And while we're on the topic ...

of cold baths, lying, guilt and why don't I just tell tri-coach Dara what she wants to hear.

I had my run this morning.  Despite feeling strong and fit my legs were weary.  And I could hear her in my head 'they would be fine if you had sat in the cold bath'.

I have got used to the voices in my head now.  And I spend so much time alone they are sometimes comforting.  But this one had to be quelled.

I got home and ran a cold bath and sat in it for 10 minutes.

And do you know what, she is right, my legs feel great now.  I just wish I could stop eating for Britain.....

First bollocking of the season

Well, it has happened, I have had my first ticking off by tri-coach Dara who likes to occasionally remind me who's boss.

I got back from my long run and, despite forgetting to take nutrition gels with me, had drunk a litre of hydration on the 9.5 miler. And then I had a cool shower instead of sitting in an ice cold bath for 10 minutes. In my defence, although I do know what is expected of me, Dara had not put explicit instructions on my training log and on this day I decided to just have a cool shower and avoid the cold bath as my legs were feeling okay.

Anyway, I got a slight but well deserved bollocking.

Here's the thing. I could lie to her - she would never know. I could tell her that I sat in an ice cold bath (coz I'm well 'ard as she knows) and that I took any number of nutritional gels with me and protein shakes and everything. And she would never, ever know.

So, why on earth don't I?

Blue skies, nothing but blue skies shining on me

So, yesterday's blog got me thinking. I went to the gym and worked out there - muscle building, core strengthening - workout to make me feel really 'on it'. As I moved onto the last machine - one that makes me feel like a really hard core gym bunny - I glanced out of the window and there was the lovely pool. The blue, sparkling pool.

I went back yesterday evening to take Caitlin for her swimming lesson and ended up in the outdoor pool myself. After everything I said, I went and braved it - 'what the hell'.

It was spine-tingling, feet dropping off, hair standing on end, freezing. The first length was just an exercise in remembering to breathe without getting a lung full of water. Controlled breathing - not on your nelly. It felt like someone had punched me flat in the solar plexus. Two lengths later I had gone completely numb and could begin to enjoy it. Well, enjoy is probably not the right word. And this is what led me to write this today. What is the word for enjoying something after the event? As I swam the lengths with blue feet (and probably blue lips) I could hear my mother in my head saying 'It's lovely when it stops'. And this is the point. Once I had swum the requisite 16 lengths (the least I can decently swim before getting out - although I prefer to do double that) and sprung out of the water and dashed to the hot shower, I felt really good.

Nothing can ever beat that lovely glow from feet upwards. It reminds me of how I used to go early morning (6am) swimming in the sea with my family in Sussex and then have a cooked breakfast on the Sussex Downs. Bacon and eggs cooked in the open air- nothing beats it. Cold water swimming boosts the immune system and has many other amazingly positive health benefits. And it gives me an adrenaline rush like no other exercise.

My mum was right It IS lovely when you stop, and that's what keeps me going back.

Swimming or running?

The Autumn is coming and I am beginning to feel the onset of chilly mornings and, even though the sun is still shining and the sky is a bright and beautiful blue, the leaves are beginning to turn brown and fall. These are perfect running days and yet I still feel the onset of a certain melancholia that comes with the end of the summer.

I have always loved running in the winter and swimming (preferably in the outdoor pool) in the summer. Last year I carried on swimming until October, even though it was bloody freezing and the green algae on the bottom of the pool had practically taken over. This year I am far more of a pussy about it. Maybe it's because I want to keep well for the long, hard training months. Or maybe it's just because I am not as hard as I used to be. Or maybe I just don't want to swim in a cold pool at the moment.

Whatever, I am choosing not to freeze my butt off even though it's a beautiful swimming day.

Ah me....

Good advice part 2

As I began my run today I bumped into a neighbour taking her children to school. Knowing that she is training for a half marathon in 2 1/2 weeks I walked with her for a while to chat about progress and training programmes. She is suffering from a problem that I had a couple of years back - plantar fascitis - in other words really, really bad pain in the heel caused by inflammation of the plantar fascia. Mine was caused by wearing the wrong trainers despite buying them from 'Run and Become' in St James Park. Obviously buying trainers from a renowned running shop is no insurance against bad advice. I limped through this injury and eventually bought myself a pair of trainers for £40 without any 'professional' advice, spent a fortune on acupuncture and osteopathy, got through the injury and started running again.

And then this got me to thinking of the first run I ever did which was another exercise in 'how the bloody hell do these people get to think they are experts'?

It was the local YMCA some years ago. Every year they put on a children's fun run and 10k race. I got to talking to the organiser (for this particular year) and told her that I could not believe that I would ever be able to run 10 yards let alone 10k. She told me that there were training sessions planned for beginners and it would be a great way for me to start running. Believing myself in the hands of an 'expert' I went along.

Yes, you guessed it, the first session took me on a 6 mile run. The friend I signed up with ended up in tears with the fascist trainer (Michelle you know who you are) shouting at her to get moving up the hillside of Ally Pally (which, by the way, I still find hard to run up).

The next day we could barely move. Being helpers at the school trip to the Science Museum meant that we had to (which was probably a good thing) but it was a full 4 days before I felt human again. Needless to say I didn't make the 10k that year. The knee injury that I sustained through that first training session made sure of that.

I am a sensible person. I always take advice. But, how can I be really and truly sure that the people I am taking advice from really know what they are talking about? Can anyone set themselves up as 'experts' in this field without much training? Or is this just me being cynical?

Good nutrition advice

Is hard to come by.

Why? Well, I went for my new workout at the gym yesterday and got to chatting to the nice young coach that is meant to be trained in this kind of thing. He claimed to know all about nutrition and training and gave me loads of useful advice (I hope you can detect the sarcastic tone here) about how to lose fat and gain muscle. Apparently I am eating too much fruit. Yes, despite being told by all and sundry that we should be eating AT LEAST five portions of fruit and veg a day (and actually the real optimum amount is more like 8-10) he told me that my high fruit intake meant that the fructose was being converted directly into fat. And landing on my belly.

Huh?

He emailed me a couple of articles that claimed to back this up and, still not convinced, I contacted a really trustworthy source and the real mine of information that is tri-coach Dara and emailed her the articles. Surprise, surprise, he was talking a load of old baloney.

I'm not going into the ins and outs of it but I just wanted to warn anyone reading this that you must get proper nutritional information from people that are properly trained. It is a science - something I remember from having to take O level chemistry in order to do A level Food and Nutrition.

I heard a story recently about someone being told (by their GP) that cooked tomatoes were bad for them. For years they avoided them (and this was despite the fact that they absolutely loved them). At the doctors some 30 years later they happened to mention this advice and how they had followed it religiously - only to be informed that it was a load of old trollop and they could eat tomatoes (cooked or otherwise) with impunity. I often think of this poor chap, avoiding a food that they loved and that would have had such a beneficial effect on their health, all on the advice of a so-called 'professional'.

Be as careful about who you listen to as to what you eat. You may then be in with a chance of remaining healthy.

First training run

Yesterday would have been the day of the Great North Run.

What I mean is that it was the Great North Run but I didn't take part. Why? Well I had a nagging injury over the summer and couldn't train the way I should have. Also my big boy left home yesterday to go to Bournemouth University. And I had to be there with him. So, what with not being trained properly and having to untie those apron strings, I didn't quite make the grade.

However, I did start training for my big marathon run today. It should have been an 8 miler but somehow in the grief of yesterday's leaving, I managed to make it 8 1/2. The funny thing is I always feel like shit during the first 30 minutes. It is uphill all the way (both literally and figuratively) and I always feel like I am a big overweight out-of-shape couch potato. And then something sweet happens. I run along a piece of walkway that was christened the viaduct (by my ex-running mate Tim) and think of my lovely tri-coach dara at the top as I gaze across London. And something clicks. And the running is easier. Not only have I completed all the uphills by then (apart from the undulations of the woods) but I have warmed up and into the run.

It's at times like this that I feel that I really will make the 26 miles that make up that marathon. And I will complete the marathon journey to get me there.

With a little help from my friends that is.

Eddie Izzard

Thanks Eddie. Here I am navel gazing and getting all 'I'm training for a marathon in 6 months time' and you go and do 43 in 51 days with only 4 weeks of training.

This has affected me in many ways.

Firstly, you have knocked my navel gazing into a loop (for which I thank you). I know that you were as out of shape as me and even though you are 4 years younger it ain't a lot younger in the great scheme of things. If you can run marathons so can I.

Secondly, whenever anyone tells me I'm bonkers for even thinking of running one marathon I shall just direct them to you and your madness.

Thirdly, whenever I feel tired and a bit wimpy I shall think of you with your blistered feet, knackered legs and severe cramps and feel energised coz I ain't ever gonna feel as bad as you did.

But fourthly, and more than anything else, I shall take heart from the mind over matter that you must have exercised when hauling your sorry butt out of bed on day whatever for marathon number whatever.

This has been a real feet - oops feat - that fills me with awe and wonder. I don't know how long it will take you to get over this physical and mental challenge but it has filled me with hope for my mere 26 miler. And for this I thank you and hold you in even higher esteem than I ever did.

Weds - week one

Thankfully the training is going better than the blogging. I actually officially start training on Monday - tri coach Dara is writing my plan and I start with an 8-miler.

I can't quite believe that I'm actually going to be running a marathon in April next year.

As I said, it gives me a focus over the next few months. What with my eldest leaving home. My youngest getting bigger and me getting older and miserabler (and if that isn't a word then it should be!). At least the fear of running over 26 miles has kept me focused.

And here's something that I found very interesting. The length of the marathon has changed. How can this be? Well, The standard distance for the marathon race was set by the (IAAF) in May 1921 at a distance of 42.195 kilometres (26 miles 385 yards). Wikipedia gives a lengthy explanation of how and why the distance has changed over the years and now I'm a bit confused as to how far it really is. 26 miles is for sure. It's the last few feet that seem to change - with the distance being rounded up or down. This last 6 1/2 feet may seem like nothing to anyone out there but it may make a big difference between finishing or falling over at the finish line!

For now I'm not going to worry about this last bit - it will probably take me at least 6 feet of pushing and shoving to get over the start line. And maybe this is the way to think of it - if the 6 feet difference is at the beginning rather than the end it doesn't seem so daunting. You know 6 1/2 feet and only another 26 miles to go - that'll get me through it - won't it?

Runner's blog Stardate 12 September 2009.

So tomorrow I start training in earnest. In a moment of madness last week and in a last ditch attempt to give myself some kind of focus for the future, I signed up for the Brighton marathon.

Of course I have little experience of marathon running. I managed a half-marathon early this year (Milton Keynes half - in March) and despite the hail stones and buttock clenching cramps, I managed to finish in just under 2 1/2 hours.

It was a huge achievement and after learning to walk again (it only took 3 days) I immediately decided to sign up for the London Marathon. Alas, I was too late and since then have had all kinds of issues with running. Firstly, the Crouch End Lido opened for the summer - replacing running with swimming is easy at this time of year and allows all kinds of doubts to niggle at me. Am I too old for this lark? Will my joints give up the ghost? Is this knee injury the beginning of something dreadful and, more to the point, what is the point of all of this?

And what's worse is that over the course of the summer I had started smoking again. At first a puff here and there and quite quickly I was back into full-scale nicotine dependence. One of the main reasons that I had started running is that it is hard-core exercise. There is no room for maneuver, one of the by-products of signing up for the half mary was that I was scared into totally giving up cigarettes. And it seems to have worked again. That and the dreadful guilt of my daughter begging me to stop smoking and worrying about my premature, lung cancer induced, death.

So, here I am 10 days into this quit. After a week of patches I am now three days nicotine free and about to begin training for one of the biggest challenges of my life. And I'm not even sure that I'm up to it either physically or mentally.

Over the next 6 months I am going to write this blog and record my training highs and lows. Hopefully by 18 April 2010 I will be the fittest I've ever been. A lean, mean, running machine.

In reality I will probably be dragging my sorry arse round the last 6 miles and vowing never to even think of doing this again.

But at least I will be 6 months nicotine free and able to look my daughter in the face again.