runthegreats

The Summer hols are over... And so is my challenge.

2009-09-06T12:12:00.000-07:00

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.

It's been a while...

2009-07-24T01:24:00.000-07:00

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.

Fifteen Miles of Misery

2009-06-21T12:01:00.000-07:00

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.

One Golden Gate, One Cancellation and One Poorly Knee

2009-06-19T02:23:00.001-07:00

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.

“Scale the hills and you'll be rewarded with spectacular views over the Peak District”

2009-05-24T12:41:00.001-07:00

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.

I wanna be on TV... (Part 2)

2009-05-18T02:16:00.000-07:00

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).

I wanna be on TV....

2009-05-05T13:56:00.001-07:00

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.

Sunday 26th April - on which I complete my first half-marathon...

2009-04-26T12:14:00.000-07:00

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.

Greetings from the Under-crackers of the Athletics World

2009-04-23T12:18:00.000-07:00

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")

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.

The Easter Bunny has seriously trashed the training regime...

2009-04-16T12:00:00.000-07:00

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.

Twice around the ponds...

2009-04-05T13:13:00.000-07:00

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.

"Be Prepared"

2009-03-15T12:37:00.000-07:00

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...

Some Successes... More Failures...

2009-03-08T13:01:00.000-07:00

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.

R.I.P. Run the Greats

2009-02-22T12:20:00.000-08:00

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.

I don't even know where to start...

2009-02-15T12:44:00.000-08:00

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.

Confession Time

2009-01-25T12:02:00.000-08:00

Okay, it’s confession time. I haven’t actually got a place in the Great North Run yet. In fact, there are a couple of the events which I have promised to take part in for the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Charity which I haven’t actually, in reality, got a place in just at this precise and exact moment in time. Okay, more than a couple. In actual fact, I haven’t got a place (as yet) in the Great Women’s Run, the Great Capital Run, the Great Wales Run, the Great North Swim OR the Great North Run. So, yes, what this actually and in reality means, I hear you cry, is that I haven’t got a place in HALF of the events which I have pledged to take part in this year.

Now I can appreciate that this looks bad. But there is a good reason for my non-inclusion in these events at this precise moment in time. Well, there is a good reason for me not having a place in most of these events, anyway – this good reason being that neither the Great Women’s Run, the Great Capital Run, the Great Wales Run nor the Great North Swim is open for entry, as yet. Once they are open for entry, I don’t think I’ll have a problem getting a place in them (at least I’m hoping not – But then again I grossly underestimated the amount of interest there would be and just how difficult it would be to get a place in the Great Manchester Run - as I explained in my last entry). Getting a place in the Great North Run, however, as I have discovered to my cost, is an entirely different matter.

According to Wikipedia, the Great North Run is “the World’s most popular half-marathon”. I did not know this. Similarly, I did not realise that quite so many nutters... sorry, people, would want to run 13.1 miles around Tyneside. It appears they do. In fact, so many of these fools... sorry, runners, want to enter this event that these days, in order to get one of the coveted 52,000 places you have to either enter as a priority entrant (which means becoming a member of the Great North Run, in other words – paying extra) or taking your chances in a ballot. Now, I am not, nor ever have been, the sort of person who leaves things to chance. There is a very good reason for this. I have to be the world’s unluckiest person. I doubt I could win a raffle in which only two tickets had been sold. I never, ever, win anything like that, which is what makes me feel so very worried about my chances of winning anything via means so dictated by luck as a ballot. It was this in view, therefore, that I tried to enter as a priority entrant. I tried. I tried to join as a new member of the Great North Run. Sadly, the website wouldn’t let me do it; and thus it was, in desperation that, on Christmas Eve, I rang the Great Run Team to find out how to become a new member thus rendering myself eligible to enter as a priority entrant. As I reported in my entry of 27th December, it was at that point in time that I discovered that they don’t just let any old riff raff amateur join. You have to be invited to join. After a brief conversation with one of the team, I was not left in any doubt as to whether someone such as myself could be included on the guest list. The answer was a big, fat, no.

So I did what I had dreaded doing in the first instance and left my entry to chance. Sadly, my worst fears were confirmed. Last week I received notification that I had failed to receive a place through the Daily Telegraph Great North Run Ballot. My entry would now be passed into the General Ballot, whatever that means. I’m concerned. I really am. I was concerned to the extent that I’m almost ashamed to report I sent an email which can only really be described as begging to the Great North Run team in the hope that they’ll take pity on me and let me have a place. Do I feel ashamed about this? Well, slightly – but judge for yourself how bad it is. Here’s what I wrote:

“I have today heard that I have not been allocated a place through the Daily Telegraph ballot in the Great North Run and that I have therefore been entered into the general ballot. I am not sure how many places are available through this but I am basically emailing you now to beg that I get a place in the Great North Run. On the entry form you did not give the opportunity to explain reasons for running and entrants were only permitted to indicate whether they would be running for one of your nominated charities.

I was not able to say that I would run for one of these charities because I have already promised that I would take part in ten of the "Greats" series of events in aid of the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Charity, which is one of only three UK based hospitals dedicated solely to the treatment of and research into cancer. It is also probably one of the only hospitals in the UK which runs a dedicated "Men's Cancer Care" campaign. I have pledged to supporters of the Weston Park that I will run nine of the "Great" runs and also take part in the Great North Swim.

I have promised to run the Great Winter Run (which I took part in last saturday - I came 1,235th and finished the event in 31 mins 27 seconds - I thoroughly enjoyed it - thank you); the Great Edinburgh Run (I have my place for this event); the Great Manchester Run(I have my place for this event too); the Great Women's run (entries not open yet); the Great Capital Run; the Great Wales Run; the Great Yorkshire Run (I have my place for this event); the Great North Run and the Great South Run as well as the Great North Swim.

I have a just giving web page at http://www.justgiving.com/valderbyshire describing the challenge I have set for myself and as you will see from this I have raised £365 so far in lieu of my completing the events. I have also raised a further promised £100 from a local company and my employer has indicated that they will match whatever I raise for the Weston Park. I realise that I really had no right to say I am going to take part in these events without having my entries in the bag beforehand, but the whole fundraising campaign has taken a great deal of organising and I've had to do a great deal of it in advance in order to raise the sponsorship - plus, I somewhat naively didn't realise that there would be a problem with gaining a place in these events. I thought I would just be able to get one.

Anyway, with all of the above in view, I would be very, very, very grateful if a place could be allocated to me in the Great North Run. My "Run the Greats 2009" campaign for the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Charity just won't be the same without it.”

I think they were sympathetic. They certainly responded in a timely fashion. They asked me if I qualified to become a priority member. Sadly, the answer was no. I have never before run the Great North Run nor ever before held membership of the Great North Run. (Let’s face it – I only started running a couple of months ago – the Great Winter Run was the first race I’ve run since sports’ day at school – which I seem to remember as being an entirely humiliating affair. The Great Winter Run is certainly the first race I’ve ever willingly participated in – I seem to remember being coerced into the sports’ day sprint thing which turned out to be such a disaster...) Anyway, to get back to the main point of this story: because I don’t qualify under their terms, I just have to take my chances. The response I received from them was as follows: “Thank you for your email. Unfortunately we cannot let you become a gold member this year, and we cannot guarantee that your place in the ballot will be successful as it is completely random. “

DOH!!!!! I could swear at this point. (I think I may actually have sworn quite badly when I first read the email, but I won’t stoop to that now). It’s the “random” factor which worries me the most - just because I am, as I have previously explained, so reliably unlucky in such matters. However, at this point in time, there is NOTHING I can do about this. I will just have to wait and see. Wait and hope that Fortune, for once, smiles in my direction in this matter.

So this is the reason I don’t have a place in the Great North Run at this moment in time and, what is more, and what is substantially worse, I cannot unequivocally promise that I will get a place and that I WILL run the Great North Run. To all of you who have already sponsored me to complete this event along with the nine others I have pledged to complete, I can only apologise sincerely if I don’t manage to get a place and promise (equally sincerely) that I will run an equivalent distance. Okay, if I don’t get a place, it won’t be the Great North Run – but I will run a half-marathon somewhere (although it might be around Bakewell or Sheffield... which... I have to say... is quite appealing because I won’t have to travel so far from home... But, this point aside, I will certainly do my best to get a place). Sadly, my best at this moment consists of crossing my fingers and hoping my luck will change.

To conclude this shameful confessional tale of woe on a positive point... I have, this week, confirmed my place in the Great South Run... But then again, you don’t have to enter a ballot for that one.

Go!

2009-01-11T12:22:00.000-08:00

Okay, so it’s Sunday night – the Sunday night after my first event and what can I say about it, really? Well, the bare facts of the matter are this:

I came 1,235th overall in the race. I was the 459th woman to finish the race. I was 214th in my age group and 71st in my age and gender group. I ran the three miles in 31 minutes and 27 seconds. In short, I was crap.

I can recognise this stark fact, truthfully and honestly to myself, and still say it was the most fantastic experience ever. I just loved it. I loved everything about it. I loved getting reading for the race and putting on all my running gear (which, I have to admit, looked a tad shabby compared to all the other competitors’ gear), but then they’re all serious runners and I’m just an amateur. I loved the walk through Edinburgh, which has got to be one of the most attractive cities in the UK to take a walk through (although I have to say I wouldn’t like to live there – it would be too much like living in a wind tunnel – no offence intended to Edinburgh residents there, but I’ve never experienced a howling gail quite like the one that was howling through Princes Street shortly after the run). I loved the organised chaos factor in finding the start line in the first place (apparently this had been clearly marked but then the organisers had been forced to remove the signs as there was an imminent peril that these markers were going to blow away) and I loved chatting to the other runners about just where it was we were supposed to be. I loved chatting to the other runners when I did eventually find the start line – meeting up with people from all over the country (the lady next to me had come from Dundee; the couple behind me, who took a great interest in my t-shirt and all the events I was intending to participate in – mainly because they’d already done them about a million times, it seems - had come all the way from London); and all just to run three miles around a freezing park. I loved the excitement of the start when the celebrity (sorry, I didn’t recognise the poor sod who’d been drafted in to start the event – and I didn’t catch the tannoy announcement either telling everyone just which poor sod it was – so I really am none the wiser there) and I loved running up the hill (Yes! Running! I might be crap, but I still ran every step of that hill) and I loved the view from the top which really wasn’t much of a view because of the grey weather and I loved (loved, loved) the finish line.

I didn’t even find the event that hard, although I suspect that when I start doing the 10k races, it’s going to be harder for me. I could certainly feel able to enjoy a momentary sense of smugness about the fact that I wasn’t bent double and crawling on my hands and knees over the finish line – although this was only very fleeting. It really only lasted the time it took me to find out my overall finishing position...

But never mind that... In short, it was a fantastic experience and a fantastic weekend. I went up there with my sister and we stayed in a nice hotel and ate some lovely meals (I can really recommend Wok and Wine on Frederick Street if ever you are in the area. Really good food in a nice atmosphere). I mean, really, I just had a wonderful time. In fact, I have to say, I’m enjoying all of this fundraising lark just a bit too much. I almost feel guilty about it.

And I suppose I should do really. On the Friday before I left I posted a message on my Facebook account reading “Valerie is running the Great Winter Run tomorrow – wish me luck” and my husband posted the following comment in response: “Never mind good luck – I’ve got a whole weekend with the kids while you’re out having a nice time running around Scotland...” Poor old lad. I hardly dare mention the next event: The Great Edinburgh Run where I’ll be off up to Scotland again (although probably for just one night this time – I can’t stand the guilt) and enjoying myself some more. And do I really need to tell him that I was 1,504th in a queue of people entering the Great Manchester Run the other day, but despite this alarming amount of people in front of me and the fact that it didn’t even look like I was going to get a place at one point (when the computer timed out and I had to go right to the back of the queue again, by which time it was even longer – reader, you can’t even imagine the swear words which came out of my mouth at that point in time – even if you’ve got the best, most vivid imagination in the world, you really can’t) I did, eventually, manage to get a place – and what this means for him in real terms is another day looking after the kids while I go off and enjoy myself with 33,000 other runners (I sincerely hope they get the start line thing organised there – I could barely find where I should stand in a crowd of 2,000, never mind 33,000). Yes, perhaps on the whole, I just won’t mention it... I’ll mention it later... When he’s in a good mood again – and the memory of a whole weekend on his own with the kids has faded somewhat.

On the fundraising front, I was sponsored a further £20 this weekend. Okay, not groundbreaking amounts but everything helps. I’ll be adding that onto my justgiving page soon. Plus my lovely friend, Chet, who helps to run a print company has organised some publicity postcards to be printed about the money I’m trying to raise for the Weston Park Hospital. The service her company “Loudmouth Studios Ltd” (the eco-friendly postcard company – check them out at http://www.loudworld.co.uk) has provided is worth in the region of £100 so I’ll be posting that amount on the just giving site too, to reflect their generous support. With regards to my boss: they say they want to help with matched funding but they need to get permission from their charitable committee first. I need to wait until March to find out the result of that one. Let’s hope it’s good news. In the meantime, I’ve now got around four months between now and the next event (so don’t worry, Martin, I don’t have any excuses to go off and leave you with the kids again – well, at least for a while...) So it’s back to the training... And I’d better start practising over those longer distances if I’m going to be able to feel momentarily smug about not collapsing after the next race. At least the next event will provide me with a good excuse to visit Edinburgh again and being as the next one’s in May, maybe it won’t be so windy next time...? But, then again, this is Scotland we are talking about here...

On your Marks... Get Set...

2008-12-27T12:19:00.000-08:00

Only 14 days to go until I reach the “GO!” phase of my challenge and get to run in my first race (The Great Winter Run to be held in Edinburgh), and it’s a disaster, it really is. We’ve moved on from the “Stricken! Injured!” thing I was going on about last time when I’d contracted the flu bug to a whole new series of training-hampering events. The first was that I went out for a very ill-advised run one Sunday night shortly after I was recovering from the flu virus thing. It was ill-advised for two reasons: the first being that it was completely dark when I went out and although I was wearing a high-viz vest, I could barely see where I was putting my feet when I ran out of streetlights. I ran through some very dodgy stuff (without putting too fine a point on it, it was some kind of excrement – either cow or horse, I’m not sure which, but being as neither is more appealing than the other as a substance to run through, it doesn’t really matter) and tripped over a number of sticks lying across the path in the process. Then, when I got back I developed a cough. And I mean A COUGH!!! It’s probably as a result of going out too soon after my illness and running when I am not fully recovered, but whatever the reason I’m having a hell of a time persuading it to leave now that I’ve acquired it and have thus been rendered unable to train at all. (14 days to go... panic, panic).

Of course, you are all saying, there’s nothing to worry about, and, concerned with my fitness as I am, you no doubt believe that I have had a very frugal Christmas, didn’t over-indulge too much and therefore am still in pretty good shape to run. As one fellow runner asked: “As your first event is in January does this mean Christmas will be a little less jolly for you this year, maybe not so many mince pies and brandies? I have done that before and surprisingly really enjoyed that Christmas as I had loads of energy and I could still eat bad stuff and have a few drinks here and there but just did not sit with Quality Street tin all afternoon.” And, of course, you would be absolutely...(pause to sweep away those tell-tale Quality Street wrappers) correct. Or not, as the case may be. No, it’s a disaster, it really is – I’ve completely over-indulged (as normal) and as a result, (and totally unsurprisingly) I now have no energy and cannot possibly justify eating any more bad stuff... Oh, well, go on then, just one more strawberry cream. One more isn’t going to make any difference, believe me.

So as a result of all of the above I am in pretty terrible shape to run my first race. I’m still going to do it. The time will be rubbish (I was never that bothered about times anyway). I am seriously worried about the course description with its allusions to the large hill that is required for runners to scale, but I will still do it. And if I haven’t got any faith in myself, not to worry – the organisers of the run haven’t either. The run is started on a “wave” system whereby runners in the white wave go first, the orange go second and the green wave go last. I’m not sure how many entrants there are but I’m in the green wave and I’ve got the feeling that I may be somewhere in the vicinity of the back of the green wave. I’m runner number 2044 (if anyone knows how many entrants there are in the Great Winter Run, I’d be delighted to hear confirmation that there are indeed only 2045 participants). Anyway, it doesn’t really matter. It would only really knock my confidence further to have all those other runners overtaking me. At least at the back there is only runner number 2045 to overtake me. Plus, I won’t get lost – a serious advantage when your sense of direction is as bad as mine. I’ll just be able to following the disappearing forms of all of the other entrants around the course.

The only real good news on the fundraising campaign front I can offer this time is that I have since I last wrote confirmed my entry into the Great Yorkshire Run. That’s three entries in the bag. I also tried (vainly) to confirm my entry into the Great North Run. Obviously, anyone who knows the Greats will know that this is the big one. It’s the longest one, but it’s probably also the most prestigious and the one which is going to be most difficult to gain entry into as a result. However, I happened to notice on the Great Run website that it was possible to enter as a priority entrant now and that to become a priority entrant, all you had to do was become a member. I don’t want to knock the Great Run team – they’re fantastic, they really are – however, I’m sorry to say that the website did definitely give the impression that it was possible to join as a new member. And it isn’t. Not if you’re just a riff-raff amateur like myself anyway. I tried, I really did. The website won’t let you do it. I even rang the helpline. It was Christmas eve and the person manning the helpline was in a very bad mood and as a result wasn’t really inclined to help. So the upshot of this is I do not have my entry into the Great North Run in the bag and will just have to take my chances when the ballot opens in early January. I do hope I get a place, I really do. Without placing too much emphasis on this, but I’m sure you will agree with me, my entire fundraising campaign relies on my place in that event.

Anyway, in the meantime, I am going to rest my battered lungs (probably indulge in some more Quality street – sorry) and do my best to get the training back on schedule at least a week before my first race, but even if I don’t manage it, I can assure you that I will do my very best not to disgrace myself (well, at least totally) in the Great Winter Run and I will finish it (even if I have to crawl across the line – a distinct possibility – indeed, if anyone could arrange to run in front of me with a Quality Street on a string for me to follow, this would go a great way towards providing added motivation. The strawberry cream is my favourite). Failing this, if you would like to support my fundraising attempts in other ways – i.e. if you are not available for strawberry-cream-dragging purposes on 10th January, you can sponsor me at http://www.justgiving.com/valderbyshire Myself, and the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Charity, would be very grateful for your support.

Injured! Stricken!

2008-12-18T12:41:00.000-08:00

Okay, it’s not that bad. But I thought I’d give it an Enid Blyton-esque type title just to inject a little drama into this blog. In actual fact, it’s less drama, and more a right tale of woe. It started when I went for my weekly swim training in Bakewell swimming pool and, whilst in the course of dodging the teenagers doing handstands in the very shallow, shallow end and the man with the hairy back doing backstroke and trying to complete my mile, I somehow managed to injure the muscle in my chest. Don’t ask me how. I don’t know. How is it even possible to strain your chest muscle? I didn’t even feel it until I got out of the pool and suddenly realised that I had a feeling across my chest like I was having a heart attack. In fact, I might even have been having a heart attack, but it’s just too embarrassing to go to the doctors with this after I’ve been telling anyone who’ll listen for the past few months how very healthy and how very fit I am to run the greats. Anyway, it went off after a bit, and I didn’t feel ill or anything, so it must be okay (right?)

Well my embarrassing chest muscle strain continued all week – striking me at the most inconvenient of moments (whilst out for a meal with my friend, whilst lifting the shopping bags, whilst exhaling during a telephone call – and this is bad considering I work in a call centre) so I decided to give the swimming a miss for a week or two until it went completely better. It’s no big deal, I told myself. After all, I’ve got until September to get this swimming thing right. (But perhaps I really should try and learn to swim properly, for I suspect it was my faulty breaststroke technique which has caused this injury in the first place, and not, as I may have implied, the hilarious antics of some teenagers or a hairy pensioner). And, I told myself, I am still maintaining my fitness – after all, I’m still running twice a week.

Then disaster really struck. My eldest son caught a flu-type virus. He was really miserable. Then I caught it. And I was really miserable too. My youngest son is now coming down with it. He’s pretty miserable as well. On the upside, my husband is yet to catch it. On the downside, the fact that my youngest son was crawling all over my husband when he returned from work tonight and wiping his snotty little nose all over my husband in the process probably means that it’s pretty inevitable that he is going to catch it. And you know what men are like. They don’t get colds, they get flu. And when it’s flu (and, oh God, it’s felt like it) they’ve got something worse. So when he does catch it, not only will I be nursing one miserable toddler, one miserable child and feeling sorry for myself, but I’ll also be nursing someone who’s somehow contracted yellow fever. Anyway, the upshot of all of us being stricken in this manner has meant that I haven’t done any training whatsoever.... I don’t know which is worse. The virus or the guilt. I mean the bug is bad, but the guilt is crippling. It truly is worthy of the italics I have placed in this paragraph to emphasise it. It’s only one week’s worth of training after all, but I feel like my muscles have wasted, my fitness has evaporated and I’m no longer capable of running up the road, never mind running all the greats. Plus there is the knowledge that in precisely 23 days’ time my first race takes place and this week the only preparation I have done for it is more Enid Blyton-esque lashings of lemsip and chocolate smothered toffee from Thorntons to make me feel better. It’s not good. It really isn’t.

So, sorry. I can only apologise. Next week, when I’m feeling better (and I’m already on the mend) I’m going to go and find a big hill to run up. This week, however, I have nothing to report.

And Going Darker Still...

2008-12-01T12:04:00.001-08:00

Hurray! We've finally moved house and, most importantly of all (how did I live without Facebook???) we're back on-line. It was all a bit of a palava I have to say. Not just the move itself, which was without the shadow of a doubt, a nightmare, but getting back up and connected to t'internet (as they say up here). We used to be with Tesco, but after we moved out to the sticks we discovered that the telephone network out here seems to be working on the basis of some strange archaic system comprised mainly of paper cups and bits of string. A man from Tesco telephoned to explain that they were no longer able to provide us with internet access in the area in which we now lived because, he said, of the limitations on the exchange.

I use the word "explain" loosely. Indeed, this is perhaps the wrong word to use. The man in question was clearly not calling from their Customer Services Team. In fact, goodness knows where Tesco had been keeping him. He was clearly one of their boffins employed to administer their internet services and was definitely not used to dealing with/communicating with other human beings. His attempts at an explanation as to the reasons underlying their failure to provide an internet link at our address, I have to be honest, just baffled me more. Still, it was nice of him to call.

Next we tried Sky. They said, "Sure, we can do it, and you'll get to watch Sky Movies over Christmas too, and all for the price of our variety package at £17 per month." Brilliant. But... Then they followed this up with "Oh, hang on. We can't get network coverage there without renting it back from BT. That'll cost you another £17 a month." £34 then. Too expensive. Particularly given the expense of the move and the fact that we still have a house to sell in Sheffield. And, as my husband pointed out in a particularly skin-flinty moment, there's a perfectly good Sky dish on the side of the old house just waiting to be taken down and stuck on the side of our new one. All it needs is pointing in the general direction of the satellite. (I'm not sure about this myself, but he's good at this sort of stuff, so I'll just leave it to him. In fact, I'm not even going to think about it, even though I am, I admit, missing Cbeebies for the children's sake. There's only so many times you can sit through the Bob the Builder DVD which came free with The Daily Mail and not get sick of it.)

Anyway, all of this eventually led us to plus.com who can provide us with internet access in our area. (HURRAY!) So, yes, it's been hard. The whole move has been hard, but we're getting there (despite the fact that two commodes belonging to the previous occupants are still in situ in the lounge - but what the hell - I can stick some tinsel round them and make an original and unusual decoration for christmas). And there are disadvantages to living in the sticks. But, I love living here. It's just lovely. I can sit at the computer and see hills out of the window, instead of flats. We can walk 100 yards from our door and feed the ducks. I can see the spire to the village church from our bedroom window and hear the bells on Sunday (and Thursday night too, when it's clearly bell-ringing practice night). The running is great too. On Sunday morning I ran up a very big hill along a lane from Bakewell to Monyash. It was a long, empty road surrounded by hills which had turned pale green under a light covering of frost. There was a timeless feel up there. In fact, I forgot that there was such a thing as time and ran for so long that I couldn't feel my knees anymore and even my husband (who never worries about anything) had started to worry about me. When I ran/staggered back down the hill I ran into a charming village which is (charmingly) all lit up for Christmas.

But there are definite disadvantages too. If there is no telephone network coverage, there is hardly any street lighting either (well, beyond the Christmas trees). It's virtually impossible to run any distance at all in the dark (And at this time of year, there is a lot of dark). So I'm down to one run a week. And I'm losing fitness because of it. It can't continue. I've got to find a way to train in the dark. My guess is that it's going to involve running up and down the main street in my husband's high-viz jacket and a head-torch, getting harrassed by the groups of bored teenagers who are perpetually hanging around outside the Spar shop, but if that's the way it's got to be, then that's the way it's got to be. And at least I can now walk to the local swimming pool and it only takes five minutes to get there.

Oh yes. The local swimming poool. The fact that it is local makes it easier to train for the swimming, but the advantages kind of end there. Put it this way, it ain't Pond's Forge. In fact, it's a 20m pool which, (I'm reliably informed) you have to swim eighty lengths of to have swum a mile. This information is, however, in fact superfluous because it is virtually impossible to swim eight lengths in the pool, never mind eighty, due to the combination of the bikini-clad teenagers doing handstands in the shallow end of the pool and pensioners with implausibly hairy backs doing backstroke up and down the pool. (They make allowances for no-one - if you don't get out of their way, it's like being run over by one of those old-fashioned doormats made out of coconuts). The shallow end, incidentally, is also the shallowest shallow end I've ever before encountered. The water only comes up to my mid-calf. I'm not tall. I'm 5'4". I don't know how deep the deep end is, but I'm guessing that's not that deep either. In fact, more of a shallow deep end. Still, at least it's cheap. And near. And somewhere to swim.

In all honesty, I cannot wait for the swim part to be over. Sadly, the time between now and reaching that blissful moment in my existence is ten whole months. In the meantime, my first event (the Great Winter Run, 10th January) is looming, and I can't wait for that one. Not just because it's the first event, but because I'm combining it with a weekend away with my sister. Who says fundraising can't be fun?

Don't forget you can sponsor me now at http://www.justgiving.com/valderbyshire and join in with all this fun too.

Going Dark...

2008-11-09T11:04:00.000-08:00

Well, if you're an eagle-eyed type of person - the sort who never misses a thing - it can't have escaped you that it's getting very dark these days. There are certainly a lot less hours of daylight. This is bad for lots of reasons. I'm not really talking about S.A.D. (although I know a few people who always get really down at this time of year). It's more that there seems to be even less time to get what needs to be done, well, done...

I've taken to running in the dark. I'm trying to stick to streetlit areas, but even when these are available, you still end up stumbling over tree roots and falling into potholes and puddles. , Of course, there are positives too. I did one of the prettiest runs I've ever done on the evening of Wednesday 5th November and got to watch everybody's fireworks for free (including the people on Ecclesall Road who were setting them off just a bit too close to the road for comfort). However, on the whole, the dark is not really helping the training regime. And it's not just training in the evening which is depressing me - the morning runs are pretty dismal as well (it just seems to be cold, wet and dark all the time now).

It's not just the training that's suffering due to the lack of daylight hours either. There just seems to be so much to do that I just can't fit it all in (did I mention we were moving house?) I bet I did. It's become something of an obsession over the past few weeks. I'm not thinking about anything else. I'm not doing anything else except working towards this move. I don't even seem to have the time to sleep anymore. Of course I've paid a price. We all have. We can't find anything (everything's in boxes). I thought I'd packed only the non-essential items. Turns out I was wrong. Unable to find the egg cups the other day, the children were reduced to eating boiled eggs out of candlestick holders. It was only partially successful, but they seemed to enjoy the novelty of it. The swimming training has gone completely out of the window. As soon as we've moved (next Friday) I'm going to start again. Well, as soon as we've moved and unpacked the boxes and had the washer plumbed in and... oh God, all the other things which I don't want to even think about. The lack of daylight hours definitely isn't helping. I find myself packing items well into the night. Some nights all I do is pack. (How have we accumulated so much stuff?) I don't even sit down until the 10 o'clock news and then I'm too knackered to concentrate on it. I'd complain to my husband, but he's in exactly the same state as me. If anything, he's even more stressed.

I suppose all that box-lifting has got to be good for my muscles (see "Who needs a gym?" from the other week)...

Anyway, I suppose the point of all this is that there just doesn't seem to be enough hours in the day anymore. I don't even seem to be able to fulfil my training regime, never mind get to work on more fundraising. So, it was a big surprise to me this week to be able to tell you that actually, this week, I've had a really good week on the fundraising for the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Charity front. In fact the fundraising has received a massive boost, and through doing one really simple thing as well. I told my boss what I was doing and she's been, well, amazing. She's trying to persuade my employers to match anything I manage to raise. This is a BIG boost. They haven't promised anything yet, but they're looking into it and have said that they should be able to do something towards providing a contribution for the fundraising target anyway. I'm hoping I'll be able to exact a promise from them soon. (I know, I know, we're in difficult economic times, but surely an organisation of the size I work for should be good for at least a tenner? In fact, they should be good for a lot more than that, but as they said, they're not promising anything yet.) On an individual basis, my boss has also sponsored me herself and then went onto say that she would probably sponsor me again as I complete the events! What a star. She then stuck a poster of what I'm doing on the noticeboard and from this one of my other colleagues sponsored me. And it was one who I thought didn't like me too. With this in view, maybe the ones who do like me will sponsor me more.

All of the above cheered me up immensely. I am now over 10% of the way towards achieving my fundraising target. It's not much, I know - but I have got nearly a year to get there and there are other people out there who have definitely promised to support me, but who just haven't got round to it yet. With just a little more pestering, and Christmas out of the way, who knows...? Perhaps they will get round to it.

I didn't want to just moan about dark nights this time (or the move for that matter). I've lived in this country my entire life. I know November is the most miserable month of the year. (I also know I've got the coldest, the windiest, and the wettest months to come before I get to run along some amazingly scenic route near to my new home in the Peak District in beautiful summer sunshine and be able to return to a box-free house in which I know exactly where the egg cups are stashed). Difficult times lie ahead, but boosts such as the one which my boss has give me this week, should help get me through. Anyway, as I was saying, the purpose of this is not just to moan about the dark; because, due to the house move and the various intricacies of phone lines/internet connections and other things which I'm not even going to pretend to understand - it's the husband's department: he's the technical one -we are "going dark" in other ways too. In fact, due to the loss of internet connection over the next month, I won't be able to contribute to this blog for a short time. I know, I know. The three special people out there who are actually following this (you know who you are) will be devastated. Or maybe you won't. Either way, I will be back in the near future to update you once more on my efforts towards achieving this ridiculous challenge which I have set for myself.

In the meantime, should anybody who is reading this feel the urge to support me in raising funds for the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Charity, then please do so. Don't let the economic crisis/the credit crunch or the fact that Christmas is just around the corner put you off in anyway whatsoever. In fact, supporting me now may even cheer you up, in this, the most miserable month of the year. You can do your own personal good deed at http://www.justgiving.com/valderbyshire

I'll be back shortly to pester you some more.

Who needs a gym...?

2008-10-26T12:40:00.000-07:00

One of my friends posted a picture of herself on Facebook pushing her young children in a very large, very heavy looking double-buggy. The caption was "Who needs a gym when you have to push a double-buggy up that bloomin' hill?" And I've got to say, the very same thought occurred to me when I was spending yet another miserable (for me) morning in the park with my youngest son on the see-saw with me providing the power for it. As I'm pushing it down for the umpteenth time and he's laughing delightedly as he rises up in the air and shouts "More! More!" it suddenly occurred to me that people pay good money to do just this kind of exercise in a gym. Okay, okay - it doesn't rain in a gym. It's nice and cosy and warm, and you can watch Coronation Street while you make your arms hurt, so maybe being in a gym is a bit nicer, but you can't argue with the fact that doing the exact same exercise in a park is a lot cheaper.

Also, whenever I see those people running on a treadmill in a gym, I can never help but feel that it's a bit pointless running on one of those things. It's like all the pain, and none of the pleasure. And there's a lot of pleasure to be had from running out onto the moors or through the woods, particularly at this time of year.

Last week, in my blog, I asked the very same question. Who needs a gym when you can paint a ceiling (oh, yes, the house redecoration in readiness for its impending sale continues - so far I've painted nearly two and a half walls in the kitchen, plus the ceiling - okay, not great progress, but I have got two small children to look after). And there's no disputing the fact that the house move has definitely contributed to my overall fitness. I'm working all hours to get things packed up (we now have a moving date - and a removal firm - booked in for 3 weeks time!!!) and lugging boxes about to stow them out of the way until the big day. The stress has been good for my figure too. I've got to say that despite all the training up to this point, I haven't really lost any weight. In fact, if anything, I'm eating more (of the wrong stuff) because I feel like (a) I deserve it; and (b) - whenever I think about the swim - I need cheering up - so I'm still a bit flabby... but this week, the pounds have been dropping off me. I'm really feeling the stress and it's making me - shock! horror! lose my appetite. I can't wait for this move to be over so I can get it back again. As I said last week, if it wasn't for the training I'm doing, I would surely have been committed by now. It's a real relief to get out of the house and just run. In fact, if things get much worse, I might just keep going just so I don't have to come back and face it all: the half-white/half-blue kitchen, the mess, the boxes everywhere, the whingeing children telling me over and over that they don't want to move house... (We've moved on from patience, encouragement, admissions that Mummy and Daddy don't want to move either, but it will be lovely when we get there to saying "Well, we are doing." in a voice that belies the fact that the speaker is sick of being told the same thing over and over).

Anyway, with all of the above in view, I'm starting to look "athletic" as one person described me last week. "Athletic". Is this a good thing? I'm not sure. One thing's for certain, I've never been described as it before; so if nothing else, at least it's a novelty.

This week hasn't even been that good for the training either. A couple of weeks ago, for the first time ever, I managed to swim the entire mile in training. 32 lengths of Pond's Forge in 50m lanes. I cannot even begin to describe the last 100m. A new definition to the word "pain" sums it up. The lifeguard was hovering at the edge of her high stool. She was poised to jump in and get me, and it was only luck that mean't she didn't have to in the end. And I was slow. I mean really, slow. It took me 55 minutes to swim the distance. At this rate, I could swim the channel in just over a day (24 hours, I'm talking, not just daylight hours). This week, I only managed a paltry 24 lengths. In the first place, the pool was really, really busy. It was like the sea in there. There were groups of kids congregating at each end of the pool, rendering swimming a complete 50m an impossibility anyway. In the second, halfway through the session I had to get out because I needed a wee. (I am generally bursting for a wee halfway through the session - I don't really know how I'm going to manage the whole mile across Windermere without... well, weeing in the lake - and, sadly, the face of the person swimming behind me - let's hope they put me at the back or I'll just not have to have anything to drink for about 3 days before). Anyway, the stop for a toilet break was disasterous for the training and at 24 lengths, I gave up. I suppose swimming in the pool when it is like the sea should be good thing really. It will get me used to swimming in choppy waters. Windermere is most likely to be more like the sea than swimming in a nice, safely enclosed, pool, with both ladies and gents toilets close at hand.

Then all of the stuff I've got to do towards this move is cutting down the training time I have available, so that's hindering me a little too. It's a good job, really, that it's half-term this week and I've got both my children at home. If today was anything to go by (another freezing trip to the park, hoisting kids in and out of swings, propelling roundabouts and once, even, a rocking camel - don't ask) then it's going to be a right workout this week. As my friend says, when you have children, who needs a gym?

It's all go...

2008-10-19T11:40:00.000-07:00

It really is all go... This week I've felt like I haven't had time to... well... break wind, never mind train. However, I have still managed to get out there for the runs and my weekly swim, so rest assured, I'm not falling behind.

The reason for all of this chaos? Well, as if we haven't got enough on at the moment, what with my eldest son starting school, sustaining both of our jobs and all the other stuff we do, we've decided to move house. This, of course, means selling our own house, which needs redecorating in order to make it appealing to buyers in the current market; so this week, I've been mainly painting the kitchen. I've been having to do it in stages because I've got my youngest son at home with me all day. So when he's awake in the day, I can only spend a very short time decorating and I can only paint things which are out of his reach (i.e. ceilings, and the tops of walls). All of the rest (i.e. the stuff within his reach) is having to be done after both the kids are in bed. I've got to say, however, you can really feel your muscles after a session painting a ceiling. It's got to be good for you. Who needs a gym?

It's not just the practical stuff though, it's the stress involved. My head is just buzzing with the amount we've got to do. Every room I enter in the house requires something doing to it to make it more presentable and I don't even want to think about the twelve years' worth of accumulated crap we've got stuffed in cupboards and in the loft (the loft! AAAAGGH!!) which we are going to have to sift through, either discard, or pack and move.

This, however, is where going for a run or for a swim comes into its own. Surely, there can be no better stress-buster than going out and running so far that you can't feel anything anymore. After a few miles I'm not even thinking anymore; I'm just running. All I can feel is the ache in my legs. It's a relief, I have to tell you. It's a relief to have somewhere to be able to escape from what's going on inside my head.

So I've been training harder than ever; and I've been working harder than ever on the fundraising too. At the end of last week I finally got the T-shirts I'd ordered from the (rubbish) print shop. With this in view, I made an appointment to call into the fundraising office of the Weston Park Hospital to have some photographs taken for them to place on their website. The photos (featuring my T-shirts) are at the top of the page. As you can see, thankfully, the print shop obviously haven't been reading this blog, as they have resisted the urge to write something obscene on the back of my T-shirt. They almost look quite professional, apart from the fact that they promised they'd print the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Charity logo on a white background to make it stand out (they didn't) and also the "r" in "Great North Swim" is a bit wonky when you look at it close up. Still, at least I've got it now. There were also some pictures of my front but I have to admit I got a shock when I looked at them. Do I really look that old? I know I feel it, but that's another story. Needless to say, I have not included them here or on any of the other websites I use. I asked my husband if I really did look that old. He (perhaps erroneously) muttered something about me looking quite young in the pictures. How old do I look without the intervention of a camera? I don't even want to think about that.

Moving swiftly on, the print shop produced another T-shirt for me too, in flourescent green (to make sure I can be seen out on these dark winter nights). It reads "Sponsor me to run the greats in support of the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Charity". If you see an elderly lady out stumbling along in the dark in a flourescent green T-shirt bearing these words, it's probably me. My website is on the back of said T-shirt - make sure you take a note of it and sponsor me.

I've had a few more visitors to my justgiving web page, including sponsorship from someone I've never even met before. He contacted me via facebook and left an extremely touching message about how he had heard that I was raising money for cancer and would he be able to sponsor me because his own mum was dying of a carcinoid tumour. His email moved me to tears. I was amazed and touched by his generosity for supporting me and it gave me such a boost. It was the best stress-buster ever and the best motivation to persevere with the training, even though time, as always, is desperately short.

I am now nearly 10% of the way there to raising my target of £3k. I know it sounds a bit rubbish, but I haven't even started yet. The next few months is going to see me doing some real pestering for sponsorship...

Don't forget, you can sponsor me too. Whether you know me or not, if your life has been touched by cancer, perhaps you'd like to help raise money towards research into treatments of the disease. You can sponsor me now at http://www.justgiving.com/valderbyshire

I would stay and write more, but I've got the kitchen wall to paint...

Seasons they fly...

2008-10-12T11:34:00.000-07:00

The title is from a Tyketto song... "Seasons they fly... Stealing, you never will know why..." Okay, they were a bit rubbish, as were their song lyrics, but during the eighties I loved Tyketto. I once went to see them twice in one week. They were my favourite band, despite the dodgy hair and even dodgier material they produced. What do you mean you've never heard of them? You haven't lived...

But that's not what I wanted to post on my blog this week (although Tyketto are definitely worth looking up if you haven't ever heard of them. Or even if you have. Go on, give them another chance... They weren't that crap). This week I wanted to talk about motivational issues and how hard it is to keep up with the training for the nine runs and one swim I have promised to do for the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Charity, now that it's becoming obvious that the seasons are whirling past us and we are all labouring under the sure and certain knowledge that winter is looming on the horizon.

I mean, how hard is it to get yourself out of the house for purposes of exercise anyway? I find it incredibly hard. I'm always exhausted after a day spent dealing with preschoolers (and there's nothing more exhausting than reasoning with creatures who know no reason) and sometimes I just don't want to spend the tiny, miniscule amount of free time I have slogging up the nearest hill with a stitch and the feeling of an impending heart attack. And that's when the evenings were beautiful, golden, sunny late summer evenings. Now that the nights are drawing in... Well, getting myself out there is even more difficult.

It's not just the swimming, although that is a challenge. After all, who in their right mind, on a dark, freezing October night wants to leave the comfort of their nice warm house with the deliberate intention of immersing themselves in water that feels positively Baltic? Okay, it's not that cold; but it certainly feels a little bit nippy when you first get in. And, okay, the temperature of the pool is being recorded at 27 degrees. But it still feels cold to me. (And, yes, I do know that when I take part in the Great North Swim in Windermere next year the temperature is going to be around 15 degrees, or possibly even colder, and that this is a good 12 degrees lower than the temperature I am complaining about now). But no, it's not just the swimming. It's the running too.

In some ways, training for the running should be easier. I mean I don't have to get the car out and drive to a pool to do the session. All I have to do is step outside of the house (yes, my nice, warm, light, cosy house) and start running. It's hard on these dark nights. In the first place, there's so much thought that has to go into plotting a route. I need to find routes where I know that (a) I won't get mugged, (b) there is adequate streetlighting to keep me safe and so that I can see where I'm going, and (c) it's a route where I'm not going to get mown down by drivers who can't see me out on the road. (At this stage, I should point out that it is very unlikely that I will get mugged. I don't carry anything on me to get mugged for. Not even watch or glasses as they irritate me jiggling around when I'm running, so I leave them at home. And no mugger worth his salt is going to be interested in my running shoes (each shoe a different size as I have one foot slightly larger than the other, and a positive hazard to human health anyway) or my disgusting, sweaty running vest or shorts - well, not unless the mugger has scientific leanings and wishes to discover the new life forms which are inevitably building their own ecosystem in these garments). It's the time it takes as well. I don't run quickly. I think I've mentioned before that I resemble a shambling old woman going out for an incongruous jog - I still do, even after six weeks of training. I suppose this is because I'm not really bothered about race times. I just want to finish the events. I don't care how long it takes - as long as they don't have to reopen the road before I cross the finish line, of course. A six mile run (10k) will take me at least an hour and a half. And time is precious when you've got bugger all of it to spend on yourself anyway.

It mentions in my bible of endurance training by Jon Ackland that time is the most valuable commodity an endurance athlete needs, and because of this (s)he needs to use it wisely. (Yes, alright, the sharp-eyed amongst you, and those in the know, will note that this particular section of the book is on page two and no, I haven't read much further than that. But I'm getting there. I haven't had the time...)

Anyway, the point I'm trying to make is that I have, like all other people who promise to do these events, I suspect, had motivational issues. So this week, I've tried to look on the positive side - which brings me back to the seasons again. Because what can be more lovely than running through the woods on a beautiful autumnal day? The leaves are changing in a riot of colour - every conceivable shade of red, russet, gold and brown is on display. What can be more enjoyable than running down (down, not up - it's far too steep for that) Carterknowle Road and seeing the leaves on the ground from the trees which line the road? What was more beautiful than running through Millhouses Park this morning and seeing the sunlight filtering through the trees and sparkling on the babbling river Sheaf. I can, I told myself, (probably somewhat delusionally) hardly wait for Winter to come so I can see the first snow up on the moor. Imagine how fantastic training in the Springtime will be when I can see the woodland floor as a carpet of bluebells. (Of course, there are distinct disadvantages to the woodland floor - the main one being that certain people do not feel the need to remove the evidence their dogs leave behind from the woods in the same way as they do in, say, the park. In fact, it is almost certainly left behind, indiscriminately peppering the woodland paths making it near impossible to take a run through the woods without bringing something disgusting home with you on the bottom of your shoe. The fact that dog excrement is nearly exactly the same colour as the autumnal leaves only adds to the likelihood that you won't spot it before you've ploughed through it. Unless, of course, it's that weird dog poo which is entirely white - what on earth have those dogs been eating? Seriously, I'd like to know. I can imagine that some dear old lady is feeding their pooches soap powder or something like that. I can't think what else would account for the colour. It would be "Well, of course, the dog died within a fortnight, but for a short while his poo smelt lovely.") But that's just a minor niggle, and as I say, I'm focussing on the positive at the moment. It's the only way I can keep on with the training.

Another factor that's keeping me going is the number of people who have sponsored me to complete these events so far. I can't not get out there and go training, because I would be letting all of the people who have so far believed enough in me to actually part with some cash on the basis that I'm going to complete these events. Rest assured, all of you, I am going to complete these events. It won't be fast. It might not be pretty. (Although, I did, amazingly, get chatted up by someone whilst out for a run the other day. I have to say though the person in question was old enough to be my grandfather. And was possibly either blind or senile. It was right next to an old people's home). It might even be a bit smelly (if I can't manage to avoid the dog poo). But I will do it.

If you want to sponsor me, you can do this at http://www.justgiving.com/valderbyshire All of the funds raised on the donation page will go to the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Charity, which is one of only three UK hospitals dedicated to cancer care. The Weston Park provides specialist cancer treatment services for over two million people living in the South Yorkshire, North Nottinghamshire and North Derbyshire areas, but even if you don't live in these areas, the Weston Park is a leading national and international centre for the research into, and treatments of, cancer, so there's a good chance that if you are unlucky enough to develop cancer (and it touches 1 in 3 of us), the Weston Park will have had some input into your treatment.

Anyway, I've gone on and on again, so I'd better sign off for now. Yes, it's cold, it's dark, and I've got to go running...

Things I wish my mother had (n't) told me... And things I wish I hadn't told her.

2008-10-09T12:22:00.000-07:00

Last week I mentioned the fact that I hadn't told my mother about the fact that I was intending to run 64 miles and swim one, all in the name of fundraising, and I promised, faithfully, that this week, I was going to come clean and put her in the picture.

I mean, I had to, really. The fact was, part of the reason I'm doing this in the first place is because my Dad lost his Dad to cancer when he was only eighteen (in fact the justgiving page where you can still sponsor me - hint, hint - is actually partly in my Grandad's memory). With this in view, it was ridiculous even considering taking part in this fundraising challenge without my Dad even knowing about it - and with this in view, I had actually already told my Dad about it... But not my Mum (too scared to). My Dad, similarly, was also too afraid to tell my Mum about it all and had been keeping it quiet. This, as you can imagine, has put him in a very difficult position. He was having to pretend to know absolutely nothing about it whatsoever and when I actually did come clean this week, and tell my Mum all about it, he had to pretend to look surprised as well. (Oh the tangled web we weave...)

My Mum's reaction, I have to say, was not as negative as I expected it to be. Don't get me wrong - she doesn't want me to do any of the events. In her own words: "I don't want you to do all this running and swimming." In fact, she even urged me to give up on the attempt (Come on, Mum! What kind of advice is that for a parent to give to their child? Weren't you the one who drilled into me from an early age how important it is to keep one's promises? You can't change the advice now, just because the promise I've made doesn't suit you...) Her advice was: "Tell them you can't do it. Tell them you've changed your mind. Tell them anything, but don't do it." And when I told her that this particular advice was way up there with other pearls of wisdom I've gleaned from her over the years, including: "You won't feel a thing in childbirth. Well, you'll soon forget about it afterwards, anyway." (ha ha), and that I wasn't going to take any notice of it anyway, her response was "well, I'm not going to think about it."

Now there's a small part of me that feels that this IS good advice. Sometimes I don't feel like thinking about it either. Sadly, it keeps coming back to haunt me. If I don't think about it, I'll never manage to either complete any of the events or raise any money for the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Charity. I've got to keep up with the running and keep the momentum up with my swimming training, or those 65 miles will probably finish me off for good. And once I manage to get out there and get going, I (usually) quite enjoy it.

This week, of course, it was the Great North Run. I had to work on the day, but because a bookmakers has loads of televisions in it, I managed to watch the event. It was fantastic to watch, I have to say - really thrilling to think that this time next year, I'll be running too (albeit not dressed as a donkey as I saw one man was - how on Earth did he manage to keep running for 13.1 miles in that suit? It was the same size and looked nearly as heavy as a real donkey. Hats off to him - I hope he raised loads of money for the - erm, donkey? charity - he was running for. I'm assuming it was a donkey charity anyway, and this, I feel, is a reasonable assumption, given his attire). I would have really enjoyed watching it, if I hadn't kept getting interrupted by the, quite frankly, selfish customers who were ringing me up, at work, expecting to be able to place their bets for them.

I had a friend running in the Great North Run this year too and besides keeping a look out for him on the television, I'd asked him to give me the low down on what the event is like and how it really is to complete the course.

I wish I hadn't asked. This, I have to say, is a prime example of when following my mother's advice and "not thinking about it" would pay off. For I now wish I didn't know the information he has given to me on the matter. I wish I wasn't party to it. Here is a small extract of what he told me:

"It is quite hilly and hard work so take it easy and enjoy it. Loads of support along the way. Start is great through Newcastle up and down hill but it begins to feel like you have been running up hill forever. At about 5 miles a sign says now 3 miles downhill.....this is not strictly true you still have lots of ups and downs to go but it still feels like a lot of uphill and flat stuff (keep training on those hills in Sheffield it will help a lot).From 9 miles it starts to feel really tough as you are going uphill again I found it almost a deal breaker and loads of people started walking so no shame if that's what you want to do after all you are just completing it for charity. As you turn the corner onto the sea front at South Shields everybody says you are nearly there (crowd encouragement is great) but you still have 1.2 miles to go. This will be THE longest mile of your life (you will not want to walk) and the 800m's to go sign will try and trick you but that is still half a mile."

I know he wasn't trying to put me off, but I have to say... Perhaps not thinking about it is the way to go after all...

Fundraising is hard work...

2008-09-28T11:36:00.000-07:00

I have come to the conclusion - and possibly it's not a startling one, because it's probably patently obvious to those in the know - but I have reached the conclusion that fundraising is really hard work. Seriously, it is. In some ways, it's harder work than the training I've got to do to be able to complete these events. Okay, the training is hard work too. There are motivational and tiredness issues, but once I get out there (and I have always managed to get myself out there so far) I quite enjoy it. Even the swimming. Really. But raising funds for the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Appeal is really quite difficult and also requires a degree of dedication which I hadn't quite thought about when I took this challenge on.

I suppose that is why charities and hospitals employ fundraisers to work on their behalf. They wouldn't be paying people to hold these positions if it wasn't hard work, and I have to say, I now have a new respect for the people who do hold these posts. Hats off to them - it's a very difficult job.

When I first thought about running the Greats for the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Appeal and set about putting my plan into action as a serious fundraising attempt, I have to admit, I really didn't think too much about the target amount of money I set myself to raise when I set up my "Justgiving" donation page. There was something almost frivolously easy in the way I gaily typed in £3,000 in the "target amount to be raised" box, as I set the page up. I really didn't think about it too much at all. Now, one month in (and, okay, it's only one month in and there's plenty of time to get there yet), but it has suddenly occurred to me that £3,000 is a lot of money. I mean, it's three thousand pounds. What was I thinking when I typed that figure into that box? People don't part with any amount of money easily and to reach the three thousand pounds target, I'm going to have to persuade a lot of people to donate.

Therefore, with this in view, I have decided to contact EVERYBODY I have ever known. Yes, no matter how slight or tenuous the connection, I have been attempting to contact everyone in the entire history of my life who might remember me, no matter how slightly, and thus have an interest in supporting me, just a little bit. This has involved tracking people down (mainly using Facebook and the Friends Reunited web sites) and sending lots and lots of emails. In fact, every single night, I spend at least an hour at the computer, sending emails, letting people know about what I'm doing and asking them if they'd be willing to lend their support. My husband, who is slightly sick of the time the training is taking out of our lives, and sick as a dog about the fact that he's got to look after the kids for the duration of the ten events I am participating in, is also getting sick of me hogging the computer all the time.

But it's not just tracking down old friends and sending out emails. I've also joined a University alumni group and posted a message on their website, pleading for sponsorship as well as sending an email to the people who run the University alumni newsletter which is sent out periodically, asking if they'll include a paragraph about what I'm doing in their next publication. (No response so far, but maybe they don't want to draw attention to the fact that one of their alumni has clearly gone off her rocker in even considering this challenge in the first place).

And then I thought of another idea to publicise the fact that I'm running the greats for the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Appeal. I thought "I know, I'll have a couple of t-shirts printed up to publicise the fact that when people do see me limping down the road in an attempt at running, they'll know that I am actually doing it for a purpose. I'll put my Just Giving web page address on my shirts, and who knows, someone might see it, and sponsor me." So I went to a t-shirt printing shop in town.

I'm not going to name them. I'm not. I'm not naming them for two reasons: (1) I don't have a single good thing to say about the service this shop has offered, and if I name them, well they might sue me or something like that; and (2) I haven't got my hands on the t-shirts they agreed to print for me and which, I hasten to add, I have paid for, yet, and I don't want them to get cross with me and print something obscene on the back or anything like that.

I suppose I should have realised I was going to have a hard time. The man in the shop who dealt with my enquiry - and I don't want to be mean here - but he didn't seem the brightest spark in the world. He asked me what I was doing and I explained that I was running the greats for the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Appeal, and that I would also be completing the Great North Swim, which was a mile through open water on Windermere. Maybe he wasn't listening to me properly or something like that. Maybe the explanation of what I am doing was deficient somehow, but his next question was: "You're running? Through water?" What can you say to that. "Well, kind of. Only it's called swimming and it's really, really important that you don't stop."

Anyway, I had taken the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Appeal logo down to the shop on a disk. It was a disk which the man's computer was completely unable to open. Fair enough - these things happen - technology issues, etc. We worked through the wording which was going to be appearing on the t-shirts I had taken in (when I say "worked through", this involved me typing the wording into his computer whilst he chatted to his mate) and agreed that I would email the logo to him later that day, which I did. He promised that the t-shirts would be ready by the end of the week and that he would call me when they were ready. Well, Friday came around and no phone call, so I thought I'd give them a call, just to see how they were getting on. The first time I got through whoever answered the phone said "Look, can you call back. I've got a shop full of people here." (Hmmm, very professional approach, I thought), but I called them back an hour later anyway, only to be told that their email was broken (why hadn't they phoned to tell me this at the beginning of the week?) and as such my t-shirts had just been left on the side. "Could I go in, with a disk with the logo on?". I explained that I had already done that, and that they had been unable to open it. They told me to save it as a different format and bring another disk in. I was cross, I have to admit. I was cross because they really didn't seem to care about the fact that they hadn't done the job which I had paid them for. Plus, it really wasn't that convenient to have to go all the way into town again with another disk, but it was patently obvious that unless I did take the disk, I was never going to see my t-shirts again, despite the fact that I had paid them already for the job they had no intention of putting themselves to any trouble to complete.

So I went into town with another disk. There was a MASSIVE traffic jam on the way in and it took me about forty minutes to cover three miles (you can imagine what sort of mood that put me in). Plus, I was in danger of being late for work (I took the disk in on my way to my evening shift at the bookies), so I literally ran into the shop, flung the new disk at the numpty on the desk and ran out again. He promised that I'd be able to collect my t-shirts by the middle of next week, but I'm not holding my breath. I seem to have heard those sorts of promises from them before.

Still, perhaps it will be worth it when I get the t-shirts. Perhaps loads of people out there will see me out training and sponsor me as a result. I hope so. I seem to have put an awful lot of effort into raising money for my cause but not seemed to have got very far. I suspect this is how the full-time professional fundraisers feel everyday of their lives, unless they have a really, really good day. It's frustrating and time-consuming, and worse, it's becoming something of an obsession. I find myself going on and on about it to my friends (who probably feel pressured into sponsoring me and are probably sick of hearing about it). I find myself plotting new ways to bring my campaign to the attention of people who might sponsor me. I worry about it all the time.

And then, there are the people who I don't want to find out about my campaign.

That sounds really odd, but permit me to elaborate. Obviously, as I have explained, I have spent the last month contacting everyone I can think of who might sponsor me and telling them about the challenge I have set for myself. This, of course, includes my family. My sister "Pompey", was the first person to sponsor me on my justgiving web page. The one person I haven't told is my Mum. I've got to admit, I'm really, really afraid to. She's a real worrier, my Mum, and I just don't know how she's going to react when she finds out about all of the running and swimming (particularly the swimming - my Mum, after all, will remember how I singularly failed to learn to swim until I was twelve years' old, despite the fact that she must have paid hundreds of pounds out in swimming lessons). Therefore, I have been in the slightly odd position where, at thirty-six years' old, I have been emailing people and letting them know about what I am doing and asking for their support, but if these people know my Mum at all, I have had to add the appendage "But don't mention it to my Mum - I haven't quite got around to telling her about it yet." It's ridiculous. I am, after all, as I have said, thirty-six years' old. Much too old to be afraid of my Mum and her reactions when she finds out... So next week, hardest task of all so far in the fundraising (apart from possibly getting those .... to print my t-shirts up) is to come clean, 'fess up and tell her what's I'm doing. I don't know how she'll take it. I'll let you know next week.

A Bit Tired...

2008-09-21T11:50:00.001-07:00

When my eldest son was smaller, say about two years' old or something like that, he got into the habit of appending the word "bit" to everything he said. He was "a bit hungry.." or "a bit hot..." or, alternatively, "a bit cold..." Or, he'd been "a bit sick..." (this would be to explain the fact that his bed had been transformed into a sea of vomit after contracting a particularly nasty tummy bug - and I know just how nasty it was because I caught it myself a couple of days later...) This could also be applied to describe things other than his own feelings. For instance, the snail he had just trod on would be "a bit dead..." You get the picture. Anyway, for some reason, describing himself as "a bit tired..." was a favourite of his. (This must surely have been due to the fact that the little bugger absolutely refused to have any daytime naps after the age of sixteen months. Never a big fan of sleeping anyway, after he hit the age of sixteen months, sleeping in the daytime was suddenly a big no-no, and despite him clearly still needing this crucial nap in the afternoon, he would stubbornly refuse to give in and just have the sleep he needed. This led, as you can imagine, if you are a parent, to lots AND LOTS of tiredness related whingeing/tantrums usually culminating in him sobbing plaintively somewhere (too close) to the vicinity of my eardrum "....Bit tired, Mummy.... Bit tired..." And the only solution you were able to offer was a cuddle, because for some reason snapping "Well, go to bloody sleep then," which is what you wanted to do, didn't work.

Anyway, this week, I've felt "a bit tired" myself. In the first instance, I've had a cold. It's not been a particularly bad one, but I've felt it because I haven't had one for a while, and it's the first one (probably of many) of the Winter months to come. As a result of this, I've felt a bit tired and a bit out of sorts and I really didn't want to go swimming one bit on Tuesday night. I mean, like, really didn't want to go. But then I thought, okay, I've got a cold. It's kind of a valid excuse, BUT if I start making excuses NOW, at this early stage in proceedings, I really have just had it. I know myself; I'll make excuse after excuse, week after week, and when the time actually comes around I will just drown in Windermere, because I won't be able to do the swim. So I went and did my swimming session. How is that for commitment? I stand in awe of myself. I actually went.

I did alright as well, if I do say so myself. I was slightly alarmed by how cold the water temperature felt in Pond's Forge. The display in the foyer clearly indicated that the International Pool was 27 degrees. When I got in, however, it felt really, really cold. Which does not bode well, when the organisers of the Great North Swim have indicated that the temperature in Windermere in September (the time of the swim) will be around 15 degrees. (I suppose it might encourage me to swim faster if it feels really, really, really cold). I couldn't swim much slower, that's for sure. Even though I'm swimming in the slow lane, I'm constantly being lapped by other (slow?) swimmers. Still, speed is not important in endurance events. At least, that's what I keep telling myself. (It might be important - It might, for instance, start to matter if I'm still swimming the mile and night starts to fall, or something along those lines, but I'm sure I will speed up. You have to remember, after all, I am very new at this).

I swam twenty lengths, which I worked out (and I never was that good at maths, so I might be wrong here), but I worked it out to be one kilometre (20 x 50m lengths = 1k). I only need to add another .6 of a kilometre to add to that and I've done it! I've done the mile! How's that for progress? I'm still swimming in a bit of a funny way, though, I must admit. I do still definitely need to look into that lesson. I also need to remember to take my wedding ring off before I get in the pool each week. I'm so terrified of losing it that I have ended up swimming with my hand all scrunched up, and this resulted in cramp in my hand last week, as well as being detrimental to my swimming style, which is poor anyway. Still, all these negative points aside, being as I was actually ill at the time, I was quite pleased with myself.

I also managed the running part of the training. Yes, I have fulfilled my quota of two runs per week, this week, despite the cold and feeling a bit tired. There is, I have noted, a serious problem with running in Sheffield. It's so hilly. You just end up running uphill for ages and then following this with long periods of (usually steep) downhill sections. On balance, I decided last week, whilst I was running down Carterknowle Road and my knees were killing me, that I prefer the uphill to the down. I know this sounds strange; and don't get me wrong, I find running uphill very, very hard. However, it's easier on the knees than the long sections of downhill routes. Also, running uphill, I can feel my body working; I'm out of breath, my heart's pumping faster, and, surely, this is all contributing to improvements in my overall fitness? However, on the downhill sections, I feel that I'm covering distance, but I'm barely out of breath and I don't think that it's really doing that much for me, from an improving fitness point of view. One of the very generous people who have sponsored me on my justgiving page this week pointed out that I need to train smarter to be able to gain the necessary fitness to complete the events I have promised I will. He told me that intelligent training will mean that this entire insane project will have less impact on family time, because I'll need to spend less time training, but I'll still be able to do the events, and comfortably. He's right. He's so right. And I don't think that wasting valuable time running down hills and potentially injuring my knees is tantamount to "training smarter". What I need is to find an uphill version of Powder Park.

Now, any of you who has ever visited France during the winter months may have come across a slightly (very) dodgy teen-drama called Powder Park. I'm not sure if it actually originated from France, come to think of it. There is a distinctly American sheen to the programme, so maybe the very glossy, cleancut actors and actresses featured in this programme were actually American with their words being dubbed into French. Anyway, basically, Powder Park was set in a ski resort where the ultra glamorous heroes and heroines and all of their equally glamorous pals snowboarded and ski'd about to various locations whilst performing the business of enacting the dramas of their daily lives. Now the very odd thing about this programme was that in order to get absolutely anywhere in Powder Park you had to snowboard there (or ski) - but more snowboard, because it's cooller (sorry skiers, but it is). That meant that, of necessity, absolutely anywhere the actors/actresses wanted to go was downhill. For example, they'd snowboard down to the pub, have a few drinks, flirt/fall out with each other before snowboarding back down to home again - which clearly must have slid down the mountain in the time it took them to have the few drinks/flirt/fall out with each other in the pub, because they'd snowboarded down from home before... You get the picture. It was all very odd, but quite amusing too.

Anyway, if I could find a running route where I ran up the hill and then in a loop which would lead me in an uphill manner back up the hill to home again, I'd be very happy (and so would my general fitness and my knees). Sadly, I suspect that the laws of geography/science indicate that this might be an impossibility, but you never know. I was rubbish at geography and science as well at school, in addition to being rubbish at maths (and PE - I'm not painting a very good picture of myself here as a school pupil, am I?)

I haven't found one yet anyway. I went out today and went for a fairly level run, but even that included uphill sections and, of necessity, downhill ones too. (Absolutely everywhere you go in Sheffield entails going up a hill somewhere along the way. There are just too many hills). I wasn't going to go far today. I'm up to running around 5 miles distance now in each run and I'm quite happy with that for the moment. After all, my first run, the Great Winter Run is only 3 miles long, so I should be able to finish it comfortably now (I hope - all of this optimism might be ridiculously misplaced, and I might just be setting myself up to fail by even articulating it). After that, the next race isn't until May, so I've got time to build more distance into my training plan. Still, today, I ran six whole miles, which I was really pleased with, because it's around 10k, although it did take me a long time. Which leads me back to training smarter in order to save time. I think, on the whole, I'm just going to have to get a lot smarter at a lot of things (maths, geography, science, training sessions to name but a few) if I'm going to succeed.

Don't forget you can sponsor me now at: http://www.justgiving.com/valderbyshire I would be so grateful for your support for the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Charity, in the meantime, I'm off to lie on the sofa with a gin and tonic because I'm a bit tired...

No big deal...

2008-09-14T12:03:00.000-07:00

The training continues... It's the swimming which is the really hard work. Let's face it, you want to practice running, you can just step out of the door (as long as baby sitters are in place, etc) and go for a run. Swimming is an altogether different proposition. After last week's let down (the pool being too warm when it is normally freezing at Queen's Park), I decided to go to Pond's Forge in Sheffield city centre. Two reasons for this: (a) It's nearer; and (b) it's an Olympic sized swimming pool and so the lengths are fifty metres long instead of just twenty-five metres. (I know, I know, you end up swimming the same distance, but it doesn't feel quite so long somehow when you only have to do half the lengths...)

I have to say, apart from getting over Park Square roundabout (otherwise known as Kamikaze Roundabout... Well, to me, anyway) and finding somewhere to park in the city centre, the session went much better. I managed to swim sixteen 50m lengths and I did fifteen without stopping, which I was pretty proud of. It was actually quite hard, because there were several people lounging at either end of the pool, so to turn around without splashing them/sinking to the bottom of the pool was quite hard. I kind of floundered about a bit at each end until I'd managed to turn myself around. Also, even though I was swimming in what was clearly marked "Slow Lane" people were still overtaking me. Surely they should have been in the fast or medium lane? There's no need to swim in the slow lane just to make the real slow coaches (like me) look bad. Also, and this is the final negative point, I've realised that there's something a bit funny about the way I swim. I swim breast-stroke, and yes, it's slow, but it's all I can manage. Sadly, I don't even seem to be managing this properly. One leg seems to be doing the right thing, but my other (my left leg) does something a bit odd and twitches about a bit as I go. Sometimes I even completely misjudge the kick with my leg and splash it out of the water with a great crash of water (Usually going into the person behind me's face). I'm not going to be popular, plus I'm not going to be swimming very efficiently if I don't correct this. I may try and see if I can get a swimming lesson to try and correct my technique (possibly a private one, if I can manage it - I don't want to revisit my Brownie-gala-swimming-days-unfortunate-youth and get laughed out of the pool by a bunch of eight year olds again.) My husband says I need to correct this peculiar trait my left leg is showing in that it mutinies against what it is supposed to be doing. He says that if I don't, they'll all start calling me names at Pond's Forge now that I've started going regularly. He said they'd all be saying "Oh look, here comes Flipper again." Yes, thank you for that, thank you very much. Still, all in all, I was feeling pretty pleased with myself when I (with some difficulty in walking again) managed to get out of the pool, UNTIL I went into the changing rooms. Once there, I was cut down to size by three girls who were talking about their own planned endurance swim. Not one mile around Windermere. No; they intended to swim to Ireland. My one mile swim around Windermere, well, it's just nothing really... barely worth getting wet for.

And I have to say that I have found this a lot over the past week. That is, that what I'm intending to do over 2009 (i.e. run 64 miles and swim one) really isn't that big a deal to some people. Over the past week, I've been trying to drum up sponsorship for the events I'm going to take part in and over this time alone, I have encountered the following statements when I've told people about what I'm going to do:

"Run the Greats? Oh yes, I did Iron Man at the weekend..."

"Swim a mile? Oh OK I'll sponsor you, but my friend is training to swim the Channel..."

Well, what can you say to that? Apart from politely pointing out that there's a perfectly good ferry service, of course...

Anyway, I suppose it's true. To some people, running 64 miles and swimming one over open water (freezing open water) isn't that big a deal. However, I'm not some people. I'm me. Middle-aged, going grey, got two kids and the flab to prove it, never got picked for the teams in PE, (in fact, to be fair, spent quite a lot of time unaccountably absent from PE; absences which, I have to say, my PE teacher never reported me for, because I suspect she was as relieved as I was at my absence from these lessons), me. Everything about this is a total challenge to me. Finding the time for the training, staying motivated enough to do the training when the children wear me out sometimes. It's only going to get harder over the winter months and then later on it will be a wrench taking the time away from the children to travel all over the UK to take part in these events. Plus I've got to persuade my husband to do all that childcare for me, because I won't be there like I normally am. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. I'm really enjoying it, in fact. But it is a challenge and a hard one for me.

One of the other challenges I've found is the time it takes to concentrate upon the fundraising. I'm making a real go of this. I'm really focussing on raising as much money as I can for the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Campaign. When I first came to Sheffield, my very first (student) house was on Whitham Road, right opposite this hospital. For the entire year of my stay in this house my view consisted of the hospital and one of those thermometer things which they often have outside of churches/hospital to show how the fundraising is going. I can't remember the red bar indicating an increase in funds going up that much or even changing at all. I owe it to the students who are now living in this house to raise enough money to alter their view a little and add a little interest in their lives. (Of course, it could have just been that nobody ever altered the sign thingy - I know that the Weston Park does a lot to raise funds) but, of course, as with all hospitals, if they want to carry on providing the best possible care for their patients AND carry on with their local research which is used to help everyone globally in the fight against cancer, they need more, and as part of this, I've been contacting EVERYONE I can think of to sponsor me. It's been an amazing journey really. I've started by contacting everyone I was at school with. Now I went to a lot of schools when I was growing up, so there's a lot of people (my parents moved around a bit...) So far I've only got to the last secondary school I went to. (Sending begging emails takes quite a bit of time). I've used Facebook to find friends and Friends Reunited. It's been brilliant. I've spoken (virtually, over the email that is...) with a boy who now tells me (twenty years too late, mind) that he had a major crush on me at school. (I didn't think anyone had a major crush on me at school, I was a surly child). It did my self-esteem no end of good to hear that. Two people from school have sponsored me twenty pounds each. Incredible generosity from people I haven't seen in twenty years. I'm amazed at them, I really am.

As for Facebook, lots of people seem to have added me on as their "Friend" just because we went to school together, but actually I can't ever remember them speaking to me whilst I was at school with them. To them I have sent the following email: "Thanks for adding me on as your friend on Facebook. To be honest, I don't remember you ever speaking to me while we were at school together. Well, better late than never, I suppose..." and then I've gone on to ask them to sponsor me. I've not heard anything back yet from any of them, and I wonder if they perhaps didn't take it as the joke it was intended to be... Oh well. Let's hope some of them come through and sponsor me. Perhaps I need to refine my technique for asking. I am asking for money off them after all.

As for other friends, well, people have been amazing in expressing their support, although some people are still inclined to think I've gone slightly mad. The "it's all a mid-life crisis" theory seems to abound. Still, if some of these friends haven't got round to sponsoring me yet, lots have said that they will do some of the events with me. One friend (Lindsey) has taken up running (and she really doesn't like running), but she's going to do the Great North Run with me. She tells me that she went out for a training session the other day and whilst she was running along (painfully slowly) she was overtaken by a couple out walking their dog. A few moments later the dog passed her too, poking her up the bum with a large stick it was carrying in its mouth at the same time. It must have just caught her as it went past, but she took the hint anyway and tried to run a bit faster. Still, it's not put her off. Despite the fact that she's got two kids too and she's just started an incredibly complicated sounding science course at college, she's still taking time out to train. She's going to do the swim with me too, ostensibly, she says, to stop me from drowning, but I think she's a bit worried I might get lost too. My sense of direction is legendary... Well, rather, I should say, the lack of it... Also, she says with the left leg twitching thing going on, I might start swimming round in circles and I'll need her to keep me on course...

Another friend has also offered to join me for the swim. In fact, this friend and I have taken part in an endurance event together before. We both spent a rather unfortunate week in the Lake District with our kids on holiday last summer. All the kids did was whine. All the weather did was rain. You get the picture...

Also, another Lyndsay (the fundraiser from the Weston Park Hospital) has said that she will also take part in some of the runs. (Sorry about the number of Lyndsays in this story, by the way). It's an unfortunate fact that nearly all of the principal characters so far are called Lyndsay/Lindsey. Nothing wrong with that, it's a lovely name; but I suppose it might be a bit confusing for you following the story... Anyway, more characters will emerge soon (my sister for instance, who has incredibly generously sponsored me fifty pounds to complete these events AND definitely isn't called Lindsey).

Anyway, back to my legendary lack of sense of direction. This morning was my best run yet and would have been even better IF I hadn't got lost. I ran up through Ecclesall Woods, up through Whirlow, the Limb Valley to Ringinglow and then back down Long Line/Ecclesall Road/Abbey Lane to home again. It's a total of 5.5 miles according to Mapmyrun.com, but it was probably made even longer by the fact that the signage for the public footpath in the very boggy fields leading up to Ringinglow was very poor. I ended up wandering aimlessly around a field (complete with cows) for at least ten minutes looking for the stile to exit the field. I reckon that added at least another half a mile on. It probably also provided some amusement for the farmer (I could imagine him in his farmhouse - which was at the top of the field - saying: "there be another one of them runners lost in our field again. Give it ten minutes and I'll send the dog to get her out...") In the end, I failed to find the stile (possibly I was in the wrong field) and was forced to climb out of it over a stone wall and through some barbed wire. Just as I was dragging my mud spattered carcass over the wall, a man was cycling past on a bike. It earned me a very strange look, but I was very glad to be out of the field, I must say... Not least because it was so muddy and running on muddy/rough ground is, I found this morning, quite hard. Road running is much easier on the feet. Still, what running through all of these puddles/streams/boggy fields has thrown up is the fact that I definitely need new running shoes. Everytime I go out now, I get muddy toes and it's clear the old ones are leaking. I'm very attached to my running shoes, but it's definitely time to get some more.

Anyway, I've gone on and on again, so I'd better get back to the real business of the day... Pestering for sponsorship. Back to the Friends Reunited page I think... Then onto University alumni... Don't forget, you can sponsor me NOW to complete these events at http://www.justgiving.com/valderbyshire There is a very good chance I will drown in open water on Windermere and you won't have to pay up anyway, so what have you got to lose?

One week since I passed the point of no return...

2008-09-07T13:33:00.000-07:00

It's one week since I passed the point of no return... (the point of no return being the point just after I'd clicked the "send" button on the email to the Weston Park Hospital promising to run nine of the "Great" series of runs and swim one mile over open water (Lake Windermere to be precise) to complete the Great North Swim event, in order to raise some money for their cancer appeal. To clarify, here is the precise nature of what I've promised to do:

The Great Winter Run (5K/3.11 miles) to be held in Edinburgh on 10th January 2009. (Never been to Edinburgh - this is going to be fun).
The Great Edinburgh Run (10K/6.22 miles) to be held in Edinburgh again (going to be visiting there a lot it seems) on 3rd May 2009.
The Great Manchester Run (10K/6.22 miles) to be held during May 2009.
The Great Women's Run (10K/6.22 miles) - I'm not even that sure where this one is going to be held, but it's during June.
The Great Capital Run (10K/6.22 miles) - err.... London? July 2009.
The Great Wales Run (10K/6.22 miles) - It was in Cardiff last year, so I guess it'll be there again. To be held during July 2009.
The Great Yorkshire Run (10K/6.22 miles) - in my home town of glorious Sheffield, September 2009.
The Great North Run (the big one - a half-marathon at 13.1 miles) - Newcastle during October 2009.
The Great South Run (the last one - ten miles) - Portsmouth, during October 2009.

And then there's the Great North Swim - taking place during September, it's one mile over open water across Lake Windermere.

It's difficult to say exactly why I've promised to run just under 64 miles and swim one. I'm not exactly the sporty type. I'm 36 years' old and I've got two kids. If anything, I'm a bit on the flabby side (don't knock it - this could be a serious advantage during the open water event). I wasn't even that sporty before the advent of the two kids and the flab. I was always the last to be picked for the teams in PE. My husband says that I'm having a mid-life crisis (yes, thank you for that - thank you very much). Maybe I just want to do something away from the kids... Something different other than the school run, the hoovering, the wiping noses and bums. Maybe I just want to take a break from all that and do something different. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that I'd seen a girl collecting for the Men's Cancer Campaign for the Weston Park Hospital in Sheffield City Centre and the sight of her made me think about how I never knew my own paternal grandfather because he died of lung cancer when my father was just 18, and how my own kids would never know their paternal grandfather because he died of prostate cancer when my husband was just 21. I don't know but the sight of her made me think that maybe just sticking a quid in her tin and walking away wasn't doing enough. That really, I wanted to do more. And then I had this idea... I'm not saying it was a good idea, but I've always wanted to run the Great North Run and I thought this would give me the ideal opportunity to do it. And then I thought, oh well, if I'm running that one, I might as well run all the other "Great" runs too. (Except when I went onto the greatrun.org website, I noticed they do a Great Australia Run, a Great Ethiopia Run and a Great Ireland Run too. I'm not doing these for three reasons:
a) I can't take that much time away from my children.
b) I can't afford the travel expenses.
c) My passport has expired).

Then, just as I was completing my online entry for the Great Edinburgh Run, I noticed a box asking if I'd be interested in completing the Great Swim event too, and before I'd known it, I'd clicked "yes" and "send". (Now, I really don't know what I was thinking of here. I can't swim very well in a pool, much less over open water. Also, I swim like an old lady - very slowly, refusing to get my face wet. I've always swum this way. I have a distinct memory of entering a Brownie Swimming Gala once as a child and knowing for the briefest instant what it was to be winning and have no-one in front of me, because all of the other brownies had finished their race and got out of the pool). But, hey, I thought, I can practice. A whole year to practice for that one. And, anyway, I'm sure they would come and fish you out if it looked like you were in trouble. It would be bad press if anyone actually drowned during the event. Anyway, whatever I was thinking, as I was saying, I have now promised to do these events and so I've got to do them.

My first training session, to be fair, didn't go great. The problem with running anywhere in Sheffield is that wherever you go, you end up running up a big hill. I ran up Abbey Lane, through Ecclesall Woods to Ecclesall Road. That's one big hill. It took me a long time and my legs were burning by the time I made it up there. I didn't even run all the way. I had to stop and walk some of the way. Even when I'd made it up to Ecclesall Road, my pride took a further blow when I was overtaken by a pensioner jogging past (albeit a very sprightly looking one). I tried to console myself that I'm training for endurance events and am thus entitled to go slowly. Plus, I did, after all, feel like I was having a heart attack at the time, which was slowing me down somewhat. I could have sworn the pensioner was laughing at me too (I mean, who has the energy to jog and laugh at the same time - there's something not natural there).

A couple of days later (legs still aching), I take my children to the park and bump into a friend I haven't seen for a while, out with her daughters and her friend. Her friend (something of an expert on swimming it seems) advises me that I'll get too hot swimming in a wet suit in Windermere. I don't know about this, I'll have to find out - but I do think that perhaps the friend swims a bit faster than me. After all, she told me she could swim a mile in just under an hour. At this present moment in time, I have every confidence I can swim a mile in just under a day. Plus, I'm no expert on open water swimming (at all), but I did go and have a paddle in Coniston Water during a hot August day once and it was so cold that I couldn't feel my toes for the rest of the day. And I do have a sneaking suspicion that Lake Windermere during September is going to be Baltic.

However, knocks to confidence aside, my second run does go better. I run just under three and a half miles and I don't feel too bad at all. (I've cunningly chosen a flat run this time). I was feeling really positive about the experience until I ran past the display window of Staybrite Windows on Abbeydale Road and noticed in that highly polished surface that there was an old woman wearing exactly the same clothes as me, also out for a run. It took me a couple of moments to realise that that bent-backed old woman hobbling along at a pace barely faster than a slow walk was me.

My first swim training session isn't exactly confidence inspiring either. I have not been swimming since before my first son was born (who, coincidentally, started primary school this week). I went to Queen's Park in Chesterfield because the water is always freezing there. Sadly, this time when I go, they've turned the heating up and it's actually quite temperate. I swim eighteen lengths of the 25m pool (Nowhere near the 64 lengths I'll need to be able to swim to have completed the equivalent of a mile). Also, I have to say, during that final length when I realise I am incapable of swimming even one more metre, I am on the point of drowning. I keep going under the water, I'm so exhausted. When I get out of the pool, I can barely make my legs work, the muscles feel so tight. Flopping about like some great ungainly seal (without the swimming ability, obviously) I somehow manage to stagger off to the shower. It's at this point that I ponder the fact that (a) I'm nowhere near making the distance; and (b) crucially, I'm nowhere near swimming the distance without stopping to grab onto the bar at the side of the pool and gasp for breath. There isn't going to be any comforting bar at the side of Windermere, and I'm going to have to be able to do it without stopping. I'm very grateful I have a whole year to train for this.

During this first week, it's my wedding anniversary. Coincidentally, we got married in a hotel next to Lake Windermere. The highlight of the wedding, according to our twelve guests (except my mother who was worried about her hair style being ruined by the breeze) was a champagne boat ride around Windermere. I wonder if this is a providential sign at all. Or maybe it's just a comment on the circularity of life. I got married there and I'm probably going to die there next year too, if my inaugural swim was anything to go by. It's our fifth wedding anniversary ("wood" - oh, and yes, the mathematically minded amongst you will now be saying, hang on, hasn't she got a son who's just started school and therefore must be around five years' of age? OK, so there were thirteen guests at the wedding). I buy my husband an apple tree for his allotment and then due to a severe shortage of places to hide an apple tree in in our house, I give him his present a day early. He buys me a book "The Complete Guide to Endurance Training". Must read it.

On the Saturday of this week, I go to work. (I work for a bookmaker taking bets over the telephone). It's not the job I thought I'd have, but it fits with the children. During my lunch hour I pop out to look for a suitable T-shirt which I can have printed up with the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Appeal Logo and have all the dates of my runs/swim printed on the back. I look in all the usual places. All the best sports shops. I even look in just general women's wear shops. Everything's too expensive and somehow not quite right anyway. Everything's got huge logos on it and brand names on it. In the end, I find just what I'm looking for in the British Heart Foundation Shop. A second hand plain red t-shirt which I intend to have printed up and a blue one for training in. They're great, they cost me three hundred and seventy five English pennies for the pair and the British Heart Foundation benefitted too. Everyone's a winner.