suit? It was the same size and looked nearly as heavy as a real donkey. Hats off to him - I hope he raised loads of money for the - erm, donkey? charity - he was running for. I'm assuming it was a donkey charity anyway, and this, I feel, is a reasonable assumption, given his attire). I would have really enjoyed watching it, if I hadn't kept getting interrupted by the, quite frankly, selfish customers who were ringing me up, at work, expecting to be able to place their bets for them.
I had a friend running in the Great North Run this year too and besides keeping a look out for him on the television, I'd asked him to give me the low down on what the event is like and how it really is to complete the course.
I wish I hadn't asked. This, I have to say, is a prime example of when following my mother's advice and "not thinking about it" would pay off. For I now wish I didn't know the information he has given to me on the matter. I wish I wasn't party to it. Here is a small extract of what he told me:
"It is quite hilly and hard work so take it easy and enjoy it. Loads of support along the way. Start is great through Newcastle up and down hill but it begins to feel like you have been running up hill forever. At about 5 miles a sign says now 3 miles downhill.....this is not strictly true you still have lots of ups and downs to go but it still feels like a lot of uphill and flat stuff (keep training on those hills in Sheffield it will help a lot).From 9 miles it starts to feel really tough as you are going uphill again I found it almost a deal breaker and loads of people started walking so no shame if that's what you want to do after all you are just completing it for charity. As you turn the corner onto the sea front at South Shields everybody says you are nearly there (crowd encouragement is great) but you still have 1.2 miles to go. This will be THE longest mile of your life (you will not want to walk) and the 800m's to go sign will try and trick you but that is still half a mile."
I know he wasn't trying to put me off, but I have to say... Perhaps not thinking about it is the way to go after all...
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