I was lent a 'motivational' book on running to help with my mental preparation for the race.
It was by a man called Dean Karnazes. He is an ultra-marathon man.
Anything longer than the traditional marathon is known as an ultra-marathon, apparently.
Dean runs a lot of these races. He has run across deserts and has run to the South Pole. He has run 200 miles continuously without sleep. I think you start to get the general idea of what sort of individual he may be.
And he is from California. Woop woop.
If you get a bit of time in what is left of your lives, it may be worth a read. If not I shall summarise.
Dean runs a lot.
He puts his body through unimaginable pain and in all likelihood terrible permanent damage which will reveal itself when reaches his older years.
And man oh man - he LOVES that pain. Woop woop.
The more pain the better the gain.
I think the message is that if a regular everyday (ever so slightly mad) dude like him can run and run, well, just about anyone anyone can. The pain is just pain and can be mentally over-ridden. A marathon is for breakfast (and yes he does sometimes run a marathon before breakfast).
There is something in here I'm sure, but I am not sure how motivational I found it to know that, as far as he is concerned, a marathon on it's own is a bit wimpy.
Real running starts where 26.2 miles finishes, he says.
Perhaps I should do a lap of honour when I finish then ?
Maybe better if I just run for another 100 yards or so once I hit the finishing line. That must then qualify me as an Ultra Marathon Man under their rules ? Cool, man.
Alternatively, if you are inspired to run 100 miles instead, and become a proper runner, have a look here http://ws100.com/.
Dean's run this one a lot. You get a free belt if you don't die.
Woop woop.
Monday, 30 January 2012
Enter The Dragon
It is the Chinese year of the Dragon. Singapore was celebrating for many days whilst I was there.
It is a auspicious year in the Chinese horoscope.
Good fortune for all.
I hope so. I am beginning to think I may need a hand from Lady Luck.
I failed miserably whilst in Singapore to train. A combination of terrible jet-lag with high temperatures and humidity stopped me punishing myself by running.
But I now feel guilty.
I have 13 weeks to go until the Marathon. All the training schedules tell me I should be running further and more frequently than I am.
Are they just being over cautious ?
As a lifetime non-follower of rules and strong advocate of going the opposite direction to the crowd, the voices on one side of me say...
"Don't panic Steve. That just them setting unrealistic guidelines" (much like all that nonsense about 20 units a week, and sell-by dates...)
but the other voice says
"Why would they do that Steve ? This is different, this is about getting around in one piece you dum dum."
I am training, I am doing well, and I feel pretty good. I am a stone lighter than I started.
"You are doing well Steve - keep up the good work...and you look great."
The first voice is still winning the fight. Phew.
I am sitting here having a large scotch whilst writing this, might have another now I know it's all okay.
I shall console myself that there are probably hundreds of prospective marathoners in the same boat at the moment,
"Yes that's right, precious. Lots of us in the same boat."
All is well.
"Keep calm, don't panic. The dragons are watching over you."
Go on then, bartend, make that a large one.
Monday, 9 January 2012
Outdoor sauna anyone ?
I am off to Singapore on business this weekend.
I have always loved it there. It was my first 'proper' business trip many years ago, and I spent a prolonged period there in the 90's. It was the start of a love affair with the place, and I am lucky to still have reason to visit regularly now.
I would recommend anyone to take a trip at some point in their life.
I shall be packing my running gear this trip so I can take some runs along the Singapore river early in the morning before work, and indeed before it really heats up.
Singapore is equatorial in climate. It is a constant temperature all year round. Somewhere between 28 and 32 degrees is typical. And 80%+ humidity. It rains quite a lot too. Proper hard rain.
That will make it a bit like running in a sauna.
Whilst jet-lagged.
It will probably be quite hard going, but I imagine it will be very good for my sinuses and skin.
I don't expect to be confronted by the same conditions in London on 22nd April, but you never know after this 'winter' and with the ice-caps melting at pace.
I think Chinese New Year celebrations will start when I am there so I shall also attempt to upload a colourful picture or two in my next blog.
This does depend on me getting the hang of my new phone which seems to have more technology built into it than I am ever likely to need in my life - unless I choose to launch a space rocket.
It also makes phone calls apparently.
I shall ask my ten-year-old for guidance on it before I leave.
I have always loved it there. It was my first 'proper' business trip many years ago, and I spent a prolonged period there in the 90's. It was the start of a love affair with the place, and I am lucky to still have reason to visit regularly now.
I would recommend anyone to take a trip at some point in their life.
I shall be packing my running gear this trip so I can take some runs along the Singapore river early in the morning before work, and indeed before it really heats up.
Singapore is equatorial in climate. It is a constant temperature all year round. Somewhere between 28 and 32 degrees is typical. And 80%+ humidity. It rains quite a lot too. Proper hard rain.
That will make it a bit like running in a sauna.
Whilst jet-lagged.
It will probably be quite hard going, but I imagine it will be very good for my sinuses and skin.
I don't expect to be confronted by the same conditions in London on 22nd April, but you never know after this 'winter' and with the ice-caps melting at pace.
I think Chinese New Year celebrations will start when I am there so I shall also attempt to upload a colourful picture or two in my next blog.
This does depend on me getting the hang of my new phone which seems to have more technology built into it than I am ever likely to need in my life - unless I choose to launch a space rocket.
It also makes phone calls apparently.
I shall ask my ten-year-old for guidance on it before I leave.
Wednesday, 4 January 2012
Chocolate or death ?
New Year's Resolutions. Always hated them.
People giving up this and that just because the clock trips past 12 on 31st December.
Fags, booze, less weight, new skill, work harder, get out more blah blah.
My answer is the same every year. "I don't make resolutions". No point. I never mean it and therefore won't stick to it.
I think that's normal, by the way.
That, or all my friends and colleagues lack willpower.
In fact, I generally got a bit grumpy with people who said they would give up booze for January. It meant I had no one to go for a pint with. Selfish bastards.
I made it a mission to wave booze under their nose until they cracked. Go on, just the one.
I haven't made any resolutions as usual for 2012. No bold claims.
This year is bit different though. I have a proper target. A real goal.
I have no choice but to change my behaviour. Well, at least until 22nd April around 3pm when I cross the line.
It is now me who is denying myself pleasures.
Me putting my hand over my glass after just one drink, me turning down choccies and pudding, me having beer waved under my nose by grumpy non-resolutionists.
I have to. This is self-preservation.
If I don't do it, it will hurt more, or I won't even make it around. A proper incentive.
I have to finish for so many reasons - pride, achievement, letting people down.
Failure is not an option.
Maybe that's the trick of it.
Maybe I should set up a service next December which people sign up to if they want to give something for New Year. If they fail there is a punishment system.
Obviously the scale needs to reflect the level of failure of the resolution. Eating a biscuit whilst on a January diet perhaps just deserves a small punishment. Forced to watch Jeremy Kyle or go shopping at Ikea, for example.
Clearly at higher levels of failure the punishment gets more severe.
Flagrant drinking after announcing to the World on New Year's Eve that the glass in your hand was the very last drop you would touch forever and ever, clearly being amongst the worst.
Not sure how far to go - would probably need a disclaimer system and legal advice. But in principal I think it could work.
Or it would stop people making pointless resolutions.
People giving up this and that just because the clock trips past 12 on 31st December.
Fags, booze, less weight, new skill, work harder, get out more blah blah.
My answer is the same every year. "I don't make resolutions". No point. I never mean it and therefore won't stick to it.
I think that's normal, by the way.
That, or all my friends and colleagues lack willpower.
In fact, I generally got a bit grumpy with people who said they would give up booze for January. It meant I had no one to go for a pint with. Selfish bastards.
I made it a mission to wave booze under their nose until they cracked. Go on, just the one.
I haven't made any resolutions as usual for 2012. No bold claims.
This year is bit different though. I have a proper target. A real goal.
I have no choice but to change my behaviour. Well, at least until 22nd April around 3pm when I cross the line.
It is now me who is denying myself pleasures.
Me putting my hand over my glass after just one drink, me turning down choccies and pudding, me having beer waved under my nose by grumpy non-resolutionists.
I have to. This is self-preservation.
If I don't do it, it will hurt more, or I won't even make it around. A proper incentive.
I have to finish for so many reasons - pride, achievement, letting people down.
Failure is not an option.
Maybe that's the trick of it.
Maybe I should set up a service next December which people sign up to if they want to give something for New Year. If they fail there is a punishment system.
Obviously the scale needs to reflect the level of failure of the resolution. Eating a biscuit whilst on a January diet perhaps just deserves a small punishment. Forced to watch Jeremy Kyle or go shopping at Ikea, for example.
Clearly at higher levels of failure the punishment gets more severe.
Flagrant drinking after announcing to the World on New Year's Eve that the glass in your hand was the very last drop you would touch forever and ever, clearly being amongst the worst.
Not sure how far to go - would probably need a disclaimer system and legal advice. But in principal I think it could work.
Or it would stop people making pointless resolutions.
Tuesday, 13 December 2011
What did the Trojans ever do for us ?
Running whilst hungover is not in any training schedule I have seen.
It's not very easy either.
Unfortunately, It appears to be a normal part of Christmas season training. I feel a sense of guilt about not training a couple of times a week, so this must continue, but I also am now swimming against the tide of lunches and seasonal drinks and losing.
I decide that Canute could not hold back the tide, nor shall I try.
Instead I shall explore a variety of hangover cures to find out which goes best with exercise the morning after.
There are three, after extensive (i.e. google search) research which seem viable for me;
1. Take a shot of neat oxygen. I understand from medical friends that this cure is used by many junior doctors after a heavy night out. A little worrying, but if it is good enough for a medical professional then it's good enough for me.
2. Eggs, bananas, fruit juice and glucose together replace a lot of the items your body loses when drinking alcohol. I have tried this route only this morning, and I can confirm that I feel quite a bit brighter only two hours after their consumption. I consumed the items separately this morning, so I shall press on with my research and use my smoothie machine to combine them all in one drink next time. At the very least it will give an unloved kitchen accessory a rare run-out.
3. More alcohol. Specifically a Bloody Mary. Apparently the vodka in it in some way 'tricks' the body into absorbing the good things in the tomato juice. An alcoholic version of the Trojan horse - whilst the liver and kidney draw swords to take on Captain Vodka, the other ingredients slip past and enter the bloodstream quickly making you feel better.
My history teacher at school always said that the past teaches us valuable lessons about the present. If the Greeks sacked Troy using this slight of hand, then I feel that a cheeky Bloody Mary in the morning can only be good for me.
There is a fourth option, of course - don't have a drink in the first place.
Sounds the hardest of the lot to me.
Non-starter.
Right, where does one buy oxygen from ?
It's not very easy either.
Unfortunately, It appears to be a normal part of Christmas season training. I feel a sense of guilt about not training a couple of times a week, so this must continue, but I also am now swimming against the tide of lunches and seasonal drinks and losing.
I decide that Canute could not hold back the tide, nor shall I try.
Instead I shall explore a variety of hangover cures to find out which goes best with exercise the morning after.
There are three, after extensive (i.e. google search) research which seem viable for me;
1. Take a shot of neat oxygen. I understand from medical friends that this cure is used by many junior doctors after a heavy night out. A little worrying, but if it is good enough for a medical professional then it's good enough for me.
2. Eggs, bananas, fruit juice and glucose together replace a lot of the items your body loses when drinking alcohol. I have tried this route only this morning, and I can confirm that I feel quite a bit brighter only two hours after their consumption. I consumed the items separately this morning, so I shall press on with my research and use my smoothie machine to combine them all in one drink next time. At the very least it will give an unloved kitchen accessory a rare run-out.
3. More alcohol. Specifically a Bloody Mary. Apparently the vodka in it in some way 'tricks' the body into absorbing the good things in the tomato juice. An alcoholic version of the Trojan horse - whilst the liver and kidney draw swords to take on Captain Vodka, the other ingredients slip past and enter the bloodstream quickly making you feel better.
My history teacher at school always said that the past teaches us valuable lessons about the present. If the Greeks sacked Troy using this slight of hand, then I feel that a cheeky Bloody Mary in the morning can only be good for me.
There is a fourth option, of course - don't have a drink in the first place.
Sounds the hardest of the lot to me.
Non-starter.
Right, where does one buy oxygen from ?
Tuesday, 6 December 2011
Does running make you a Buddhist ?
You may be reading this blog and thinking that I haven't done any running at all. I hardly mention it.
Running, in itself, is a bit dull. I don't mean that in a bad way, but it won't make for very good copy as a blog if I describe every run.
But I noticed something the other day as I was running. It was a beautiful, crisp, winter morning. The sun was blazing down and I was running along a road with a superb view up into the Chiltern Hills.
It was a morning which grabs you, shakes you, and tells you how lucky you are to be alive.
After about 30 minutes jogging I realised that I had spent the time jogging and thinking about nothing.
Nothing at all.
I had cleared my mind completely and just jogged.
I forgot about everything for 30 minutes.
I used to work with a guy who claimed to be a Buddhist. He talked a great deal about meditation and achieving a zen-state by trying to clear your mind of all thoughts.
I think I did that jogging the other morning. I was obviously in state of Zen.
What an interesting thought - I shall ask other joggers whether this is normal for them too.
I saw one woman jogging along the embankment the other day with a cigarette. I probably won't ask her about Zen.
Perhaps I am on the first stage to enlightenment and Nirvana.
Perhaps I can master levitation next ?
If I can, it will make the marathon an awful lot easier.
Running, in itself, is a bit dull. I don't mean that in a bad way, but it won't make for very good copy as a blog if I describe every run.
But I noticed something the other day as I was running. It was a beautiful, crisp, winter morning. The sun was blazing down and I was running along a road with a superb view up into the Chiltern Hills.
It was a morning which grabs you, shakes you, and tells you how lucky you are to be alive.
After about 30 minutes jogging I realised that I had spent the time jogging and thinking about nothing.
Nothing at all.
I had cleared my mind completely and just jogged.
I forgot about everything for 30 minutes.
I used to work with a guy who claimed to be a Buddhist. He talked a great deal about meditation and achieving a zen-state by trying to clear your mind of all thoughts.
I think I did that jogging the other morning. I was obviously in state of Zen.
What an interesting thought - I shall ask other joggers whether this is normal for them too.
I saw one woman jogging along the embankment the other day with a cigarette. I probably won't ask her about Zen.
Perhaps I am on the first stage to enlightenment and Nirvana.
Perhaps I can master levitation next ?
If I can, it will make the marathon an awful lot easier.
Monday, 5 December 2011
Kaiser Wilhelm, Santa Claus and my thumbs
Training in December is not easy.
I am being hampered by three adversaries in my ongoing quest for fitness and weight loss.
Firstly Kaiser Wilhelm.
He is to blame for daylight saving. In 1916, Germany and its allies in WW1 decided to change the clocks so that less coal would be burned by the populace and saved instead for the war effort. Daylight saving means any sensible training must take place in the dark during the winter. This is not only depressing, but also a bit dangerous if your eyesight is as poor as mine.
Secondly, Santa Claus is coming to town, as you may have noticed. In fact, I saw my first Christmas Tree in a hotel reception in September. I hesitate to say, "it comes earlier every year" in case I end up sounding like my parents. But September ? Really ?
Christmas brings severe challenges for the weak-willed glutton - of which I am one. I am trying to lose weight for goodness sake. I went to my first Christmas meal with old school friends and their families the other weekend. The tables were laden, positively bowing, under the weight of Xmas hams, turkey, and assorted seasonal goodies...
And several deserts - including a cake made with two entire boxes of chocolates as a topping. As I note that my December diary has several extensive lunches already slotted in, I fear my waistline, which was showing some signs of receding under the training regime, may not trim down as fast as I would like.
I have also noticed that our house has started to acquire little boxes of After 8's, Chocolate Oranges and Matchmaker's on various surfaces. These items have a direct correlation with the arrival of Christmas, and I almost absent-mindedly find myself dipping into them en route to the kitchen or dining room. Devil's work they are, these nibbles.
Finally, I have had two instances of 'reflex texting' in the last two weeks. This is the instant response to a text from my wife over which only my thumbs have control and my brain does not. It goes something like this, usually around 8pm, when on my train back home from work...
ME : What's for dinner ?
WIFE : Haven't made anything yet been busy with kids
ME : Shall I buy something to cook when I get in
WIFE : It will be too late by the time we eat
ME : I have only had a sandwich today
WIFE : Take out ?
ME : Kebab ?
The last one is the reflex text - I am trying to give them up. But it's so hard. The Government should do leaflets on the NHS.
I am being hampered by three adversaries in my ongoing quest for fitness and weight loss.
Firstly Kaiser Wilhelm.
He is to blame for daylight saving. In 1916, Germany and its allies in WW1 decided to change the clocks so that less coal would be burned by the populace and saved instead for the war effort. Daylight saving means any sensible training must take place in the dark during the winter. This is not only depressing, but also a bit dangerous if your eyesight is as poor as mine.
Secondly, Santa Claus is coming to town, as you may have noticed. In fact, I saw my first Christmas Tree in a hotel reception in September. I hesitate to say, "it comes earlier every year" in case I end up sounding like my parents. But September ? Really ?
Christmas brings severe challenges for the weak-willed glutton - of which I am one. I am trying to lose weight for goodness sake. I went to my first Christmas meal with old school friends and their families the other weekend. The tables were laden, positively bowing, under the weight of Xmas hams, turkey, and assorted seasonal goodies...
And several deserts - including a cake made with two entire boxes of chocolates as a topping. As I note that my December diary has several extensive lunches already slotted in, I fear my waistline, which was showing some signs of receding under the training regime, may not trim down as fast as I would like.
I have also noticed that our house has started to acquire little boxes of After 8's, Chocolate Oranges and Matchmaker's on various surfaces. These items have a direct correlation with the arrival of Christmas, and I almost absent-mindedly find myself dipping into them en route to the kitchen or dining room. Devil's work they are, these nibbles.
Finally, I have had two instances of 'reflex texting' in the last two weeks. This is the instant response to a text from my wife over which only my thumbs have control and my brain does not. It goes something like this, usually around 8pm, when on my train back home from work...
ME : What's for dinner ?
WIFE : Haven't made anything yet been busy with kids
ME : Shall I buy something to cook when I get in
WIFE : It will be too late by the time we eat
ME : I have only had a sandwich today
WIFE : Take out ?
ME : Kebab ?
The last one is the reflex text - I am trying to give them up. But it's so hard. The Government should do leaflets on the NHS.
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