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.