Well well well; having just glanced at the calendar and my last post, it appears to be almost a full month since I last wrote. This is for several reasons, chiefly among which are that towards the end of January/beginning of February work was busy, I was tired, didn't have enough rest and so although I was still training, I didn't feel like it was of sufficient quality - or, in some cases, length - and as such had no desire to stew over it further by committing it to the internet.
This built up towards the end of half term, meaning that on the Thursday before I broke up for the holidays, I got changed ready to go training at Hamsterley, drove a mile or two up the road, then evaluated the situation: I was yawning profusely, the road was icy, it was raining, it was pitch black (obviously, because it was nearly 7pm in mid-February, but in addition to the above moans, I was getting tired of running in the dark after work) and I was well aware that at Hamsterley the ground would still be largely covered in snow and ice. And so, having made such a convincing case not to go training (to myself, not to anyone else), I turned around, went home, made some pork stroganoff and then a generously proportioned cocoa with a billowing cloud of whipped cream and a blanket of marshmallows, and a glug of Baileys in the bottom of the mug. It was delicious.
And then it was Friday, the last day of half term, and I was aware I should go for some sort of trot, but couldn't be bothered so didn't. Hence I had two consecutive days off - for the second time in January - and felt quite sluggish. On the other hand, I always find training good fun, which is how it should be. When it becomes a chore, although I firmly believe that to improve you have to force yourself out even when you'd rather sit on the sofa in a warm room, I think there's an equally valid case for taking the odd day off for both a mental and physical rest. The good thing after my two days off was that when half term kicked off on the Saturday, I woke up feeling energetic and full of joie de vivre again and so went out for both a swim and a run. In 13 days I did 14 training sessions - not following my usual pattern since I was on holiday - but they were a mix of steady and quality and although I feel as though I've still lost some fitness, it was nice to have rediscovered my mojo (I loathe the word 'mojo', but it appears appropriate here).
And so, in the past week, I have accomplished the following (I'm obviously not going to go back through the past 4 weeks. That would firstly be dull, and secondly make my brain hurt with powers of recall, and I can smell beef bourgignon and gammon in cider cooking so this blogging malarkey already feels like an inconvenience but I feel I ought to record something to make me seriously consider how much training I've been doing):
Saturday 18 Feb: a whopping 30 minutes of swimming. This would ordinarily be more but I had to get the train to London before 9am from Darlington so I just squashed in 30 minutes before I had to dash to the station. Still, quality is better than quantity etc. so I warmed up, blasted 8 x 50m off 90s, did a few drills and then got out. Although 8 x 50m is hardly anything, they were fast by my standards and actually rendered me speechless. This is a good thing. And then I raced to the station, met my mum on the train, and spent most of the rest of the weekend eating. We went Michel Roux Jr's new restaurant for dinner, where we treated ourselves... or rather my mum treated us... to the seven-course tasting menu. My 30 minutes of swimming, regardless of how intense the 50s were, certainly did not burn off sufficient calories to compensate for the seven courses of tastiness.
Sunday 19 Feb: 9 miles or so with Alastair in London. This was largely uninspirational: I ran from our hotel to Alastair's flat, up the not-very-scenic Caledonian Road, past the pool where I used to swim every Wednesday night, where someone's bike would be pinched without fail each week, and up past the Emirates stadium. We jogged up to Finsbury Park and pootled round two laps - not fast, probably about 9-minute mile pace - and then back to Alastair's flat and then the hotel. We went out for breakfast, where my mum and I had a deliciously creamy omelette Arnold Bennett (this is of no interest to anyone other than me, but I've been loosely intending to have a well-made omelette Arnold Bennett for about four years now, so this was the culmination of a long-term idle project), half a stack of pancakes, half a chocolate and raisin brioche, and half a cinnamon bun. Mmm. Lovely.
Monday 20 Feb: 60 minutes of swimming. I don't recall this at all. I presume it must have been okay.
Tuesday 21 Feb: I struggle on Tuesdays, because I usually get home about 6:45, and have more work to do when I get back, and so although it should be a quality running day, I don't usually find I do the quality that I require. I went out for a bit of a jog and had a plan to do some strides partway through. My Achilles and heel were a bit sore which presumably was due to the miles done on tarmac in London. I jogged up to the top of Cockfield fell, where a horse did a strikingly good impression of a llama in the dark, and the wind was so loud and there were so many dogs barking that I convinced myself the Hound of the Baskervilles was about to come hurtling towards me. I jogged down to the old railway line where the wind was howling and did 4 x 60s strides into the wind, then turned around and practically flew back home with a tailwind.
Wednesday 22 Feb: 90 minutes of swimming. Was lacking a bit in motivation for this so I recall performing adequately but it was nothing of note.
Thursday 23 Feb: DFR were on tour at Chester le Street but having driven back from Guisborough I didn't fancy another drive out, and Andy had work to do so we just drove up to Hamsterley. I wanted to do 8 miles fast-ish but my Achilles and heel weren't in agreement so having jogged up to Doctors Gate and a bit beyond we had to walk back. This was a fairly boring process, because it was raining, and hence a bit cold, and walking back naturally takes much longer than jogging. Andy jogged back from Hamsterley to get some miles in; I came home and ate some lamb mince with celeriac mash and then perked up remarkably when I remembered we had some left over rice pudding in the fridge.
Friday 24 Feb: Day off, first day off in 14 days, padded around work in my Vibram 5 Fingers in an effort to sort out my Achilles.
Saturday 25 Feb: I thought it was perhaps a gamble to run so soon after Thursday's debacle but we were in the Peak District visiting Andy's sister and her husband's new baby, and being in the Peak District it seems a shame not to go for a run. We went out for an hour, on soft ground to begin with and then on paving stones further up on our way to Kinder Plateau. Lovely run out - clear day, could see for miles, we put a bit of effort in on a couple of the hills and otherwise just enjoyed being out jogging. Achilles seemed okay so that was clearly an enormous boon, and we're always on the lookout for enormous boons (see Hugh Laurie and Stephen Fry's travelling poetry bag sketch from the eighties for that quote in its full hilarious context).
Sunday 26 Feb: 60ish minutes of swimming. Given my concerns re. my current levels of fitness, I was keen to do a bit of a swimming time trial to see how I'm swimming. We do a lot of reps at swimming but very rarely a time trial, and I've never timed myself over 100m or 200m as a one-off, and I've decided out of curiosity it's something I'd like to do once a month or so to measure any improvement/retardation. Michael from the club swam this morning too so he could time me and make it more accurate... I just wanted to do 100m today, which I did in 1:24, 40s for the first 50m and 44s for the second 50. Clearly this is something that a proper swimmer would snort at, but I was moderately pleased. However, I think getting down to 1:22 in the next month or so is an achievable target, possibly. It was public lane swimming this morning so doing anything proper after that was difficult since it was fairly busy but I went through a few drills and then, at the end, decided to try another timed swim. That was 1:26, so given how tired I was after the first one I was pleased. Again, I was rendered speechless for quite a while afterwards. And then, this afternoon, I thought I'd make the most of the fact that it was a clear and mild day to go for my first bike ride in weeks and weeks and weeks. I haven't really cycled properly since New Year's Eve. Anyway, on reacquainting myself with my bike I realised that:
a) I had washed it in January, quite thoroughly, so it was gleaming;
b) I had it serviced in January, and new brakes;
c) I had new wheels put on it in January, which have red bits on and hence afford a psychological boost.
All of the above was a very pleasant surprise. It was also mild enough to not wear shoe covers, for the first time in months. Treatarama. I had just planned 21ish miles to remind myself where the pedals were, where the gears were, but due to the extremely boring [goddess of weather, please take note] wind on the moors I cut it short and so it turned out to be 19.3. Really, I'm getting quite sick of such strong winds. I have no objection to winds that just turn a normal cycle into something more arduous, but when you have to fight to stay on the right side of the road, not end up in the verge, and not on the floor, it becomes tiresome and very very dull.
And so I feel like I'm perhaps getting back on track. I may race 5 miles next weekend in Northumberland but will cycle and swim on Saturday because I'm looking to do 2 hard weeks and then a taper week before Lad's Leap in March.
Piffle, this is a long blog post. Time to look at some beef and some gammon instead.
