Getting festive all up in here

It’s been a great week. Ran at lunchtime on Monday, Thursday, and actually managed a long run yesterday.

When I woke up on Saturday morning (late, I might add, although that’s not entirely surprising) I was telling myself that I was only going out there for a ten kilometre stagger. I had a race coming up, so why should I murder myself with a long one? That idea didn’t even last me out the door. If I was really planning on only doing ten kilometres, then why did I take water and nutrition with me?

It was a warm morning, but not too warm heading out at 7:00am. My legs were feeling fine, and the jog out to Lake Ginninderra was fairly uneventful. If I’d have been ten minutes earlier to the lake I would have considered joining the Parkrun crowd, but I didn’t have my barcode with me so I wouldn’t have gotten a time. As it was, I kept pace with the pack up around the lake and when they turned back, I just kept on going. When I got to the skate park at the other end of the lake, I turned back. Fifteen kilometres down, and just another fifteen kilometres back home.

Out and back routes are great for motivation, especially if there aren’t any buses nearby, because you pretty much have to run the whole way back. You don’t realise how hard it’s going to be and chicken out, because you’re not actually going to get tired until at least the halfway point.

Well, things were really starting to fall apart at the halfway point, but I pushed through. It was getting steadily hotter as I went. I was really hating it, and my feet felt weird (probably due to the epic blisters, but I didn’t find those until later). I got my second wind, but it never got fun again. Took a quick bathroom break at the twenty kilometre mark, and caught up with an old work friend who was there to do some fishing. That little respite helped me get back on the road with a little more pep, but like I said, I wasn’t having a super duper time.

I made it home in 3:20:49 for the thirty kilometres. Not a world record or anything, but the fact I managed it at all was a big relief. I’m keenly aware of how close I am to the marathon in January, and how few long long runs I’ve done.

I did make a pretty good discovery, though. I brought these gel chewy energy things along, I think Powerbar makes them, and they’re quite a tasty alternative to gels. One pack lasted me the whole thirty kms. Only thing is that it’s hard to chew when I’m running, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with a walk break or two.

Oh, and I even stretched. Just to make sure I could actually walk, let alone run, for the fun run this morning.

So… The Santa fun run. Freaking hilarious. I didn’t know how hard it was to try to crack 30 minutes on a 5 km race while wearing a synthetic material santa suit complete with furry beard. Now I do. It’s pretty hard. We managed it, according to my GPS which tells me the race was actually closer to 5.5 km. Me and my pal Dina ran together, and although I thought I was trying to motivate her to keep running I realise that she was mostly excellent at motivating me to keep running. If I’d have done this run alone, I don’t know if I could have kept the pace up so long. After yesterday’s run, and given the costume, and my screaming headache… Yeah. Definitely an experience, but probably an experience better suited to the northern hemisphere Christmas.

The total menu:

Custard flavoured slime for breakfast.

Kilometres for lunch.

Bruised kidneys for dinner.

Delicious.

I bought this custard-style yoghurt mix, and I had some this morning. Yep. Slime. Tasty. Anyways…

Today I decided I wanted to go for a run at lunchtime. I’ve never actually done that while I’ve been at this job. Gym, maybe. But outdoor running? Nope. I put on my gear and got out on the road, turned around at about 20 minutes and went back the other way. Ended up doing 7 kilometres, which is a pretty good deal for a lunch break. Only issue I had was that I started sweating as soon as I walked back in the building and thanks to my rank running hat (which seriously needs a wash if I ever remember to wash it) I absolutely reeked of sweat. Realised I’d forgotten my towel, so showering was out of the question. I ended up spraying myself with copious amounts of deodorant and went back to work, somewhat more frizzy and afro-fabulous than I had been prior to the break. But it’s all good. I didn’t have anyone to impress, and nowhere important to be.

After my good effort at lunch time, I went to get a massage after work. Made the mistake of telling the girl that I was after ‘pretty hard’ pressure. Ow. I swear, one of these days I’ll stop being such a masochist. It was good fun, but there were eyes-rolling-back, teeth-clenching moments of pure back agony mixed in with the therapeutic stuff. Sitting on my back, going apeshit with her entire arms all at once… We’re talking a direct assault on my kidneys with her bony-ass elbows. Dear god, maybe I should take up wrestling, if this is the kind of shit I do for fun.

She really loosened up my shoulders, so I guess it’s mission achieved.

I didn’t do a long run on the weekend, because I was still feeling shit. Thursday, Friday and to a certain extent Saturday morning. Bad cramps. I guess it happens occasionally. I don’t know how I’m going to swing a long run on Saturday given that I have the Santa fun run on Sunday, but I’ll find a way. Maybe just an easy 20km. That won’t knock me back too far.

Pity party

Wah. I feel like crap. Think I need to curl up in bed and sob. Bad stomach cramps. I get those sometimes. When I stop feeling sorry for myself, I can start feeling proud that I actually managed to get out there this evening and run about seven and a half kilometres (or thereabouts) whilst in horrible pain and feeling like I wanted to stab someone so they could feel my pain too.

I got my santa suit for the Variety Santa Fun Run on Tuesday. Took a bus ride out to Fyshwick to pick it up even though I know I could just get it on the day of the race. I wanted to try it on beforehand, though. Forewarned is forearmed. Forearmed? Like, with forearms. Or with four arms. That’d be useful. I could paint myself gold and run around pretending to be a vengeful god. Then I could stab people.

Uh, what was I saying? I’m really not a psychopath, usually. I’m just distracted.

Anyway, yeah. Santa suit. It’s hard to describe. It’s a thin sort of fabric, so it probably won’t get too hot. It is however immensely huge. The pants (or should I say shorts) have a drawstring so that’s not really a problem, but the jacket is enormous and even with the belt it looks ridiculous. I love it. It’s overwhelmingly tacky and magnificent. If I was in the mood (and I’m definitely not) I would dress up in the suit and dance around until my pants fell down. I did that once, as soon as I got the suit home. It’s a definite mood-lifter. Running in the suit is going to be a real experience. Not this Sunday, but the Sunday after it. I anticipate potent awesomeness.

Run this evening was good. It felt a little slow even though it definitely wasn’t. I’m starting to get a little concerned about my knees, as they’re not recovering from each run as well as they used to. This may be down to the greatly increased weekly mileage. Not sure. I’ll keep my eye on the situation. Maybe I should be considering new shoes after all.

Hi Ho

My week and a bit of holidays is up as of tomorrow morning. I guess it’s back to the rat race with me.

But I don’t want to race rats.

They smell, and they bite, and they carry the bubonic plague. Well, some of them did.

I’m going to be all petty and pouty about this. I know my holiday wasn’t nearly as full-on or hardcore as I intended it to be. I’m fairly sure I’m no more ripped than I was going in. I blame all the cheese. But I did do some cool things.

I ran more kilometres during my holidays than I had done in the entire last month. That’s gotta be worth something. At the very least, surely I’m on track for the marathon in January.

On Friday I did my long run, as I didn’t expect to be able to run on Saturday or Sunday. I was reminded once again that at this level of training, the battle is mostly mental. The physical aspect only kicks in at the end.

I got out of bed with great difficulty, as I was full into holiday mode. But I got up at around 6:15 or thereabouts, the sun shining insistently through my window. I did all the usual pre-run things like dressing (as running naked down the road doesn’t appeal to anyone, let alone myself) and bathroom stuff (my digestive system takes it personally when I wake up early to run, and it isn’t into peaceful protests). By the time I stepped out the door, the sky was grey and full of clouds, and rain was bucketing down. Ever so slightly let down and miserable at the prospect of running in the freezing cold rain - and it was freezing, I checked - in my tank top and stretchy shorts, I turned tail and went back up the stairs.

Part of me wanted to take this as a sign from the gods that I really should go running some other time. Part of me wanted to rip off my stretchy pants and fall back into bed. But I didn’t. I actually spoke to myself at this point. “Get your jacket, get your gloves and get back out there, you stupid bitch.”

And I did. I put on my hoodie and a pair of fingerless gloves (because I’m apparently Rocky Balboa), but no beanie (because I may be Rocky but it’s not the middle of winter). I went out the door and I started running.

About a kilometre later the rain stopped and the sun came out, and it proceeded to be quite warm and rather humid, which was a shame because I had to run for the next three hours or so with a hoodie tied around my waist. This just goes to show that I should have braved the weather to begin with and quit whinging about a little bit of rain.

I was going to aim for twelve and a half kilometres before turning around and going back the other way for a total of 25 kilometres. I got distracted at the halfway point by the prospect of water (as I didn’t bring any water or nutrition along for the run. Probably a bad idea, in hindsight) and I didn’t turn around until my GPS was reading 13 kilometres. Turns out that the GPS was buggy, because I only ended up with a run of 25.5 kilometres. Not that I’m complaining. That’s pretty awesome.

It got pretty hard in the last half because I hadn’t eaten and my muscles were starting to notice, but I kept getting little bursts of adrenaline which kept me going. All in all, I’m quite happy with that long run. It even had a few of those OMG THE WORLD IS AWESOME, I’M AWESOME AND I LOVE EVERYTHING moments, which are always welcome on a long run.

I did another run this morning. Just a simple 10 kilometres. Nothing too flash, but I’m glad I got out there. The real trial is going to be keeping my momentum now that I’m going to be back at work again. I just have to think about Tasmania, and January, and a great big purple floating block of chocolate.

What? That doesn’t even make sense.

Don’t care. PURPLE FLOATING BLOCK OF CHOCOLATE!

I think it’s probably time for bed now. I’m planning to do a little bit of hulking out in the morning before heading to work.

Operation Smoking Hot

I’m currently on a week and a half of leave, as I’ve just finished a major project at work and I’m soon going to start another job. You know what this means? Hooray! Let’s work out!

I don’t have any plans to travel, and I don’t want to waste my time being all lazy. This plan really appealed to me. I get to work out hard every day, and really push my limitations. I’m being full-on masochistic about this. Cardio until my heart rate crashes through the roof, resistance training to collapse. I got myself a copy of the Insanity workout DVDs, and boy are they a good workout. Plyometric stuff just kills me, but it’s gotta be doing me good. By next Tuesday I hope to have achieved some visible results, but I don’t expect anything dramatic. Especially since the original plan also involved a drastic diet, which I decided was a terrible idea. Then I bought cheese. I’m currently eating said cheese with crackers, and drinking a nice chilled Sauvignon Blanc. But my biceps look great, and my abs are pretty fantastic.

On the running front, I’m actually doing quite well at the moment. I had a bad couple of weeks, which got me down (and stopped me from writing sooner), but I did a nice 20km run on Saturday so I know I’m still in the game. The run was fast, easy and verging on fun. There’s a song I’ve been playing recently, guaranteed to deliver that endorphin rush I sorely need at the 18km mark.

Yesterday I ran a slightly slower but still fun 10km. It was a bit on the warm side because I couldn’t drag myself from sleep early enough. 8:00 or thereabouts, but the sweat started pouring almost as soon as I stepped out the door. Yep, definitely need to start waking up earlier. Tomorrow morning I'm going to get up at the crack of dawn and do 20km. Won't be fast and probably won't be easy but I feel the need.

In other news, I signed up for a charity Santa Fun Run at the end of November, the entry fee for which actually includes a santa suit to wear for the run. Awesomeness. I’m really looking forward to this one, if for the exciting new Facebook profile photo alone. I think it’s going to be a great day. Anyone who has a spare $25 and a hankering to do a dash as the jolly fat man should come along.

Stick with me, baby. I'm goin' places!

Ah, the commuter run. It’s been a while since I’ve run anywhere to actually GET somewhere, and I kinda sorta forgot how hard it could be. If you’re running a loop, and you start to feel like shit, you can turn around and run back the other way. When you’re running somewhere to get from A to B you generally just have to keep on running. Add to that the fact that it’s not generally a premium running time (case in point, 8:30 on a really warm spring morning) and because I’m an idiot who likes to push the envelope I usually have a full pack on my back as well.

I have to say that I love the bike paths here in Canberra. If you want to get from one town centre to another by foot (or bicycle, if you’re twisted that way), there’s no better way. You just have to learn to trust the path. If you trust the path, you won’t get lost. This refers to the direction, not the distance. The distance may be way off.

I went about half a kilometre in the wrong direction this morning because I knew that finding the bike path would pay off in the end. When I got on the path, I saw a sign which told me that I was eight kilometres out of Gungahlin. That sounded about right to me, but it turned out to be a little bit of a underestimation. Add three kilometres to that, and you’re a little closer to the truth.

I almost lost my faith in the path today. I’d never gone in this direction from the city to Gungahlin before, and at one point I seemed to be out in the middle of nowhere. There seemed to be fields. No livestock, though. Or other farmy things. But as far as I knew, I could have been on the road to Yass or something. Or some other rural place about which I have no geographical knowledge. I faltered, but I didn’t turn around. Mostly, because I realised that the bike paths themselves don’t go outside of Canberra. If I wanted to run to Yass or Bungendore or… I dunno. Where else would I run? Captain’s Flat? Collector? Anyway, I’d have to do it on the roads and I’d probably get run over by a ute. Or a cyclist in stretchy pants.

Turns out I was going in the right direction after all, but the run wasn't a lot of fun, all things considered.

My nose started streaming like a tap as soon as I stepped outdoors, thanks to the fluffy shit in the air and all the hayfever-ness it causes. I didn’t have a handlerchief on me, or any antihistamines. So… Yay. That wasn’t fun. My pack wasn’t too heavy to begin with but soon started to feel stupid-heavy. The sunscreen stung my eyelids. It also didn’t seem to be working, at all.

The whole route seemed to be a hill. Never down, always up, mostly gradual. If I did it in the other direction I’d probably feel like a superhero because it’d be almost effortless and I wouldn’t know why. A couple of old guys on bicycles overtook me (fairly slowly, I’ll say) on one particularly brutal hill, and I caught up with them again at a traffic light up ahead. I said good morning, because despite the crappiness of the run I could still manage to be cheerful. They told me it’d been tough to overtake me on that hill, and I’d been going at a pretty good clip. Happy to hear that. I ran past them again in Gungahlin later, after I had just queued up to vote in the local election.

I was intending to round my run out to a proper 20 kilometre long run, but I hadn’t gone too far along the way before I started longing for a nice cool shower and some bacon. Rather than continuing along to the lake after arriving in Gungahlin, I voted and went straight home. 11.5 kms, all up. Not too shabby. I definitely earned brunch.

Bacon and banana pancakes always taste better when I’ve earned them.

Next time, I might leave my gear and just bring my usual bumbag along for the run. And maybe I’ll start out a little earlier.

The Runner's Trots

I’ve had a great week, running-wise. I slipped up on the weekend because I didn’t feel like waking up early to run on Saturday. I should know by now that it’s a recipe for disaster. If I don’t run on Saturday, chances are that I ain’t gonna run. Feeling somewhat worse for wear as a result of missing my big weekend effort, I went out after work on Monday for what was intended to be a nice short 5km stagger and turned out to be an almost six and a half kilometre victory lap of awesomeness. I did sprints, I ran my favourite Zombies, Run! mission. I listened to some great music. It was a really good one.

After Monday’s success I did some weights at home on Tuesday. Then, rather than break the chain I ran before work on Wednesday, just a quick four kilometres, because I knew I wouldn’t have a chance at night. I always go out on Wednesdays.

There was this moment on Wednesday morning. My alarm went off, half past four or something stupid like that. Rather than snooze it, I turned it off completely. Good girl! Then, I lay there in a groggy puddle of my own sleepiness for a couple of minutes, before coming to the ill-advised conclusion that the best thing to do was just go back to sleep and forget this business ever happened. Bad girl. No ice-cream for you.

I blurrily commanded my phone “Siri! Wake me up at 5:30!” and tried to return to the comforting warmth of my dream. And it didn’t work. I stayed awake. I got even more awake. After about 30 seconds of this horrifying return to clarity I had a visit from my old friend Willpower. “Siri!” I said. “Turn off my alarm! And bring me a sandwich!”

Siri did not bring me a sandwich. But she did turn off my alarm. And I went out and ran. And it was good. And I totally deserved the maxibon I ate later that night.

Surprise of all surprises, willpower seems to be hanging around. I actually fell asleep on the bus this evening. Not just an eyes-closed public transport meditation, an honest to goodness nap. After that, I wouldn’t expect to be very enthusiastic about getting back out for a supply mission in the zombie wasteland. However, as soon as I’d gotten in the door, made a quick stop to the bathroom and changed my clothes, I was outside pounding the pavement.

Tonight’s run has taught me a valuable lesson that I already should have known.

Always make sure you have the bathroom thing under control before you go out for a run of more than about three kilometres. Super important. I thought I was fine, and I was actually going quite well, until about three and a half kilometres into my five kilometre route. Then I was struck simultaneously with severe stomach cramps and the realisation that there were no public toilets anywhere near me. I had to endure the agony for what seemed like a lifetime.

This was also the moment when the other douchebags on the path decided to turn on their super-douchebag abilities just to piss me off. I had dogs nipping at my heels (in a very literal sense) and also trying to play chicken with me (they lost). I had women with prams walking side by side with other women with prams. I just love that. I also had people who would stay most politely on their side of the path until the very moment I changed lanes to run around them, when they would decide that the place they really wanted to be at this point in time was standing right in front of me. Then they would duck back and forth and laugh at me. Look, people. Just do your shit. Walk where you were walking before. I don’t care. I will run around you. I will make the extra effort. Don’t pretend it’s cute or funny that I can’t get around you when you do that stupid indecisive little dance. I will get pissed off and divert onto the grass, and for some stupid fucking reason you will consider this to be rude, as if I’m intending to cause offence by giving you and your smug antics a wide berth. Newsflash. I am. I am too good for your stupid footpath. And you are a douchebag.

Anyway, my verbal abilities were kind of limited because I was starting to get that horrible cold sweat that doesn’t come from exercise because it only comes from the overwhelming need to find a bathroom tout suite. So I mumbled a few things at the douchebags. May have been expletives. I don’t quite remember. And finally, after a horrendous ordeal, I made it home.

Please, self, if you take nothing more from this experience, please remember this. Always get the bathroom stuff sorted before you run. Always. You may think it’s over when you stumble in the door, but it’s never over. Ah, cruel nature.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to have an early-ish night because that’s the only way I can distract myself from the fact that I’ve still got an incredibly upset stomach. My run has left a legacy, alright. Hope it’s gone by tomorrow.

Chocolate!

I’m so hungry right now. I’ve been really good, food-wise, over the last two days, and I’m feeling all empowered and healthy and shit. And dizzy. Kinda dizzy. Not badly. But yeah, it’s there. I don’t want to stop now, but I may have a cheat meal tomorrow night.

I submitted my registration for the Cadbury Marathon this evening. Such a cheap race, especially with an extra discount on top. The trip itself is a bit pricier, but I got some cheap airfares. Feeling pretty psyched about January. Really looking forward to the trip. Mum’s coming along, and we’re going to hire a car. So we can do touristy stuff. Now that I’ve actually got the Marathon booked, and the flights booked, I definitely have to get serious about the training. Four and a half hours. That’s what I’m going for, here. Eyes on the prize.

I’m in the mood to do something stupid tomorrow. Maybe a 4:30 wake-up. Jump out of bed and straight into my running gear. Knock out a quick 5km before showering and heading in to work at the usual time. Eh. Not sure. It’ll be cold. And probably dark.

I’m starting to remember how much I like that smug feeling you get from being fitter and cooler and more awesome than everyone else. That may be just the motivator I need.

That, and January seems so close, and 42 kilometres is a long, long way.

Legs like a table. Arms like a chair.

Okay, NOW I’m getting my groove back. Today was a fake-ass public holiday for no reason, so I wanted to take the opportunity to kick off the marathon training. Unfortunately, my plan to wake up at 5:00am to go jogging and be all virtuous and shit was foiled by sheer laziness. I’d like to blame it on daylight savings, if I can. Can I? Okay.

So the morning run was off the cards thanks to daylight savings. So I spent the morning cleaning instead because I’ve got a house inspection on Wednesday. As soon as boredom set in (about 2:30 in the afternoon) I slathered myself with about a litre of sunscreen and went out for a nice slow stagger.

I turned off the sprints on Zombies, Run! because I was going for distance over time. The weather was nice. Not too hot, a cool breeze but not a great deal of wind. An awesome spring day. My throat didn’t bother me too much, so I think I’m finally almost recovered from the tonsil stuff.

I spent most of the run in thoughtful introspection, as one may tend to do while being chased by the mangled re-animated corpse of a helicopter pilot. Not bad thinking, just thinking thinking. Funnily enough, I don’t do a lot of that when I’m running these days. I constantly distract myself with music and podcasts and zombies. Sometimes, I need to distract myself from the pain or the exhaustion. Sometimes I just need to not be thinking, or it might go into a black and horrible place where I don’t want to be, especially whilst running. Just a penalty for being me, I guess. Today, though, I was happy to be thinking. Life is pretty good, right now.

I got beeped at by, like, three cars while I was running. That’s a few more than usual. It’s not as if I were naked. Or screaming obscenities. Or particularly attractive, for that matter, shiny with sunscreen and sweat, spotted with dead bugs and bright red in the face (not from sunburn, thanks to the sunscreen). I was wearing a skirt. But I was wearing three-quarter length stretchy pants under my skirt. The stretchy pants were to avoid between-leg chafe which would generally be caused by the skirt. The skirt was to avoid butt-related self-consciousness, which would generally be caused by the stretchy pants. It’s a symbiotic relationship.

I should have brought some water with me, but I didn’t think about it until it was too late. Altogether, today I ran 15.26 kilometres in 1:40:50. Not particularly fast, but not incredibly slow either, at a pace of 6:37 per kilometre. A nice steady, easy long run.

I’m going to try to get two more runs in this week. Evening runs, after work. Could this possibly be caused by the fact that my favourite Zombies, Run! mission is coming up after the next one, and it’s a mission that is best run at night, in the dark? Probably. But I take my motivation where I can get it. There seems to be a limited supply of motivation to go around, these days.

How I fell flat on my face

There are scrapes all down my leg, and there is gravel in my palms. My shoulder is going to bruise up badly tomorrow, but luckily my tattoo is still intact. Although footpath is harder on the feet than road when you’re running, I’m fairly sure that concrete is less painful, all things considered, when you fall on it. It seems like road would be a bit more… abrasive.

Not that I feel like testing it out.

I had this great big extended metaphor that I was going to write, going into the circumstances of how I tripped on the pavement this morning, and extending it further to talk about how I’ve been sick and lazy and haven’t run in weeks and weeks. But what’s the point? I fell. Then, I fell. Guess I’m just a lazy/clumsy bitch.

I’m not going to dwell on it. I went for a ten kilometre run this morning. My lungs didnae like it. I’ve been sick with tonsillitis for some time now. Feeling mostly better, but my throat is still being sucky. I feel like I’m dehydrated all the time. Obviously I didn’t drink enough water yesterday. Not a good idea. Anyway, The first half of the run was tough. It did get better eventually. I did a bunch of good sprints, with the awesome motivation of being chased by zombies.

I had about five hundred metres to go, when I tripped and flailed around for a couple of metres in an attempt to regain my feet. Inevitably, I failed. Skidded across the concrete. An old couple was watching me, and they didn’t ask if I was okay. I guess I didn’t register as an important thing.

Anyway, back to the gym tomorrow. I’ve got me a marathon in January, so I’d better start getting my shit together.

Healthy DOES NOT equal delicious.

Last Thursday I decided to run up and down the stairs for 20 minutes at lunchtime rather than go to the gym. As a result, my calves have been killing ever since. I can only just stand on tiptoes again. Not that I tend to stand on tiptoes often.

Just not feeling 100% today. Tried to clean, forgot about the bedroom. Decided to be healthy, because the scales hate me and keep lying just to piss me off. Made a healthy stir fry for lunch, and it tasted awful.

Days like this, I don’t want to be a grown-up. It sucks. Adults feel like they have to eat certain stuff, not because they want to or because it’s great and they enjoy it. Because it’s healthy. Because they think they have to. Screw this. If healthy food was so goddamn good, then everyone would be eating it. Healthy food is depressing. You can’t just eat healthy food one day a week and expect to be skinny or fit. You have to eat that shit every day. Cut out the bread, cut out the alcohol. No pasta, no sugar. Forget frying things. Butter ist verboten!

I hate this. I try so hard, but then I fuck up. And end up in a worse place than I was in when I started. If I could only see some sort of improvement, some sort of end-point, then I may be more motivated to get there.

The way I see it, I’m doggy-paddling, and I’m caught in a current. I’m just going to run out of energy one day, unless I can find some way to give myself a boost.

How am I supposed to comfort myself, when all I have for comfort is carrots and fucking peas? I’m sick of peas. I want fig and honey ice-cream. Hot caramel sauce. Crunchy biscuit crumbles. That’s comfort food. Soft cheese and crackers and wine. Not bloody apples. I’m sick of bloody apples.

I’ll probably be better tomorrow. Gym, maybe a bit of treadmill work. Proper run on Tuesday after work, perhaps. If I can get home at a reasonable time.

In the meantime, being a public servant sucks for being healthy. Morning teas, more morning teas. Constant stream of snack foods. I’m going to put my headphones on and trying to ignore it.

EDIT: Ah, forgot to mention. Official time for the Canberra Times Fun Run was 54:42.

Woot.

A quick race report before snoozytime

I’m feeling absolutely wiped right now, so I’ll make this a quick one and then I’ll go and have an early night.

I got up this morning feeling fine, after a fairly moderate evening. Wine, but not too much wine. Cigarettes, but… Yeah, okay. Maybe too many cigarettes. Even one would have been too many. Went to bed before midnight, as I recall. Breakfast was entirely fruit-based, and I supplemented that with half a hairy lemon tablet, two ibuprofen and an antihistamine. A bit of water, and I was ready to go.

I didn’t wear my costume, as anticipated. I thought it would be windy and horrible but it was really a lovely warm morning. Sunny. Almost too sunny, but I did remember to sunscreen myself up before I went out there. The field was big, but basically pollte and easy to ignore. I cranked my music the whole way, interspersed with pace information courtesy of Runkeeper. I didn’t feel the need to get my Garmin out. To be perfectly honest, I still don’t trust the bitch after it screwed me over in Sydney.

I went out a wee bit too fast, just a shade over 5:00 per kilometre. Because I was lacking the constant feedback of the Garmin I didn’t realise until the end of the first kilometre, and by that time I felt I was in a comfortable stride and wasn’t willing to chicken out. The second kilometre got steadily less comfortable, and by the time I hit kilometre number 3 my heart was leaping in my chest and I could imagine myself having a heart attack or some sort of fit any minute, twitching and gasping on the side of the road like a dying goldfish.

I gradually slowed through the race, but this was mostly because I was hurting. My legs kept on, but my lungs were struggling. I know, all my own fault. I do seem to recall though that there were only two water stops along the way. That can’t be right. Surely they have at least three. Surely they always did. I got a bit dehydrated along the way. I tried to spit (maybe 4 kilometres in) but I couldn’t. I gagged, almost vomited, ended up spitting all down the front of my pants and when I tried to remedy this situation I lost track of where I was going and basically ran into a light pole.

Clever girl.

It wasn’t an easy 10kms, but it was a beautiful morning and I was thoroughly psyched when it was over. So I guess it was a success. I was going to put a map picture in here with my route, but then I realised that it doesn't actually say anything interesting. The Garmin maps show pace and stuff, but I didn't have my Garmin. Doh.

I think I broke my personal best, probably by about a minute. I’m not entirely sure yet, but I’ll get the results tomorrow or Tuesday. My unofficial result at this point is 54:46, which is pretty nice. It gets harder and harder to break my records, but at least I’m still on the way up and not actually getting worse. Woohoo.

I had a nice big brunch after the race. No lunch, but a nice long nap. Leftover cake-related goodies. Popcorn. An embarrassingly unhealthy dinner, that I won’t go into here. I think I can afford it, but it’s back on the diet and back into the gym tomorrow.

Night, all.

Hmm

Not so sure about the costume, anymore. I’m running solo this year, and I haven’t had a PB in the 10km since 2010.

Getting a PB In a french maid costume doesn’t seem likely, and I won’t be comfortable. I think I’d much rather go hard, push myself til I pass out or puke. No sense in doing this if I’m not going to go all the way. I will try to survive and keep both of my legs, but anything short of that is fair game.

After a short recovery next week, I’m going to need to sit down and overhaul my training routine, or lack of routine as the case may be. I’ve been so goddamn lazy. I need some sort of 80’s movie training montage. Is Kenny Loggins still around? Can I commission him to write some inspirational theme music?

Mostly, I need to ease myself back into the marathon training. Cadbury Marathon is in January, and I want to aim for 4:30 or better. Is that even do-able? I’m going to get some new shoes in the next couple of weeks, and that may bring some bounce back into my step.

Hey, here’ s something awesome. I just discovered that this is my 101st post on this blog. Woohoo! 101 posts and exactly zero in the way of content!

Newsflash

So I thought hard about the idea of running the Canberra Times 10km in costume again. I thought hard, weighed the pros and cons, and after a while I decided against it.

Then I was shopping at lunchtime today, and noticed that one of the cheap shops in Woden had a bunch of Halloween costumes out already.

Presented for your approval, here is my Canberra Times Fun Run outfit!

French maid? Oui, d’accord. Excuse the lack of a head, but I’m a little under the weather this afternoon and I certainly look like it. There’s a little headband with a black bow and some pink lace up top. It’s very frou-frou.

Bad photo in general, but the rest were all worse.

I might need to perform some alterations to the skirt as it’s rather long. I’ve pinned it up in the shot here, but I might chuck a few stitches in so it sits better. Also, a bit of ironing might be required. But it’s serviceable.

Dunno. Still not sure. What do y’all reckon? There will be a feather duster involved.

Shoe Musing

I went to take a look at some new shoes the other day. My current shoes still do the trick, but I don’t know how much longer it’ll be before I start getting injuries. They’ve done several marathons, several City2Surf and a couple of half-marathons. Maybe it’s time to change things up a bit.

I’m running in a pair of Nike Lunarglide+ 2 at the moment, so I wanted to try a pair of Lunarglide+ 4. I also wanted to try a pair of the Nike Free Run+ 3, as I’ve been toying with the idea of transitioning towards a more barefoot style.

I got to the Athlete’s Foot store, and took a look at what they had on the shelves. On first impression, I wasn’t particularly impressed with either of the prospects. This may seem hideously superficial, but I don’t want to run in ugly shoes. The Lunarglides were white with a greeny-yellow trim. Bleh. White shoes, no thanks. The Free Run were a little better, low profile and rather speedy-looking, but the colour was a pinky-purply sort of washed out nothing. With these little dark silvery-grey designs. I wasn’t wowed.

I waited about fifteen or twenty minutes before the guy came over to help me, but he wasn’t really a lot of help. He managed to find a different colour in the Lunarglides, black and hot pink, but they were the wrong size. He found some bright orange Lunarglides from the last generation, but they were orange. So, no.

Between walking into the store and finally getting some service, I’d already decided I wasn’t too excited about the Free Run shoes. He told me that I wouldn’t be able to run in them all the time, and that I’d only be able to do short distances at first. He said I looked like a pretty serious runner, so I’d have a pretty good chance at being able to adapt to the reduced-cushioning style.

I wasn’t sure if he thought I was a serious runner because I was asking the right sort of questions, because he says that to everyone who comes in, or because of my marathon-distance tattoo on my ankle. Possibly a combination of the first and the last.

I’m still thinking about new shoes. If I can find a pair of the black and pink ones in a size that actually fits, I’ll probably go for it.

In other news, had a nice 10km jog on Saturday, and a passable 5km this afternoon after work. I was feeling a bit sick when I left work, and I’m feeling even worse now, but I sort of forgot about that for a little while when I was going around the lake.

Whee

A brief post-race (post-post-post-race, it seems) entry here. I thought it had posted sooner but apparently I’ve screwed up a setting with my blogging program thingie.

So, City2Surf was on the 12th, and boy was it an interesting race.

I tried to be good the night before, but failed miserably as usual. Living large at the Sheraton on the Park always gets to me. They upgraded me to a park view room this year. Pretty swank. Those darned ninja waiters at the Sheraton Club Lounge struck again. They keep refilling my glass with champagne. Of course, I’m not going to exercise any self control, and of course I’m going to drink every drop they give me. Silly girl. We were going to go out to dinner but I was tired after so much bubbly and we ate so many nibbly snacks with our drinks, so I wasn’t really in the mood to go anywhere special or eat anything much in particular.

Later, I felt a little guilty that I hadn’t eaten anything in the way of protein (well, apart from cheese) all evening, and the carbohydrates weren’t particularly good ones. So I compounded this error with a quick trip to McDonalds, a bunch of nuggets and some chips. That was a terrible idea, quite epically terrible in fact, as I was violently ill not half an hour later. I guess I just can’t metabolise that kind of food as well as I used to.

After all that malarkey, I got up the next day with little fuss or drama. The early morning wasn’t very promising. Misty, windy, a little rainy. I kept away from the little sausages at the breakfast buffet after grim memories of last year’s race. I did however eat a pile of bacon, and lived to regret it later on. In the long run, though, can bacon ever be truly regrettable? It’s okay, bacon. I forgive you.

I think I hit a winner with my pre-race pills. An antihistamine to cut down the snifflies, a couple of ibuprofen, and an imodium (not that I needed it, but nothing kills a race like a half-time queue for the portaloo). Now, the ibuprofen has been debated by many. Some say that taking a painkiller before a race is a dangerous thing, as you won’t be heeding your body’s signals when it’s trying to tell you something is wrong. I just like it, as it helps with the hangover. Yep, I’m a real running pro, me.

When I went back down to the room to prepare, disaster struck. My garmin was unfortunately as dead as a dodo. Look, I’m not so attached to my tech that I thought I couldn’t run the race without it, but it was definitely dissapointing. I like to keep track of my pace, and I like being able to plug it in later and get a full picture of how I was running. My splits, heart rate, the elevation... It’s very useful and very cool. Without the garmin, I didn’t feel as if I could pace myself as effectively. I pulled out my iphone and looked for an alternative, and decided I’d wing it with the help of Runkeeper (which I’d installed at some point and I don’t think I’d ever actually used).

There was a little sprinkling of rain as we headed out to the start, but nothing too depressing. It wasn’t even really that cold. As we didn’t get out there too early, there wasn’t a great deal of fanfare. The race was away before I even knew it.

This year there seemed to be a bunch more bands along the way. Tons of entertainment. Smurfs giving out bottles of water and smearing everyone who came within an arm’s length with blue paint. The blue-spattered bottles littered the gutters for a hundred metres afterward.

Paper cups at the drink stands, so we were all spared the ear-shattering racket of people trampling over a sea of sharp plastic shards at every station. I didn’t partake of the gatorade this year. As it didn’t rain at all, not really, I was probably more soaked than most when I got to the finish as most of the cups I grabbed ended up being overturned on top of my head. I was overheating, and I wanted to distract myself. I was also rather ill most of the way, and got fairly close to puking.

After the finish, I realised the reason for this. I was going way, way faster than I expected to run. My final time was 1:20:55, a full four minutes faster than my previous best. Woohoo! It’s a shame I didn’t crack 80 minutes, but there’s always next year. I’m sure I can do it.

When the race was done, me and mum got straight on a train, then straight on a ferry, then we went to the zoo. Taronga zoo kicks ass.

My legs didn’t hurt until the day after. Then they hurt even more the day after that.

I think I’m in a lot better shape than I thought I was. Canberra times 10k is on in three weeks or so. Looking forward to seeing how well I can do this year.

Packing and the pre-race jitters

One of these days, I would like to train properly for a race. At least three if not four days a week. Fartlek, speed sessions, tempo runs, hills... I’ll eat properly, hydrate properly, keep myself in top physical condition. I’m hoping to hit the Cadbury Marathon in January, so I guess the training will need to start soon. I just don’t know what I’m capable of until I really try.

I packed way too much running gear for the weekend, but I think I’d prefer to have some choices on Sunday morning. I have long pants and some short stretchy compression pants. Three sports bras. Two options for tops. A skirt, in case I feel like it’s the way to go. I’m about to go into my sock drawer and pull out some long stripy socks as well. Just in case. A tutu would have been nice, but I forgot to shop for one. I’ve been so busy.

As far as everything apart from the actual training goes, I’m ready for the City2Surf.

It looks like Sydney has had some pretty brutal winds over the last couple of days. I hope I don’t get blown off the road at the top of Heartbreak Hill. If I do, no big loss. I can catch an updraft and drift off over the ocean. It’s a nice thought. Calming.

Here it comes

So I’ve sort of been cheating on my blog with another blog (of the cooking variety) and I feel really bad about it, but I actually haven’t been able to run much in the last couple of weeks. I did something strange to my back last week, so last weekend was out. The weekend before, I was too lazy to train.

I got up this morning to do a short 10km to sort of get a feeling of whether the City2Surf was going to be hellish. I wanted to get out there and think through some kind of race plan for next Sunday, but it’s kind of hard to do that when you’re on the run and you can’t get hold of any statistics. I tried asking Siri.

Me: What was my result in the City 2 Surf last year?

Siri: Checking on that... Would you like to search the web for “Post letters optimistic SFR stew”?

Me: No. Forget it.

Siri: I didn’t catch that.

Me: Play my Maritime Insurance playlist.

All I could do when I was out on the run was think about whether I wanted to wear a skirt in the race, or my standard stretchy pants. On the way back, all I could think was “I’M BLIND” because of the sun directly in my face. So that was no good.

I’m going to think about it now, to at least maintain the facade of being an organised individual.

As far as I see it, I have two goals. The primary goal is to beat my personal best. The secondary goal, if I really tank it, is to at least qualify for a green entry next year.

Last year, I ran a time of 1:24:55. Hmm. That’s cool. Better than I remembered, when I was on my run this morning. So to beat it, I’d have to run every kilometre in faster than 6 minutes. Eww. I don’t like that quite as much. This is going to hurt.

If I stuff up, the qualifying time for a green bib this year was 90 minutes. Assuming they’re nice people and decide to keep it the same, I’ll get an auto-qualification on the basis of last year’s time anyway. I know I’ll definitely get in under 90 minutes in any case. That’s reassuring.

So, will I run a steady pace, or are there parts I’ll need to push a bit harder to make up for the hills?

Last year's elevation map. It thought the run was only 13.5km long. Silly Garmin.

From the elevation maps recorded over the last two years on my Garmin, I can determine one or two things: The first five kilometres or so are undulating, with a few short hills and some nice little downhill stretches. I could probably afford to up the pace in this section, providing of course that I don’t let myself get pulled by the crowd and burn out too early. Maybe 5:20 or 5:30 pace after a short warmup over the first kilometre, depending on how I’m feeling and whether I’ve eaten too much at breakfast.

Then, we hit Heartbreak Hill. which starts easy and gets harder over two kilometres. Nothing I can’t handle, as long as I keep my head down. I could afford to slow to a pace just below 6:30 here, but I don’t want to let it become a habit.

The next two kilometres after the halfway point are a brief respite, and I should take it easy at this point given that there’s a tough and steep little hill coming up. Maybe a 6:00 pace just to be safe, but it will probably be speedier if last year is anything to go by. The hill is about a kilometre long, and when I hit the top of it at about the 10km point, it’s all downhill from there.

I’ll floor it for the last couple of kilometres because they’re nice and speedy and exhilarating when you can see Bondi looming ahead.

It looks so easy on paper.

Let’s see how we go.

I am concerned though, I still haven’t figured out whether to wear stretchy pants or a skirt yet. This is an important decision, people!

I don't know how to put this, but I'm kind of a big deal.

I ran just over 25 kilometres this morning, it’s been a couple of hours but I’m still feeling really pumped. I wanted to make it out to Parkrun because they were having some special guests, and it seemed like time to attack my personal best.

I didn’t really take it easy on the 10km out to Ginninderra, even though I probably should have. It wasn’t freezing outside, for a chance, and it just felt like a nice, easy run. I didn’t notice that I was running too fast until about the 5km mark, and I decided that I didn’t care.

Parkrun was great, although I went out at too fast a pace. I settled into a 5:15 pace after about half a km, and sat there until almost the end. It hurt like a bitch, and for a lot of it I wanted nothing more than to stop. But I didn’t. Glad I didn’t. Came in at 26:28, 35 seconds faster than my previous personal best. That may not seem like a great improvement, but when I’m running hard, so close to my threshold... 35 seconds is freaking awesome.

Shame that I got the worst finish photo EVER.



Hemmed in by the two previous finishers, who stopped as soon as they hit the line and didn’t pay any mind to the photographer who was snapping away just in front of them, or the finisher coming in behind them. Sadface. Still, this is probably karma because at the first Parkrun I did exactly the same thing to someone else.



Hee.

I sucked down a gel about ten minutes before Parkrun, don’t know if it helped but it sure didn’t hurt. I made it all the way home, didn’t puke or bonk, so I count it as a win. Did the last 10km in 1 hour and 9 minutes, or thereabouts. So there wasn’t a significant drop in speed. Heart rate was significantly higher, so I must have been putting in more effort.

Life is frigging brilliant, people. You know what? I don’t want to sound like an ego monster, but I’m a motherflipping superhero, bitches. Screw your excuses, forget your self esteem issues. Get off your ass, and let’s all be superheroes together. Awesomeness isn’t something that’ll come if you sit there and wait for it. The universe isn’t going to just hand you a cape and a pair of stretchy pants. You have to get out there and grab them.

All those people in the past who have put me down or tried to make me feel bad about myself, I don’t give a shit. Their opinion is irrelevant. Do I think I’m better than them? No. Well, probably. But I’m not competing against these people. Throughout our lives, our toughest rivals are alway going to be ourselves. Out of the corner of your eye, if you glance backwards, there you are. Nipping at your own heels. If you fall behind, if you let them win, you’re going to stop saying “Man, I’m getting more and more awesome all the time.” and you’re going to start saying “Hey, remember how awesome I USED to be?”.

I’m not saying you always have to go hardcore, train too hard, mess yourself up. That’s counterproductive. I’m not just talking about running, or any other form of exercise. General awesomeness is a skill you have to work at, but you should keep working. Don’t let your past self trip you up, go out an annihilate that sucker. You can do it. You should do it. Fuck your doubts. Do it. Do it now.

Ima get off my soapbox now, go and make something to eat.

Running in the time of Hypothermia

So I currently can’t feel the tips of three of my fingers, but I’m going to assume that it’s because of the amount of guitar I’ve been playing lately. Even though it may have felt like it at the time, I don’t think I’ve sustained any permanent nerve damage in my fingertips. Yay for me.

In case you’re not a Canberran, you might not be aware of the insanely cold mornings we’ve been having recently. Last week the temperature has been steadily down below zero every morning, some days tending closer to minus seven or minus eight. I’m just going by what everyone else has been saying, because although I’ve been in the habit of getting to work at seven am every day, I never spend more than five minutes outside. When I’m heading for the bus, I’m generally running anyway.

This morning, I guess it was about minus five. I certainly felt it. I went out late because it’s hard to get up early on a freezing cold morning. Guess I was probably out the door a little after 7:30. Two pairs of pants, trackies over compression shorts. Sports bra, crop top, tank top, jacket. Headband and a hat. Fingerless gloves.

I think I need some gloves that have fingers. I know I’m used to the fingerless gloves by now, but this morning was brutal. I figured that my fingers would recover after a couple of kilometres when I’d warmed up a bit, and I guess they did for a little while, but heading towards Belconnen the temperature started to go down. And my fingers started to hurt. Not in the kind of way I can ignore. Something a little closer to screaming agony. I unzipped my jacket and tried to warm my hands one by one with a little upper-chest skin contact, but there’s something not quite right about running along with your hand down your top, grimly clutching a boob in one frozen hand while you try to ignore the other. The mechanics are off. It’s not the most efficient running technique in the world. By the time the pain really set in I was about forty-five minutes from home, so I turned around at the seven and a half kilometre mark and headed back in the other direction.

Things got better, the closer I got to Gungahlin. Must have been the sun finally doing it’s job. Everything was numb by the time I got in the door. It’s mornings like this that really make me appreciate hot showers.

Actually, all things considered, this morning’s run was pretty gruesome. I saw a frozen dead mousie on the path on the way out. On the way back, I saw a magpie in the middle of a frozen dead mousie breakfast.

I got about ten metres, then I threw up.

I’m not usually this sensitive, but I guess I was also running a bit harder than I should have been, just to keep the blood pumping.

About a month to go until the City 2 Surf. I really need to start planning what I’m going to wear. I feel ashamed that race outfits and playlists are my primary concern, rather than the actual training. Oh well.

I was fully intending to write a post on Sunday, but I completely forgot. My bad. I have been running, though. At the gym, I’ve been doing two sessions most weeks. Did fifteen down towards Gininderra on Saturday. Had a five around the lake last week, but I can’t recall when. So I’m lazy, but not that lazy. I just keep forgetting to blog. I’ll update tomorrow night when I’m not ridiculously tired. In the meantime, here’s an animated gif I made of Frankenberger the super-derp, just before the finish line at the Canberra Marathon in April.

If I look like I’m in pain, it’s because I was. I’ll probably just look ridiculous because this was taken from a large quantity of still shots snapped by Mum as she watched me go by, and not a video. I really don’t run like this. At least I hope that I don’t.

For added fun, watch this, and press the play button below.

Heh. The musical accompaniment doesn't seem to work on mobile, or on RSS feeds. Too tired right now to make it work, so you're going to have to visit my blog in its big splashy entirety to get the full effect. Once you've made the effort, you'll rightly determine that it wasn't worth the effort. But this is what the internet is for, amirite?

Hee. Bananas is tasty.

Mum came over today, and she brought a bunch of photos that she took of me at various races. A whole bunch from the Canberra Marathon back in April, and I haven’t gotten around to sorting through them yet, but there were also some from the Mother’s Day Classic last month.

I present for your entertainment my two favourite photos from the Mother’s Day Classic.





I liek bananas.

Yeah, I know. These are some of the most attractive photos of all time, right?

Off-topic

Holy Crap! I just heard a very loud bang. Was it fireworks, an explosion? An accident? What the hell was that?

Anyway, I just wanted to post to say that I was bored and checking the stats on my blog. Did you know that the majority of people who find my blog via a google search did so because they were looking for “why are my arms so red”, or “why are my arms always red”. Second top search phrase on the list? “bike dirndl photo”.

True story.

what is this i dont even

Maybe I should start posting bike dirndl photos. That’s what the people really want, not me going on and on about my shitty running ability. That, and advice on red arms.

Self-control, and the lack of

Case in point, I’m going to go get another glass of wine.

Wait, I haven’t even tried to make my point yet, have I? Well, it’s a perfect example. Basically, I have little to no self-control. As such, I’m drinking wine on a Tuesday night when I should be doing... pretty much anything else.

Somewhere in the misty distance of my past I managed to lose a bit of weight and get fit. As I’m only human, I can’t bring myself to think that I’m skinny, hot or fit enough right now and there’s nothing wrong with making more of an effort, is there? Amirite? I know I am. Nobody is EVER secure with the way they look. You can feel free to prove me wrong. Prove to me that you’re a perfect person that loves themselves perfectly, and I’ll personally lick your face. Or your chest. Because perfect is yummy. Imperfect is also yummy, but only in the correct ratio. People are awesome. Sorry, what was I talking about? I forgot. Excuse me, I’m going to get more wine.

So I had half a frozen pizza for dinner, sort of a healthy choice compared to some of the other unhealthy shit I could have eaten. Put a little extra cheese on it, damn good. Except I burned the roof of my mouth, as per fucking usual. It hurts. Hang on, this isn’t relevant.

I’ve been trying to get motivated. I’ve been trying to run three days, gym three days. Probably run at the gym two out of three days, so that would be five runs every week. Pretty hardcore, or at least it would be if the weather wasn’t so shit and I could actually drag myself out of bed to run of a morning. I’ve been doing pushups (of the girlie variety). Sit-ups, of the military variety. Pull-ups, assisted. Gradually reducing the assist weight. I can feel my posture improving. I can sprint at faster than 15 km/hr. But is this good enough?

I have been trying to control my calories, but almost every day I forget to fill my intake in. Many days, I cheat. It would be so easy to backslide here, just grab a bag of Tasty Cheese CCs, eat the whole thing. Overdose on butter. Drink a whole bottle of whatever the hell I want to, because fuck it, who really cares? In the long run, what does it really matter? Isn’t being happy more important than being a fucking superhero?

I find myself wondering if it really is worth getting out of bed at 5am just to run, or to get ready for work. Nobody’s thanking me for it. I have no real goals to aspire to, apart from a personal best at the City2Surf.

Actually, that is a pretty good goal.

Food-wise, I could really binge. I could revisit my beloved childhood game of “What Can I Fry?”. But rather than resorting to excess, I just fuck up a little bit at a time. A cookie here, a fun-sized chocolate bar there. Not enough for me to really enjoy myself, but enough that if I’m making any progress whatsoever, it’s really gradual. I probably shouldn’t beat myself up about this. I’m probably actually doing this the right way.

A confession - I’ve been smoking. Now, I haven’t really gone into this on my blog before apart from a few measly mentions, but I am an on-again, off-again smoker. I don’t smoke a great deal, but I do smoke a couple of cigarettes most days. You all can feel free to give me a hard time about it. I know it’s wrong, I know it’s been doing me damage. I want to stop. I don’t have any excuses.

Man, I really messed up the roof of my mouth. The wine stings like a bitch.

Reading back over this post, it seems a little negative. And blurry. Hold on, let me clean my glasses. Nope, that didn’t work. I’ll carry on.

I’m going to clarify: Life is fucking awesome for me at the moment. I’m having a great time. Work is full-on, and challenging, and the challenge is rewarding to me. I’m feeling strong, and I’m feeling fast. I like my hair, for once in my life. I’ve been wearing it curly. I’ll go whole weeks without tying my hair up. Ringlets a go-go. I feel sexy. For all the whinging I just did about eating too much, I’ve been drinking like 3 litres of water almost every day, and the food I do eat is far more balanced than it would have been back in the old days.

Today at the gym I had a great run. I did a plank until I collapsed from sheer exhaustion and it was for a lot longer than I expected. I’ve been walking up the stairs to my office, nine floors. It isn’t getting easier but I’m sure it will, eventually.

If I originally had a point, I don’t remember what it is now.

Uh. I feel bad about writing this post. I probably shouldn’t post it, but as previously expressed, I don’t really have any self-control.

Here’s a picture I drew in Draw Something. Look, a distraction!


Wheeeeee!

Don’t drink and blog, boys and girls.

*strut* *pose* *wiggle*

A lot of people might consider me to be a particularly motivated person. However, I would argue that I’m actually a hideously lazy bitch, and activity is more likely to come from impatience, rather than any true motivation.

Case in point:

I haven’t run a great deal, lately. Yes, I’ve been running a bit more often than usual, maybe three or four times a week, but it’s all short distances. I wanted to head out to Parkrun yesterday morning, just because I could. The only real way to get there by the start time, given the wonderful state of affairs with the buses (will someone please tell me why the bus system is practically non-existent on Saturdays? Surely people still need to go places on weekends), was to run. So I ran the 10km to Lake Ginninderra, kept it slow and steady. Figured I’d still be able to do a pretty fast 5km once I got there. Didn’t hold out much hope for a run back home again, but I had a bus ticket and surely there’d be buses by the time Parkrun was done with.

It was drizzling a little, but I didn’t even notice for maybe 5 or 6km, given that I was wearing a headband, a visor and a hoodie over the top. Not exactly toasty warm, but I didn’t start feeling soaked until much later. It wasn’t a hard run, despite the frustration at having to restart Zombies, Run! four times during one single mission. I got to the lake a little early, had to wander around for a bit. Ran the 5km, cracked my PB and even managed to overtake a couple of people. Which is always cool. I was pretty tired afterward, though. My legs weren’t exactly fresh.

When the race was over I got my phone out and did a search on google maps for the next bus. It was maybe twenty-five minutes away. To add to that, once I got on the bus it would have been a forty-five minute ride. Forget that. I did some quick math and figured I could run home in the same amount of time. So that’s what I did.

I wasn’t motivated. I wasn’t pumped. I wasn’t eager to get out on the road and clock up more kilometres. I was just bored, and impatient, and restless. Rather than stand around for a while and sit around for a while longer, I jogged off in the other direction and kept on jogging until I got back home.

25km, round trip. Not too shabby. I was starving all day, and I don’t think I ate enough to completely recover.

Now I’m going to go lie down. I tripped over and fell on the living room rug before. My legs are ouchy.

Motivate!

Okay, so I just got home from a movie. I’m getting ready for bed, sitting topless on the couch checking my Facebook (probably TMI), and I’m about to brush my teeth when I think “Hang on a second. You haven’t blogged about the weekend run. You haven’t blogged about your awesome run this morning. What kind of blogger are you, anyway? So goddamn lazy!”

So I grabbed the last of my motivation, stuck it on my head and squished it around for a bit, and now I’m going to write for a wee bit before I head off to sleepytime. Sound good? Damn straight.

I’ve been sick on and off for the last couple of weeks. Had a cold, still have a little bit of a cough (but nothing too bad). I took it easy for a while. I stopped paying attention. But no more! I’m putting my foot down. My alarm woke me up at 5 am this morning, and rather than sinking back into strange dreams about strange deep sea creatures that live on fairy floss (which means they’re always hungry, because fairy floss melts in the ocean), I got up and put two pairs of pants on and went for an early morning jog around the lake in the dark. It was a good one. My Zombies, Run! app didn’t crap out on me.

Doh. Forgot to tell you about that. Let’s jump back in time to Saturday morning. I went for a run, nothing special or too long or too gruelling, just a 10-15 km jog to get back in the swing of things. I forgot to put my Garmin on the charge, then remembered, then the charger didn’t sit on the thing right so it didn’t charge AT ALL. So I had no garmin. But I thought it wouldn’t be a big deal because I had my Zombies, Run game to tell me how far I’d gone. Right? Nope. Had to update the stupid app because they’re taking the advance version of the app (which was for the Kickstarter backers) off the iTunes store because Apple was chucking a shit about it. So this was the last update they could provide, and they said that any subsequent bugs couldn’t be fixed.

Naturally, this is when the app starts crashing REPEATEDLY, right in the middle of missions. Three songs played at one point before I noticed there hadn’t been any story for a while, and when I got my phone out, the app had crashed completely and I had to restart. Then it crashed again, and again, and yet again. In the end, I got in about 13 km, in about an hour and a half. So not too shabby, but nothing too special either. It was so cold, my hands were numb for ages even after I got home. I forgot my handkerchief and I got a bloody nose at one point (from irritation, I think. Nothing life threatening) so I was flinging blood and snot everywhere.

I don’t think I need to tell you that it wasn’t a pretty sight.

Also lost another two toenails, but I think these ones’ll grow back. I’m fairly positive.

So cranky about the Zombies being recalcitrant, that I barely even stopped to appreciate a hilarious line in the game where this guy with a horrendously bad American accent runs off to distract the encroaching mob because he’s been bitten and he wants to save my life. And Sam Yao (he’s the radio operator, back in Abel Township) says “Was that... Ace Rimmer?”

I hope at least a moderate proportion of the people playing this game understood and appreciated that joke.

Anyway. This morning. I ran a fairly good 5km, in about 30-something minutes. I dunno. Haven’t checked my run log. Sure it wasn’t anything extra fast or extra hardcore, but it felt so good to get a run in. Didn’t really tire me out for work either, but I guess I may have been at the sick-hungry stage this afternoon. It would have been a great diet day if I hadn’t had Indian food, a couple of beers and a choc-top at the flicks this evening.

Guess you can’t win them all.

Yup, it's that time again.

Got an email about a pre-sale of City2Surf entries, so I got in there and bought my ticket.

Bib 10142, Beeyatch. Green start, prequalified. Sexy. Magnificent. I’m going to rock this one, I can tell.

Now... Time to start brainstorming costumes again, and try to stop coughing so I can start training.

Distracto, the Magnificent!

So I’ve been intending to write, but... Hey, look at that thing over there!

I had a race this morning, well, I say ‘race’, but it was the Mother’s Day Classic. One thing I’d forgotten about this particular event is that the route is a little on the stupid side. That many people, trying to keep a good pace all at once on tiny narrow bike paths around the lake? Never going to be a great result. I don’t think I did particularly badly, though. It was a fun morning. A little on the cold side, but it didn’t rain. My legs feel great in the aftermath. My feet are messed up, but they were messed up before I even got out there.

I know I should feel guilty that I didn’t train very well. I didn’t take care of myself, I got up to mischief, and somehow had the nerve to feel surprised when everything started to hurt at the 3km mark. Funny, that.

Here’s an idea. I should write a list of all the things that I shouldn’t do the night before a race. A nice long list, in order from the most innocuous to the most debauched. Then, I should go out the night before a race and do as many of these things as I possibly can. Because the things that can fuck up a race are also the most fun things to get up to on a Saturday night. And that’s a solid fact. There’s no point to any of this running junk if I can’t use it to excuse my excesses.

Example:
You went out last night and got fall-down drunk and ate a whole pie?
Ah, that’s okay. You ran 20kms this morning. Good on you.

It’s a brilliant thought, but now that I think about it, people are a lot more likely to call me an idiot for drinking and smoking and misbehaving, simply because I am a runner. Because for some reason, I’m supposed to have a conscience and be fitness-minded. Whereas non-runners, they don’t have to give a shit.

I’m never going to be winning any marathons. I’m never going to be fast or feel incredibly fit. I could try for years, deny myself all the fun stuff, but what’s the point?

Here I go, being distracted again. I kinda forgot what my point was supposed to be with this post. Probably something to do with the Mother’s Day Classic.

Oh, here’s something. Their medals are shite. I know that a lot of the people who run this particular event aren’t serious runners, but who was the rocket scientist who came up with the convertible medal dealie? They just had this sudden brainwave, I know, let’s make the medals into keyrings, on a lanyard. That way, people who don’t dig medals can have a pretty pink keyring. And the people who DO like medals, well, they can have a cheapass piece of crap keyring on a lanyard which they can pretend is a medal.

LAME

Actually, feeling a little bad for saying that as it’s a charity-based event. How will I ever alleviate my conscience? I know. Hey, you guys. Go donate some money to Breast Cancer research or something. What, you want a hyperlink? I don’t have anything. Google the Mother’s Day Classic. You know how to google, don’t you?

I’m off to sleep now, like an old person. Have a photo.

One down

Stubbed my toe on the little table in the living room. Stubbed the wrong toe. My toenail flipped off like that’s what it intended to do after all. Didn’t even bleed. Just came off. Guess I’m going to have to wrap it up now, especially if I run tomorrow.

Gosh dangit.

Schrödinger's Toenail

While I’m running, the second toenail and fifth toenails on my left foot, as well as the third toenail on my right, exist in a state of quantum uncertainty. Are my toenails alive, or dead? The general lack of pain in both feet isn’t at all indicative.

But on an unrelated note, I ran my fastest 5 kilometres ever, yesterday morning. There’s this newfangled thingie called Parkrun, which is an organised timed 5 km run that happens at 8am every Saturday morning. They have these runs in a bunch of countries, and they’re free. You just sign up, print off your personal barcode and show up with the barcode at the run.

Yesterday was the first run, and the Canberra run is at Lake Ginninderra. Anyone in the region who’s looking for something to brighten up their Saturday mornings should come along. You can find more information at the Parkrun Australia website here, and the Ginninderra Parkrun site here. There were 91 runners this week, and I came in 39th. Yay! Good for me! I couldn’t stick around for the coffee at HaHa bar afterwards, didn’t have any cash with me, but next week I’ll definitely try to.

But back to the issue of the moment, namely my feet. I know it’s boring, and people might think it’s gross. But hell, this is my blog and if I want to talk about weird toenails, nobody can stop me. I dunno... people seem to have these weird heebie-jeebies associated with feet. I don’t really understand. Everyone has feet, unless they don’t.

If I started talking about having broken a fingernail, would people get up in arms and call me disgusting? I don’t think so, somehow. Well, maybe some people would.

I think the blisters started because I’m a toe gripper. I grip with my toes more when I’m sprinting or when I’m trying to keep pulling myself along when I’m tired. Maybe I should try to learn to relax my feet.

Anyway, I haven’t lost any toenails yet but it’s only a matter of time. Then, I guess it’s goodbye to open-toed shoes for the time being. Oh well. It’s not really the time of year for sandals anyway.

The Running Dead

Took a short 5km jog this morning. Wanted to do more, but I’ve never been good at the running-2-days-in-a-row thing, so I didn’t really feel up to it.

Anyway, I want to talk about something that I thought I’d talked about before, but apparently haven’t. Which is odd, because it’s something that I’ve been into since maybe February, and it’s intrinsically linked with my running escapades.

I’ve been using an iPhone app called Zombies, Run!, which is, according to the website:
        ...an ultra-immersive running game for the iPhone, iPod Touch, and Android. We deliver the story straight to your headphones through orders and voice recordings - and back home,         you can build and grow your base with the items you've collected.

It’s a game where you run from zombies. In the simplest terms, that’s it. Except, to date, the Android version hasn’t been released yet. When I first heard about this game it was a kickstarter project, and I couldn’t stop myself from contributing. It had two of my favourite things: Zombies, and running. So I chipped in some money, and the project became massively overfunded, and the game got made.

Basically, what you do is select a playlist, and choose from the list of available missions, then you start running. It uses the GPS (on the iPhone at least, iPod Touch uses the accelerometer instead) but it doesn’t look for where you are or make you run toward anywhere in particular. If you’ve turned the zombie chases option on, every now and then it’ll make you speed up while you get these little radar beeps in your headphones that indicate how close the zombies are.

The voice acting is excellent, and the story is really riveting. There’s also a couple of story elements that can be followed up outside of the game if you’re into the whole ‘alternate reality game’ thing. Which I am.

So, if you’re into running, and zombies, and running from zombies, and you have an iPhone, I recommend that you get your hands on this game. It’s a real motivator.

Mad Props, and the Nasty Toenail Crisis

Okay, a few recommendations for you. I’ll post the first tonight, the second tomorrow.

I recently took the plunge and joined a new social networking website. I don’t do this lightly, as I’m keenly aware of the number of useless websites that are sending me spam on an almost daily basis, and the number of websites I’ve signed up for and only visited once or twice. There’s so much shit out there, and I know I have to streamline my online presence eventually.

What was I saying? Sorry, I’m a little drunk. Oh, yeah. A new social networking site. It’s attractive to me, because it’s fitness related. I can record my fitness activities on there and the site turns it all into a sort of game. There are quests, achievements, challenges... The site is Fitocracy, If you’ve never seen the site, I recommend you check it out regardless of your current fitness level for one main reason: If you try it out, and you dig the format, it makes working out a helluva lot of fun. See, when you’ve finished a hardcore workout, and you’re feeling strong and fit and awesome, sometimes you feel like a douche when you go to post a boasty little “Fuck yeah” on Facebook, as surely people don’t go on there to see that sort of shit, and they’ll feel obligated to ‘like’ your status so that you know they’re paying attention... So on and so forth.

Disregarding the fact that everybody does that with every aspect of their lives on Facebook anyway, it just feels even more like a douche move when you’re going on there to say “Sprinted til I hurled. Wicked cool”.

What I love about Fitocracy is that it’s the same shameless self-promotion, but that’s exactly why everyone else is there. They want you to know how much they bench, how fast they run, how many squats they can do. You want to know, because you’re into that shit. You want them to know that you know. The Fitocracy alternative to ‘liking’ someone’s status, is to give them props. People give you props for walking up the stairs rather than taking the lift. Because it’s dope. People give you props for getting achievements for getting props.



It does seem a little silly, but it’s a silly that I like. It’s motivating. I want to get out there and do cool shit so I can post it on Fitocracy and get props for it. I want to get quests and achievements. It’s pretty damn fun.

And it brings me to another point. Since the marathon last week, I’ve had three black toenails (Actually, to be perfectly honest I already had one black toenail before I ran the race, but now there’s three). I think it’s caused by blood blisters under the nail, at least in one case. I’m terrified that the bloody things are just going to randomly drop off. I posted something about it in the runners community on Fitocracy and got props from a whole bunch of people. I thought surely I’ve discussed the black toenail conundrum previously, but I just checked and I haven’t, at least on this blog. Apparently, and you may find this gross, some runners consider black toenails to be hallmarks of a hardcore runner. Because although some of the comments considered it as a bad thing, a large proportion of the people who commented were basically expressing congratulations. For the marathon. For the toenails. For everything all at once, because I rock.

Anyway, if you’re on Fitocracy or feel like kickstarting your fitness funtime, you can follow me on there. My username is (somewhat predictably) Frankenberger.

Now I’m going to go sleep so I can get up in the morning and run again. I ran this morning (just a speedy little 10km) but I’m determined to post another awesome workout on Fitocracy. For the props, doncha know.

And I! Would! Walk! Five! Hun! -Dred! Miles!

Or rather, run. Sorry, that song has been stuck in my head since yesterday and I can’t seem to shake it.

My official time for the marathon yesterday is in, and according to the website I managed to scrape through in 4:46:02. While this didn’t top my goal of sub-4:45, it’s still a personal best and I’m not going to be disappointed about it. I managed it, never hit the wall, and while I took several short walk breaks (of no more than a minute at a time) I’m going to stick to my guns and tell the world with no misgivings that I ran that bitch. I RAN the shit out of that bitch.

The first thirteen or so kilometres of the run were easier than I’d hoped, and even verging on fun. This is for one reason: Distraction. I had my best running buddy along for the ride, running her first half-marathon. It’s amazing how much more awesome things can be with an awesome running buddy to annoy. I feel bad that I fucked up the first couple of minutes of her race with my garmin mishaps, but I’m so proud that she managed to finish her first half in the time she wanted. Two thumbs up, you awesome lady, you!

Yeah, garmin mishaps. So now I’m going to bitch and whine about my reliance on technology and how I’d love to be one of those runners who can just strap on shoes (or not even that, barefoot runners are pretty hardcore) and run out the door of a morning, but I know that any such thing would be at least semi-bullshit. I need my time, my heart rate, my pace. Without that, I’m blind and even stupider than usual. So when we started the race, and my garmin still hadn’t found the freaking satellite, I had no other option (in my mind, at least) than to stop and wait for the little bastard to get a signal. Maybe lost a minute. No big deal, but I freaked the fuck out. And I didn’t get an accurate time for the race. It doesn’t really matter. But in any case, sorry ‘bout that, Dina.

After the half-marathon turn-around point, I plugged in my headphones, cranked some Flock of Seagulls and tried not to focus on the fact that I was already in a bit of pain. My knees weren’t too bad, my right leg had been giving me issues for a couple of days but it wasn’t too bad, however I was still a bit hurty and I can’t put my finger on how. I chugged my first gel at about twelve kms, did a second at about the 20k mark. Don’t recall where I hit the third, but I know I did four in total. Ended up coming home with four gels in my bumbag, and only two of them were ones I’d brought with me.


Here I am, at the halfway point. I love this sign.

Best thing about this whole escapade is that when I hit 31 kms, I was expecting that it was only a matter of time before I fizzled out. But the marker passed, and the next, and the next, and I was still running. Even at the end, I hadn’t walked more than four or five times. I did go blind at one point, at least temporarily. Glycogen depletion is a bitch. My vision greyed out, and my brain wouldn’t interpret the things I was seeing. Things went a little migraine-y. I felt dizzy, drunk. Does this mean that I bonked and don’t even want to acknowledge it? I don’t think so, but some of these symptoms match up with hypoglycaemia, so maybe I did. But I was still running.

The end hurt. My back, my hips. The last two kilometres were pure hell, and I kept wanting to walk it in, maybe dash the last hundred metres, but people who ran by me kept on pushing me forward. Saying that I’d be cheating myself. Come on, you can do it. I ran, even though I was sobbing with pain and the anticipation of relief. I ran, and I finished.

Had to take today off work because when I tried to get out of bed this morning, I just couldn’t. A day of diligent, painful stretching has led to legs that are somewhat functional (although sitting down and standing up still means a little bit of yelping) but my hips are still painful, and my back is a minefield of agony. Those stretchy bandages are a wonder though, for my legs. I wish they had stuff like that for my back.

Maybe I need a massage. I can’t really afford a massage.

Moral to this story: I am an idiot who deserves everything she gets. But hell, I’m an idiot who has run two marathons. So screw you, sensible person!

You really want to know what I listen to in a race?

So, here’s an excerpt of the playlist I’ve set up for tomorrow’s Marathon. I know that there’s at least one song on here that will make every person who reads this, regardless of their musical taste, go “What the ever-living fuck?” but it can’t be helped. I’m a complex person. I listen to embarrassing shit. Haters can hate, but if you hate I will pout. Then I’ll get over it, and I’m the one who’ll be running along tomorrow, getting down to this funky-ass playlist.

It may seem a little short, but like I said, this is just an excerpt. There are songs that even I can’t admit I listen to because they’re so goddamn embarrassing. Think of the daggiest song on this list, times that by ten, and you’re coming close to the audio sewage that I’ll be wading in, somewhat self-consciously.

So for those who’d rather keep their mental picture of me being awesome intact, look away now! Without further ado (and for some reason, in semi-alphabetical order of artist):

A-ha - Take On Me
        (no explanation required, I should think. This song rocks.)
Apocalyptica - Ruska
Barenaked Ladies - Another Postcard
Beck - Girl
Beck - Go it Alone
Beck - Nicotine & Gravy
Beck - Tropicalia
Billy Idol - Mony Mony
        (yes.)
The Black Keys - Tighten Up
The Black Keys - Run Right Back
        (not the only song with a fitting title)
Cake - Comfort Eagle
Cake - Rock ’n’ Roll Lifestyle
Cake - Wheels
Cake - Satan is my Motor
The Chemical Brothers - My Elastic Eye
Childish Gambino - Bonfire
Childish Gambino - Heartbeat
Florence + The Machine - Dog Days are Over
Foo Fighters - Bridge Burning
The Glitch Mob - Drink the Sea
        (the whole album)
Gorillaz - Superfast Jellyfish
Justin Timberlake - What Goes Around...Comes Around...
        (yes, I went there)
Kanye West - All of the Lights
        (and there)
Jackson Five - ABC
Of Monsters and Men - Little Talks
OK Go - Here it Goes Again
Oomph - Beim Ersten Mal Tut’s Immer Weh
Oomph - Revolution
Outkast - Hey Ya
        (shake it! SHAKE IT!)
Pendulum - Propane Nightmares
The Presets - If I Know You
Queen - We are the Champions
Rammstein - Sonne
Rammstein - Ich Tu Dir Weh
Rammstein - Feuer Frei!
Red Hot Chilli Peppers - Can’t Stop
Survivor - Eye of the Tiger
MC Hammer - U Can’t Touch This
The Hives - Go Right Ahead
Vitamin String Quartet - Motion Picture Soundtrack
Weezer - Undone (the Sweater Song)
Weezer - Say It Ain’t So
Why? - The Vowels Part 2
30 Seconds to Mars - The Kill
The Mars Volta - L’Via L’Viaquez
Blind Melon - No Rain
Poison - Every Rose Has it’s Thorn
        (this is when we start sliding downhill)
Flock of Seagulls - I Ran
        (yeah. But it’s topical.)
Talking Heads - Road to Nowhere
        (as is this)
The Proclaimers - I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)

And, on that note... :)

Reflections: You've come a long way, baby!

So I had this dream that I was walking down the street on which I used to live. I found my old house, and it looked just the same as it did when I lived there. For some reason, I didn’t have any issues with opening the door and walking right in. The house was quiet, and there didn’t seem to be anyone around. I knocked on my old bedroom door, and someone said “What?” in a fairly pissed-off tone. I poked my head in, and there I was, lying on the bed, eating ice-cream.

It was me, and I think I was about 15 years old, or thereabouts. I had terrible hair, I was pale, I looked unhealthy. I was quite chubby.

The dream kind of fell apart at this point, but if the dream continued and I could control it, I know what I would have done. I would have sat down and told the younger version of myself that I’m running my second marathon on Sunday. I would have told her that life isn’t always as shit as it seemed back then. I would have said that there’s more to life than unhealthy food and television. I would have told her that she’d live to the age of 30. She’d actually enjoy running and being strong and she’d actually come to like the way she looked. She’d come to love herself, if only occasionally.

I would tell the 15-year old me that there would be ups and downs throughout her life, that she would get fatter before she got thinner, then she’d only lose 5 kilos before she gave up and got even fatter than before. I would tell her that this was okay, because crash dieting isn’t a sustainable method of weight loss. And one day, she’d lose the weight and she wouldn’t put it back on. I’d tell her that the way she used to say that she would never be a size 10 because of her bone structure was a load of bullshit, and one day she’d be wearing a size 8 in some stuff and she’d still have fairly decent tits.

I would impress upon the 15 year-old me that it is possible to run 42 kilometres without dying, that speed isn’t everything and even though she would be slow, she would always get there in the end.

I would tell her that she would one day kick herself out of her misery spiral, and she would come to realise the beauty in the universe.

And, only after I’d told her all this, and I’d made her promise that she’d cheer the fuck up, only then, I would take her ice-cream and I would eat it, because ice-cream is awesome. And I want some ice-cream. Why don’t I have ice-cream?

I would tell you what the moral behind all this is, but I don’t really think there is one.

Still Alive!

Alright, let’s do this. I’ve had three margaritas so you may have to excuse a lack of coherence. As I’m Little Miss Social Butterfly at the moment, I feel like I need to grab hold of any inspiration that might occur because I probably won’t have time later.

I’m living in my new apartment. It’s big. And, it’s neat. It’s also all the way out in Gungahlin, so a simple run around the lake (any lake, apart from Yerrabi Pond) takes a significant journey just to get there. This is a good thing.

So... Marathon. Less than a month. Scared? Petrified. My race pack arrived at mum’s place this week, so it’s real now. It’s concrete. And I don’t think I’m going to be as ready as I would like to be. But that’s fine. I’m going to aim for a sub-4 hr 45 min finish, and anything beyond that will be a bonus.

Once the race is over, I can start planning my costume for the City2Surf. I have many ideas. The newest idea involves pirates. Stay tuned for updates.

Memories are made of this

So... Things all sort of fell in a heap. I had to move in with mum for the moment, but I managed to find another awesome apartment which I’ll be moving into on Friday. It’ll all pick up. Hopefully. Eventually.

One thing I was a little worried about (which was pointless, and kinda dumb because I had far more important things to worry about) was my marathon training. It’s less than two months away, and up until yesterday I hadn’t even run once in more than two weeks. Yikes. I did sign up for the marathon though, because I need to aim for goals and this is a pretty good goal.

I didn’t expect to run very far yesterday, but I hoped for 25 kilometres so I could say my training was somewhat on track. I managed to do a little better than that. I ran from mum’s place in Wanniassa to Lake Burley Griffin in the city, around the lake and back to mum’s again. 27.78 kilometres, all up. I felt like I even had more in the tank after I’d finished. So I’m satisfied. Legs are a little... Well, I’m not going to lie. Legs hurt like a son of a bitch. My left knee is discoloured, and it makes odd squishy noises sometimes. It swelled up pretty big yesterday, but it’s more normal knee-sized today. My back is really tight as well. I could do with a massage. Maybe I’ll fork out for one in the next couple of weeks. A nice painful deep tissue remedial massage.

In the Hizzouse. Or more to the point, out of the hizzouse.

I’m moving house on the weekend. I know, this seemingly comes out of the blue but it’s a potential reality that I’ve been living with for quite some time now. I’m moving all the way across town, so now for the craziness of the actual move, the purchasing of furniture and the confusing mire of getting electricity, telephone, internet et cetera. Additionally, the fun of trying to figure out an appropriate running route to use for my weekend training. I don’t know of any trails around the Woden area, at least not any that would give me something interesting to look at for the 30 or so kilometres that I’ll be running very soon, every Saturday morning.

Lake Burley Griffin, maybe? I know how to run north. It’s a pretty good run, nice and scenic. I’d definitely have options to increase distance.

I managed 21 kms last Friday morning. I’m painfully aware of how far behind I am in my training, but I’m just going to have to live with it. I dunno. I could get lucky and improve on last year’s time. But does it really matter if I don’t break it by much? A marathon is always a marathon, whether it’s fast or slow. It’s always an achievement. You can’t discount a marathon. It’s fucking hardcore, no matter which way you look at it.