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...