Well, nearly, anyway. It's true, I have now completed all of my races and have run a total of just over 104 miles whilst completing the "Weston 100" challenge. These past few weeks, I think, have been the hardest of all as well. Because it has been the summer holidays, my little chaps have been away from school and nursery (the times when I would normally train) and I have to admit, I haven't actually been training that much. If I am honest about the matter, I have gone from running 4 or 5 times per week to twice (if I'm lucky and really stern with myself). I have to admit that, last week, for example, when we were having a holiday in Bridlington together, I only ran once. (Well, it's difficult when you don't know an area particularly well, and I was on holiday... ahem). Anyway, because of all this lethargy and laziness engendered by our holidays I was feeling in particularly awful shape for my penultimate event, the Great Longstone Fell Race. I suppose, I was really worried because it WAS a fell race and there's nowhere to hide in these events. Nearly everyone there is going to run faster than you - if you're an amateur like me you're pretty much guaranteed to come last. If you don't get lost as well as come last, it's a bonus. I nearly didn't show up for it at all, but I kept thinking about all of that sponsorship money people have pledged to me if I complete the challenge, so somewhat reluctantly, I showed up. I'm so glad I did. It was fantastic. I'd forgotten in the interval since my last fell race (Stoney Middleton) just how friendly a bunch of people fell racers are. I mean I still came last, but at least, this time, I kept up with the pack, so I wasn't last by miles. Also, and somewhat amazingly there was still daylight when I finished (Only just though - it started at 6.45pm and I finished it at 7.45 pm, so it was definitely turning very dusk-like). I also met the only celebrity I've ever met at this event (when I first started this challenge somebody said to me that I was bound to meet loads of celebrities running these events - up until friday, when I met Roy Hattersley, no less, I hadn't met any).
Today saw my final event - the Great Yorkshire Run; and there were celebrities at this event too (but I didn't see them). I wasn't too worried about it because there are always so many runners in these events that you are never going to be the worse one there, and I certainly didn't come last. I enjoyed it too. Plus, I found it easy. I think my fitness has certainly improved through undertaking this challenge. I think I've also discovered that I prefer the fell racing. OK, I'm not very good at it, but I just think it's more fun. I might even carry on.
So the runs are all over. But the challenge, I suppose is not. Because now I've got to start collecting all that sponsorship money in. This is the part I am dreading. I haven't been very good at asking for sponsorship in the first place and now I've actually got to go and part people from their cash. Oh God. I think this will be the hardest part of all.
In summary, however, if everyone honours their pledges, then I will have raised £970 through my justgiving site, a further £100 from my generous colleagues, an unspecified amount from my colleagues at the staff magazine (oh God there's something else I need to chase up) and all of these sums will be doubled by William Hill itself. This means, that in total I will have raised somewhere in the region of £2,140. That's not bad, considering the climate, and that we're all skint at the moment. Apparently the Great Yorkshire run will be shown on tv this morning at 1.05 am. Don't miss it! You might see me loping past in my final athletics outing of the year. If you would like to sponsor me, it's not too late! Please do so at my justgiving site, http://www.justgiving.com/valderbyshire I, and the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Charity would be extremely grateful for your support.
Sunday, 6 September 2009
Friday, 24 July 2009
It's been a while...
Yes, it's been a while since my last post. Sorry. I'm sure the none of you who are following this blog with baited breath will be greatly disappointed.
Anyway, despite the silence, I have been progressing with my 100 miles. I have, in fact, completed three more events since the three lakes classic (yes, it didn't put me off - although it should have done - it would have put anyone off who was in their right mind, which I am clearly not, hence continuing with the challenge). In fact, I'm enjoying a nice cup of coffee out of my nice three lakes classic mug as I update this blog. Very nice. See, something good did come out of it.
In actual fact, rather a lot of good has come out of it (I'm not including my new and dangerous and slightly mad addiction to running). I've raised nearly £2k for the hospital (including William Hill's generous donation). I've lost a ton of weight (well maybe not a ton, but I've lost a bit) and I've found a bit more confidence. Yes, I still come in last at most of these events (particularly the events like the one I did last night where it's limited to serious runners and there's nowhere to hide - but more about that later) but I can do them. And actually, I don't disgrace myself that much anymore. Even the Three Lakes Classic (where I think I performed really badly) I didn't disgrace myself. I finished after all. I've got the coffee mug to prove it (mmm, lovely...)
I've also discovered a new love - fell running. Yes, I did my first fell race, in the form of the Bakewell Pudding Chase and LOVED it. I didn't come last and I didn't get lost (these are my two main aims in these events nowadays). I loved the fact that there was a challenge with the terrain to be met and I got a pudding. I found out afterwards that all competitors got a pudding, but never mind. In actual fact I didn't even get to eat my pudding - the kids promptly nicked it off me when I got back and scoffed it, but I don't like the Bakewell puddings anyway, so that's OK. It was definitely the best event I've done so far. It went from outside of our house. I went and registered and then nipped home and had a coffee and used the loo and didn't have to queue for hours to use some boggy crapper portaloo (last night's was still attached to the back of somebody's Land Rover on a trailer which was rather worrying - imagine towing that when it was at full capacity!) Plus there was zero travelling time home afterwards. I had this idea (this is the competitive streak coming out in me) but I had this idea that now I know the route I'd go out and practice it a bit (and next year I will be INVINCIBLE ha ha ha - sorry, getting carried away with the competitive thing there), but I thought that a bit of practice wouldn't do me any harm. Anyway, I went out and had another go (it's worth it - it's a fantastic route - beautiful scenery) Half way round the heavens opened, I had a fall, scratched my glasses (which have subsequently had to be replaced because I couldn't stand the annoying scratch right in the middle of my vision) and went over on my ankle causing it to swell up along with three of my toes. Disaster. That's where being competitive gets you. I'm not very good at the competitive thing anyway. I always think that if you are out enjoying the country, you should be able to stop and look at it - and fell racing doesn't allow time for this. So I won't be invincible next year, but I will be having a good time.
The next event I did was the Weston Park's 10k run in Graves Park. Again, another good one. I love Graves Park and the kids were able to come and play and see the farm animals whilst I did the run. We all went to Mcdonalds after for dinner (a favourite treat for my eldest son and I needed the carbs... ha ha) Plus there were loads of interesting people there. Lyndsey, the fundraiser from the hospital, the professor who founded the cancer charity, the patrons of the charity plus people who had been treated there in the past. I didn't do bad there either - i.e. sticking to the formula of not being last and not getting lost, I did alright and there were some good views over the top of Sheff to look at too.
Finally, last night, I did the 5.2 mile fell race at Stoney Middleton. (Aptly named, as it turned out - it's very stoney). I loved that too and didn't get lost or come last (although I had a worrying moment when I was running along a lane, with not a soul in sight and not quite trusting that I'd taken the right turn - but I was OK). There were some serious fell runners there and so I was pretty near the back. The terrain was really challenging too. (Very stoney, as I have said, plus some really challenging and steel climbs. Last night, I met a man who has run from base camp at Everest to Kathmandu, a woman who was training to complete her Bob Graham round, an old guy who was probably twice my age and did the run in half my time (in fact I had a very embarrassing moment when I was running up the hill and he passed me at a walk) and just about everybody in between. I was not up to their standard, but was made to feel welcome and encouraged along. What nice people. What a lovely thing to do on a sunny Thursday evening. (Tell that to my legs now - I don't usually ache anymore but I'm in pain today). I went over on my ankle again last night too and also felt that achilles tendon popping again. But I've got a break now. Summer holidays with the kids and my final two events (The Great Longstone Fell Race and the Great Yorkshire Run) in September. Two more events to go and about 10 miles left to run out of the 100.
My sponsorship page is still open at http://www.justgiving.com/valderbyshire If you'd like to sponsor me, I'd be very grateful. All money goes to the Weston park Hospital Cancer Charity who are providing valuable treatment for and research into cancer. In the meantime, even if it goes a bit quiet, I am still plodding along (plodding probably being the right word given my race times) with this.
Anyway, despite the silence, I have been progressing with my 100 miles. I have, in fact, completed three more events since the three lakes classic (yes, it didn't put me off - although it should have done - it would have put anyone off who was in their right mind, which I am clearly not, hence continuing with the challenge). In fact, I'm enjoying a nice cup of coffee out of my nice three lakes classic mug as I update this blog. Very nice. See, something good did come out of it.
In actual fact, rather a lot of good has come out of it (I'm not including my new and dangerous and slightly mad addiction to running). I've raised nearly £2k for the hospital (including William Hill's generous donation). I've lost a ton of weight (well maybe not a ton, but I've lost a bit) and I've found a bit more confidence. Yes, I still come in last at most of these events (particularly the events like the one I did last night where it's limited to serious runners and there's nowhere to hide - but more about that later) but I can do them. And actually, I don't disgrace myself that much anymore. Even the Three Lakes Classic (where I think I performed really badly) I didn't disgrace myself. I finished after all. I've got the coffee mug to prove it (mmm, lovely...)
I've also discovered a new love - fell running. Yes, I did my first fell race, in the form of the Bakewell Pudding Chase and LOVED it. I didn't come last and I didn't get lost (these are my two main aims in these events nowadays). I loved the fact that there was a challenge with the terrain to be met and I got a pudding. I found out afterwards that all competitors got a pudding, but never mind. In actual fact I didn't even get to eat my pudding - the kids promptly nicked it off me when I got back and scoffed it, but I don't like the Bakewell puddings anyway, so that's OK. It was definitely the best event I've done so far. It went from outside of our house. I went and registered and then nipped home and had a coffee and used the loo and didn't have to queue for hours to use some boggy crapper portaloo (last night's was still attached to the back of somebody's Land Rover on a trailer which was rather worrying - imagine towing that when it was at full capacity!) Plus there was zero travelling time home afterwards. I had this idea (this is the competitive streak coming out in me) but I had this idea that now I know the route I'd go out and practice it a bit (and next year I will be INVINCIBLE ha ha ha - sorry, getting carried away with the competitive thing there), but I thought that a bit of practice wouldn't do me any harm. Anyway, I went out and had another go (it's worth it - it's a fantastic route - beautiful scenery) Half way round the heavens opened, I had a fall, scratched my glasses (which have subsequently had to be replaced because I couldn't stand the annoying scratch right in the middle of my vision) and went over on my ankle causing it to swell up along with three of my toes. Disaster. That's where being competitive gets you. I'm not very good at the competitive thing anyway. I always think that if you are out enjoying the country, you should be able to stop and look at it - and fell racing doesn't allow time for this. So I won't be invincible next year, but I will be having a good time.
The next event I did was the Weston Park's 10k run in Graves Park. Again, another good one. I love Graves Park and the kids were able to come and play and see the farm animals whilst I did the run. We all went to Mcdonalds after for dinner (a favourite treat for my eldest son and I needed the carbs... ha ha) Plus there were loads of interesting people there. Lyndsey, the fundraiser from the hospital, the professor who founded the cancer charity, the patrons of the charity plus people who had been treated there in the past. I didn't do bad there either - i.e. sticking to the formula of not being last and not getting lost, I did alright and there were some good views over the top of Sheff to look at too.
Finally, last night, I did the 5.2 mile fell race at Stoney Middleton. (Aptly named, as it turned out - it's very stoney). I loved that too and didn't get lost or come last (although I had a worrying moment when I was running along a lane, with not a soul in sight and not quite trusting that I'd taken the right turn - but I was OK). There were some serious fell runners there and so I was pretty near the back. The terrain was really challenging too. (Very stoney, as I have said, plus some really challenging and steel climbs. Last night, I met a man who has run from base camp at Everest to Kathmandu, a woman who was training to complete her Bob Graham round, an old guy who was probably twice my age and did the run in half my time (in fact I had a very embarrassing moment when I was running up the hill and he passed me at a walk) and just about everybody in between. I was not up to their standard, but was made to feel welcome and encouraged along. What nice people. What a lovely thing to do on a sunny Thursday evening. (Tell that to my legs now - I don't usually ache anymore but I'm in pain today). I went over on my ankle again last night too and also felt that achilles tendon popping again. But I've got a break now. Summer holidays with the kids and my final two events (The Great Longstone Fell Race and the Great Yorkshire Run) in September. Two more events to go and about 10 miles left to run out of the 100.
My sponsorship page is still open at http://www.justgiving.com/valderbyshire If you'd like to sponsor me, I'd be very grateful. All money goes to the Weston park Hospital Cancer Charity who are providing valuable treatment for and research into cancer. In the meantime, even if it goes a bit quiet, I am still plodding along (plodding probably being the right word given my race times) with this.
Sunday, 21 June 2009
Fifteen Miles of Misery
So, as you may have gathered from the last post, I really didn't want to go and run the Three Lakes Classic. It was worrying me for a number of reasons. In brief:
a) The event was organised by an athletics club and I was basically worried that I was going to be outclassed by all of the other runners there.
b) The map provided looked like it had been drawn by a bloke down the pub (probably after a few beers) and I was seriously worried about my ability (given my proven poor map-reading skills) to follow it.
c) Fifteen miles is a long way. It's particularly a long way to run if you've got a dodgy knee.
d) (Selfish reason), but here it is anyway - it's Father's Day today and I quite wanted to spend it with my husband and the kids and perhaps my own Dad (who, incidentally, had chosen to spend his day having a very nice Sunday lunch out). Shallow reason I know, but it all sounded much more tempting than running fifteen miles.
Anyway, in short, I didn't want to go. But I DID go. Yes, I went to bed early last night (no alcohol before a big event, etc) and I got up early this morning and got ready and drove for an hour to the venue and turned up and signed in and got my number and had all - yes, that's ALL - of my worst fears realised.
Not only was I horrendously outclassed by every other person there (bar one - who, I suspect, under normal circumstances would have horrendously outclassed me - but she was ill, thus permitting me to beat her by a good 2 minutes - although hats off to the fact that she finished at all - I was thinking about jacking it all in and going home at some point before the first marshall and I wasn't ill); I also got lost (twice); and felt every single knee-jarring step of that sodding fifteen miles. In short, it was fifteen miles of Hell. I know I performed poorly, because at some point during the last three miles, the first aider chose to run with me and make sure I got back alright (I told him I was OK, just incredibly slow). It took me nearly three hours to run it. Well, I say run. I walked quite a lot of it due to the knee and also, I've got to admit, my motivation just not being there. It had gone out to lunch. Perhaps with my Dad. Where I would rather have been.
But anyway, I've done it. Yes I am now 15 miles nearer to the 100 I promised to run. I have, in fact, now run 75 miles, so I'm 3/4 of the way there. Not so with the fundraising sadly. I've stalled at around the £2k mark. This could be due to the fact that I've not been pestering so many people lately (failing motivation, etc). Still, there's still time to find it again. Next week - the Great Bakewell Pudding Chase in which the first 100 runners home will win a Bakewell Pudding. If today's performance is anything to go by I won't be taking any puddings home. Still - and no sour grapes intended here - I don't like them anyway.
a) The event was organised by an athletics club and I was basically worried that I was going to be outclassed by all of the other runners there.
b) The map provided looked like it had been drawn by a bloke down the pub (probably after a few beers) and I was seriously worried about my ability (given my proven poor map-reading skills) to follow it.
c) Fifteen miles is a long way. It's particularly a long way to run if you've got a dodgy knee.
d) (Selfish reason), but here it is anyway - it's Father's Day today and I quite wanted to spend it with my husband and the kids and perhaps my own Dad (who, incidentally, had chosen to spend his day having a very nice Sunday lunch out). Shallow reason I know, but it all sounded much more tempting than running fifteen miles.
Anyway, in short, I didn't want to go. But I DID go. Yes, I went to bed early last night (no alcohol before a big event, etc) and I got up early this morning and got ready and drove for an hour to the venue and turned up and signed in and got my number and had all - yes, that's ALL - of my worst fears realised.
Not only was I horrendously outclassed by every other person there (bar one - who, I suspect, under normal circumstances would have horrendously outclassed me - but she was ill, thus permitting me to beat her by a good 2 minutes - although hats off to the fact that she finished at all - I was thinking about jacking it all in and going home at some point before the first marshall and I wasn't ill); I also got lost (twice); and felt every single knee-jarring step of that sodding fifteen miles. In short, it was fifteen miles of Hell. I know I performed poorly, because at some point during the last three miles, the first aider chose to run with me and make sure I got back alright (I told him I was OK, just incredibly slow). It took me nearly three hours to run it. Well, I say run. I walked quite a lot of it due to the knee and also, I've got to admit, my motivation just not being there. It had gone out to lunch. Perhaps with my Dad. Where I would rather have been.
But anyway, I've done it. Yes I am now 15 miles nearer to the 100 I promised to run. I have, in fact, now run 75 miles, so I'm 3/4 of the way there. Not so with the fundraising sadly. I've stalled at around the £2k mark. This could be due to the fact that I've not been pestering so many people lately (failing motivation, etc). Still, there's still time to find it again. Next week - the Great Bakewell Pudding Chase in which the first 100 runners home will win a Bakewell Pudding. If today's performance is anything to go by I won't be taking any puddings home. Still - and no sour grapes intended here - I don't like them anyway.
Friday, 19 June 2009
One Golden Gate, One Cancellation and One Poorly Knee
I know I've not written for ages. It's bad and I've had things to write about as well. No real excuses other than the rigours of keeping up with the training (hard), the children (even harder) and a couple of part-time jobs which are aspiring to become full-time and take over my entire life - but that's another story - and if I start moaning about it here, I might never stop.
So One Golden Gate: Well I suppose really, it was two golden gates - yes, this was my last event. The Chatsworth Golden Gates 10K. I personally thought this event was fantastic. You would really struggle to find a better setting for a 10K race. Stunning scenery and you get to go through the Golden Gates entrance (normally reserved for family, the Duke of Devonshire and other visiting royalty etc) but on this day, thrown open for your common or garden "athlete". Plus - and I don't think you'd find this anywhere else - lots and lots of very posh people manning the drinks stations - pouring Perrier out of the back of their brand new Discoveries. OK, probably not Perrier, but there was definitely more designer gear than you'd normally see at one of these events (and I'm not talking Nike here, but Dolce and Gabanna Sunglasses, etc) and if the tap water isn't posh around there, well I don't know where it is. Sadly, there was a lot of moaning about this event on Runnersworld.com. Lots of people berating the fact that there was a very large hill to run up at the beginning scuppering any chances of personal bests - that there were only 15 toilets to go around 1,500 entrants (why would the Duke worry about such things I ask you - after all, royalty doesn't use the toilet). That some of the slower runners dared to take up too much space on a narrow strip of course. I haven't really got any answers to these complaints. I don't really know why they're moaning. There were loads of bushes around to avail themselves of, it was a beautiful day, beautiful scenery and being a slower runner myself (although I hasten to add I'd put myself near the back of the starting line for just this reason) I can't really say anything about that either. I think it's a bit sad, really, that the experience for them was ruined by a hill (sadly hills do happen in Derbyshire - actually they happen quite a lot) and the fact that they couldn't beat their personal best. But then that's up to them isn't it? I enjoyed it. I think the children (who came to watch with Daddy and Grandad) enjoyed it too, although we did have a very early picnic after the event (in the region of 11am) because they'd got bored of running around in a field and loading their toy recycling truck up with grass (grass which I later found strewn all over my lounge floor... Oh well).
After the Golden Gates, which was on 31st May, I've had a bit of a break. I was supposed to be running the Buxton Chick's Chase on 17th June, but sadly, due to there only being 7 entrants in the race, it was cancelled. It was a shame and a blessing all at once. It was a blessing because, somehow, I've injured my knee. I don't know how. I've hurt this knee before so maybe I've just got a bit of a weakness there, but the Saturday before last it was really hurting and the next day it was so swollen I thought it might be as well to rest it instead of going for my normal Sunday 12 miles. The next week it was a little better so I did a little light running in the week and then did 12 miles up to Stanton in the Peak on the Sunday (very hilly - if you didn't like Chatsworth you won't like it there because the hill goes up and up and up and up and up and you think it's never going to stop...) When I got up there, they were ringing the bells for church. I don't want to be too critical here, but it sounded terrible. There's something wrong with those bells (or those bell ringers). The people trying to have a Sunday lie-in in the cottages across the street must have been thinking "SHUT UP!!!" Anyway, it was all down hill from that point so I was able to make a quick get away from the noise.
But the next day my knee was up again. And sore. Like really SORE. And I was a bit worried because this weekend I've got my longest race. It's the Three Lakes Classic which is 15 miles long. I spent the first part of the week thinking I wasn't going to be able to do it and worrying about not finishing the challenge. I spent the second bathing my knee in Voltarol and thinking Sod It, I'm going to go anyway. How hard can it be? (Don't answer that). So, in some ways, the cancellation of the Buxton Chicks' Chase was a real blessing because it's given me longer to rest that knee. It was, however, a bit of a shame as I have said. For some reason I'd been entered into the men's race and there were only three runners in the men's race (including me), meaning that I would have DEFINITELY won a prize (probably third). It was my one and only chance to be in the prizes in any of the events I've entered - although I may have been disqualified for flouting entry requirements (i.e. I'm not a man). However, with my knee being as it was at that time, it was looking like one of the men was going to be dropping out of the Buxton Chicks' Chase anyway - so I suppose it was more of a blessing than a shame.
The knee is still a bit sore but I've got loads of Dextrose and loads of Voltarol and loads of determination to both start and finish the Three Lakes Classic. Although I may get lost. Yes, there are some marshalls. Yes, the course is partly signed. Runners, I am told, (rather worryingly for someone who has got severe dyslexia when it comes to map reading) are also given a map to help them find their way around the course. The map supplied looks like it has been drawn by a bloke in a pub. So if I don't finish it's because I got lost. And if you don't hear from me again, it's because I'm still lost. Somewhere near Ullapool or Treeton or Orgreave (which my Dad tells me featured prominently in the Miners' strike, but I don't know it myself).
To date I have raised £895 through sponsorship and my friend at work has raised a further £100. My boss has promised to double everything I raise so, in actual fact, I've raised around £2,000 to date - which I don't think is all that bad, considering the economic climate, the fact that I've been doing this now for nearly a year (taking training, planning, preparation and everything else into account), I've run 60 miles in events and probably nearer 600 in training miles and the fact that I'm completely sick of it. If you should find yourself reading this, please take all these things into account and sponsor me - it doesn't matter how much - any measure of support, no matter how small - is all that is keeping me going now.
So One Golden Gate: Well I suppose really, it was two golden gates - yes, this was my last event. The Chatsworth Golden Gates 10K. I personally thought this event was fantastic. You would really struggle to find a better setting for a 10K race. Stunning scenery and you get to go through the Golden Gates entrance (normally reserved for family, the Duke of Devonshire and other visiting royalty etc) but on this day, thrown open for your common or garden "athlete". Plus - and I don't think you'd find this anywhere else - lots and lots of very posh people manning the drinks stations - pouring Perrier out of the back of their brand new Discoveries. OK, probably not Perrier, but there was definitely more designer gear than you'd normally see at one of these events (and I'm not talking Nike here, but Dolce and Gabanna Sunglasses, etc) and if the tap water isn't posh around there, well I don't know where it is. Sadly, there was a lot of moaning about this event on Runnersworld.com. Lots of people berating the fact that there was a very large hill to run up at the beginning scuppering any chances of personal bests - that there were only 15 toilets to go around 1,500 entrants (why would the Duke worry about such things I ask you - after all, royalty doesn't use the toilet). That some of the slower runners dared to take up too much space on a narrow strip of course. I haven't really got any answers to these complaints. I don't really know why they're moaning. There were loads of bushes around to avail themselves of, it was a beautiful day, beautiful scenery and being a slower runner myself (although I hasten to add I'd put myself near the back of the starting line for just this reason) I can't really say anything about that either. I think it's a bit sad, really, that the experience for them was ruined by a hill (sadly hills do happen in Derbyshire - actually they happen quite a lot) and the fact that they couldn't beat their personal best. But then that's up to them isn't it? I enjoyed it. I think the children (who came to watch with Daddy and Grandad) enjoyed it too, although we did have a very early picnic after the event (in the region of 11am) because they'd got bored of running around in a field and loading their toy recycling truck up with grass (grass which I later found strewn all over my lounge floor... Oh well).
After the Golden Gates, which was on 31st May, I've had a bit of a break. I was supposed to be running the Buxton Chick's Chase on 17th June, but sadly, due to there only being 7 entrants in the race, it was cancelled. It was a shame and a blessing all at once. It was a blessing because, somehow, I've injured my knee. I don't know how. I've hurt this knee before so maybe I've just got a bit of a weakness there, but the Saturday before last it was really hurting and the next day it was so swollen I thought it might be as well to rest it instead of going for my normal Sunday 12 miles. The next week it was a little better so I did a little light running in the week and then did 12 miles up to Stanton in the Peak on the Sunday (very hilly - if you didn't like Chatsworth you won't like it there because the hill goes up and up and up and up and up and you think it's never going to stop...) When I got up there, they were ringing the bells for church. I don't want to be too critical here, but it sounded terrible. There's something wrong with those bells (or those bell ringers). The people trying to have a Sunday lie-in in the cottages across the street must have been thinking "SHUT UP!!!" Anyway, it was all down hill from that point so I was able to make a quick get away from the noise.
But the next day my knee was up again. And sore. Like really SORE. And I was a bit worried because this weekend I've got my longest race. It's the Three Lakes Classic which is 15 miles long. I spent the first part of the week thinking I wasn't going to be able to do it and worrying about not finishing the challenge. I spent the second bathing my knee in Voltarol and thinking Sod It, I'm going to go anyway. How hard can it be? (Don't answer that). So, in some ways, the cancellation of the Buxton Chicks' Chase was a real blessing because it's given me longer to rest that knee. It was, however, a bit of a shame as I have said. For some reason I'd been entered into the men's race and there were only three runners in the men's race (including me), meaning that I would have DEFINITELY won a prize (probably third). It was my one and only chance to be in the prizes in any of the events I've entered - although I may have been disqualified for flouting entry requirements (i.e. I'm not a man). However, with my knee being as it was at that time, it was looking like one of the men was going to be dropping out of the Buxton Chicks' Chase anyway - so I suppose it was more of a blessing than a shame.
The knee is still a bit sore but I've got loads of Dextrose and loads of Voltarol and loads of determination to both start and finish the Three Lakes Classic. Although I may get lost. Yes, there are some marshalls. Yes, the course is partly signed. Runners, I am told, (rather worryingly for someone who has got severe dyslexia when it comes to map reading) are also given a map to help them find their way around the course. The map supplied looks like it has been drawn by a bloke in a pub. So if I don't finish it's because I got lost. And if you don't hear from me again, it's because I'm still lost. Somewhere near Ullapool or Treeton or Orgreave (which my Dad tells me featured prominently in the Miners' strike, but I don't know it myself).
To date I have raised £895 through sponsorship and my friend at work has raised a further £100. My boss has promised to double everything I raise so, in actual fact, I've raised around £2,000 to date - which I don't think is all that bad, considering the economic climate, the fact that I've been doing this now for nearly a year (taking training, planning, preparation and everything else into account), I've run 60 miles in events and probably nearer 600 in training miles and the fact that I'm completely sick of it. If you should find yourself reading this, please take all these things into account and sponsor me - it doesn't matter how much - any measure of support, no matter how small - is all that is keeping me going now.
Sunday, 24 May 2009
“Scale the hills and you'll be rewarded with spectacular views over the Peak District”
And that’s what the Runners’ World website had to say about the Buxton Half-Marathon. Now, before I wrote this blog up I was fully convinced that what I’d have to say would go something like this “And the only view I got was of my knees as I was sick through them.” I was absolutely convinced today was going to be my worst event. After all, the first three miles (yes, that’s the first THREE miles) is uphill. This is followed by a downhill bit and then more uphill, and then the course undulates for a while (in short, more uphill) followed by another really steep uphill bit and then finally, just at the end when you can’t take anymore another bloody uphill bit through the Buxton University of Derby campus – but I wasn’t sick through my knees, so I can’t write that.
In actual fact – just blowing my own trumpet here – but I did rather well. Well, I wasn’t last and I didn’t have to call out the air ambulance or mountain rescue to come and get me, and so that’s what I rate as “doing rather well”. I also finished it in 2 hours 21 mins – which is only 7 minutes slower than the time I completed the (flat) Sheffield Half-Marathon course in. I have to admit, I did NOT run the entire course. In fact, I did most of the uphill sections at a walk – and it was rather pleasant – the company was good (I’ve never met a friendlier bunch of runners), the atmosphere was good and the scenery can only be described as stunning. The view from the top of Axe Edge and the views of the Dragon’s Back really were a reward in themselves.
It was also exceptionally well-organised. Marshalls directing you at every twist and turn on the course, cattle grids covered and manned by volunteers from Buxton Mountain Rescue and water stations. I can’t think of a single complaint (unless I moan about my own performance – should have tried a bit harder, run a bit faster, but, then again, it was hot – I’ve got the sunburn to prove it – and I just don’t think you should rush through scenery like that). All in all it was fantastic. Whatever happens with the fundraising – and I’ve raised around £1,000 myself now for the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Charity, so that makes £2k as William Hill have pledged to match whatever I raise – I’m going back there next year. I might even try and run all the way up Axe Edge next time. I reckon I could do it, now I know just how long the agony is going to endure... But I’ll have to wait until next year to find that out.
In the meantime, next week I’ve got the Golden Gate 10k. (No, sadly not a jolly to San Francisco...) It’s at Chatsworth – and I think it’s called the Golden Gate because it must start somewhere around the Golden Gate entrance to the Chatsworth estate. Now, under normal circumstances you don’t get to go in that way – it’s for the Duke of Devonshire’s family only - but next Sunday, the athletes (yes, ATHLETES – that’s me!) get to go in the posh entrance. I’m quite excited about that aspect of it all on its own – yes, just driving through those gates (normally locked against your common everyday visitor – that’s the likes of me again) makes it into a bit of an event. I don’t know what the run will be like, but again, the scenery at Chatsworth is stunning. I don’t know if it will come up to that view of the Dragon’s Back as I came down the hill at Buxton today, but really today’s race was just in a league of its own.
In actual fact – just blowing my own trumpet here – but I did rather well. Well, I wasn’t last and I didn’t have to call out the air ambulance or mountain rescue to come and get me, and so that’s what I rate as “doing rather well”. I also finished it in 2 hours 21 mins – which is only 7 minutes slower than the time I completed the (flat) Sheffield Half-Marathon course in. I have to admit, I did NOT run the entire course. In fact, I did most of the uphill sections at a walk – and it was rather pleasant – the company was good (I’ve never met a friendlier bunch of runners), the atmosphere was good and the scenery can only be described as stunning. The view from the top of Axe Edge and the views of the Dragon’s Back really were a reward in themselves.
It was also exceptionally well-organised. Marshalls directing you at every twist and turn on the course, cattle grids covered and manned by volunteers from Buxton Mountain Rescue and water stations. I can’t think of a single complaint (unless I moan about my own performance – should have tried a bit harder, run a bit faster, but, then again, it was hot – I’ve got the sunburn to prove it – and I just don’t think you should rush through scenery like that). All in all it was fantastic. Whatever happens with the fundraising – and I’ve raised around £1,000 myself now for the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Charity, so that makes £2k as William Hill have pledged to match whatever I raise – I’m going back there next year. I might even try and run all the way up Axe Edge next time. I reckon I could do it, now I know just how long the agony is going to endure... But I’ll have to wait until next year to find that out.
In the meantime, next week I’ve got the Golden Gate 10k. (No, sadly not a jolly to San Francisco...) It’s at Chatsworth – and I think it’s called the Golden Gate because it must start somewhere around the Golden Gate entrance to the Chatsworth estate. Now, under normal circumstances you don’t get to go in that way – it’s for the Duke of Devonshire’s family only - but next Sunday, the athletes (yes, ATHLETES – that’s me!) get to go in the posh entrance. I’m quite excited about that aspect of it all on its own – yes, just driving through those gates (normally locked against your common everyday visitor – that’s the likes of me again) makes it into a bit of an event. I don’t know what the run will be like, but again, the scenery at Chatsworth is stunning. I don’t know if it will come up to that view of the Dragon’s Back as I came down the hill at Buxton today, but really today’s race was just in a league of its own.
Monday, 18 May 2009
I wanna be on TV... (Part 2)
So last time I was going on about how my husband doesn’t really want to go and see Green Day with me. I think I wrote something like “In actual fact, my husband doesn’t want to go and see them at all – he doesn’t even like them that much and he hates arena concerts – it’s a measure of his love for me, I feel, that he’s prepared to come with me to a venue he loathes, to not sit with me throughout a concert he doesn’t even want to go to and see a band he doesn’t particularly like. Oh well – I’d do it for him if, say, Slayer played somewhere and he really wanted to go...” In fact, I know that’s exactly what I wrote because I’ve just copy and pasted it out of my last entry. (oh the wonders of modern technology). Anyway, as you can see from my last entry, one of the reasons he doesn’t want to go and see Green Day (apart from not particularly liking their music) is he cannot stand arena concerts. Anything, he says, that gets that big, becomes soul-less. He much prefers smaller gigs. Indeed, one of his fondest memories of watching live music, is the time he watched the Red Hot Chilli Peppers play at the Sheffield Hallam University Student Union to an audience of around 8 people. He tells me (I wasn’t there – we hadn’t met at that point) that he overcame the (non-existent) security to jump on the stage, pat Anthony Keidos on the back and jumped back into the audience (no crowd-surfing though – not enough folk for that). Obviously, this was in the time before the Red Hot Chilli Peppers were as big as they are now. In fact, I don’t think anyone had ever heard of them at that point – well, only a handful anyway. (It’s a fair guess that out of that 8 people, a few people were just there because they’d wandered in to get drunk – as students do. I’m sure that all 8 were not bona-fide fans – although I’m equally sure they were after the event). Anyway, I digress. No, this has not become a blog dedicated to Green Day/the Red Hot Chilli Peppers or indeed, any other band with colours in their name (for which, I must admit, I seem to have a penchant. I also really like Pink Floyd. I’m not a big Deep Purple fan though). But I’ll get to the point. The point BEING: I did the Great Manchester Run on Sunday and it was MUCH TOO BIG. MUCH MUCH TOO BIG. I can’t really think of any other way to describe it, apart from in those terms:
TOO BIG
And, as a result, and just as my husband says, it had become soulless. The Great Edinburgh, with 10,000 runners, was fantastic. We all went off together. There was a great vibe and a great atmosphere of excitement on the day. It was also a challenging run in beautiful surroundings (the Great Manchester was not a challenging run in not very beautiful surroundings at all). I can say this – I was born in Manchester. I spent the first 9 years of my life there. I remember it being a bit of a... well, shall we say, not a great-looking city back then, but it did have a kind of industrial charm to it. Now, it’s been regenerated and there’s just an awful lot of glass. There’s nothing charming at all about running down a by-pass. I liked the Hilton building (Britain’s biggest skyscraper or something like that?) But that was about it. I do think the Manchester United football players could have stood outside Old Trafford to cheer us on, just like the snooker players stood outside the Crucible during the Sheffield Half-Marathon and cheered us mere mortals on in our sporting endeavours. Sadly, there was a dearth of Man Utd players outside. (I suppose this might have been a good thing – it was raining quite hard and they wouldn’t want to ruin their designer hairstyles in the first instance – also, in the second as I was running past there was a bloke running next to me singing: “We’re going to buy your football ground, we’re going to burn it to the ground...” Not a Man U fan I feel – and the players might not have felt like cheering us on at all if they had heard that).
The run was totally flat (one slight incline – I scarcely felt it after the Great Edinburgh and the Sheffield Half). The only challenging element of it really was that you couldn’t really run because of the sheer volume of runners who were trying to run too. It was run a bit... walk a bit because you can’t get past the person who is walking there and having a chat with her friend at the same time... and then run a bit when you get past them... oh and then walk a bit until you can dodge round the man dressed as an octopus.... (surely that’s cheating – he’s got 8 legs!) and then there’s Scooby Doo to get past... and oh God, I think I’ll just walk the rest of the way, this is too stressful. As a result my time wasn’t great (although it wasn’t disgraceful – I still did it in an hour). Then, just as I crossed the finishing line, the heavens opened. I got soaked. I then had to wait for two hours for a train (I’d reserved a seat on the cheap train, but had to wait until 2.20 pm for it) being utterly sodden in Manchester Piccadilly. I’ve got to say, I must have looked like a tramp. I know I got that thing where you smell slightly of damp dog, because you’re clothes were a bit stinky and then they got rained on. I was in my scruffy jogging bottoms and my trainers smell so much now that they’re starting to take on a life of their own. I genuinely felt sorry for the woman who had to sit next to me on the train on the way back because I could smell them – I’m sure she could too. In fact, the way they’re going, the amount I must have sweated into them by now, they’ll be taking me for a run – I won’t need to put in any effort at all – which is a good thing because next week I’ve got the Buxton Half-Marathon. Not sure how many runners (at least 32,500 less than 33,000 though) I will probably come last – the first three miles of the 13.1 are uphill. Yes, the first three miles. Up to Axe Edge – then down – then a further (even more challenging climb, the organisers felt) of 600 feet in one mile up another hill (the name of which I’ve forgotten). Oh well, I’ll go and do my best. I’ll put my trainers on and let them go... Go on trainers... Run free... Oh and can I come along too for the ride?
(Oh, incidentally, I didn’t make it onto TV this time either – it was on BBC2 at 5pm last night – they interviewed the poor sod who was running dressed as Scooby Doo though).
TOO BIG
And, as a result, and just as my husband says, it had become soulless. The Great Edinburgh, with 10,000 runners, was fantastic. We all went off together. There was a great vibe and a great atmosphere of excitement on the day. It was also a challenging run in beautiful surroundings (the Great Manchester was not a challenging run in not very beautiful surroundings at all). I can say this – I was born in Manchester. I spent the first 9 years of my life there. I remember it being a bit of a... well, shall we say, not a great-looking city back then, but it did have a kind of industrial charm to it. Now, it’s been regenerated and there’s just an awful lot of glass. There’s nothing charming at all about running down a by-pass. I liked the Hilton building (Britain’s biggest skyscraper or something like that?) But that was about it. I do think the Manchester United football players could have stood outside Old Trafford to cheer us on, just like the snooker players stood outside the Crucible during the Sheffield Half-Marathon and cheered us mere mortals on in our sporting endeavours. Sadly, there was a dearth of Man Utd players outside. (I suppose this might have been a good thing – it was raining quite hard and they wouldn’t want to ruin their designer hairstyles in the first instance – also, in the second as I was running past there was a bloke running next to me singing: “We’re going to buy your football ground, we’re going to burn it to the ground...” Not a Man U fan I feel – and the players might not have felt like cheering us on at all if they had heard that).
The run was totally flat (one slight incline – I scarcely felt it after the Great Edinburgh and the Sheffield Half). The only challenging element of it really was that you couldn’t really run because of the sheer volume of runners who were trying to run too. It was run a bit... walk a bit because you can’t get past the person who is walking there and having a chat with her friend at the same time... and then run a bit when you get past them... oh and then walk a bit until you can dodge round the man dressed as an octopus.... (surely that’s cheating – he’s got 8 legs!) and then there’s Scooby Doo to get past... and oh God, I think I’ll just walk the rest of the way, this is too stressful. As a result my time wasn’t great (although it wasn’t disgraceful – I still did it in an hour). Then, just as I crossed the finishing line, the heavens opened. I got soaked. I then had to wait for two hours for a train (I’d reserved a seat on the cheap train, but had to wait until 2.20 pm for it) being utterly sodden in Manchester Piccadilly. I’ve got to say, I must have looked like a tramp. I know I got that thing where you smell slightly of damp dog, because you’re clothes were a bit stinky and then they got rained on. I was in my scruffy jogging bottoms and my trainers smell so much now that they’re starting to take on a life of their own. I genuinely felt sorry for the woman who had to sit next to me on the train on the way back because I could smell them – I’m sure she could too. In fact, the way they’re going, the amount I must have sweated into them by now, they’ll be taking me for a run – I won’t need to put in any effort at all – which is a good thing because next week I’ve got the Buxton Half-Marathon. Not sure how many runners (at least 32,500 less than 33,000 though) I will probably come last – the first three miles of the 13.1 are uphill. Yes, the first three miles. Up to Axe Edge – then down – then a further (even more challenging climb, the organisers felt) of 600 feet in one mile up another hill (the name of which I’ve forgotten). Oh well, I’ll go and do my best. I’ll put my trainers on and let them go... Go on trainers... Run free... Oh and can I come along too for the ride?
(Oh, incidentally, I didn’t make it onto TV this time either – it was on BBC2 at 5pm last night – they interviewed the poor sod who was running dressed as Scooby Doo though).
Tuesday, 5 May 2009
I wanna be on TV....
Not really. I just thought I’d use the title from the Green Day song for two reasons:
The first is, I almost was on TV... well, I could have been. Well, I did the Great Edinburgh Run and that was on TV. Sadly, 10,000 other runners were also doing the Great Edinburgh Run at the same time and they only featured the really outstanding runners, i.e. the ones who had a chance of winning (not me) or the ones dressed as daleks, storm troopers, Princess Leia, bananas or giant leprechauns (definitely not me).
One of my friends from the telebetting centre told me that she stepped outside to watch the Sheffield Half Marathon Runners going past last week (we ran right past where I work). Well, she said she went outside to watch the runners, but she probably just nipped out for a crafty smoke... but anyway, she told me that whilst she was smoking her sneaky cigarette she was also looking out for me, “but,” she complained, “I couldn’t see you at all. All the runners looked the same. They all had their hair tied back and they were all wearing running stuff... I wouldn’t have known you.” Well, whilst I was watching the Great Edinburgh Run on television (my husband videoed it for me) I could suddenly see what she was getting at. All the runners did look the same (with the obvious exceptions of the daleks and the bloke dressed up as Princess Leia) – I wouldn’t have recognised me. (In fact, I did, at one point, think I had recognised myself, but it turned out to be a man wearing a very similar t-shirt – worrying).
Onto the second reason for the title of this being the same as the Green Day song – I got tickets to see Green Day!! Yes! I am so excited (despite the fact that the event itself isn’t taking place until October). In fact, coincidentally, the concert itself is actually taking place the day after my very last run for the Weston 100 – and what a great way to celebrate – to leave the kids with my parents and go out for the night and watch my very favourite band. The fact that I’ve got the tickets at all is something of a miracle because I came back from the Great Edinburgh Run and found that they had pretty much sold out everywhere. The only ones to be had seemed to be from ticket touting agencies at 2-3 times their original face value price. Much as I love Green Day (and I love Green Day – I can’t think how many Green Day songs playing on my Ipod have seen me through my training runs and around the various courses of the races I have done) I can’t afford to pay £110 for a ticket to go and see them – so I had pretty much resigned myself to the fact that I wasn’t going to be seeing them this time (and being as this is the first time they have toured in the UK for the past four years, I was resigning myself to another four years of Green Day-less-ness). Anyway, then, just by chance (in an attempt to console myself about this miserable turn of fate) I logged onto their website and found that there were some tickets still to be bought, but that they were individual tickets dotted around the arena – none seated together - so I bought two. (Yes, what this means is that my husband, who will be accompanying me – hence leaving the kids with my parents – will not be able to sit with me. In fact, I’m in row M and he’s in row N – but at least we’ll have the mutual experience to talk about after). (In actual fact, my husband doesn’t want to go and see them at all – he doesn’t even like them that much and he hates arena concerts – it’s a measure of his love for me, I feel, that he’s prepared to come with me to a venue he loathes, to not sit with me throughout a concert he doesn’t even want to go to and see a band he doesn’t particularly like. Oh well – I’d do it for him if, say, Slayer played somewhere and he really wanted to go).
Anyway, that’s the reason for the title of this entry. I don’t really want to be on TV. I don’t care about that. In fact, if I’m honest, I’d rather not be. But that’s not to say I didn’t enjoy the Great Edinburgh Run. It was an amazing experience to run along with 10,000 other people. I had a fantastic time. Edinburgh is just such a beautiful city that the 6 ½ miles or so went in a flash. The (slightly condescending, I felt) commentator on Channel 5 described the course as “challenging” and went on to make derogatory remarks about how charity runners never train enough. Well, I don’t know who you are, you silly patronising man, but I didn’t find the course “challenging” at all – OK there were some hills (and, OK, I admit, that around the 8k mark the only thing I was conversing with was my own pain) but – BUT I got a personal best on the course (59 mins 23 secs), the atmosphere was amazing and I just really enjoyed the experience (and that’s including the fact that Lastminute.com buggered up my room booking for the previous evening and I had to spend the night in the hotel owner’s private guest room because they’d double-booked the room). This is something that I’ve written to complain about (not because the hotel owner was less than gracious – he wasn’t – he was fantastic and I just felt as if I was imposing upon him dreadfully for the kindness and courtesy I received from himself and his family), but because Lastminute are big enough not to bugger up such things and, with this in view, only a donation to my justgiving site from them will make me feel better on this point.
My next run is even bigger than the Great Edinburgh – it’s the Great Manchester and it features 33,000 runners. It’s being covered on BBC2 this time and if you want to get on TV and are running that race, you do either need to (a) win it; or (b) dress up as a camel or a cyberman or something. I will be wearing my home made Sex Pistols/Blue Peter influenced T-shirt and probably won’t figure at all. I certainly won’t be winning it – I’m in the last wave of starting – again - and by the time I get to cross the start line, the race will already have been won by someone or other (it took me 12 minutes to cross the start line in the Great Edinburgh and that’s 10,000 runners – it’s going to be even longer with 33,000 crossing that line) – but that’s not going to stop me enjoying the experience.
The first is, I almost was on TV... well, I could have been. Well, I did the Great Edinburgh Run and that was on TV. Sadly, 10,000 other runners were also doing the Great Edinburgh Run at the same time and they only featured the really outstanding runners, i.e. the ones who had a chance of winning (not me) or the ones dressed as daleks, storm troopers, Princess Leia, bananas or giant leprechauns (definitely not me).
One of my friends from the telebetting centre told me that she stepped outside to watch the Sheffield Half Marathon Runners going past last week (we ran right past where I work). Well, she said she went outside to watch the runners, but she probably just nipped out for a crafty smoke... but anyway, she told me that whilst she was smoking her sneaky cigarette she was also looking out for me, “but,” she complained, “I couldn’t see you at all. All the runners looked the same. They all had their hair tied back and they were all wearing running stuff... I wouldn’t have known you.” Well, whilst I was watching the Great Edinburgh Run on television (my husband videoed it for me) I could suddenly see what she was getting at. All the runners did look the same (with the obvious exceptions of the daleks and the bloke dressed up as Princess Leia) – I wouldn’t have recognised me. (In fact, I did, at one point, think I had recognised myself, but it turned out to be a man wearing a very similar t-shirt – worrying).
Onto the second reason for the title of this being the same as the Green Day song – I got tickets to see Green Day!! Yes! I am so excited (despite the fact that the event itself isn’t taking place until October). In fact, coincidentally, the concert itself is actually taking place the day after my very last run for the Weston 100 – and what a great way to celebrate – to leave the kids with my parents and go out for the night and watch my very favourite band. The fact that I’ve got the tickets at all is something of a miracle because I came back from the Great Edinburgh Run and found that they had pretty much sold out everywhere. The only ones to be had seemed to be from ticket touting agencies at 2-3 times their original face value price. Much as I love Green Day (and I love Green Day – I can’t think how many Green Day songs playing on my Ipod have seen me through my training runs and around the various courses of the races I have done) I can’t afford to pay £110 for a ticket to go and see them – so I had pretty much resigned myself to the fact that I wasn’t going to be seeing them this time (and being as this is the first time they have toured in the UK for the past four years, I was resigning myself to another four years of Green Day-less-ness). Anyway, then, just by chance (in an attempt to console myself about this miserable turn of fate) I logged onto their website and found that there were some tickets still to be bought, but that they were individual tickets dotted around the arena – none seated together - so I bought two. (Yes, what this means is that my husband, who will be accompanying me – hence leaving the kids with my parents – will not be able to sit with me. In fact, I’m in row M and he’s in row N – but at least we’ll have the mutual experience to talk about after). (In actual fact, my husband doesn’t want to go and see them at all – he doesn’t even like them that much and he hates arena concerts – it’s a measure of his love for me, I feel, that he’s prepared to come with me to a venue he loathes, to not sit with me throughout a concert he doesn’t even want to go to and see a band he doesn’t particularly like. Oh well – I’d do it for him if, say, Slayer played somewhere and he really wanted to go).
Anyway, that’s the reason for the title of this entry. I don’t really want to be on TV. I don’t care about that. In fact, if I’m honest, I’d rather not be. But that’s not to say I didn’t enjoy the Great Edinburgh Run. It was an amazing experience to run along with 10,000 other people. I had a fantastic time. Edinburgh is just such a beautiful city that the 6 ½ miles or so went in a flash. The (slightly condescending, I felt) commentator on Channel 5 described the course as “challenging” and went on to make derogatory remarks about how charity runners never train enough. Well, I don’t know who you are, you silly patronising man, but I didn’t find the course “challenging” at all – OK there were some hills (and, OK, I admit, that around the 8k mark the only thing I was conversing with was my own pain) but – BUT I got a personal best on the course (59 mins 23 secs), the atmosphere was amazing and I just really enjoyed the experience (and that’s including the fact that Lastminute.com buggered up my room booking for the previous evening and I had to spend the night in the hotel owner’s private guest room because they’d double-booked the room). This is something that I’ve written to complain about (not because the hotel owner was less than gracious – he wasn’t – he was fantastic and I just felt as if I was imposing upon him dreadfully for the kindness and courtesy I received from himself and his family), but because Lastminute are big enough not to bugger up such things and, with this in view, only a donation to my justgiving site from them will make me feel better on this point.
My next run is even bigger than the Great Edinburgh – it’s the Great Manchester and it features 33,000 runners. It’s being covered on BBC2 this time and if you want to get on TV and are running that race, you do either need to (a) win it; or (b) dress up as a camel or a cyberman or something. I will be wearing my home made Sex Pistols/Blue Peter influenced T-shirt and probably won’t figure at all. I certainly won’t be winning it – I’m in the last wave of starting – again - and by the time I get to cross the start line, the race will already have been won by someone or other (it took me 12 minutes to cross the start line in the Great Edinburgh and that’s 10,000 runners – it’s going to be even longer with 33,000 crossing that line) – but that’s not going to stop me enjoying the experience.
Sunday, 26 April 2009
Sunday 26th April - on which I complete my first half-marathon...
And didn’t even have to hitch a ride home in an ambulance... Now that’s what I call a RESULT.
In actual fact, I really enjoyed the event (which was a surprise because I have found the last two events hard – and they were less than half the distance of this one). There was just a really good atmosphere – starting off in the Don Valley Stadium was almost like being a “proper” athlete. Indeed, for a brief moment, I was sharing the same track space with some of those elite athletes who probably finished the event in under an hour. (No, I can’t name any of them. I suspect that most of the “elite” elite athletes were in London today taking part in some run or other – obviously, no one was watching that – no, all eyes in the athletics world were, without doubt, on Sheffield today). The period of time I was sharing the track with them, was, to be fair, extremely brief being as they were gone in nano-seconds, whereas it took me quite a long time to even break into a run after the firing pistol went off (being, as I was, right at the back of the starting line along with all the other slow runners – in fact, the girl standing next to me had a broken arm and didn’t intend to run at all).
Then it was a nice steady downhill run into town, and there was loads of support along the way. We ran past the fire station and some of the firemen were outside cheering us on; we ran past the Crucible where the snooker is on at the moment and some of the people from that were outside cheering too. I had a low point at around the 8 mile mark (just as we were running up Ecclesall Road). It was the only really sustained uphill section of the whole course. Fortunately, it was thronged with students and the support was really good. I also saw my friend and her husband at the end and that cheered me up enough to run the next 7 miles.
If I had a criticism, it would be this: The people at the 10 mile mark should not have been shouting “Nearly there now!” There was another sodding three miles to go and it was just offering false hope. Still, it did feel like we were nearly there at that point. I enjoyed it. On the whole it was good. And because it was Sheffield, everybody was friendly and took the time to chat on the way (comparing notes about the vileness of the energy drink which was being offered – at least I know my gag reflexes still work). I even, in a moment of extreme athletic professionalism, had a Paula Radcliffe moment. (OK, I didn’t win or beat my personal best – but I did have to go for a wee in a bush).
All in all, by the time I reached the 13 mile mark (and I must admit I did feel like crying real tears of joy at the sight of it by that time), I didn’t feel in too bad shape. Especially when I compare myself with the grown men who were having to be carted off in ambulances and the bloke I saw who was walking along barefoot, carrying his trainers in his hand, his feet bleeding. Obviously, I felt awful after the event. I still feel pretty bad now. My knees are killing me. It’s not good for you – it really isn’t, but at the time of completion (and before I had to walk back to the car) I felt pretty good. I even managed to eat the complimentary yoghurty flapjack (also vile) without being sick. However, by the time I reached the car I had started to feel pretty shoddy and it took a whole packet of dextrose tablets to feel strong enough to brave the journey back home.
But that does not detract from my enjoyment of the event. I would say that it’s been one of my favourites so far. One of the best moments for me was when I was running next to two blokes just by JE James Cycles and one turned to the other and said “I can’t be doing with this, shall we find a pub?” The other responded, “Ahh, there’s one at the end of the road.” I don’t know if they were joking. Perhaps so. What I can say is that I never saw them again throughout the duration of the race.
In actual fact, I really enjoyed the event (which was a surprise because I have found the last two events hard – and they were less than half the distance of this one). There was just a really good atmosphere – starting off in the Don Valley Stadium was almost like being a “proper” athlete. Indeed, for a brief moment, I was sharing the same track space with some of those elite athletes who probably finished the event in under an hour. (No, I can’t name any of them. I suspect that most of the “elite” elite athletes were in London today taking part in some run or other – obviously, no one was watching that – no, all eyes in the athletics world were, without doubt, on Sheffield today). The period of time I was sharing the track with them, was, to be fair, extremely brief being as they were gone in nano-seconds, whereas it took me quite a long time to even break into a run after the firing pistol went off (being, as I was, right at the back of the starting line along with all the other slow runners – in fact, the girl standing next to me had a broken arm and didn’t intend to run at all).
Then it was a nice steady downhill run into town, and there was loads of support along the way. We ran past the fire station and some of the firemen were outside cheering us on; we ran past the Crucible where the snooker is on at the moment and some of the people from that were outside cheering too. I had a low point at around the 8 mile mark (just as we were running up Ecclesall Road). It was the only really sustained uphill section of the whole course. Fortunately, it was thronged with students and the support was really good. I also saw my friend and her husband at the end and that cheered me up enough to run the next 7 miles.
If I had a criticism, it would be this: The people at the 10 mile mark should not have been shouting “Nearly there now!” There was another sodding three miles to go and it was just offering false hope. Still, it did feel like we were nearly there at that point. I enjoyed it. On the whole it was good. And because it was Sheffield, everybody was friendly and took the time to chat on the way (comparing notes about the vileness of the energy drink which was being offered – at least I know my gag reflexes still work). I even, in a moment of extreme athletic professionalism, had a Paula Radcliffe moment. (OK, I didn’t win or beat my personal best – but I did have to go for a wee in a bush).
All in all, by the time I reached the 13 mile mark (and I must admit I did feel like crying real tears of joy at the sight of it by that time), I didn’t feel in too bad shape. Especially when I compare myself with the grown men who were having to be carted off in ambulances and the bloke I saw who was walking along barefoot, carrying his trainers in his hand, his feet bleeding. Obviously, I felt awful after the event. I still feel pretty bad now. My knees are killing me. It’s not good for you – it really isn’t, but at the time of completion (and before I had to walk back to the car) I felt pretty good. I even managed to eat the complimentary yoghurty flapjack (also vile) without being sick. However, by the time I reached the car I had started to feel pretty shoddy and it took a whole packet of dextrose tablets to feel strong enough to brave the journey back home.
But that does not detract from my enjoyment of the event. I would say that it’s been one of my favourites so far. One of the best moments for me was when I was running next to two blokes just by JE James Cycles and one turned to the other and said “I can’t be doing with this, shall we find a pub?” The other responded, “Ahh, there’s one at the end of the road.” I don’t know if they were joking. Perhaps so. What I can say is that I never saw them again throughout the duration of the race.
Thursday, 23 April 2009
Greetings from the Under-crackers of the Athletics World
Because this, it seems, is firmly where I am in the hierarchy of the runners who are participating in the Great Edinburgh Run the weekend after next. Here... Check it out... Take a look at the picture of the start arrangements for this event. (I, as if any clarification were needed, have been assigned a place in the ‘pink’ wave).
Now, does it, or does it not, look just like a little pair of pants worn by Forrest Road and Bristo Place? And, there, I can assure you, is exactly where I’ll be – one of the many runners who have been assigned the official “Crap” label by the Great Run Organisation (don’t even get me started on those bastards) and thus being safely encased in the pink panty area of the run. (The question is where do I stand? Should I go for the end of one of the legs or the crotch? Oooh, decisions, decisions). Ironically, I would even have been wearing pink up until last Sunday.
Last Sunday something momentous happened. I made a new running T-shirt. Yes, MADE. Okay, I’m not very good at making things. I’ll admit it. But I was engulfed by a sudden new wave of enthusiasm for the runs and all the organisation behind the fundraising etc and so decided (since I’m skint – credit crunch and all) to make a new T-shirt. It’s all very punk rock and DIY. In fact, I wanted it to look very punk rock and went for a load of mismatched letters cut out from other old, unwanted T-shirts to spell out “Weston 100” and then my justgiving address at the bottom of the T-shirt (that was a bit harder – I wish I didn’t have such a long name. You try spelling “Val Derbyshire” out of just offcuts of old T-shirts.) I wanted it to look very Sex Pistols – I have a suspicion it’s more Blue Peter than Sex Pistols. It might even just be a bit rubbish, but I’m going to wear it anyway. I have to wear it for two reasons (1) I cannot afford the printing costs for another fundraising charity T-shirt – I was never really happy with the last one anyway so was reluctant to fork out more cash on it (2) I have nothing else to wear now that I have cut up most of my running T-shirts to make this one (Well I had to get all those letters to spell my ridiculously long name out from somewhere). So, the bottom line (ha, ha – bottom line – get it? Pants and all... Oh, never mind); The bottom line is that I’m going to be right at home in my crap home-made T-shirt in the crappy bottom pant-clad area of the start line of the Great Edinburgh Run.
But what, I hear you cry, caused this sudden spurt of new enthusiasm? Well, maybe not cry, but I’ll tell you anyway. Last Saturday I sat next to a new bloke during my shift at William Hill. Now all sorts of people work there for all sorts of reasons, but this bloke was working there because he was using the income from his part-time job to finance his training as a discus thrower. Now, I’ve never met a discus thrower before, or indeed anyone who is as serious about athletics and training to be an athlete of an international standard as he was. He was utterly focussed and determined upon his ambition of reaching the goals he had set for himself. It did me good to sit next to him (even if he did smirk in a somewhat patronising way when I told him about the amateur standard road races I have done – he’s probably entitled to feel a bit smug about our comparative athletic abilities – I, after all, was not the one drinking creatine shakes during break time – I went for the slightly less recognised sports diet of eating a bit of Easter Egg filched from the kids’ stash). Anyway, it did me good to hear him talk about his ambitions and his training plans and it motivated me to get up early on Sunday morning and do a 12 mile training run because I thought, if he can be that focussed and determined, then I can get through this challenge too. He, after all, was talking about dedicating his whole life to it. It’s only about a year out of my life. This time in six months’ time it will all be over. (Fill in your own "Thank God")
Last Sunday something momentous happened. I made a new running T-shirt. Yes, MADE. Okay, I’m not very good at making things. I’ll admit it. But I was engulfed by a sudden new wave of enthusiasm for the runs and all the organisation behind the fundraising etc and so decided (since I’m skint – credit crunch and all) to make a new T-shirt. It’s all very punk rock and DIY. In fact, I wanted it to look very punk rock and went for a load of mismatched letters cut out from other old, unwanted T-shirts to spell out “Weston 100” and then my justgiving address at the bottom of the T-shirt (that was a bit harder – I wish I didn’t have such a long name. You try spelling “Val Derbyshire” out of just offcuts of old T-shirts.) I wanted it to look very Sex Pistols – I have a suspicion it’s more Blue Peter than Sex Pistols. It might even just be a bit rubbish, but I’m going to wear it anyway. I have to wear it for two reasons (1) I cannot afford the printing costs for another fundraising charity T-shirt – I was never really happy with the last one anyway so was reluctant to fork out more cash on it (2) I have nothing else to wear now that I have cut up most of my running T-shirts to make this one (Well I had to get all those letters to spell my ridiculously long name out from somewhere). So, the bottom line (ha, ha – bottom line – get it? Pants and all... Oh, never mind); The bottom line is that I’m going to be right at home in my crap home-made T-shirt in the crappy bottom pant-clad area of the start line of the Great Edinburgh Run.
But what, I hear you cry, caused this sudden spurt of new enthusiasm? Well, maybe not cry, but I’ll tell you anyway. Last Saturday I sat next to a new bloke during my shift at William Hill. Now all sorts of people work there for all sorts of reasons, but this bloke was working there because he was using the income from his part-time job to finance his training as a discus thrower. Now, I’ve never met a discus thrower before, or indeed anyone who is as serious about athletics and training to be an athlete of an international standard as he was. He was utterly focussed and determined upon his ambition of reaching the goals he had set for himself. It did me good to sit next to him (even if he did smirk in a somewhat patronising way when I told him about the amateur standard road races I have done – he’s probably entitled to feel a bit smug about our comparative athletic abilities – I, after all, was not the one drinking creatine shakes during break time – I went for the slightly less recognised sports diet of eating a bit of Easter Egg filched from the kids’ stash). Anyway, it did me good to hear him talk about his ambitions and his training plans and it motivated me to get up early on Sunday morning and do a 12 mile training run because I thought, if he can be that focussed and determined, then I can get through this challenge too. He, after all, was talking about dedicating his whole life to it. It’s only about a year out of my life. This time in six months’ time it will all be over. (Fill in your own "Thank God")
So I went out and ran 12 miles on Sunday. I had to stop four times (once for a coughing fit – not a good sign); the second time to get a dextrose energy tablet out (longer distances merit these, I feel); the third and fourth times to answer calls about the mother-in-law who had apparently fainted (don’t take a phone out with you if you run. I know there’s a safety aspect there, but it’s much easier not to have to deal with these problems when you’re 7 miles into a 12 mile run).
Why was I running so far? Well, this Sunday – yes, that’s in 3 days’ time!!! – I’m running the Sheffield Half-Marathon. Yes, my first half-marathon event. At least this one is a big one. I’ll get lost in the crowd of 5,499 other people who are running it along with me. This, however, will not happen in the Buxton Half-Marathon, which incidentally, requires a run up several very large hills – No, sadly, in this event of around 250 people (most of them serious runners and members of athletics clubs) my ineptitude is going to be glaringly obvious – perhaps they’d like to start thinking about their pants-shaped wave start now too. Anyway, look out for me in Sheff if you’re passing through this Sunday. Lots of the roads will be closed so there will be traffic chaos everywhere I should have thought. I’m number 2485, but you’ll recognise the Sex Pistols/Blue Peter style running garb anyway.
Thursday, 16 April 2009
The Easter Bunny has seriously trashed the training regime...
A strong allegation I know. I mean, who doesn’t like the Easter Bunny? He’s a symbol of hope and the coming Spring, not to mention the chocolate... But then again, there’s the Easter holidays from school. Now that the children are both at home and not tied up with school, etc, (i.e. with someone else looking after them) I can’t get out and run. Don’t get me wrong – it’s nice having them at home and all and I’m particularly enjoying not having to get up at the crack of a*** to chivvy two recalcitrant children out of their nice warm beds and into school and nursery respectively, but I can’t exactly just slip out for a run now that they’re at home all day every day. Plus – and this is the final insult to injury – it seems when they don’t have to get up at 06.40 hours every day, they decide that actually, it’s quite good fun to – they particularly enjoy getting up at some unearthly hour and playing a game together outside my bedroom door. It doesn’t really matter what the game is. Any kind of game – as long as it’s noisy. (This morning’s involved throwing toy cars at the bedroom wall). So, in short, the upshot of this is, I’m still getting up at the crack of anyway.
None of this would be a problem if my husband was around to help out like he usually is. Sadly, this being Easter time, and therefore, as I have said, Spring time, and being as my husband is an ecologist, and every newt/toad/bird/badger/bat in the world is breeding at this time of year, this is a really busy time for him, and he is out early every morning and late every night surveying/counting/ generally looking after the interests of every amphibian/mammal/bird in the South Yorkshire/Derbyshire/Manchester areas. I've hardly seen him during this school holidays (although this may be a deliberate ploy on his part just to evade the worst excesses of the children after too much chocolate). I've almost forgotten what he looks like. Still, he spent Tuesday night on a landfill site near Manchester looking for Great Crested Newts, so it's not all been fun and games for him (he assures me).
And then, as I mentioned before, there’s the chocolate... The kids got loads this year. I mean LOADS. We had an Easter egg hunt in the garden with some of their little friends and they found about 10 small chocolate eggs apiece during that. Then there were the other, bigger, chocolate eggs. The lucky so and so’s got two each from Thornton’s, TWO Lindor gold rabbits each, a chocolate buttons egg, two Kinnerton Chocolate character eggs, a Milky Bar egg each, two Thornton Easter Bunny lollipops, and so on and so on... The list just goes on and every time I go into the pantry it’s all there... Just piled up... A great big delicious mountain of chocolate. I’ve got no willpower. I keep pinching bits. I am, officially, the worst mother in the world. And I know... I KNOW the chocolate is officially the property of the children and I shouldn’t be half-inching it (I mean if they can’t trust their own mother who can they trust?), but I just can’t help myself... So there’s another reason I can’t run a faster 10k... The extra stone I’m carrying which is made up entirely of Cadbury’s Cream Eggs (I particularly can’t resist those miniature ones... I can’t just pinch one of those... I have to steal about twenty).
And finally, because it is school holiday time, and because my sister’s a teacher, it’s holiday time for her too, she’s come to stay for the week, which has just been brilliant. It has, however, meant lots of luxurious treat-style outings to places like Chatsworth House (large picnic and cream tea); Buxton Pavilion Gardens (luxury hot chocolate with marshmallows and whipped cream, complete with toasted teacake – and you would have thought I should have been able to control myself here too – especially being as one of my events is the Buxton Half-Marathon and every time I go there nowadays I look at the hills around there and think, Oh My God, What was I thinking?) and tomorrow I’m going out for a large Italian meal with her. All fantastic stuff (apart from the Pavilion Gardens, which, probably after the sugar rush, induced the biggest tantrum I’ve ever seen in my youngest son. I literally had to carry him bodily out of there whilst he kicked out at me and screamed at the top of his lungs. There’s another place I can never show my face in again – which is a shame – because the Art Cafe at the Pavilion Gardens is really nice now that it’s all been refurbished – This, I hasten to add, did nothing for my stress levels which I usually manage to keep quite nicely under control with the training I do – running is a great stress buster). However, it’s not great for healthy eating and has done absolutely nothing for the training I should be doing.
So, in short, what Easter has meant for me this year is extra calories (too many of) and cutting down on runs (much too much of). And, being as my next event is the Sheffield Half-Marathon and being as this event is in precisely ten days’ time, I’m in trouble. Somebody hand over that bunny... I’m gonna bite his head off.
Sunday, 5 April 2009
Twice around the ponds...
Photo 1: Approaching Beecher's Brook.
Photo 2: Oh Yes! No fallers here.
Photo 3: Why am I doing this again?
So I did the Theo’s 10k today which represents the third of the events I’m entered into and means that I’ve now run 15 miles out of the 100 I’ve promised to do. It went okay. I guess. I mean, the first lap went okay. I actually felt pretty good up until the 5k mark. I think, actually, the 5k might be my ideal distance because after I’d passed that point (once round the two lakes at Rother Valley Country Park) I started to feel pretty ropey. By the end of the twice round the ponds bit, I was barely running at all. I certainly didn’t manage the enthusiastic sprint finish I mustered for the Dronfield 10k and I have to admit, the one thought which was perpetually recurring as I ran those last few yards was “So why am I doing this again? This is not fun. This is just stupid.”
It’s been a bad couple of weeks really. I haven’t managed to train all this week because I caught some horrible flu-like virus off the kids. I’ve had all the most horrible symptoms: hacking cough, shivering, aching legs and joints, tiredness and a splitting headache. I managed a 7 mile run a week last Friday and felt pretty much like death warmed up the whole way round. That was another “So why am I doing this again?” moment. After that I thought the wisest course would be to try and rest up before the event today – on the premise that this would either make me run a fantastic race because I was so supremely rested (this is what I thought was going to happen on the first lap of the lakes) or I’d just feel crap because I hadn’t trained properly for the event (second lap).
The horrible flu-like virus resulted in a really bad case of nappy rash for my youngest son, so in a moment of extreme madness, probably whilst suffering from the hallucinogenic effects of a high temperature, I convinced myself that NOW – this precise time - this week, when we’re all really ill – would be a good time to start potty training! What can you say to that? I am a moron. Anyway – despite our collective illnesses – my youngest son (who is, incidentally 3 ½ now, so should really have been wearing pants long ago but we’ve just been too lazy to get onto it) took to wearing big boys’ undercrackers surprisingly well. The week was marred by just two incidents (apart from the illness). (1) Whilst delivering some letters in Bakewell my son was seized by a sudden and urgent need to wee. Small children just can’t wait, especially when they’re only just in pants, so we stopped at what I thought was an unobtrusive spot and I let him have a quick wee against a wall. Relieved, he hopped back into his buggy and we carried on delivering our letters. A short while later, on our return journey, we passed the same wall only to discover a hostile pensioner self-righteously cleaning the self-same wall where my son had just proudly marked his territory. He was cleaning the tiny puddle up with a PRESSURE WASHER. Part of me was abashed. I hate confrontation and I didn’t want to have a row in the street about the fact that I had just let my son pee up against this bloke’s wall. Part of me was amazed. I mean, a PRESSURE WASHER? Oh for God’s sake... It was only a small boy’s tiny little bit of wee. Part of me wanted to shout “GET A LIFE” at the miserable old bugger. Discretion being the better part of valour and all, I beat a hasty retreat and pretended I knew nothing whatsoever about the matter. I got away with nothing more than a few angry glances shot in our direction, but I fully expect an article to appear in the paper about the “Moral decline in mothers”. Bakewell is just that kind of place. After all, last week there was a full half page article about a rat which has had the temerity to take up residence in the Bath Gardens. How dare it? The person (the aptly named Mr Strange) reporting the incident has clearly stated that the rat’s days are numbered. He knows where it lives (under the steps of the Conservative club apparently. Even more appropriate – even the rats are Tories here, it seems). Any newspaper which dedicates half a page of news space to a rat is clearly really short on news. (If they had done this in Sheffield – I mean dedicated paragraphs of newspaper space to “Rat News” - the Sheffield Star would be a very fat paper indeed). The toddler urinating on a wall feature is surely the stuff of front page news? Although they might ask me to write my own article about it – but more about that later.
The second “incident” occurred in the car park of a soft play centre I took my two children to on the first day of the Easter holidays. Shortly after leaving the play centre my youngest once more announced he needed a wee. Sadly, it was just a little too late because within seconds of the announcement, a huge stream erupted through his trousers leading him to walk like John Wayne across the car park to our car and a convenient place to change into dry pants and trousers. This is where the trouble began. Upon removing his trousers I found that he’d also started... well... to have a poo in his trousers as well. My friend lent me her little girl’s potty (apparently, you should always carry a potty with you just for this reason... And from now on, the lesson is learned... I always will) and my youngest son sat quite happily in the car park having a poo with a largeish audience of fellow toddlers and builders who happened to be working nearby in the area standing by admiringly and shouting the odd piece of encouragement or advice. My son didn’t find this remotely embarrassing (he left that to me). There was a bit of a mess to clean up in the end (I owe my friend some baby wipes which I also forgot – I’m such an amateur at all this. All I had were some tissues with John Wayne leanings as well – i.e. rough, tough and takes no crap off anyone) but it wasn’t too bad I suppose. On the whole, it wasn’t as bad as the grumpy pensioner incident, although it did lead to me having to drive home, all the way through Matlock Bath, with a turd in a bag on the seat next to me. But never mind. Apart from that – the potty training has gone surprisingly well, really. All things considered, especially.
Some other things have gone well this week too. It’s not all doom and gloom. This week, I have received some responses to an email which I sent a while ago to a few local papers about the fundraising I am doing for the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Charity. Someone from the Sheffield Star emailed me to ask me for my telephone number so that they could phone me and talk to me about what I am doing –and then never phoned (Okay – the news isn’t that promising). Someone else from the Peak Advertiser (local paper, but different one to the one featuring “Rat News”) emailed me with: “Thank you for your email, if you would like to send something we will put it in for you.” i.e. Oh write it yourself, we can’t be bothered. I duly wrote something and sent it in. I don’t think it’s been printed yet but we don’t always get the paper delivered. It’s a bit hit and miss – so it could be in and I’ve just missed it – or there could be too much news concerning rats and pissing toddlers this week to have space for it. I just don’t know.
However, there have been other factors, apart from illness, which have made for a difficult week. This Saturday was the Grand National – arguably the biggest date in the horse-racing calendar and the busiest day of William Hill’s year. I worked a steady 13 ½ hour shift which included a generous 20 minutes for lunch. Lunch was laid on free but consisted of sandwiches which had obviously been made by those girls off The Apprentice who skimped on the fillings to save money and generate more profit. So bread sandwiches, basically. It went okay. I mean it was busy and we had the inevitable technical problems and by 3pm I was having problems speaking coherently, but it went okay. There were two things which actually made it (very surprisingly – because I, along with nearly everybody else who is employed in the gambling industry, apart from those who stand to make a lot of money out of it, was utterly dreading it) a very enjoyable experience. (1) On the way into work I nipped into Sainsbury’s to buy a coffee and saw from the front cover of Q magazine that Green Day are about to release a new album. Hurray! What’s not to be happy about that? (2) I actually met the man from William Hill who facilitated William Hill’s agreement in their matching the money I raise up to a sum of £3k. Because it was such a big day for the call centre, there were lots of the guys in suits around, visiting from London and seeing how we were all getting on I suppose, and he was one of them. I was just so delighted to meet him. He is, genuinely, after the wonderful thing he has arranged for my fundraising, my hero. Nearly as big a hero to me as Tre Cool. Obviously, nobody is going to be able to live up to Mr Cool himself – but he comes pretty close. Meeting him was definitely, the high point of my day – even better than 4.21pm when that race finally went off after two false starts.
So, in answer to the question I asked myself at the beginning of this entry – “Why am I doing all this again?” Well, because people like my hero from William Hill believe in me enough to invest in what I’m doing with real money for the Weston Park Hospital. And, despite the problems, the illnesses, the crap times (yes, this race, despite the fact that it was entirely on the flat, actually took me longer to complete than the Dronfield 10K – a good proportion of which was uphill) and despite the fact that I am still, quite clearly, in spite of all the training I’ve done and time I’ve invested myself into this – still utterly rubbish at running – I am going to do this. Believe in me too – and the best way to manifest your utter belief that I will be suffering through the Sheffield half marathon in three weeks’ time (three weeks!!! Agghghghgh) is to sponsor me at http://www.justgiving.com/valderbyshire All of the funds raised from this insane attempt to have a life beyond the bowel movements of small children will go directly to the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Charity to help sufferers of the disease in our region and fund research into treatments into the disease.
It’s been a bad couple of weeks really. I haven’t managed to train all this week because I caught some horrible flu-like virus off the kids. I’ve had all the most horrible symptoms: hacking cough, shivering, aching legs and joints, tiredness and a splitting headache. I managed a 7 mile run a week last Friday and felt pretty much like death warmed up the whole way round. That was another “So why am I doing this again?” moment. After that I thought the wisest course would be to try and rest up before the event today – on the premise that this would either make me run a fantastic race because I was so supremely rested (this is what I thought was going to happen on the first lap of the lakes) or I’d just feel crap because I hadn’t trained properly for the event (second lap).
The horrible flu-like virus resulted in a really bad case of nappy rash for my youngest son, so in a moment of extreme madness, probably whilst suffering from the hallucinogenic effects of a high temperature, I convinced myself that NOW – this precise time - this week, when we’re all really ill – would be a good time to start potty training! What can you say to that? I am a moron. Anyway – despite our collective illnesses – my youngest son (who is, incidentally 3 ½ now, so should really have been wearing pants long ago but we’ve just been too lazy to get onto it) took to wearing big boys’ undercrackers surprisingly well. The week was marred by just two incidents (apart from the illness). (1) Whilst delivering some letters in Bakewell my son was seized by a sudden and urgent need to wee. Small children just can’t wait, especially when they’re only just in pants, so we stopped at what I thought was an unobtrusive spot and I let him have a quick wee against a wall. Relieved, he hopped back into his buggy and we carried on delivering our letters. A short while later, on our return journey, we passed the same wall only to discover a hostile pensioner self-righteously cleaning the self-same wall where my son had just proudly marked his territory. He was cleaning the tiny puddle up with a PRESSURE WASHER. Part of me was abashed. I hate confrontation and I didn’t want to have a row in the street about the fact that I had just let my son pee up against this bloke’s wall. Part of me was amazed. I mean, a PRESSURE WASHER? Oh for God’s sake... It was only a small boy’s tiny little bit of wee. Part of me wanted to shout “GET A LIFE” at the miserable old bugger. Discretion being the better part of valour and all, I beat a hasty retreat and pretended I knew nothing whatsoever about the matter. I got away with nothing more than a few angry glances shot in our direction, but I fully expect an article to appear in the paper about the “Moral decline in mothers”. Bakewell is just that kind of place. After all, last week there was a full half page article about a rat which has had the temerity to take up residence in the Bath Gardens. How dare it? The person (the aptly named Mr Strange) reporting the incident has clearly stated that the rat’s days are numbered. He knows where it lives (under the steps of the Conservative club apparently. Even more appropriate – even the rats are Tories here, it seems). Any newspaper which dedicates half a page of news space to a rat is clearly really short on news. (If they had done this in Sheffield – I mean dedicated paragraphs of newspaper space to “Rat News” - the Sheffield Star would be a very fat paper indeed). The toddler urinating on a wall feature is surely the stuff of front page news? Although they might ask me to write my own article about it – but more about that later.
The second “incident” occurred in the car park of a soft play centre I took my two children to on the first day of the Easter holidays. Shortly after leaving the play centre my youngest once more announced he needed a wee. Sadly, it was just a little too late because within seconds of the announcement, a huge stream erupted through his trousers leading him to walk like John Wayne across the car park to our car and a convenient place to change into dry pants and trousers. This is where the trouble began. Upon removing his trousers I found that he’d also started... well... to have a poo in his trousers as well. My friend lent me her little girl’s potty (apparently, you should always carry a potty with you just for this reason... And from now on, the lesson is learned... I always will) and my youngest son sat quite happily in the car park having a poo with a largeish audience of fellow toddlers and builders who happened to be working nearby in the area standing by admiringly and shouting the odd piece of encouragement or advice. My son didn’t find this remotely embarrassing (he left that to me). There was a bit of a mess to clean up in the end (I owe my friend some baby wipes which I also forgot – I’m such an amateur at all this. All I had were some tissues with John Wayne leanings as well – i.e. rough, tough and takes no crap off anyone) but it wasn’t too bad I suppose. On the whole, it wasn’t as bad as the grumpy pensioner incident, although it did lead to me having to drive home, all the way through Matlock Bath, with a turd in a bag on the seat next to me. But never mind. Apart from that – the potty training has gone surprisingly well, really. All things considered, especially.
Some other things have gone well this week too. It’s not all doom and gloom. This week, I have received some responses to an email which I sent a while ago to a few local papers about the fundraising I am doing for the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Charity. Someone from the Sheffield Star emailed me to ask me for my telephone number so that they could phone me and talk to me about what I am doing –and then never phoned (Okay – the news isn’t that promising). Someone else from the Peak Advertiser (local paper, but different one to the one featuring “Rat News”) emailed me with: “Thank you for your email, if you would like to send something we will put it in for you.” i.e. Oh write it yourself, we can’t be bothered. I duly wrote something and sent it in. I don’t think it’s been printed yet but we don’t always get the paper delivered. It’s a bit hit and miss – so it could be in and I’ve just missed it – or there could be too much news concerning rats and pissing toddlers this week to have space for it. I just don’t know.
However, there have been other factors, apart from illness, which have made for a difficult week. This Saturday was the Grand National – arguably the biggest date in the horse-racing calendar and the busiest day of William Hill’s year. I worked a steady 13 ½ hour shift which included a generous 20 minutes for lunch. Lunch was laid on free but consisted of sandwiches which had obviously been made by those girls off The Apprentice who skimped on the fillings to save money and generate more profit. So bread sandwiches, basically. It went okay. I mean it was busy and we had the inevitable technical problems and by 3pm I was having problems speaking coherently, but it went okay. There were two things which actually made it (very surprisingly – because I, along with nearly everybody else who is employed in the gambling industry, apart from those who stand to make a lot of money out of it, was utterly dreading it) a very enjoyable experience. (1) On the way into work I nipped into Sainsbury’s to buy a coffee and saw from the front cover of Q magazine that Green Day are about to release a new album. Hurray! What’s not to be happy about that? (2) I actually met the man from William Hill who facilitated William Hill’s agreement in their matching the money I raise up to a sum of £3k. Because it was such a big day for the call centre, there were lots of the guys in suits around, visiting from London and seeing how we were all getting on I suppose, and he was one of them. I was just so delighted to meet him. He is, genuinely, after the wonderful thing he has arranged for my fundraising, my hero. Nearly as big a hero to me as Tre Cool. Obviously, nobody is going to be able to live up to Mr Cool himself – but he comes pretty close. Meeting him was definitely, the high point of my day – even better than 4.21pm when that race finally went off after two false starts.
So, in answer to the question I asked myself at the beginning of this entry – “Why am I doing all this again?” Well, because people like my hero from William Hill believe in me enough to invest in what I’m doing with real money for the Weston Park Hospital. And, despite the problems, the illnesses, the crap times (yes, this race, despite the fact that it was entirely on the flat, actually took me longer to complete than the Dronfield 10K – a good proportion of which was uphill) and despite the fact that I am still, quite clearly, in spite of all the training I’ve done and time I’ve invested myself into this – still utterly rubbish at running – I am going to do this. Believe in me too – and the best way to manifest your utter belief that I will be suffering through the Sheffield half marathon in three weeks’ time (three weeks!!! Agghghghgh) is to sponsor me at http://www.justgiving.com/valderbyshire All of the funds raised from this insane attempt to have a life beyond the bowel movements of small children will go directly to the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Charity to help sufferers of the disease in our region and fund research into treatments into the disease.
Sunday, 15 March 2009
"Be Prepared"
So today I ran the Dronfield 10k. This was the second of the fifteen events I’m running for the Weston 100 and, because I did manage (only just)to complete it, I’ve now run 10 miles of the 100 I’m intending to run. 90 to go. Doesn’t sound that much. If you say it quickly.
The Dronfield 10k was organised by the 7th Dronfield Scout Group, hence the title of this week’s entry. Being prepared, sadly, was something I didn’t really feel today. Indeed, in spite of the fact that I finished the race without expiring midway around the course (and it felt like a close call sometimes) I felt dreadfully unprepared for this race. I don’t know why. My training has been going okay. I’ve not been skiving off or anything like that. I’ve been dutifully dragging myself up the big hill on Monyash Road and around the even bigger hill that leads up to Sheldon. Last Sunday I ran 10 miles (10 miles!) and didn’t feel too rough after it. But today... I don’t know. It just wasn’t happening today.
When we used to go snowboarding (b.c. – before children – of course) we used to have days when you’d go out on the slopes and for some reason - your legs were tired, you’d done too much the day before, you’d drunk too much the night before (yes, these really were the days before children) – for whatever reason, it just wasn’t happening on that day. And today, I had a day like that. I don’t want to make excuses, even to myself. I think I was rubbish today. But I did finish the race. I thought I might get a better time – I thought I was running quite quickly in some parts (in some parts I was just shambling along feeling terrible) – but I still did it in exactly the same time I would have run an equivalent distance if it had been a training session. So here, for the statistic junkies amongst you, are the facts of the matter: I finished 606th (crap) out of 771. I ran it in 59 minutes 49 seconds (according to the race chip time). I was beaten by 605 other people – some of whom were twice my age... Is this a pertinent point? Is this even relevant? Well, I should like to say not... (But getting lapped by a pensioner is never going to do your confidence any good...) But this point aside, does my finishing position even matter? Let’s face it. I set myself the challenge of running these distances – I didn’t say I’d do it quickly. In fact, I’ve been totally honest from the beginning. I am not, and never have been a fast runner. So why does it bother me so much that I didn’t get a better time/finishing place?
Some of you will already know the answer to this. Yes, I have become an addict. I’m addicted to the thrill of the race and the challenge of trying to beat my previous best’s already. And I’ve only done two events. There’s no hope for me. I know there’s no hope for me because a friend posted a website on Facebook for the “Hellrunner.com” event. You may or may not have heard of this one. It’s basically a 10-12 mile trail run (no roads, no kilometre markings, no timings – oh, and it ends with you running up to your chest (or up to your neck if you’re small like me) through a watery bog. It’s held in November and there’s a good chance that any event which involves running through icy water at that time of year is going to involve a flirtation with hypothermia. I know there’s no hope for me because most reasonable, rational, sane people would view the video footage of the misery that comprises this race and would shudder, turn it off and thank God that they weren’t entered into that one. Sadly, I did not have this reaction. I got excited and thought, “Gosh, that looks good.” You see what I mean? No hope at all. I’m completely hooked.
Today’s event, bad as I perceive it to be, is actually the culmination of a terrible week. It’s just been awful. I can’t even go into it. It’s only the usual stuff I suppose. Stuff other people cope with every day. Family upsets, domestic upheavals, the general turbulence that is unavoidable when you choose to live with other people. It’s involved a few rows. Mainly concerning the mother-in-law. I think I had the worst Friday the 13th I’ve ever had to date. Talk about triskadecaphobia... I could develop it after last Friday. (That’s the fear of the number 13 if you didn’t know and you can’t be bothered to Google it – I only know because there’s a racehorse called Triskadecaphobia which I’ve laid a few bets on as part of my work at the bookies from time to time.) It might even be because of the awful week I’ve had that I feel that today’s race, and, yes, even this blog entry, hasn’t/isn’t going that well. Perhaps it’s best to draw a veil over the week leading up to it and get onto the actual race.
The course of the race didn’t really help, I feel. It was one of those jobs where you had to do two laps. On the first lap, I ran past a sign saying “6 km”. I thought “Fantastic. This is easy this one. I’ve done 6k already.” I failed to notice the small writing underneath the 6 km sign which read “2nd lap”, indicating that you had actually done 6km when you’ve passed it twice. I realised my error when I passed the next sign which read 3 km and thought “Oh God, I’ve got another 7km to do still and I feel like sh1t.” I did as well. I had reached shambling along like an old lady whilst simultaneously being overtaken by several old ladies stage. Then I passed another sign saying 8 km (2nd lap) and a further sign saying 2km... I didn’t know where I was at all by that stage and I still felt dreadful. It was very confusing for one such as me (a simple soul with no sense of either direction or distance travelled). After I had passed the dentists at the bottom of Stubley Lane, the Total Garage, a pub and several other confusing kilometre signs for what felt like the 68th time, I eventually passed a sign reading “10 km at this point when you have passed this sign twice”. Surely I had passed it twice? Or had I? The marshalls marshalled me under a flyover and around again so perhaps not. After I had passed the dentists at the bottom of Stubley Lane, the Total Garage, a pub and the confusing kilometre signs around 93 times more, past the smug singing blackbird with absolutely no mother in law to worry about whatsoever (but let’s draw a veil over that), I eventually stumbled around the corner into Sindelfingen park and across the finish line. At the top of this entry is a picture of me crossing the finish line. It's in black and white because the light was a bit bright today and it made all of the pictures my husband took with our camera appear pink. Changing it to black and white was the only way to fix this.
I’ve got to say, that in this picture, I don’t actually look that bad (considering how I felt). Obviously, you can't really tell how I'm feeling - the black and white photo hides a multitude of things. What you may, however, notice immediately is the first error I’ve made in this race. I’m dressed for the Great Winter Run (i.e. tracksuit, thermal layering, etc). However, today it’s been a beautiful spring day. I was feeling the heat before I’d even run 1 km, never mind the 6 I thought I’d run by that stage. It’s just my inexperience showing here. The only race I’d ever run before this one was the Great Winter Run, so I dressed the same, despite the fact that there’s a BIG difference between a windswept hill in Edinburgh in January and a housing estate outside a scout hut in Dronfield in March. There’s a BIG difference between Edinburgh in January and Dronfield in January for that matter, but never mind. I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll wear less next time. The second error I made (less obvious from the picture, but I could feel it) was that I got in with a pack of runners who were much faster than me just because I didn’t start the race from the right point. I think I started it from around the point where the runners were anticipating they would finish the race in 50 minutes. I knew it would take me at least an hour. This was just an inattention to detail thing (and the fact that – as you can see from the photo – I’m not wearing my glasses and didn’t even see the signs). I then tried to keep up with the runners who were going much faster than me, failed dismally and became demoralised.
This is fairly par for the course this week, though, as I have said. I have felt demoralised all week and generally on a downer about things. Perhaps that didn’t help my performance either – it certainly didn’t enhance it. But, never mind, onwards and upwards. I said I would do the event for the Weston 100 and I’ve done it. I didn’t achieve anything fantastic in terms of time or position, but I did do it. If I didn’t distinguish myself, I certainly didn’t disgrace myself either. For instance, I did not collapse a few yards from the start line and have to be brought back in by the people from St John’s Ambulance (as did one runner, apparently – not sure why – maybe just the thought of running the event was too much for them). I did finish and I’ve got another medal to prove it. This one’s looking a bit worse for wear by now – I let my young son wear it all afternoon and it’s got a bit beaten up.
Tomorrow, I’m going to step up the training a bit. I was rubbish today and will probably be rubbish in three weeks’ time when I do the Theo’s 10k in Rother Valley Country Park. Well, I might be rubbish again, but at least, this time, I’ll be prepared...
This is fairly par for the course this week, though, as I have said. I have felt demoralised all week and generally on a downer about things. Perhaps that didn’t help my performance either – it certainly didn’t enhance it. But, never mind, onwards and upwards. I said I would do the event for the Weston 100 and I’ve done it. I didn’t achieve anything fantastic in terms of time or position, but I did do it. If I didn’t distinguish myself, I certainly didn’t disgrace myself either. For instance, I did not collapse a few yards from the start line and have to be brought back in by the people from St John’s Ambulance (as did one runner, apparently – not sure why – maybe just the thought of running the event was too much for them). I did finish and I’ve got another medal to prove it. This one’s looking a bit worse for wear by now – I let my young son wear it all afternoon and it’s got a bit beaten up.
Tomorrow, I’m going to step up the training a bit. I was rubbish today and will probably be rubbish in three weeks’ time when I do the Theo’s 10k in Rother Valley Country Park. Well, I might be rubbish again, but at least, this time, I’ll be prepared...
Sunday, 8 March 2009
Some Successes... More Failures...
So here we are – one week to go until my next event and I’ve started fundraising with a vengeance. I’ve got even more reason to reach my target of £3,000 now – my (most generous) employer has agreed to match whatever I raise up to a maximum of £3,000. So, in other words, if I raise £3,000, William Hill will also donate £3,000 to the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Charity. How cool is that? It’s fantastic. It means that if I can reach my target of £3k, then the hospital will actually get £6k.
But, of course, I have first got to reach that £3,000 target. And it’s really hard. First of all there’s the current economic climate. It’s difficult to pester your friends for donations when you know they can barely afford to pay their bills. As one of my (more cynical) colleagues pointed out. “Well, you’re not going to reach £3,000 are you? Let’s face it, why else would they say they’d match you to that amount?” But he is just one lone (miserable) voice in the workplace. Well, he’s not the only miserable voice in the workplace, but he was the only lone miserly miserable misery who refused to sponsor me. Everybody else at work who I have asked has donated something. One person gave 62 pence as it was all he had on him, but it doesn’t matter. Every penny helps. In fact, I haven’t asked everybody yet, but in two shifts alone my kind colleagues have sponsored me over £150. I count that as a success. Particularly as I haven’t asked everybody yet. In fact, there’s quite a few people yet to go...
As well as seeking sponsorship, I’ve tried to raise funds through other ways. Last time I wrote I related how I had placed my original “Run the Greats” running T-shirts on Ebay for sale in the hope of starting a bidding frenzy which would secure at least a further £100 into the fundraising account. I was quite optimistic of achieving this, I have to say. One of my friends came over for lunch and she was telling me how her husband has raised some money for the Sheffield Children’s Hospital by selling some T-shirts. From these T-shirts he raised a few hundred pounds, she informed me. Admittedly her husband is an ice-hockey player with the Sheffield Steelers and therefore has a certain celebrity status, whereas I’m just a middle-aged mum-of-two, call-centre operator... But, still, if he can raise a few hundred pounds out of just the sale of T-shirts, I should be able to raise at least £50... Right?
Well, I can now inform you that my T-shirts have sold through Ebay. I have packaged them up and tomorrow, when the post office opens, I will be mailing them to their new owner (Why? Sorry, but why would anyone want to buy them? Never mind. None of my business why a man from Cornwall should want to purchase two women’s running T-shirts, size small, both with my name and website on them. What goes on in that man’s home is his own affair. It might be just as well not to know). He is probably just very public spirited and in a very public-spirited manner wishes to selflessly devote cupboard space to my old T-shirts so that he can have an excuse to donate to my cause. Good for him.
And just how much did I make out of these T-shirts for the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Charity? Well, sadly, it fell slightly short of the hundreds of pounds mark. It also fell slightly short of the fifty pound mark. In fact, to say that it was more in the region of the three pound mark would be about right. Well, that is to say, approximately right. If I was to say that I sold the T-shirts for one whole English pence, that would be a fact. The three pounds was for the postage. So, in other words, I made £3.01 for these items. Not great. A failure, I suppose. But, as I have said, every penny counts.
But, of course, I have first got to reach that £3,000 target. And it’s really hard. First of all there’s the current economic climate. It’s difficult to pester your friends for donations when you know they can barely afford to pay their bills. As one of my (more cynical) colleagues pointed out. “Well, you’re not going to reach £3,000 are you? Let’s face it, why else would they say they’d match you to that amount?” But he is just one lone (miserable) voice in the workplace. Well, he’s not the only miserable voice in the workplace, but he was the only lone miserly miserable misery who refused to sponsor me. Everybody else at work who I have asked has donated something. One person gave 62 pence as it was all he had on him, but it doesn’t matter. Every penny helps. In fact, I haven’t asked everybody yet, but in two shifts alone my kind colleagues have sponsored me over £150. I count that as a success. Particularly as I haven’t asked everybody yet. In fact, there’s quite a few people yet to go...
As well as seeking sponsorship, I’ve tried to raise funds through other ways. Last time I wrote I related how I had placed my original “Run the Greats” running T-shirts on Ebay for sale in the hope of starting a bidding frenzy which would secure at least a further £100 into the fundraising account. I was quite optimistic of achieving this, I have to say. One of my friends came over for lunch and she was telling me how her husband has raised some money for the Sheffield Children’s Hospital by selling some T-shirts. From these T-shirts he raised a few hundred pounds, she informed me. Admittedly her husband is an ice-hockey player with the Sheffield Steelers and therefore has a certain celebrity status, whereas I’m just a middle-aged mum-of-two, call-centre operator... But, still, if he can raise a few hundred pounds out of just the sale of T-shirts, I should be able to raise at least £50... Right?
Well, I can now inform you that my T-shirts have sold through Ebay. I have packaged them up and tomorrow, when the post office opens, I will be mailing them to their new owner (Why? Sorry, but why would anyone want to buy them? Never mind. None of my business why a man from Cornwall should want to purchase two women’s running T-shirts, size small, both with my name and website on them. What goes on in that man’s home is his own affair. It might be just as well not to know). He is probably just very public spirited and in a very public-spirited manner wishes to selflessly devote cupboard space to my old T-shirts so that he can have an excuse to donate to my cause. Good for him.
And just how much did I make out of these T-shirts for the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Charity? Well, sadly, it fell slightly short of the hundreds of pounds mark. It also fell slightly short of the fifty pound mark. In fact, to say that it was more in the region of the three pound mark would be about right. Well, that is to say, approximately right. If I was to say that I sold the T-shirts for one whole English pence, that would be a fact. The three pounds was for the postage. So, in other words, I made £3.01 for these items. Not great. A failure, I suppose. But, as I have said, every penny counts.
Sunday, 22 February 2009
R.I.P. Run the Greats
So, it’s Rest In Peace, Run the Greats and Hello, Weston 100. So far, in an immense effort to let everyone know about the change in plans I’ve contacted the two organisations who had promised that they would put a piece in their newsletters about my “Run the Greats” thing. It was too late for the first one – the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Charity Newsletter had already been printed announcing to everyone that Val Derbyshire is “Running the Greats” to raise money for them in 2009. Sorry, readers of this publication, I’m not – for the reasons stated in last week’s entry. However, I am now running the Weston 100 and you can still sponsor me at the justgiving site address given in the newsletter. Please do. All of the money will still go to the Hospital’s cancer charity, despite the fact that the challenge has changed. The other publication, the University of Sheffield Alumni newsletter had not gone to print and the lovely lady there changed the article to reflect what I’m now doing. So, readers of this publication, I am now running the Weston 100. I was running the greats, but (still due to the reasons stated in last week’s blog entry) I am now running the Weston 100. You can sponsor me at the same justgiving site address as given to readers of the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Charity newsletter. This is (just in case anyone is having any trouble keeping up with any of this – I know I am): http://www.justgiving.com/valderbyshire I’d be very grateful if you sponsored me too. I won’t say more grateful than if a reader of the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Charity newsletter sponsored me. That would not be true. I would, however, say I would be equally grateful to receive sponsorship from readers of either publication. Right. Glad we’ve got that sorted out.
What else have I done? Well, I’ve confirmed entry into most of the events I listed in last week’s list. Oh, and I put my two (now obsolete) “Run the Greats 2009” charity t-shirts on Ebay. Here is a copy of my entry:
“An exclusive, one-time only opportunity to purchase two obsolete charity T-shirts. Both T-shirts were intended to be used by a fundraiser for the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Charity who was aiming to run all of the "Greats" series of events during 2009. Sadly, due to not being allocated a place in the Great North Run and the event organisers cancelling the Great Wales Run, the fundraising attempt has faltered. The fundraiser in question is now going on to run fifteen events (some of them "Greats" others not so "Great") covering 100 miles for "The Weston 100" fundraising challenge and therefore now has absolutely no use whatsoever for two running T-shirts with "Run the Greats 2009" on the front and the dates of ten events (one of which is not taking place and one of which has the wrong date next to it due to a printing error) printed on the back. The first T-shirt is red with "Run the Greats 2009 in support of the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Charity" on the front and a list of ten events (nine runs, one swim) printed in white on the back. The second T-shirt is flourescent green and says "Sponsor me to Run the Greats for Weston Park Hospital Cancer Charity" on the front and has a justgiving web address on the back, both printed in black. These T-shirts would be useful for anyone aiming to Run all of the Greats during 2009 in aid of the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Charity; or for anyone who would like to pretend that they're participating in these events. Otherwise, they are completely useless items. Both items are size "small". All proceeds from this sale will go to the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Charity and if you'd like to support the fundraiser who is now running 100 miles for the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Charity, you can do so at http://www.justgiving.com/valderbyshire”
I’ve posted a picture of the two t-shirts which is at the top of the page there.
So far there haven’t been any bidders though. I may have included it in the wrong section. I posted it under “Women’s clothing” but perhaps it belongs more under “Sporting goods” or even “Weird Stuff” with the bondage kits and the titles to minute plots of land in even more obscure Scottish islands. There is one “Watcher” on the items. I don’t know if this is just due to curiosity as to whether anyone is prepared to purchase such useless items or due to a genuine desire to own said useless items and put in a last minute bid. Anyway, they expire on Wednesday – so if you’re interested, the current price is one whole English penny (plus postage). However much they raise (if anything at all) the entire amount (including postage) will go to the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Charity; so this is your opportunity not only to become the owner of some very exclusive if completely useless tat, but to help the charity too.
Finally, after completing all of the above, I started thinking about exactly what it is that I have promised to do and, it was at this point in time, that it hit me with something of sickening realisation that instead of having just over six months to train for my first half marathon, I’ve got less than 7 weeks. With this in view, my latest action in executing my “Weston 100” plan has been to fish out the bible of endurance training (by Jon Ackland) which had somehow, in a moment of weakness, been relegated to the cupboard, unread (beyond page 4 anyway). It is, I have to say, a measure of how worried I am that I have fished the book out again; because I really do have serious doubts about being able to train sufficiently to be able to complete a half marathon in less than three hours (the time they close the road for in the Sheffield Half-Marathon). I don’t think they close the road in the Buxton Half-... I think they just leave it to chance/fate as to whether you get hit by one of those enormous lorries travelling between the Derbyshire quarries , but I’m not going to even think about that one... Anyway, as I was saying, I did have serious concerns about being able to go the distance... That is, until today. Today, in an attempt to step up the training somewhat I set out to run the longest distance I have yet attempted – eight miles. I planned the route using Mapmyrun.com and the Derbyshire A-Z, very carefully (as I may have mentioned before, I have absolutely NO sense of direction.) I planned to run up from Bakewell towards Monyash (a big hill – very good training), then take a right towards Sheldon before running back via Ashford-in-the-water in a roundabout sort of way. Mapmyrun made it 8.11 miles. I set off at 8.00 a.m. this morning and, as is customary, felt like SH1T for the first part of the run (I don’t know why, but for me, the first mile is always the worst – it’s like my body is rebelling against being forced to go jogging on a Sunday morning. It may have a point, but I’m committed now so there’s no getting out of it...) Anyway, halfway up Monyash Road I managed to stop feeling sick and started to really enjoy myself. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining gently on the first spring lambs which were clustered around their mums. It almost felt good to be out and running. As I progressed along the road and made the right turn towards Sheldon I started to daydream. I’ve been thinking for ages about leaving my job. I never wanted to end up in a call centre job (let’s face it, who does?) I only took it because it was the only thing that fits with the children. Apparently, according to my manager, call centre staff have a “shelf life”. Mine is about to expire. I’ve certainly gone past my best. Anyway, as I say, I started to daydream about being self-employed. It’s not a new daydream. How perfect would it be if I could finally sell that novel and support myself as a writer, or well, just do anything which would earn me some kind of modest income but which I could fit around my children? Sadly, in the face of the stark fact that no-one seems to be rushing to the front of the queue to publish my book and I lack the talent/imagination to think of anything else to do, it looks like I’ll be in the call centre forever. And then I started to dream about becoming a walking/running guide in the Derbyshire Dales. It would be so perfect, I imagined happily to myself. I even began mentally drafting the advertisement to be posted in the quality walking publications, offering a proficient, expert guide service to walks in the Derbyshire Dales. And it was at this point, somewhere in the middle of this fanciful nonsense, that I realised I was lost.
I don’t know what I did wrong, but I’d taken a wrong turn somewhere. I’d missed Sheldon completely and I was off to the village of Flagg. In fact, when I consulted the map later, I realised that I would have even have missed Flagg on the road I was on. I don’t know where I would have ended up. Some obscure village. I’d never even heard of it before. During these moments... During those first moments when it suddenly begins to dawn upon you that you may have taken a wrong turn, I often find a specific series of thoughts runs through my mind. They are usually (in this order) (1) I’m not lost. I just need to keep going a little bit longer and I’ll find the turning (this is the denial phase). (2) I’m not lost. Am I? (Realisation) (3) Oh God, I’m lost. Not just lost, LOST. Where’s the number for Edale Mountain Rescue? (Panic). I managed to pass through all three and then I turned around and retraced my (by now faltering) footsteps for what seemed like an incredibly long time. (Stage 1 had taken much longer to pass through than normal, it seemed). Anyway, I arrived home, incredibly footweary and unable to feel my knees two hours later. My husband had just started to worry (he knows me too well – when I mentioned that I’d got lost he didn’t even look surprised). Just before sinking into a hot bath and reaching for the Deep Heat Rub I checked out where I’d been on Mapmyrun.com. I’d run 11 ½ miles. I’d run it all as well. I mean, I felt like death. I feel like death, right now, as I type, but I still managed to run it. It seems there is hope for the Sheffield Half-Marathon after all.
Sunday, 15 February 2009
I don't even know where to start...
Perhaps I should start with an apology. Yes, an apology would be good. I’m sorry. Really, truly sorry. From the bottom of my heart; sincerely, I apologise. First of all, I haven’t written for three weeks (bad blogging!!!) and for this I apologise.
But that’s not all I’m sorry for. I’ve got something else to be profoundly and sincerely sorry for. I don’t even know how to tell you this so I’ll just come right out and say it. I HAVEN’T GOT A PLACE IN THE GREAT NORTH RUN.
Yes, that’s right. I have not been allocated a place in the Great North Run and therefore, short of just turning up on the day and attempting to sneak into the race by mingling in with the crowd (it’s a thought), I will not be running the Great North Run. But that’s not all. Here’s the next bit: THE GREAT WALES RUN HAS BEEN CANCELLED. Yes, cancelled. No, I don’t know why. The race organisers (who I don’t like very much anymore as you will probably be able to tell as I continue with this entry) didn’t bother to explain. They just cancelled it.
So, today, (well, actually, yesterday when I got the email telling me that I wasn’t in) saw the death knell of my “Run the Greats 2009” fundraising attempt. Well, I can’t carry on, can I? Let’s face it. I can’t run all of the UK based “Greats” series of events if I haven’t got a place in one of the key events and one of the others has just been cancelled. And I’ve got to say, I’m really upset about it. Disillusioned with the Great Run team who have been consistently unhelpful whenever I’ve approached them about what I was trying to do. In the first instance, I wasn’t “Great” or elite enough to be allocated one of the guaranteed places in the Great North Run. Now, despite several begging emails (and I just knew it would happen – didn’t I say last time how I never, ever get lucky enough to be picked out in any kind of ballot/raffle type event) I haven’t got a place through either the Daily Telegraph or the General ballot. Of course, I could, if I wished (according to the Great Run team) get a place in the run by volunteering to run for a charity. (But, I hear you cry, aren’t you already running for a charity?) Yes, I am. Sadly, the charity I’m running for isn’t great enough for the Great Run organisers. Let’s face it… It’s just a local hospital which is one of only three places in the UK dedicated exclusively to cancer treatment. Just a small place which has contributed enormously to worldwide research into the disease and provides help and support to thousands of people and their families who are living with cancer. Now if my charity was one of the big names – you know, one of the ones who have probably paid through the nose to the Great Run organisers to have guaranteed places for their fundraisers, well that would be a different matter. But, sadly, the organisers of what has got to be one of the largest fundraising events in the UK isn’t interested in a local hospital. It’s just too “Great” for that. (I’m just going to point out here that, as you can see, I’m really cross with the organisers of the Great Run. However, the... well... let’s say it like it is... the rant that you can see here is my personal opinion of the organisers of the Great Runs. It’s all my own. It’s certainly not come from the hospital. But if I was them I’d be cross too...)
So, in short, ranting aside, no more “Run the Greats 2009”. But, hang on, I hear you cry. Haven’t people sponsored you to run in these events already? Haven’t you raised nearly £500 so far? The answer to this is yes, this is true. And with this in view, I can’t just fail to do any runs whatsoever. People have generously donated in lieu of the fact that I promised to run 64 miles and swim one; and, fear not, I am still going to run those miles (although I’m not doing the swim now...) In fact, if today sees the death knell of “Run the Greats 2009”, it sees the birth of “The Weston 100”. Yes, good people, in the space of one day since those bugg... sorry, the organisers of the Great Runs informed me that I wasn’t in, I have dreamed up a whole list of new events on which to base my fundraising campaign. And here it is – here are my events for 2009:
The Great Winter Run (3.11 miles) in January (already completed).
The Dronfield 10k (6.22 miles) in March.
Theo's Rother Valley 10k (6.22 miles) in April.
The Sheffield Half Marathon (13.1 miles) in May.
The Great Edinburgh Run (6.22 miles) in May.
The Great Manchester Run (6.22 miles) in May.
The Lomas Distribution Buxton Half Marathon (13.1 miles) in May
The Golden Gate 10k (6.22 miles) in May.
The Great Bakewell Pudding Race (6.25 miles) in June
The Chicks Chase (3.11 miles) in June
The Three Lakes Classic (15 miles) in June
The Great Longstone Fell Race (4.8 miles) in September
The Great Yorkshire Run (6.22 miles) in September
The Big Fun Run (3.11 miles) in September
The Great South Run (10 miles) in October
It’s now a total of fifteen events covering a distance of just over 100 miles, hence the title (“The Weston 100” if you’ve forgotten already). Well, actually, it’s 108 miles but I’ve stuck a few extra in there just to cover any event cancellations (you live and learn with these things – I’m covering my back this time). I am pleased to inform you that I’ve got guaranteed entry into all of these events so I’m not going to be turning around in a few weeks time and saying, oh, sorry, I’m not doing that one now. (With the exception of the Chicks Chase where I got entered into the Men’s race by mistake and I’m just waiting for confirmation that I’m in the right (i.e. the women’s) race from the organisers – but that’s another story). Sadly, I won’t be running the men’s race in that instance because I fail the entry criteria at the most basic level.
So, as you can see, the challenge has grown somewhat. It’s also got a bit more interesting, I think. For instance, the Great Longstone Fell race where the course climbs some 950 feet is going to be a lot tougher than just running around a park (which is basically what the Great Winter Run amounted to). Some of them, as you can see, are still “Greats” runs. This is for one simple reason. Those bugg... sorry, people from Great Run, don’t offer refunds and so I’m going to do the races which I’ve already entered. The others, although arguably less prestigious, are largely local events – but so what? I’ll save myself a load of time and trouble in travelling expenses. I won’t be away from the kids for so long (my husband will have less reason to complain). All of the entry fees are going back to the local community as opposed to swelling the coffers of a faceless organisation who can’t be bothered to care about a local hospital. The Dronfield 10k, for instance, benefits the local Scout Group. Theo’s Rother Valley 10k is organised by and of direct benefit to the Sheffield Children’s Hospital.
I’m told I can expect snow in the Buxton half-marathon (despite the fact that it’s in May). Let’s face it – it’s all sounding a lot more interesting than it was when it was just a gentle trot down a road which has been purposely closed for the occasion. I’m embracing the new challenge. Plus, as an added benefit, entry into most of the local events is a lot cheaper than entering any of the “Greats”. As an added perk, any money I save on entrance fees I will donate to the hospital, so they’re already benefitting, despite the fact that I feel I’ve really let them down by not being able to do the runs I initially set out to do.
No, it wasn’t my fault. I was completely prepared and willing to do the runs. I was even able (I’ve even been out training in the ice and snow – yes, even when it meant that I had to slide down a particularly icy patch on the A6 on my bum to prevent myself from falling over). I can’t do what I originally set out to do because of circumstances beyond my control. It doesn’t stop me feeling like a failure though.
You can make me feel better by sponsoring me to complete “The Weston 100” (yes, new name...) at http://www.justgiving.com/valderbyshire It will show that you are “Great” enough to care about a local hospital which changes the lives of the people it cares for on a daily basis... Unlike some organisations I could mention...
And now, I must sign off. I'm off to Ebay two useless Run the Great t-shirts - all proceeds going to the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Charity if you're interested in bidding.
But that’s not all I’m sorry for. I’ve got something else to be profoundly and sincerely sorry for. I don’t even know how to tell you this so I’ll just come right out and say it. I HAVEN’T GOT A PLACE IN THE GREAT NORTH RUN.
Yes, that’s right. I have not been allocated a place in the Great North Run and therefore, short of just turning up on the day and attempting to sneak into the race by mingling in with the crowd (it’s a thought), I will not be running the Great North Run. But that’s not all. Here’s the next bit: THE GREAT WALES RUN HAS BEEN CANCELLED. Yes, cancelled. No, I don’t know why. The race organisers (who I don’t like very much anymore as you will probably be able to tell as I continue with this entry) didn’t bother to explain. They just cancelled it.
So, today, (well, actually, yesterday when I got the email telling me that I wasn’t in) saw the death knell of my “Run the Greats 2009” fundraising attempt. Well, I can’t carry on, can I? Let’s face it. I can’t run all of the UK based “Greats” series of events if I haven’t got a place in one of the key events and one of the others has just been cancelled. And I’ve got to say, I’m really upset about it. Disillusioned with the Great Run team who have been consistently unhelpful whenever I’ve approached them about what I was trying to do. In the first instance, I wasn’t “Great” or elite enough to be allocated one of the guaranteed places in the Great North Run. Now, despite several begging emails (and I just knew it would happen – didn’t I say last time how I never, ever get lucky enough to be picked out in any kind of ballot/raffle type event) I haven’t got a place through either the Daily Telegraph or the General ballot. Of course, I could, if I wished (according to the Great Run team) get a place in the run by volunteering to run for a charity. (But, I hear you cry, aren’t you already running for a charity?) Yes, I am. Sadly, the charity I’m running for isn’t great enough for the Great Run organisers. Let’s face it… It’s just a local hospital which is one of only three places in the UK dedicated exclusively to cancer treatment. Just a small place which has contributed enormously to worldwide research into the disease and provides help and support to thousands of people and their families who are living with cancer. Now if my charity was one of the big names – you know, one of the ones who have probably paid through the nose to the Great Run organisers to have guaranteed places for their fundraisers, well that would be a different matter. But, sadly, the organisers of what has got to be one of the largest fundraising events in the UK isn’t interested in a local hospital. It’s just too “Great” for that. (I’m just going to point out here that, as you can see, I’m really cross with the organisers of the Great Run. However, the... well... let’s say it like it is... the rant that you can see here is my personal opinion of the organisers of the Great Runs. It’s all my own. It’s certainly not come from the hospital. But if I was them I’d be cross too...)
So, in short, ranting aside, no more “Run the Greats 2009”. But, hang on, I hear you cry. Haven’t people sponsored you to run in these events already? Haven’t you raised nearly £500 so far? The answer to this is yes, this is true. And with this in view, I can’t just fail to do any runs whatsoever. People have generously donated in lieu of the fact that I promised to run 64 miles and swim one; and, fear not, I am still going to run those miles (although I’m not doing the swim now...) In fact, if today sees the death knell of “Run the Greats 2009”, it sees the birth of “The Weston 100”. Yes, good people, in the space of one day since those bugg... sorry, the organisers of the Great Runs informed me that I wasn’t in, I have dreamed up a whole list of new events on which to base my fundraising campaign. And here it is – here are my events for 2009:
The Great Winter Run (3.11 miles) in January (already completed).
The Dronfield 10k (6.22 miles) in March.
Theo's Rother Valley 10k (6.22 miles) in April.
The Sheffield Half Marathon (13.1 miles) in May.
The Great Edinburgh Run (6.22 miles) in May.
The Great Manchester Run (6.22 miles) in May.
The Lomas Distribution Buxton Half Marathon (13.1 miles) in May
The Golden Gate 10k (6.22 miles) in May.
The Great Bakewell Pudding Race (6.25 miles) in June
The Chicks Chase (3.11 miles) in June
The Three Lakes Classic (15 miles) in June
The Great Longstone Fell Race (4.8 miles) in September
The Great Yorkshire Run (6.22 miles) in September
The Big Fun Run (3.11 miles) in September
The Great South Run (10 miles) in October
It’s now a total of fifteen events covering a distance of just over 100 miles, hence the title (“The Weston 100” if you’ve forgotten already). Well, actually, it’s 108 miles but I’ve stuck a few extra in there just to cover any event cancellations (you live and learn with these things – I’m covering my back this time). I am pleased to inform you that I’ve got guaranteed entry into all of these events so I’m not going to be turning around in a few weeks time and saying, oh, sorry, I’m not doing that one now. (With the exception of the Chicks Chase where I got entered into the Men’s race by mistake and I’m just waiting for confirmation that I’m in the right (i.e. the women’s) race from the organisers – but that’s another story). Sadly, I won’t be running the men’s race in that instance because I fail the entry criteria at the most basic level.
So, as you can see, the challenge has grown somewhat. It’s also got a bit more interesting, I think. For instance, the Great Longstone Fell race where the course climbs some 950 feet is going to be a lot tougher than just running around a park (which is basically what the Great Winter Run amounted to). Some of them, as you can see, are still “Greats” runs. This is for one simple reason. Those bugg... sorry, people from Great Run, don’t offer refunds and so I’m going to do the races which I’ve already entered. The others, although arguably less prestigious, are largely local events – but so what? I’ll save myself a load of time and trouble in travelling expenses. I won’t be away from the kids for so long (my husband will have less reason to complain). All of the entry fees are going back to the local community as opposed to swelling the coffers of a faceless organisation who can’t be bothered to care about a local hospital. The Dronfield 10k, for instance, benefits the local Scout Group. Theo’s Rother Valley 10k is organised by and of direct benefit to the Sheffield Children’s Hospital.
I’m told I can expect snow in the Buxton half-marathon (despite the fact that it’s in May). Let’s face it – it’s all sounding a lot more interesting than it was when it was just a gentle trot down a road which has been purposely closed for the occasion. I’m embracing the new challenge. Plus, as an added benefit, entry into most of the local events is a lot cheaper than entering any of the “Greats”. As an added perk, any money I save on entrance fees I will donate to the hospital, so they’re already benefitting, despite the fact that I feel I’ve really let them down by not being able to do the runs I initially set out to do.
No, it wasn’t my fault. I was completely prepared and willing to do the runs. I was even able (I’ve even been out training in the ice and snow – yes, even when it meant that I had to slide down a particularly icy patch on the A6 on my bum to prevent myself from falling over). I can’t do what I originally set out to do because of circumstances beyond my control. It doesn’t stop me feeling like a failure though.
You can make me feel better by sponsoring me to complete “The Weston 100” (yes, new name...) at http://www.justgiving.com/valderbyshire It will show that you are “Great” enough to care about a local hospital which changes the lives of the people it cares for on a daily basis... Unlike some organisations I could mention...
And now, I must sign off. I'm off to Ebay two useless Run the Great t-shirts - all proceeds going to the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Charity if you're interested in bidding.
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