Sponsorship update

Very late update (I promise I will eventually get the race day blog completed).

I ended up raising just over £2000 for Baby Lifeline. I would like to thank everyone kind enough to donate - specific mention should go to my company for a matched giving donation of £250, my work colleagues who donated over £200 through a mufti day and the Princess Victoria who donated £150.

Sponsorship update

Against a background of credit crunch, global armageddon, financial insecurity and Comic Relief nicking possible donations the fund-raising is progressing as well as I can expect. There is over £700 donated on the JustGiving site (http://www.justgiving.com/pauls-flm2009), I am hoping for a decent pledge from one of my suppliers at work, my mate Ed Walters is running and raising funds on my behalf (currently around £300), a recent MUFTI day at work was on behalf of BabyLifeline that should raise around £200 , The Princess Vic has pledged £150 (though I haven't seen this yet and I have dissappeared from their website) and quite a few friends and colleagues have pledged to donate when they pull their fingers out / remember / await pay day. Please spread the word - I'm doing this for the babies!

Nailed it or Blood, sweat and screams

It's the morning of the big one - 22 miles. Friday night I organised all my gear and the plan was for Claudia to wake me up with one of her sky-ripping cries that mean "I'm awake, time to feed" sometime between 5:45 and 6:00am as is her way. Saturday morning and I hear a little whimper at 4:30am but it passes and I drift back off into my dream (something about an old friends wedding, Tina, and me punching an even older friend, Trevor Brown, because he pushed my donkey over and laughed). Then there it is Claudia is awake and she wants her milk, aka Sharon's breasts. I look at the clock and it is 6:25. You can't rely on anyone these days. Five minutes later I have my shorts on and I'm downstairs preparing my breakfast, Cheerios, skimmed milk, a banana and an isotonic drink. Next it's vest on, this is my new race-day vest I'm trying out, feet gelled, socks and trainers on and 15 minutes of stretching as per my physio-terrorists orders. I now have 10-15 minutes to let my cheerios and banana settle and watch Sky Sports News in which time the rest of the clan have decided to get up. My rest then consists of getting Sharon a cup of tea and having to explain every piece of equipment and give it a human name to George. Howard the mp3 player, Barry the belt, Lucy the carbo-gel and so on. At about 7:10am I am kitted out and out the door for the second longest run I have ever done.
The plan is run from Shepherds Bush through Holland Park and Notting Hill into Hyde Park then 4 laps then home - sounds easy. The weather is fairly perfect for running, overcast and there is a wet mist hanging in the air although this does make it a little cold to start with as I am running only in vest and shorts for the first time this year. As I cruise up Notting Hill I have now warmed up and am feeling good. After around 25 minutes running I enter Hyde Park. At this time in the morning there are very few people, mainly runners and a few walkers. It's a lovely feeling to have such a large park practically to myself. As I pass the Albert Memorial and head toward the Household Cavalry barracks a group of 6 horses canter past. As I reach about 5 miles I am aware that this is where my calf tightened last week, paranoia sets in immediately and for the rest of the first lap I am waiting for something to go wrong - fortunately nothing does. I head into the 2nd lap at a good pace and feeling good I am already saying to myself "after this lap I'm half way". The weather is still good, warming up slightly and the mist is clearing. the park is still relatively empty, no cafes open, Speakers Corner speechless and tourists still tucking into their full English at the hotel. I have 3 carbo-gels on me and 2 small bottle of isotonice lucozade. On the second lap I allow my my first gel at 8 miles. Unfortunately I was squeezing the sachet slightly too hard as I ripped the top off and about a third of the gel shot up into the air and landed partly on my leg partly on the ground. I quickly drink down the remaining elixir and carry on. After 5 minutes I do feel a boost, the only down side is the spilt gel has now dried and there are streaks down my leg that look very much like I have "done a Paula" and pee'd myself. As I finish the second lapmy garmin shows just over 10 miles covered, that means I'll need to add a little to the route to clock 22 miles. On the third lap the park is getting busier and there looks like an organised race has started though we do not clash routes. At around 13 miles my calfs do feel slightly tighter but this is to be expected I tell myself and the occasional twinge in the knee/hip/ankle I ignore. I hit 14 miles and take another gel this time completely orally. These gels are really good and the make I've settled on are fairly watery so you don't need to wash them down and waste water, they taste a bit like unset strawberry jelly. I start the last and still feel good overall though have started fantasising about pints of shandy, marmite sandwiches and KFC's. As I complete the final lap I decide to add the extra mileage necessary in the park so start another part lap. By now it's around 10:00am and the park is getting busy, the sun has come out and so have the tourists all of whom seem fascinated by blossom! I run passed the Albert Memorial for a final time then up passed the Diana memorial then head toward the exit as the garmin gets up to 19 miles. As I leave the park a helicopter thunders over head and lands in the gardens of Kensington Palace, don't really know why I've mentioned this just thought I would. I finish my last gel and have one sip of drink left. I am really feeling my legs now but just tiredness not injury as I stumble-run down through Notting Hill. This down-hill stretch is probably a god-send but I don't really notice it! As I get to Shepherds Bush Green I know there is only a mile to go which spurs me on. Uxbridge Road has come to life now with most shops open quite a few people milling about. Finally I reach the Princess Vic and turn right into my road for the last few hundred yard or in metric the last few hundred metres. Just under 3 and a half hours after setting off I reach my front door. I ring the bell and hear George charge like a small bull elephant to look out of the letter flap and shout "Daddy's back, come in garden with me". Sharon opens the door, looks at me then says "Urrr, oh my god, are you okay, oo my legs are going". Just then the neighbours come out, Ed says "Is that what I think it is" and Marielle just screams. It is now I follow there stares to my chest covered in my rather snazzy Ron Hill running vest, white with orange detail. However a third colour had been added - red, in 2 patches where my nipples have been rubbed raw. It looks like a couple of gun shot wounds.
The neighbours disperse, Sharon and the kids go off to the farmers market and leave me to tend to my wounds and shower. After 20 mins I have showered and dressed and feel amazingly good. Calfs are a little stiff as expected but everything else is fine, not even my nipples hurt - miles of training have toughened them up. So after putting my vest in a bowl of vanish I hobble off to the market to meet the family. That's it, that's the biggy done and it's the longest I have ever run continuously as during the marathon last year I had to walk a couple of times from 19 miles. Now the taper starts, same intensity when training but reduced mileage. All in all a good start to the weekend.

Pleasure or Pain?

Quick update on my physio session. For anyone who read last years blog they will recall that I use a German physiotherapist called Romy. She is excellent and last year diagnosed my stress fracture, recommended a great consultant and worked on my legs enough to get me through the marathon, that is why I turn to her when I get aches and pains. Unfortunately there is a price to pay with this physio, I am convinced she works on the rule "No pain, No gain". Romy has the strongest thumbs known to mankind and she's not scared to use them. So yesterday I braved the hippies, crusties, anarchists, soap-dodgers, real protesters and police and made my way along the Central Line and DLR to Westferry. Within minutes of arriving I was in my shorts lying face down on the table waiting for a gentle comforting massage on my calf. How foolishly optimistic was I!
For the first 4 to 5 minutes I managed to maintain some level of conversation, though I was starting to sweat as Romy's thumbs dug further into my muscles. After 5 minutes I lapsed into silence as I was either gritting my teeth or letting out small, high pitched whimpers. For the next 2 minutes this so-called health professional tortured me while telling me about her plans to set up home with her boyfriend, go travelling and have kids. Finally the agony ended, Romy wheeled over the infra-red ultra-sound heat torch thingy-me-wotsit, slapped some gel on my calf and for 5 minutes I had a gentle massage - now this is what I came for.
So I left the physio in ten times as much pain as I had been 45 minutes previous. As I made the 30 second walk to Westferry I heard over the tannoy that all the hippies, crusties, anarchists, soap-dodgers, pot heads and real protesters were leaving Docklands so the police diverted my DLR to Tower Gateway. Eventually after many changes of tube and bus I made it home.
As Sharon and the small people were out I headed up to the shed to do 30 mins on the bike to stretch out the leg. The sun was out and the shed like a greenhouse. 30 minutes and 3 pints of sweat later I staggered to the house dehydrated mumbling about bloody germans, need for drink, leg pain and hippies.

Long time no post!

Apologies readers, well Sticky at least. I'v e failed to update the blog for nearly 2 weeks. Now I could put this down to my ultra-busy work, play and training schedule or a niggling injury but truth is I've just forgotten to. Right since my last post I have done my normal training routine - a couple of runs during the week and a bike session.
On Saturday 26th I set off at 7am for a 20 miler, unfortunately after about 7 miles around Hyde Park I felt my left calf muscle tighten up so for once in my life I did the sensible thing and cut the run short. I completed 10 miles and headed for home. Now normally I would be devastated by this and think it a set back, but thats not how the new Paul thinks! I ran that 10 miles ahead of marathon pace and felt exceptionally good, a 10 miler is nothing to me now which is great. My pace was good and consistent, I felt good from the word go and fell straight into a rhythm. I knew the calf wasn't an injury but simply a reaction to the amount of mileage I had put in over the last few weeks/months. Here's the biology bit - all the impact of every step of my runs causes the muscle fibres in the leg muscles particularly the calfs shorten and tighten. Eventually parts of the muscle effectively ball-up into hard knots. Now if I had been a model trainer all the way through this may not of happened, but I must admit I don't do enough pre or post run stretching to pull the muscles back into shape and on Saturday they told me so! When I got home I dd the requisite stretching (horse / gate / bolted - I know) then showered.
On the Sunday the calf was slightly stiff but nothing major. On the Tuesday I did 50 minutes on the bike and that helped stretch it out, yesterday was a quick 6 miles with no adverse reaction. Today I have booked a sports massage with my physiotherapist just to stretch out and loosen my legs up and then I'll go for a short run tonight. After which I promise to stretch for the full 20 minutes. This Saturday is my last "big" run, a 22 miler after this I will be tapering down my mileage, storing up that energy for race day!

19, ner ner ner ner 19......

As previously blogged the long run is on Saturday this week due to taking Sharon out for a Mothers Day meal on Sunday on behalf of the gremlins. All up just before 7am, I get George ready and take him down to make his omelette, a Saturday tradition. Sharon and Claudia follow us down. The plan is for me to head off as near to 8am as I can and Sharon et al will meet me in Hyde Park 3 hours later for a picnic. The stress of organising this mammoth logistical exercise seems to take it's toll early - George loses interest in making omelette and instead decided to push Claudia in her walker/Davros control panel backwards into the wall, Sharon screams at George, I helpfully tell her to calm down and George starts crying. Meanwhile Claudia happily glides off smiling. After giving George his omelette I wolf down some toast and jam followed by Lucozade Sport. After breakfast I get changed and try on my new-fangled running belt that holds tow small water bottles and has pouches so I can carry two carbo gels. I think running belts look naff, like tourists wearing bum-bags but over 19 miles I will need all the help I can get. I wear the belt over my long-sleeve top then hide it under my running singlet. Now I just look slightly like a suicide bomber and to top it all the bottles look like hand-grenades, this may not bode well when I run passed the Household Cavalry barracks at Hyde Park later.
After further stressing and arguing Sharon and I agree that I should finish just after 11am and Sharon and kiddies will arrive there around 11 and met me at the main gate. So at 8.10am I set off from the house. This is the first long run when nothing hurts from the word go which is a great confidence boost. The bottle belt feels fine too. As I hit Uxbridge Road the sun is shining and there's not a cloud in the sky, though still fairly nippy. In no time I've crossed Holland Park roundabout and I'm heading up the slope to Notting Hill. It's all fairly quiet, a few early shoppers and a few joggers. Soon I'm turning into Hyde Park and the first of the 4 laps starts.
The run is going amazingly smoothly, I have 2 small bottles of Lucozade Isotonic and 2 SIS Go Carbo gels. I was planning to take a gel at about 7 miles then 14 and sip the drinks as necessary. I complete the first lap without incident and the garmin shows about 6.6 miles gone. As I pass 7 miles I'm feeling fine so I hold off on the gels. The park is getting busier and what I have noticed is that tourists are obsessed with taking pictures of each other standing in front of a tree covered in cherry blossom. At about 10.5 miles I am still feeling good but decide to take a gel. The gel is surprisingly nice - much more watery than others I have tried so there's no need to wash it down with water. The gel seems to work and gives a good boost, though I don' know how much is psychosematic. As I turn in to my last lap I've covered just over 14 miles so that means after this lap I'll have about a mile to go and timing wise I should finish about 11:10am - perfect. I'm holding out on the last gel until the last 3 mile and I've finished most of the lucozade. At about 16 miles I have a near miss with a couple of horses by the army barracks, then at about 16.5 miles I start to hallucinate - I see the two 118 men running in the distance pursued by a fairy in a red leotard, tutu and tiara. After half a mile further I regain my sanity, there's a charity fun-run happening in the park. I complete the last lap and there's 1.1 miles to go. I run down the main strip alongside Kensington Palace checking the garmin so I can turn round with 0.6 to go. I turn round and with 0.2 miles left I spot Sharon, George and Claudia on the path in front of me. I run passed and wave saying "1 min!", Sharon waves, Claudia ga-ga's and George looks confused. A minute later I am walking back up to my waiting family. It's not quite a heroes welcome - George is playing up and whinging, Sharon had trouble parking and George wants an ice-cream. So while I get changed on a park bench, Sharon goes off to the cash point, George drinks most of my Lucozade recovery drink I'd packed in the bag Sharon's bought and Claudia just smiles at me. Finally Sharon's back, George has an ice-cream and we're strolling down to the Round Pond to have a picnic. I scoff down a bagel and some fruit, George eats everything on offer and we feed Claudia. George then runs up and down between us and the pond to watch the ducks. On the fourth trip George gets a bit over confident and in the next second he's sitting in the pond, soaked up to his waist. Luckily it's a sunny, warm day so he runs around naked from the waist down. When it's time to go George doesn't want to put a nappy on however daddy wants him to put a nappy on as thats the only way George will get to be carried to the car on my shoulders.

19 miles done, no injury to speak of, a picnic in the park and all by midday Saturday!

The loneliness of the long distance runner...

This week is one of the heaviest in terms of training. Already done nearly an hour of sprint training on the bike on Tuesday followed by a good 6 mile run Wednesday. Tonight beats the lot, it's a 10 mile run at just under marathon pace. This is the longest mid-week run over the whole training schedule and the highest mileage week once I do the 19 mile weekender.
As we're not into summer yet it's now dark so no point running to the river or to Hyde Park, that means it's going to be 3 laps of my normal route. I decide to try out a new isotonic carbo gel tonight to see if it does help flagging muscles. It's an organic natural ingredients gel provided by my friend, colleague and fellow marathon runner Ian Myfanwy Williams. Last year I used Lucozade gels but this year I'm experimenting and researching. So just after 7pm I hit the mean streets of Bush, mp3 player on, Garmin on, gel pack up my sleeve. The first lap is always the one with most people in my way (as by law I as a runner actually own this route), there's people leaving work, returning from work, drinking after work, shoppers, vagrants, fast food junkies, hoodies and all other demographics represented. Considering I have trained the previous 2 nights I am feeling good, no real incidents apart from mis-judging traffic flow as I crossed Uxbridge Road which led to me having to run down the centre of the road like Rocky for a few hundred yards (or in metric a few hundred metres). As I finish the first lap I check the distance - 3.64 miles, this included the 3rd of a mile to get to the start of the lap so the next lap I reckon will take me up to 7 miles. The second lap is again easy, a few arguments with pedestrians and buses, though I do think it may be me - the endorphins are pumping so I'm on a high and feel no fear or pain. As I complete the 2nd lap the Garmin shows 6.8 miles gone which means the 10 miles should be hit pretty close to the house - excellent. As I start the final lap I decide to try the gel, I rip open the top and discard as I pass a litter bin then take a big suck. It tastes like phlegm mixed with a bit of honey, if I don't feel any benefits I am going to punch Mr WIlliams tomorrow. Fortunately for my welsh compadre after 4-5 mins I do feel a boost. On the last lap I'm feeling good and the people are thinning out. Then I have the incident. As I approach around 9 miles I am running up to the bus-stop at the end of Old Oak Road, 6 teenagers are approaching the other way, all with jeans that start at the bottom of their arses and caps that teeter on the tops of their heads as if they were "teflon-heads". They see me approach and instead of moving into a group they spread out across the path. Little did they realise I am "Runner-Man" fuelled by endorphins and organic gels. They are so confident that I will stop or ask to get through that when I plough straight through I have never heard such a girly yelp. I'm not sure whether it was down to surprise, anger that he had dropped his KFC or fear that his jeans would fall down. By the time they had recovered their deep fried mouse, pulled their trousers up, cursed and adjusted caps to a jaunty angle Runner -Man had dissappeared into the night, well turned onto the A40. As I turned into the run-in toward the house the Garmin was showing 9.92 miles, not bad. I reached the final corner as there was a beep beep beep and 10 miles were completed. This left me about a quarter mile to warm down, perfect. 10 miles completed in 1h 27 minutes which is a pace of 8.42m/miles which is well under schedule. The only down-point of the run, I get into the house just after a kid-knackered Sharon has finished her dinner. By the time I shower and get my food Sharon is off to bed. Once alone I watch Mancester City luckily scrape through the UEFA tie and write my blog, Good night!




FCB - 7 DP - 8 H - 3

Not worth reading........

Got home from work, helped put mini-me's to bed, got changed, run 6 miles, had shower, ate dinner, TV, bed.

No Guinness for the runner

It's Tuesday night, I have the Monday blues as it was my first day back after a long weekend, it's training night, it's mini-me and mini-me's bath night, it's St Patricks Day and QPR are playing at home. All this adds up to not being able to get out early, being hungry, wanting copious amounts of Guinness and not being able to run my usual course due to all 17 of the rangers supporters attending the game. So it's into the shed and a 50 minute fartlek session on the bike. Fartlek meaning "speed-play" in Swedish simply mean for 50 minutes I break up the time with sprints of varying lengths then recovery cycling. The sprints range from 30 second bursts to 7 minute knackering sets, the maximum recovery is 90 seconds so after 30 minutes I am sweating like a fat kid in a sauna wrapped in cling-film. With a final 5 minute sprint I finish with a 2 minute cool down. I think I might leave the shed window open slightly tonight as there is a bit of a sweaty pool on the floor and the windows are steamed up. I wonder if the neighbours talk about the strange nocturnal activities in the shed at number 98?
As the marathon approaches I am getting more concerned about staying injury free so cycling may become one of the regular training sessions to save my joints. Having said this I have just agreed to play football on Thursday nights. The likelihood is there is a high percentage of rangers fans making up the numbers so this may not help my injury-free concept, I may have to rethink of invest in a bigger pair of shin-pads.
As I leave the shed I hear a cheer from Loftus road - is it a goal, is it a sending off, is it a silky piece of skill that has sent the crowd into rapture - no, the teams have just ran out onto the pitch - a highlight these days. To be fair as I write this I have just seen the final score - QPR 1 Swansea 0.

Birthday Sunday

Sunday morning, the morning of my 38th birthday. I woke with every intention of going for a run, a half marathon at race pace. But then George, Claudia and Sharon came in with my birthday card and presents. George very kindly helped me open the card - it was very hard to explain to him the picture of a man with a giant chicken next to him and the caption "This man has a huge cock" so we swiftly moved on to the presents - a pair of CK pants (there's a them here) and an Oakley t-shirt I wanted. I had already had my main present a week or so ago - a new pair of running shoes. George (and Sharon) seemed so excited and happy it was my birthday I decide to treat myself and not go running which resulted in big hugs and kisses from all parties though George then started saying "Daddy not running, not yet, in a little bit". After a nicely unhealthy breakfast of bacon muffin Sharon told me that not running actually mucked up her plans and I needed to get out and let her and George do "something". So around 10 am me and Claudia set off for a coffee and to read a Sunday paper at the local cafe. Half way there the mobile went. It was Sharon asking if I could get something from Co-Op - some vegetable oil, eggs, butter and vanilla extract and also could I bring them straight home then bugger off again. I had a clue what the surprise may be! When I got back to the house George was outside and came running up shouting "Me and mummy making choc-co-late cake, a sup-wise daddy" I had a further clue! After delivering the ingredients, I mean the random items Sharon suddenly needed I was once again despatched off for a coffee. Here comes the birthday coincidence - whilst Claudia and myself relaxed in the sun outside the cafe Eva the bar maid from the Princess Vic came up and asked what I was doing when I explained it was my birthday she told me it was also of the birthday of the girl running the cafe - Eva's ex-flatmate. When I went into the cafe to pay and wish her happy birthday she gave me a large piece of birthday cake. After finishing this with a helping hand from Claudia who kept making lunges for the icing I left for home. Sharon was in the kitchen aggressively beating some butter icing and wondering why the cake she though would take 27 minutes to cook was taking an hour and a half. George had long lost interest and was hitting balls in the garden with the BBQ tongs. Just after 12 we sat down to my birthday lunch and surprise surprise George and Sharon had baked me a special surprise Birthday cake! It was great!

It's that Friday feeling......

My usual routine is running Tuesday and Wednesday evenings then a Friday morning run. Friday morning instead of Thursday or Friday night i) gives my legs an extra chance to recover after 2 hard sessions and ii) means I can drink Friday night. However as I was working from home and Claudia by darling little 7 month old is starting to sleep through I took the opportunity to have a lie in until 7.20am. I then felt a little too guilty to get up go running and then start work in the shed when I had time to help Sharon with the gremlins and eat breakfast as a family before starting work. So no morning run. The schedule showed a fast 3 miler which fitted perfectly. At 1300 I changed my worl profile to Away got changed and went off for a run whilst Sharon killed her brain watching Loose Women and the Gardner juniors napped. The weather was chilly but gloriously sunny. Rather than compete with office workers on a lunch break, mums with prams and Westfield shoppers for pavement space I worked out that a run to Ravenscourt park 2 laps and back would be just over 3 miles. Apart from a "which way is he going to stumble" incident with a very drunk drunk outside the Sun Tavern I mad it to the park at a cracking pace. The park was fairly busy with people enjoying the sun but not too packed as most mothers and babies had gone home for lunch and naps. So 2 laps went quickly and smoothly then back to home. As I reached the front door the Garmin said 3.4 miles and had run a good sub 8 minute mile pace so plenty of time for a stretchh, a shower, to microwave some spaghetti 'oops, (always 'oops never hoops) and back to work.

Will I be on Newsnight?

It's an easy 7 miler tonight and now I'm glad to say 7 miles is easy. I set off just after 7pm and follow the usual route. After all these weeks of running I could probably run this route with my eyes closed. I decide not to as it's very likely I'd get run over within 5 minutes. As I hit Wood Lane it is still quite busy and as I get to Television Centre there is a large crowd queuing at the audience entrance as I run passed I attract a couple of wolf-whistles and at least one of them was from a woman. I run on toward Shepherds Bush Green. Just before Albertines, the local wine bar a taxi pulls up and someone jumps out, they look startled as they see my lumbering toward them and step to one side, it's none other than Jeremy Paxman. I modestly said "Sorry can't chat" unfortunately I think he mis-heard "can't", I wonder if I'll make Newsnight. Heading down Uxbridge Road the fried food and restaurant smells are bloody nice especially from the open window of Al Swarma Kebab House. The grilled chicken and spices mix perfectly with the alcohol fumes pumping out of the White Horse. The rest of the lap is uneventful as is the second lap. During the second lap I acheive my Zen running state and the last 3 miles feel very easy. I get back to the house and all is well, kids are asleep (for now), Sharon has eaten and I've completed another good run.

Move over Dwain

Tuesday night and it's speed training. This is good as it means a shorter session than a long run and Chelsea kick off at 19:45. This is bad as the session will hurt and I have a intense disliking for pain. When I get home there is some good news - George is staying at his nan's, this means I can get out on the run earlier and not worry about missing kick off. However before I can run I must pop round to Sharon's mum and drop off George's 2 frogs (soft toys not live amphibians) and his sleeping bag. When I get there George gives me a hug and kiss, grabs the frogs and says "Daddy do running now, bye bye" then followed it up with "Pull daddy's finger - farts!" before collapsing in laughter on the floor. I've no idea who taught him that. 10 minutes later I am outside the house ready to go. It's quarter mile warm up then 3 1.5 mile fast runs with quarter mile recovery. I use a route that neve takes me too far from the house and there are 2 long straights to make the speed work easier. I use the word easier in it's loosest sense. The first fast 1.5 miles is good and fairly comfortable, after the recovery jog the second 1.5 miles is a little tougher but ok. For the 3rd set I change the route slightly to give me about a mile straight where I can really push it. This is where it becomes hard and I have to really work to push the pace. The last half mile of fast running takes me passed 2 pubs, The Askew which I haven't been in for a while and then the Vic which I have been in recently. Both pubs look amazingly inviting, the thought of a pint of London Pride and maybe some chips momentarily make me smile then throw me into depression as I realise and accept these prizes will not be mine until at least Friday night. My Garmin tells me the fast section is over and now its a gentle jog home. Once home and showered I tuck into my wholewheat pasta and steamed chicken washed down with a diet coke. It's not exactly what I was dreaming of as I passed the pub but I know its what I should have. Now to top it all as I type this blog Juventus have just fecking scored, I'm going to stop now.

A proverbial walk in the park

Sunday morning I wake up and the knee feels fine the rest of me however feels shagged as Claudia is teething and we spent most of the night up and down to her, comforting, feeding and plying with calpol. I think next time Sharon, (who has noticed that her name is usually proceeded with "stressed" in this blog) and myself will simply share the Calpol and have a good old medicated sleep. The whole family get up at an un-godly 6:40am and head downstairs. At least this early start means I'll be able to get out early and Sharon and the sleepless wonders can get to early mass so we'll still have a decent day together afterwards. Whilst I feed Claudia porridge George and Sharon feast on boiled egg and soldiers, I then eat my toast and jam and cheerios, down some orange juice and prepare for my run. Today is 17 miles and I'm going to run up to Hyde Park do a few laps then run back. I'm trying out my new trainers, practically identical to my existing ones so no worries there.
I leave the house paranoid that my knee will buckle or swell to the size of a tree trunk and for the first mile or so passing the fried chicken outlets, co-ops and Polish deli's of Uxbridge Road there is discomfort which really worries me. I decide if it worsens or isn't improving by Shepherd Bush tube I'm heading for home. Luckily bas I reach the tube the pain lessens, this could just be the endorphins kicking in or my pig-headed brain overriding the pain but I carry on. It's very quiet around Holland Park road at 8am on a Sunday, Rupert, Jemima and the little Tarquins are still inside eating quails eggs on artisan granary bread. Soon the run is uphill taking me to Notting Hill, it's not too bad though I glad it'll be downhill on the way home. After just under 3 miles I enter Hyde Park. The sun is shining, the birds are singing and I'm sweating like a pig - I've had a number 1 crop so the sweat from my bald head streams straight into my eyes. Hyde Park is a great place to run, a lap round the outside is 4 miles so it's 3 laps then home. The first lap is quite empty, a few joggers and dog walkers and a mad fat bloke trying to do Tai Chi but falling over every time he tries to balance on one leg. As I start lap 2 the park is livening up, especially a lot more tourists. For about a mile stretch I run with a group of squaddies from the nearby barracks, they then turn off for home obviously aware that they cannot compete. As I pass Speaker's Corner for the second time a few regular speakers are setting up and at 8.5 miles down I open up my carbo-gel sachet I've been carrying up my sleeve. It's a fairly thick sticky orange gel which delivers quick energy. I carried one in the waist band of my shorts for last years marathon and I still have the scar on my hip where it rubbed me. The gel seems to help and I start my last lap with renewed vigour. The park is busy now though the paths are wide enough for everyone and his dog, apart from the fat bloke doing Tai Chi who is now seeing how high he can get his leg up a tree. With just over 14 miles covered I leave the park and head back to "da bush". The next mile and a half is slightly down hill, this is better than uphill but still a challenge as there is more pressure on the knees. It's largely incident free apart from a slight argument with a tourist bus in which I had to rapidly increase my pace for a little bit. I hit the home straight, Shepherds Bush Green and Uxbridge road. Half a mile to go and suddenly there's a massive stabbing pain in my knee which makes me shout out an expletive as I jog passed a line of people queuing for a bus. I press on and the pain goes away. As I reach my house the Garmin says 16.93 miles so it's straight passed the house until 16.97 miles then back down.
I return only 15 minutes after the clan return from mass. I feel good though the calfs are tight and I have dried sweat i.e. salt all over my slap-head and another less comfortable place so desperatley need a shower. George however has other ideas and he "needs" me to play football in the garden for "just a little bit daddy". So my 15 minute warm down is kicking a ball in the garden for my 2 and a half year old son to pick up and throw into the flower beds.
All in all it's been a good morning, eventually I get to have a shower and decalcify my body parts......

A meeting with my sponsors

Thursday and Friday I tested the knee and although a lot better I didn't want to jeopardise my long Sunday run. So I did feel slightly guilty going to the pub on Friday evening and having a few end-of-week bevvies, though not guilty enough to refrain. The key excuse I use in my head is that the pub is supporting me so I need to support the pub. Now as you may recall Matt from the Princess Vic has offered £150 sponsorship. Speaking to Sean (spelling changed to protect the innocent) the bar manager he felt this was a bit tight (I couldn't possibly comment). I then spoke to Matt who seems to have got the wrong end of the stick or boomerang and thinks it's too generous and should be changed to £100 and £150 if I break 4 hours. My opening gambit was £150 and £300 if under 4 hours. At least this way I won't be any worse off if negotiations fail - watch this space.

Hurty knee mummy

It's been a week of highs and lows in terms of training. After the cycle training I awoke on Wednesday with a pain in my left similar to my earlier episode of bursitis. On top of this I woke up with the cold from hell. I stocked up on anti-inflammatories, lemsip and freeze gel was liberally applied (apologies to any colleagues who were overpowered by a menthol whiff in the office). In the evening I helped bath the kids and get them to bed, got changed into the gear and set off for a slow 7 miles. Looking at the GPS I made about 0.12 miles before stopping and gingerly limping home - as think the phrase the medical people use is "my knee was fecked". The rest of the night was spent being miserable, writing this poxy entry and packing my knee with ice...

The Shed vs Loftus Road - no contest

Monday night was a rest night but as my calfs (or is it calves) were quite tight from Sunday's exertions I went out for a short bike ride - Homebase and back to be honest though it seemed to do the trick loosening up the legs. Or so I thought. I wake up Tuesday morning and the calfs are fine but my left foot is fecking painful around the big toe. I think this is a reaction to the Sunday run, the bruising coming out from running on it whilst still recovering from gout inflammation. After anti-inflammatories and ibugel the toe eases off and by the evening feels better, bruised but better. Just in time to be replaced by knee pain. I am a chuffing crock.
I'm due to do some sprint sessions Tuesday however in a slightly inebriated state on Saturday I did tell Dom I would go to QPR with him. Why? I don't know, it was the Red Stripe talking. Why would I, a life-long Chelsea supporter want to dirty my feet stepping over the threshold of Loftus Road. Plus why would I put myself in that sort of danger. So do I go to the footy with Dom (also see my boss Stuart, a QPR stalwart), stand in the rain, pretend to support my west London inferiors or do I head to the shed and do a cycle sprint session (I'm playing safe with the legs). I think about it for a long time, 1 maybe 2 seconds then change into my cycling gear. I do 40 mins of sprint/recovery/sprint (a bit like QPR's tactics) then head down to the house for a shower in time to watch Portsmouth v Chelsea on the internet. At the end of the night I watch the floodlights at QPR switch off and head up to bed.

Training done
Portsmouth 0 - CHELSEA 1
QPR 0 - Norwich 1

Apologies to Dom & Stuart but as you will know The Shed will always be first choice over The Loft

NEWS FLASH.....NEWS FLASH...NEWS FLASH......

A quick entry just to say Congratulations to our friends Nicola and Patrick Bose on becoming parents and a big Welcome to Caspar Narayan Bose who came into this world as I was reaching about 13 miles on my Sunday run

The Weekend (part 2)

So Sunday morning arrives and I stick my head above the sheets. I do a little hangover test, rapidly shaking my head from side to side to check for headache or sickness - I seem to be lucky in that respect. However I do know my muscles ache and I am severely dehydrated. This isn't good when I have 16 miles to go. It's 7am and as we're out to lunch today and Sharon is going to late mass I am in no rush to get out. I am aiming to head off about 9am so I can have a leisurely breakfast with the family. This of course will never happen with a 7 month old and a 2 and a half year old. George is having a boiled egg and soldiers and trying to eat it with his toy monkey wrench and I start feeding Claudia her porridge. Claudia is having lots of fun watching George and his wrench which means she is facing away from me as I try to find her mouth with the spoon. Sharon then comes in with my toast and jam and her egg and soldiers. George then becomes a little angel sucking up to mummy "Delicious egg, thank you mummy" and when I jokingly say I wish I had egg he breaks off the tiniest piece of egg white and says "there you go daddy". After breakfast Sharon tells George that he can have Scooby-Doo on TV once daddy goes running. From this point on George is waving bye to me and fetching me my trainers and mp3 player. Finally at 8:40 I give up and head off.
16 miles along the river today, easy I say! After about a mile I am sweating profusely this doesn't usually start until about 4 miles, I have alcohol sweats. At Hammersmith Bridge at around 2.5 miles I have a stitch like pain which lasts for 10 minutes then subsides. Slowly but surely I get into a groove though I am regretting Saturday's excess. Looks like there was a very high tide last night as the path is wet and areas are covered with plastic bottles and carrier bags that have been washed up. At Barnes Bridge the tow-path is covered in river debris including a decapitated pigeon. 8 miles into the run I reach the marker stone for Richmond Deer Park and turn for home. As per last week the run was clear on the way out but more and more runners, walkers and bikers appear on the run back. This week all seem very friendly. A key feature of the run was the number of dogs throwing themselves into the water this week with owners shouting at them to get out of the filth. Perhaps the early March sun has spooked them. At around 13 miles I am very thirsty and feel fairly drained, this is where Saturday's sins are coming back to haunt. At 14 miles I feel like collapsing and my feet barely leave the ground, I feel disheartened when a geriatric in a electric invalid carraige flies passed me. I think I am delusional but would swear he flipped his middle finger up as he went on his merry way. If he did may his battery run out in the middle of a busy road! I struggle on and then with one mile to go I get a second wind, perhaps as I know I will make it before the grim reaper claims me. I kick on and make it home in a respectable time. The family are still amening in a church so I stretch then shower and watch footy highlights. An hour of so later my family is sitting at the bar in the Princess Vic, I allow myself a celebratory London Pride, small white wine for the lady, mashed sweet potato and chicken for the baby and crisps and apple juice for the boy.



FCB - 8 DP - 6 H - 9

The Weekend (part 1)

I broke a cardinal rule of running this weekend - I consumed far too much alcohol on a Saturday to be at my best for a long run on Sunday. In my defence it wasn't my fault, I was doing it for my children! On Saturday afternoon the Gardner clan and our friends Dom, Polly and Maisie walked down to something called BabyGroove - a private members bar that was set up for kids to ru naround and dance/cry/fight while parents could drink alcohol, essentially a pub/club where kids were welcome (especially as it cost £7 a head for anyone over 1 years old). So from 2.30 to 5pm George and Maisie ran around with 30 other kids, Claudia was passed around some tipsy drunken mums and Dom and myself ruled the Fusball table like the Brazil team and then knocked out a few ankle biters in an effort to play pool. All this was done whilst drinking many pints of Red Stripe. We then got home in time to watch the rugby and drink more beer. By early evening a weaned myself off alcohol as the prospect of 16 miles of dehydrated pain loomed into my mind.....................

Another 4 miles or football?

Tonight is due to be a slow 8 mile run however Chelsea kick off against Juventus at 19:45 and I don't usually get out running until 19:15. I'm getting stronger and fitter on my runs but 8 miles in 30 minutes means averaging 3 minutes 45 second miles, I ain't that good. We put the kids up to bed at about 19:00 but for once Claudia decides to scream her head off. Finally I get out at about 19:25 and I decide to alter the schedule. Tonight becomes a fast 4 miler, I have put the football on to Sky Plus and will start it when I get home, fast forward through half time to catch up and Bob's your uncle, Fanny's your dad's sister I'm back on track. I've left my Garmin at work so I set straight off just with my old stopwatch and my music. I find that I am good at judging my pace now and aim for about 8m 30s miles. It's my standard route and it's fairly empty tonight though I do see several other runners which is unusual. Shoppers are still pouring into the Westfield Centre as I run passed and coming down Uxbridge Road I have a couple of arguments with buses which I graciously concede. I reach my local and now key sponsor The Princess Victoria. The pub looks very inviting, it would be practically irresistable if they showed football! I withstand temptation and run straight passed the pub. I am keeping up a good pace and am spurred on as I know Chelsea have kicked off. I reach the front door and stop the watch. 4 miles in 32 minutes and 12 seconds, that's just over 8 minutes a mile. At the time of writing I've had my omelette, had a load of water and currently it's 1 nil to Chelsea after 78 minutes - I love it when a plan comes together.

15 Miles, pain, ice and pain

So I can do the run at a decent time my lovely wife Sharon decided to sacrifice going to mass at 9.15 to stay at home with the junior clan members and start cooking a Sunday roast. So after a quick breakfast of toast and jam I pull on my running shoes, position the mp3 player, put on the Garmin (which I turned on and left in the bay window so it had picked up the satellites) and leave the house at about 8:10am. There was still quite a bit of pain and swelling in the left foot but I think this more post-gout attack recovery pains than actual gout. In my head I have agreed that if it is really hurting after the forst 2 miles I'll head for home. Two miles in there is some discomfort but not enough to stop me, I just hope I'm not being stupid. The aim is a 15 mile run which will put me back on track after missing 2 long runs though I did manage good cycles each time. My confidence isn't high because of the ever-present discomfort even when not running, so much so that I have wrapped a £20 note and a 50p coing in clingfilm and put it in my shorts pocket - £20 for taxi home should I collapse in a writhing sweaty heap with a snapped toe and 50p so I can call Sharon, ambulance, samaritans or any other service I may need. I head for the river planning to just extend my normal route. By Hammersmith Bridge I think I've generated enough endorphins to block out any pain and hit the tow path on the south side with renewed confidence. I reach the brewery at Mortlake and Richmond Bridge as the Garmin shows 5 miles completed this leaves a further 2.5 miles before I turn for home. Soon I reach the driveway up to Kew Gardens car park. Around here the tow-path becomes very uneven and stoney which does cause a flare up of pain in my left foot. Nearing the end of the Gardens I hit 7.5 miles and turn around. On the way back I run through the car park and the driveway to save my feet. Reaching the White Horse near Barnes Bridge is a big milestone, this means I just have 5 miles left, 10 miles gone. The run had been fairly quiet, I've probably seen 20 other runners. Coming back with the time just around 10am is very different and the worst thing is I seem to be running against the traffic. I come up against several large groups of runners coming in the opposite direction and for some reason there is a pack mentality, running in numbers they seem to dispense with any courtesies to other runners and expect people to move out of the way - runners, dog walkers, ramblers alike. This does mean my shoulders are slightly sore by the time I hit Hammersmith Bridge as after giving way a couple of times I get fed up and plough through the next groups with a steely determination not to give any ground. As I drop down from Hammersmith Bridge and started the final leg I could really feel some pain in my foot and as I wasn't planting the foot naturally it was causing some discomfort in the knee however with 2 miles to go I wasn't stopping. Finally after 2 hours 22 minutes of running I stand outside my home taking my trainers off on my doorstep. After being let in my a stressed Sharon and an excited George I go upstairs where I decide to try an ice bath to ease my leg muscles. If any of you ever think about taking one DON'T, THEY CHUFFING HURT TO BUGGERY. I fill the bath with freezing cold water so that it can cover me legs and I take the plunge. There is an immediate sensation of complete pain, a freezing cold burning sensation. George finds this hilarious and decides a toy boat in the water will help me - it doesn't. George then decides he will further help by washing daddy's back with a sponge - it doesn't. I love my son dearly and this episode proved to me there is such thing as unconditional love, just.



FCB - 3 DP - 4 H - 6 (wa-hay they like me)

Sponsorship update

As per my last post I am not running again until Sunday where I'm scheduled to do 15 miles. So Friday morning I could get up without the trepidation of knowing there was an early morning run waiting to hurt me. I worked from home Friday and come the end of the day I strolled down't to pub at the end of the road with Sharon and the 2 cherubs. As I have mentioned before my local, the Princess Victoria have kindly agreed to sponsor me and advertise my cause on their website/blog. Until Friday the latter had been done but I had seen no sign of cold hard cash. This has all changed. Matt, the co-owner and award winning sommelier and award winning Australian (follow the link) approached me and in his aussie twang asked "So this run, how many clicks is it?". Luckily living in "Da Bush" I speak to our antipodean cousins regularly and I have also read an Andy McNab book so I knew a "klick" was a Kilometre. Unfortunately I was very honest and replied "42k Matt". Matt disappeared off and hit buttons on his calculator and came but offering £3.50 per klick then rounded this up. So I am delighted to announce that the Princess Victoria will be donating £150 to Baby Lifeline.

Many thanks guys.

Tour de Bush

It's Tuesday evening the foot feels practically normal but for once I am being sensible and waiting until it is completely recovered. I think I learnt my lesson last year about over-training and running on an injury. My focus is to get back on track with a long run on Sunday, it should be a 15 miler. So tonight it's time to get back into the saddle and pedal, pedal, pedal. I am set up with my water bottle, various remote controls and blackberry in case I have a cycling accident and need to ring Sharon to come and carry me down from the shed.
I am actually now getting over the boredom of the exercise bike and I think I am now getting into Zen Cycling. The first 30 minutes flies passed so I increase the intensity and the gearing for the second 30. With 10 minutes to go I am really pushing myself and the legs are getting heavy. This is what I need in the absence of running. When I step off the bike I look like I have climbed out of a swimming pool and I am slightly wobbly on my legs. I stagger down the garden path swathed in a cloud of steam and pull down the handle of the patio doors. As I open the door there is a scream - Sharon had forgotten all about me and was engrossed in a TV programme - it's nice to feel wanted!

Back in the saddle

So as I wrote (or did I blog? is there a difference? wow, I'm becoming an existential philosopher, or is it a twat?) yesterday there was no chance of a Monday night run to test the foot. I had an important appointment with Father John to talk Baptism and stuff. Sharon and myself attended the last baptism class and the good news is Claudia is booked in for her Exorcism on Saturday 25th July. We got back home about 9:30pm and true to my word I changed into training gear and headed up to the shed. I decided on a hard and fast 45 minutes cycling rather than a normal hour session so off I rode while watching Nicholas Cage and Christian Slater take on and defeat most of the Japanese army in World War II. It's amazing how screen violence, guns, explosions, tanks and death make a training session fly by. After 45 minutes I had covered nearly 30 kilometres and was sweating like a fat boy in a cake shop. It was then back to the house, cool down, shower and to bed. Great news is Claudia slept all the way to 4:30am.

Stop Press: True to their word The Princess Victoria pub have added an article about my fund-raising to their blog site. Many thanks Matt, James, Shaun et al. Now I just need to negotiate a sponsorship amount from them or at least a discount on the Guinness. I must also apologise to them for the hit their sales figures must have taken since I've started training particularly on the pork scratchings. I will be making up for this post-April.

Road to Recovery

It's now Monday and I think the foot is probably good enough to run on again. Sunday was unfortunately another missed long run, instead I had to settle for one and a half hours on the exercise bike. So it was up at 7am with the kids and down for breakfast. Sharon was taking them to early mass so needed to be out the door by 9am or feel the wrath of the big man upstairs. When Sharon and the little people left I headed to the shed/gym/office. Soon I was in the saddle watching a combination of Something for the Weekend and Sky Sports New occasionally broken up by Absolute radio. Once again the bike ride was extremely boring, the most excitement coming from listening to the 2 squirrels having a fight on the roof then one jumping off only to be chased by our cat Lula. I went through the normal stages of saddle soreness - slight ache, tingling, creeping numbness, conversion into a hermaphrodite. Although boring the exercise is good, I cover around 50 kilometres and exercise muscles that running doesn't so much. I can't believe rather than sitting and cycling in a fairly comfortable shed with water bottle, TV, radio etc I really miss not being outside running by the river or Hyde Park for 12 gruelling miles.
Good news is I now feel ready to run again, bad news is that tonight is Baptism Class!!!!!! We're hoping to get Claudia christianed this summer, Sharon so she will be brought up in a faith, myself so we can have a big party and get drunk, Claudia get lots of pressies and it'll double as a birthday party for her. I am starting to question my own values! So between 8 and 9pm tonight I will be sitting in the Presbytery with a group of parents and Father John (arse, feck women, drink) talking about why we want our children baptised and what it means. I think we may stick with Sharon's reasons for this session. My plan is to do an hour on the bike after the class and start running again Tuesday night. Wish me luck.

Injury Update

This gout attack is taking slightly longer to go than previous attacks which is chuffing frustrating. It's now Thursday and I am still having to work from home. Lucky Git some people may say but I don't think so. On the plus side I am getting a shed load of work done, on the flip-side I am going stir crazy and it does help meeting face to face when discussing certain issues. The foot is a lot better just slightly swollen and too sore to walk in a shoe. I am hoping by Sunday I will be ok for the long run. For the last couple of nights I have been doing 30 minutes on the exercise bike and some upper body weights so I am still ticking over.

I'd also like to say thank you to all the people that have mailed, commented or donated and provided me words of encouragement to get through this injury - it is greatly appreciated.

Worse than child birth!!!!!

When I ran on Friday there was a slight pain in my left foot when I started which I optimistically put down to the crappy old mans shoes I am currently wearing to work hurting my toes. Unfortunately by Saturday evening I knew and accepted what the pain was. It was a reoccurrence of the dreaded GOUT! I first had gout when I was 19 years old. Over the years I have had occasional attacks but for the last few years it has been good, three maybe four attacks a year usually after a prolonged session of no exercise and too much alcohol. That is what made this attack so annoying. For the last 2 months I have been a paragon of virtue, no school night drinking, healthy eating and lots of exercise. Admittedly I have a drink at weekends but very little now especially as my long run is on a Sunday morning - usually! So Saturday night I went to bed dosed up on deep freeze gel and diclofenic hoping for a miracle. Sunday morning comes and as soon as I get out of bed I know I'm not running. There is an acute pain in my left foot specifically around the joint of the second toe. Sharon takes the kids off to Mass (is gout a god's punishment for not believing?) and I decide to try the exercise bike. After 2 minutes I stop, it hurts too much so I glumly return to the house and resign myself to preparing dinner and not running. By Sunday evening the pain is excruciating, definitely worse than child birth and lasts longer (Sharon doesn't read this blog often so I'm quite brave). I get about 2 hours sleep on Sunday and when I wake up my left foot looks like it's been inflated like a balloon.
Until this point training has been going great but in the last 4 days I have managed to melt my trainers and get struck down by gout. I am sure this is just a blip, hopefully by mid-week I'll be able to get back to training and get in some long runs.

Slush puppy

It's the usual early morning run which is oh such a joy. At about 5am I fetch Claudia from the nursery for a feed and take a look at the weather. It looks like there's been some snow but then some rain, the paths are covered in dirty grey slush. A couple of hours later once everyone is up and the kids are eating/wearing/painting with their breakfasts I set off. The rain and snow has now stopped, it is just very wet and cold. I soon discover that running in slush is worse than snow, ice or rain. Slush soaks your feet, flicks up the backs of your legs and hides dog poo. It's 5 miles this morning along the same route as Wednesday. Once I cover the first half mile and reach Wood Lane the slush has been mainly washed away by the early morning commuters and the running is easy. It's a bit busy running down Uxbridge Road with commuters and shops opening up. Halfway down I need to do a bit of sprint training - whilst most cars avoid the big lakes of slush along the kerbs the buses cannot. Twice I hear the bus engines over the noise of my music just in time to hit the accelerating and avoid being engulfed in a tsunami of dirty water and feck knows what. The rest of the run is fairly incident free - a few near misses with pedestrians and cars and a little argument with a lamppost I failed to notice. Another 5 miles completed I reach the front door, take off my shoes and socks and head for a shower. Then it's off to work which fortunately only takes me 30 seconds - I'm working from home today, my run is done - I can have a drink tonight. Life is good.



FCB - 5 DP - 3 visible H - 1

Slip sliding away.....

As I walk home from work I notice that the roads are fairly clear but the pavements are a bit hit and miss. The main walkways seem clear though there is lurking black ice but the smaller side roads and pavements still have long stretches of snow and ice. My runs are mainly on larger paths so I decide I will run. It's 5 miles tonight and my route is sorted - an extension of my normal run taking in the lawless lands of Acton which makes me slightly nervous. So at about 19:30 I am out of the door and heading down the road and I mean road as the first path I would have to negotiate has 2 inches of solid ice over it so I take my chance with the slush and the buses. After a couple of minutes I reach the A40, I forgot when I set out that the path along the A40 is little used and definitely not gritted so for the first half mile I run-slide-stumble-run until I reach Wood Lane. It's fairly plain sailing for a while on major paths although there is the occasional need to take to the road for safety. As I pass the Princess Victoria (still no news of sponsorship - boo!) I have to move out into the bus lane as the paths are sheer ice. Suddenly a snow-ball lands about 5 yards to my left, it's a group of kids outside a refugee/battered wives/asylum house looking for victims, fortunate for them I am on a training schedule or a would divert and unleash a 6-pack of whup-ass on them. I sprint across the traffic junction narrowly avoinding an Audi A4 because the twat of a driver was indicating right but went straight on, I'm findig it hard to maintain cool and leave the 6-pack unleashed. I enter Acton and turn up passed the Park health club. This is a testing little uphill stretch, tonight even more testing due to the ice. I find myself running on the spot so move onto the road. With about a mile to go I am back on the A40 and picking the best path through the glacial surroundings. The run is over and that was actually my easiest 5 miler, the training is paying off. Back indoors for shower, food, tidying up and getting ready for this evenings child sick.



FCB - 5 DP - 2 visible H - 2

Dancing on ice....

There's been no further snow today but the snow is wtill think in places and most of the pavements are now ice-runs. I am due to do a 4 mile fartlek session tonight. This concentrates on short bursts of speed then recovery. How the 4 miles is split is up to me, basically pick a landmark and run for it then recovery jog. After putting the kids to bed I look outside and immediately see that running tonight especially a speed session is a recipe for a broken ankle or at the very least a sore bum. I need to get some sort of training in as since the Sunday 10 miler I have had a roast dinner plus too much wine and a Chinese as a reward for all my hard training and dstrict eating. So it's up to the shed for a 35 minute fartlek session on the bike. I have my padded pants, water, phone and TV remote - I'm ready to train. The session is similar to the running but more intense bursts of energy. Over the 35 minute session there's a couple of minutes warm up, then 2 minutes as fast as I can, then 1.30 minutes normal cycling, 30 seconds intense and so on. Basically I make it up as I go along, the longest fast sessions being 3 minutes and the longest recovery 2 minutes. It is surprising how intense this session is. After 35 minutes I am knackered and the shed windows have steamed up. I dismount and step into the garden. It's looking very scenic, lots of undisturbed snow and then a plethora of foot-prints, paw-prints, snowmen, hand-prints and snow sculptures. For some reason George and his little friend only bothered playing in the bottom half of the garden, Back into the house for a shower, steamed salmon and blogging.

Zen and the Art of Running

Sunday come's round again and it's a 10 miler along the river. As always however carefully planned, come Sunday morning and it's a stress. Sharon needs to go to mass, George doesn't want to, I'm running, we have friends Dom, Polly, Maisie and Kate the dog coming to Sunday lunch which I'm cooking. In the end I get up scoff down some muesli and I'm out the door at about 8:20am. 10 miles should be about 1 hour 30 mins and I want to be home by 10am so Sharon can get ready for 11am mass with Claudia while I look after George and start peeling potatoes. I seem to always set off on the long Sunday run stressed and not in the right frame of mind and the first half mile is a struggle not helped by the freezing wind and the light snow. I made a conscious decision before the run to run slower at the prescribed pace and I do. Suddenly I'm running along the river, three and a half miles covered and I am feeling great, running with a smile on my face and no stress of worries. Have I reached enlightenment? I have entered a Zen state of running. I carry on along the Thames until I reach the Stag Brewery at Mortlake which is unfortunately about to close after brewing beer since 1487 when it was part of a monastery and the great Ship pub. This is the halfway mark so time to turn for home. I am still feeling great and know the next five miles will be easy. On the way back there are more runners emerging and the snow is getting more regular. A lot of runners seem to be happy today and there are more nods, smiles and hellos than ever. I reach Hammersmith Bridge and realise that there is only two and a half miles left, this actually dissappoints me as I'm enjoying the run and fancy going on further. However I am a devout family man and know I need to get home for Sharon to confess her and our collective sins and for me to "slam in the lamb". That's not innuendo or metaphor, we're actually having roast lamb. As the Garmin beeps for reaching 10 miles I am about 50 yards from the house and I'm home in plenty of time for Sharon to say hello to the big man upstairs ( although I think I am now buddhist after my Zen experience today). Within 20 mins I am showered and backdownstairs getting the dinner ready. By 1.30pm God has been appeased, the sacrificial lamb slaughtered (by Mr Tesco) and roasted, Dom, Polly and Maisie avec Kate the Dog have arrived and I am regailing my enthralled audience with tales of my adventures by the riverside. Even after a full demonstration of the Garmin I am still unable to make Polly believe it works by picking up satellite signals and Polly would be much more comfortable if I had told her it had fairies inside it.

ps. Happy first 6 months Claudia, love you lots


FCB - 5 DP - 2 H - 9

Health scare and flat batteries

Friday is supposed to be a nice easy early morning run. However all day Thursday I had been feeling the effects of upping the training on the Tuesday and Wednesday and to be honest I was knackered so getting up early to run before work on Friday was not appealing. I needn't have worried. At about 4am I brought Claudia in for a feed and by 4:45am it was clear she was not well and not feeding, so following the Dr's advice it was time to take her to hospital. So instead of getting up at 6am for a run it was a case of everyone up at 5am. Gratefully by later Friday morning Claudia was doing much better.
So no run on Friday due to both tiredness and illness.

On a serious note of which this is probably the first in this blog an incident like this does make you realise how important your kids are to you and reinforces to me that I am running for the right ype of charity this year.

Cold, wet and miserable

It's a fairly long mid-week run tonight - 7 miles and I am not looking forward to it. Claudia and George have been to the Dr's and it looks like George is getting over an infection but Claudia still has an infection that has turned into Brochialitis. This means she has a really nasty chest cough and her chest is dipping slightly so we need to watch her closely and if it gets worse it's a trip to the hospital. This means feeding and bedtime has been a bit fraught, we're both anxious and an hour plus run is not what I really fancy. To top it all it's freezing cold and there's a heavy drizzle. However I realise these are all excuses and it's a slippery slope - the sooner I get out the sooner I get back. Seven miles is 2 loops of mile usual four mile route (if you can't work it out mail me and I'll explain). To save me standing in the rain I turned on the Garmin early and put it in the bay window, success it has picked up a satellite. Off I set and I am feeling surprisingly good. I can feel my leg muscles slightly from last nights fast 4 miles but this eases. As I reach about 2 miles and hit the Uxbridge Road I feel great but know I'm running too fast and try to relax. I am conscious that it was this type of training session last year - a fast session then a long one that caused my stress fracture. Still feeling good at 5 miles but am soaked through and really fancy a lager shandy (not helped by the various watering holes I pass including The Princess Victoria who are sponsoring me, though I'm yet to see this Matt ;-)). I knock off the last two miles and enter the house. My lovely wife Sharon has decided to wait for me to return so we can eat together, it must be love.

Should I stay or should I go.....

I get home from work to an empty house, no cries from Claudia, no whinging from George, no looks of despair from Sharon. Well if they've left me at least they left the car and the plasma with the Wi. But no, or mais non as they say in France, 30 minutes later I get a call from Sharon. They're just around the corner, have a large glass of wine ready. After an afternoon at a little friends house George didn't want to come home and threw a huge tantrum. This lasted the 20 minutes it took Shaorn and her friend to get him into the buggy and most of the 20 minute walk home. When I open the door to them Sharon is ready to cry, George's hair is plastered to his head with sweat from the tantrum and Claudia is smiling happily. I decide I should probably help Sharon out before going for my run. It's late so a quick round of milk, teeth done, no Peppa Pig, up the stairs, into sleeping bag things, quick chat to George about his behaviour, into bed, Dinosaur story and lights out.
About 30 minutes later than usual I am outside ready for my run. After 5 minutes of trying to pick up a satellite signal I give up. I should be doing 4 fast 800 metre runs, instead I decide to do a fast but not as fast 4 miles as I know the route. Lucky for my blog there was drama before I left as the run was fast, good but uneventful. I return home a sweaty mess, Sharon is better but still fairly stressed, probably not helped by me banging around in the kitchen as she tries to watch TV and relax. By 9:30 after several lapses into sleep on the sofa Sharon goes to bed, allowing my to write my blog, watch the footy and play Football Manager on the PSP. The day ends on a high - Crawley Town managed by Paul Gardner win the Blue Square Premier and are promoted to League 2!


FCB - 4 DP - 3 H - 3

I was right about that saddle son

Sunday morning and I'm scheduled to do a slow 9 mile run. Unfortunately the fates conspire against me and I have a long boring list of excuses that prevent me from going out which you won't want to hear, however as this is my blog you're going to. Excuse 1 - For the passed couple of weeks George has been unwell with some sort of virus he also has a bad cough that makes him chuck up. This has now been passed on to Claudia. So both the children are ill. Excuse 2 - George stayed over at his nan's Saturday night to see if he could get a good nights sleep without Claudia's crying and feed times disturbing him. I had to collect George from his nan's mid-morning so I didn't have time to do a long run and get back for George. Excuse 3 - I couldn't run in the afternoon as my sister was coming up to visit. Excuse 4 - it was chucking it down and I've got no wet weather gear, I'd rather miss a run than get soaked, get a cold and miss a weeks worth. Right that's the excuses, sorry, valid reasons over with. What I did do instead was after a healthy and mind-numbingly boring bowl of organic muesli was head up to the shed and use the exercise bike. This way I could get some training done, watch FA cup highlights and be ready to pick George up.
I decided that I'd cycle for about 1.5 hours which is the duration I would have run for. So off I set, wearing my padded cycling pants as a precaution. I won't talk you through the whole cycle as the scenery didn't change much, the weather conditions were fairly constant and I didn't meet anyone. The first 30 minutes were fine. As I headed into the second 30 minutes I did realise that my nether regions had changed from an uncomfortable tingling feeling to a increasing level of numbness. 45 minutes in and I had to frequently stand up on the pedals to relieve the pressure and get circulation going again. As I entered the final 20 minutes all feeling in my padded pants had gone, it was as if I had been given an epidural. After 90 minutes of cycling I had covered just under 50 kilometres and I could feel that I had been using different muscle groups than I do running. About 30 minutes later after a shower and playing with Claudia while Sharon collected George some feeling came back to my crown jewels. All I can say is that I'm glad I have already fathered 2 children and want no more and that my heart goes out to anyone who competes in the Tour de France.

Pains, Training and Automobiles

As usual the plan is for an early morning run so I get back my Friday night. It's less rushed than usual as I'm working from home so no commute. However nothing is that simple in the Gardner household. The car needs an Mot so I've booked it in for 7:30am. The plan is to drop the car off in Hammersmith and I've worked out a 3 mile route to run home. Claudia (5 months old) is finally getting a bit of a sleep routine, so after a feed at 2am I expect sleep until 6ish. George (2.5 years) has other ideas. George is not feeling well and threw up Thursday night at about 8pm. Then from midnight to 6 I was up 5 times and Sharon twice. That breaks down 4 requests for water, 1 general "feel unwell daddy" and 2 falling out of bed. So after a night where the longest period of sleep was 55 minutes (yes I timed it) I got up at 7 and left the house at 7:20am. It's cold and raining and as I pull away in the car and flick on the wipers I find that the driver-side wiper is broken - must have slipped Sharon's mind as unimportant when I said I was taking the car for an Mot. I drop the car off 5 minutes later. The burly Polish mechanics do give each other strange looks as I step out of the car in my short running shorts and bright red top, hand in the keys, stick in my earphones and trot off. The run is good fun, 3 miles is an easy run and the streets are fairly quiet. The rain is quite heavy and very cold and the main problem is avoiding the puddles and flooded pavements. I reach home just after 8am and while I am cooling down and eating my slice of wholemeal toast the mobile goes off - it's the garage, the car has passed with the exception of a broken wiper which they've replaced. Good news is the car has passed, bad news is that I've just lost my lunch hour - I've got to collect the car.


FCB - 4 DP -1 H- 0