So, what's gone on in the *counts on fingers* five months since I last updated this blog? Have a potted history in the style of your favourite recapping narrator (be they Kristen Bell, an undercover Russian, a smooth Latin lover, a dry English librarian, or Kristen Bell):
- Christmas Eve I started my marathon training plan, gradually increasing the distances and speeds of my weekly runs
- My Brighton Marathon shirt from last year racked up more and more PBs, not just course PBs set on each course's inaugural run (thus guaranteeing a new PB) but on occasions when the conditions just felt right, giving me that extra boost to ensure a new record.
- One of those was smashing my 10k personal best by five minutes on a Sunday morning in late January, finally getting the sub 60 minute 10k time that was my New Year's resolution. For 2017.
- My total distance run for 2018 was a touch over 320km, not only hitting the stretch goal put down in October, but going a little bit further to make up the 20km I was short in 2017.
- I joined the 21st century and upgraded from the dodgy Runtastic app to Strava.
- I saw a physio for the first time!
When I've been running over the winter months, the outer part of my left knee would occasionally give me feedback, along the lines of "stop running, this hurts". This eased off as I strengthened it, and my rule of thumb became "if the temperature is in single digits, wear leggings" which averted the problem. Sitting still for long periods would occasionally cause it to flare up, so picking specific cinema seats and being able to stretch out sorted this.
Until my marathon plan kicked in, and I suddenly started running more than just a parkrun and an hour's slow run every Saturday and Sunday. A month into my training and a Saturday walk around town post-parkrun became so painful I had to stop and rest every few hundred metres. I bit the bullet and went to a local physio (a stone's throw from my flat - literally, I can stand on my balcony and lob a pebble through their window with minimal effort if I were so inclined!) and it turns out I'd strained my iliotibial band (which runs down the outside of your leg from hip to knee). Three weeks of rest, three weeks out of my marathon training plan, three weeks kicking my heels, three weeks of getting acquainted with my foam roller.
(Side note: I hate the foam roller and it hates me, but it's incredibly useful. When I'm in the US for the week before the marathon I'll be purchasing a cheap one from Target to keep myself bendy!)
A couple of test runs around Hove Park to make sure my legs were working, and I got back in the game in early March - which just so happened to be the inaugural Seaford parkrun. Again I gamed the stats for my Marathon shirt, jumped on a speedy, comfortable and frequent train along the coast, and ran an out-and-back course by the sea! Very close to the sea, at one point there was less than a metre between the prom and the waves. After some initial complaints from my knee it shushed itself and I flew along the route, making great time. Maybe the enforced rest and exercises did me the world of good? I turned round at the end of the course to head back and faced into a gust of wind. Ah. Looks like the outbound section had some aid! The run back was somewhat trickier, however I managed to keep up a consistent pace throughout despite the conditions, and finish under the 30 minute mark.
(This is longer than I expected it to be, but the second half ties into the headline, and I'll be damned if I'm losing the wordplay.)
The confidence from my leg not falling off and a run in tricky conditions fired me up, and I went out the following morning for a Sunday long run. I set it in stages - if the walk to the coast to start was fine on my leg, I'd run west with the option of stopping at a railway station and jumping on the next train back. There weren't many people around, running through Storm Freya, so there was a nice camaraderie among those
Passing McDonalds I was tempted by the smell of the breakfast menu (plus the warmth and dryness within - by this point there was very little of me that wasn't soaked by sweat, rain, tears or sea spray) but pushed on, enjoying my podcasts and seeing how far I'd get. Entering Shoreham I turned south, away from the station, across the river Adur. I'd done this section at the end of a previous Sunday run to get some extra distance in, running directly to the beach and back. This time I ran around the coast as best I could, discovering a Napoleonic fort (that was across the harbour from the harbour arm I'd run up and down 45 minutes before) and running along a springy boardwalk across the beach which was a relief from the tarmac. Cutting inland at the end of the boardwalk I could've run north back to the bridge but I decided to head west, until I reached the river.
This is a geographical failing of mine, possibly brought on by poor nutrition beforehand as I was starving at this point, as the next river I could hit was the River Arun at Littlehampton - 15 miles/24km away! I plodded westwards, getting more and more concerned at the lack of river until I passed a familiar row of beach huts. I'd wound up on the Lancing Beach Green parkrun course! Buoyed by being on familiar terrain, and actually knowing where I was, I perked up a bit, noting that I'd surpassed 15km in this run, making it my furthest distance since the marathon last April. My mood was dashed two minutes later when I checked my watch again to see, instead of my time and distance, an error message showing that my app had crashed. After a brief bout of language that I rarely use outside of Gillingham's home ground, I carried on to the cafe, and manually uploaded the distance with an estimated time on Strava. At this point I was soaked through, hungry, and grumpy, so I went to the Asda by Lancing station to refuel before the train, also getting a bottle of beer from the non-alcoholic section (which was surprisingly tasty, before I realised it was alcoholic).
So, that's pretty much the story so far - at least until 3rd March. I've been on four more runs since then, including a new PB, new gear, new routes, new books, and a geographical mystery that's been nagging at me for the last four years. Until next time.
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