The day job

 Greenwich Park: Not a bad looking office

14.10.2014
Day 183

Team Shape U in the morning. Soggy underfoot so Erik-Lee had Alana, Rebecca, Hyacinth and me testing our abdominals on the 6-pack wheelie rollout thing, which I should really have taken a photo of if I fail to be descriptive, plus super 21s (high knees sprints over six inch hurdles), squats with weights, balancing with a hoop, battle rope, and side step squats under a bar. Five sets. 
After this I set off for Greenwich Park, where I helped Ellie with one of her Buggy Runner classes, and envied her her day job. 

 

The Buggy Runners: up and at 'em!

Ellie Brown is the highly charismatic and energetic founder of Greenwich Pilates and the first person new mothers should turn to when they're trying to return to fitness, and find likeminded friends, post baby. Ellie has instigated a number of buggy running classes across south east London and I shall be leading the Southwark Park class every Thursday morning. So this morning I shadowed Ellie and chatted to the women and had a thoroughly good time. Despite accepting a copywriting booking for the end of the month, and applying to three editorial jobs this past week, I still harbour various Personal Trainer fantasies, in which the bosky south London parks become my office, and I can make money out of the thing I like best. I suppose I'm not doing too badly: I write for a running magazine after all, but the money I get from running-related labours isn't enough to pay my half of the mortgage. 
Yet I believe it's important that women of my age continue to fly the flag for fitness, fast work and all round fabulousness, which is why I was pleased to hear from Kathrine Switzer today, about the launch of her 261 Fearless campaign. Would I like to get involved? You bet!

A bit of a wobble

13.10.2014
Day 182


Rest day. A rainy Monday, so even a walk was somewhat truncated. I did a little morning yoga and planking, and two ten minute stints on this wobble board

Want a trim waist? Go swivel. At least that's what former ballerina and current dance campaigner Darcey Bussell says she does. Her exhortation to 'swivel for ten minutes twice a day on a board' was all the encouragement I needed. I have this wobble board from Tiger, which daughter Jane and I bought a year or so ago, and which, up until now, has been gathering dust in my 'home gym' (a corner of my study, to be used when my husband's not looking, he's very disapproving of my vanity). Obsessed with that chilling NHS statistic about waists over 31 inches being a dead cert for Diabetes, and ever mindful of my Devonshire dumpling tendencies, I have been swivelling (wo)manfully.  With conviction. However, if I'm going to have double helpings of cheesecake after dinner, I can swivel till I'm blue in the face: the gluttony will still show in my waist measurement.

Other people's PBs

Slow pacing is a challenge

12.10.2014
Day 181

Royal Parks Half
My second half marathon of the weekend. This one I thought would give me no trouble, since I was pacing a time 35 minutes slower than my PB. I could not have been more wrong. It was tiring and painful, and pretty stressful. I cycled there and back, about 16miles, which has no doubt contributed to the fatigue I feel now.

Keeping runners to a 2:20 pace necessitated running this, surely one of the most popular half marathons in the land at  10:30 minute miles, I calculated. A walk in the park. It's so hard though, playing the very devil with your head. An hour in, having chatted happily to people relying on me for a PB, I realised I had another 1 hour and 20 minutes on my feet, and my feet, one of them at least, were shrieking at me. I wondered at one point whether the middle toe pain, which came out of nowhere, would fell me. I checked my watch obsessively, but was jangled by my fellow 2:20 pace, who disappeared up ahead. Surely he was going too fast? Accelerating to keep up with him, I lost some of my faithful followers, including an asthmatic woman from Denmark, whom I didn't see again. That made me feel as bad as my foot. My pelvic floor was also playing up, so despite clenching, I was soggy. The finish was a welcome sight. Interestingly I was doing the same pace as my partner at the end, which was the pace, more or less, my Garmin kept me to most of the way round. In th event, I guess he could be said to have done a positive split - fast out, slower at end - and I did the oppostite.
One thing is for certain. I am resting now for a few days. The plantar fasciitis, and the pelvic floor,  has to be addressed.  

The Swimmer

11.10.2014
Day 180
The Swimmer 
A relaxed half marathon starting with a privileged dip in Hampstead Men's Pond and finishing at Brockwell Lido, with brrrracing swims in Parliament Hill Lido and the Serpentine in between. Starting at 7am.

Ah, there was the rub. That 7am start. I thought the 6am train that took me to West Hampstead would do the job, but I didn't reckon on getting hopelessly lost (and ending up in the bowels of the O2 shopping centre on the Finchley Road, much to the consternation of the night staff and construction workers therein at this tender hour of the morning). I was eventually navigated out by a young Asian dad from Stratford, who commiserated with me about the fact that no-one in West Hampstead seemed to know of Hampstead, 'Hammersmith? Hannover?' or speak English. While we had a leisurely stroll to Finchley Road and Frognal, I regretted not taking the overground to Hampstead Heath Station. Even more so when I was informed I'd have to run a mile to find the Heath, then another mile over the Heath to find the men's pond.
Find it I did, eventually, after running a soggy mile with a heavy bag. The obliging and courteous organisers of The Swimmer kindly waited for me to take in dip in the murky water, because to swim in these famous ponds has been on my bucket list since I moved to London in 1984 (yes, I know, it can't have been that much of an ambition...) A very quick splash about was all I had time for. It was very deep, dark water. A little scary. I remembered the sunbaked, erotic scene from the gorgeous television adaptation ofThe Line of Beauty. The pond did not look so sexy today:

Kind Will waited for me and we jogged to Parliament Hill Lido for our second swim. This has 1990s memories of swimming with small children, or rather escaping small children to come here to swim on hot days with my trendy, north London, child-free friends. I did not take a picture of this vast pool. I swam two lengths of it, then again donned running gear over costume. I am hardcore. Other women had changes of swimsuit. One very attractive young woman, Katie, had four swimsuits in her bag. 
We ran up Primrose Hill, where, I'm informed, the 'fittest vicar in London, the reverend Graham Buckle' made the sun come out. Apparently it never rains on his fitness parades.

 
From up here it was a run to Hyde Park, and Serpentine Lido. Another first for me. The water felt silkier and warmer than the murkier, deeper Hampstead pond. Big warning not to swallow any of it, as we share our swimming bath with numerous waterfowl. I liked it in here; I could touch the ground. However I swam a very short distance, relieved that 50m lengths weren't beckoning.

On again with the running gear. It's pretty soggy by now. The running gear, that is. Pesky middle aged bladder, evidence of which is fortunately disguised by pool water. Jonathan has made lemon drizzle, (significantly) so we eat merrily and I find more people to chat with. They're friendly. They make nice cake.

As we run through the park we see the massive operation that is the setting up of the Royal Parks Half. I hope my new friends don't think I'm bragging when I tell them I'm pacing this tomorrow, but I can't resist. I am also worried about my plantar fasciitis, it's beginning to burn, despite the ibuprofen.
This is the longest run between swims. I set off fast and confident, in the front, chatting away to the lead man. Two miles in, though, he and another chap pulled away and I found I was struggling to keep up with Graham and three other chaps. I suppose I was about 20 seconds behind them for the last mile, but I did not give up. At least I was about seventh out of the 16. First woman (there are only three running!)
I'm hot and pink in the face and don't want to cool down before stepping into the freezing water. In January and February it is much, much colder than this, but it was as much as I could do to swim two lengths. When I came here in July, the day after Bewl Water 15, I found it intolerably cold. Seasoned women in the changing rooms tell me if you can stick it for three lengths, it feels better That will be my aim.

 These guys dive in. How can they bear that freezing water in their ears?

So that's it. The half marathon is run, the pools have been tested. The Brockwell Lido Café does great scrambled eggs. A breakfast of champions. I feel champion.

 

The sunshine vitamin

My daughter and I used to visit this tree when she was in hospital

10.10.2014
Day 179
Rest Day. So many running schedules have Fridays and Mondays for cross training, and with the weekend I have up ahead, it seems wise not to buck the trend.

The air smells of wet leaves warmed up by golden October sun. Delicious. It makes you want to pre-book apple tours and pumpkin festivals, but then you remember you're suppose to be looking for work. The sunshine was so inviting I went out on the bike on some errands, tested out my various injuries and atrophies with a brisk walk, then turned my face up to the rays for a dose of the old Vit D. An hour a day is what you need, whether that sun shines or not. I am rather alarmed when my workaholic freelance writer husband sits all day at his desk, moving only to seek sustenance from the kitchen. Part of me is jealous of his focus, but the health blogger and runner in me casts a disapproving glance at his back everytime I get up from my desk (about once every 15 minutes, in truth).
It has been a fine rest day. I have eaten well (outdoors), downed a large amount of beetroot and am now considering a half hour of stretches and chores before making dinner, packing my running rucksack and hitting the hay before 10pm. For reasons I'd rather not dwell on (oh, how freezing will Hampstead Ponds be?)

Cut to the core

Plank to upright plank to plank. As many as you can

 

 

 

Erik gets the Vertimax out for the big guns

09.10.2014
Day 178
Session with Erik Lee, Team Shape-U
Plantar fasciitis so painful I am considering taking all of November off running and sticking to swimming. That sentiment still stands. Am going to try a core session run by a fellow Kent AC coach this evening. If it involves much running, though, I'm stymied.

Erik-Lee gazes into the middle distance and sniggers
'Mickey Mouse!'
Hyacinth, Alana and I follow his gaze, to another personal trainer stationed a few conker trees along. He's encouraging a rather stout woman to swing her leg about. I see no ears or big white hands,
'Those sorts of exercises' declares Erik 'are glamorous exercises. She's not tiring out her muscles, so she can carry on all day long like thatand there'll be no noticeable difference to her body.'
That's a bit harsh, I think. I can see the woman is heavily built, so might need more gentle stuff to improve her range of movements. On days like today I worry that I look like her, anyway, however much I sweat and press and cough and hold the contraction. When I was doing those Bosu Planks, up and down, my shirt kept riding up to reveal that porridge udder like belly flab that obeys gravity and depresses the middle aged woman. How I would love to have the abs that give you the flat, sucked in undercarriage that gives the plank its name. Presumably, at 51, after three pregnancies, that is never going to happen, however good for My Age I tell myself I am. 
Footnote: Core session attended with Ted from Kent AC
This evening I ran through the rain to the floodlit track, full of woe caued by my injury, and dismay at the bladder sensitivity that comes back with such vengeance for a certain time every month.We did a few drills, effective stretches for full range of movement, practising pocket to socket' arm movements for that final 100m burst. It was good, and very useful, It may be an dea to attend these while my foot is stopping me from training. My sprints, heel kicks and high knees were compromised by my internal stress, however. So it is just as well I have made positive move toward addressing this worrying atrophy. It is very weird that just fourdays ago I ran my little socks off with nary a dribble, yet a jog to the track caused flood warnings today and yesterday.

This Swimmer prepares

Not chilly at all

08.10.2014
Day 177
Ran four miles or so, slow, swam 15 lengths of the 50m pool
Plantar fasciitis so painful I am considering taking all of November off running and sticking to swimming.

It was a little hot running in long tights, fleece and swimsuit to Charlton Lido to practise my running-to-swimming-to-running again. The swimsuit dried very quickly and I was not cold on my jog/walk home (my plantar fasciitis is hobbling me now). Of course, Charlton is heated and the ponds and lidos I shall be splashing and shivering in on Saturday are most definitely not. To make us all earn our cake and slap up breakfast, the organisers of this hilarious challenge, called The Swimmer, insist on no wetsuits. Given my poor circulation, I doubt I'll last longer than a minute in Hampstead Ponds, Parliament Hill Lido, The Serpentine and Brockwell Lido, the final freezing body of water being the location of the breakfast café.
I've just had a look at the Burt Lancaster film of the Cheever short story. He wears large trunks and never takes them off, or puts anything on over them, it seems. And his swimming odyssey necessitates sex with plenty of women. If you look a the website I link you to, you will see many grinning Londoners in anoraks, against a backdrop of winter trees over brown water. Don't think Burt and his harem could have hacked it. I do hope we won't be racing horses in our swimsuits.