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.....................