As you can probably already tell from this blog I love running. Well not always. There are always those runs where you wish you had never pulled on your trainers and the sofa beckons the whole way round, but I have found that the fitter I have got the less they have happened. Even if I start a run badly, by halfway round I have usually cheered up and the endorphins kick in to make it a joy to be out and on my feet.
But being vain, while I love having strong and fit legs I want my top half to match, which brings me to the vexed question of weight training. I know others love pumping iron. My wonderful on and off personal trainer Andrea is a huge fan, but I just can't get into it. To me it is a necessary evil to tone up the old bingo wings and strengthen the core.
I have tried all kinds of different approaches to strength work from classes to free weights, machines to boxing. I will admit I do love a punching session but unlike running it's no fun on your own and it still doesn't give me quite the same buzz.
I have been giving a new gym a try this week and had a routine drawn up for me by one of the trainers there. It's a combination of free weights and a swanky weights machine the name of which escapes me as I write (will update after my next visit). It was fun as it was something new, but even as I entered the third round of the circuit I was beginning to get a bit distracted.
Perhaps that is the problem. When you run getting distracted makes everything flow much better. If you can let your thoughts drift off and puzzle away at some psychological knot you forget the ache in your hip and the fact that your legs were feeling like lead about a kilometre ago. I think this suits my butterfly mind which is forever darting off in a new direction.
Weights on the other hand require concentration and a dedication to 'form'. It is no good simply slinging the barbell around and hoping for the best, you have to keep the mantra of 'keep your shoulder blades back and down', 'keep your elbows close to your body', 'keep your hips up', 'keep your core tight' constantly flowing as you also attempt to lift the barbell in a graceful and effective manner.
This whole process is so much easier with a professional at your side reminding you how to do things, but when you are on your own it is too easy to find yourself drifting off only to realise that your shoulders are far from back and down, more like up and all over the place, your hips are floppy and your core flabby. Running is just so much easier.
Tuesday, 13 December 2011
Monday, 12 December 2011
Cool running
Moving swiftly on from night runs to winter runs. Although this week's training has been a bit upset by the seasonal interferences of a bout of ill health and general festive family commitments I did make it out for a good session on Saturday morning. Normally I love a morning run, the earlier the better as the deserted streets are far easier to navigate than dodging pedestrian and vehicular traffic, but this morning it was freezing.
Luckily while I was away in New York I invested in a winter running jacket. I opted for the Brooks Utopia Thermal Hoodie, if I am honest mainly because I liked the colour, but also because I was hoping it would deliver warmth without the sweat factor. Because I am a relatively novice runner I have made several kit errors, including a horribly hot running fleece which heats up like a sauna the moment you break out of a walk.
The problem is that on a super cold morning the first 10 minutes of a run are so freezing that all you want to do is wrap up as if you were venturing into the Arctic, but as soon as your body begins to heat up you begin to swelter unless your clothes are smart enough to regulate your temperature as you get warmer. Thankfully my new hoodie did the job admirably. I was a bit cold at first, but 15 minutes in I was toasty warm, but not drenched in sweat. Clearly this purchase was not one of my rookie mistakes.
The same cannot be said for my running gloves which, while they are swanky with reflective paint to ensure that my hands are highly visible at night time, are totally useless at keeping my hands warm. I think I may have to revert to my skiing gloves if the cold snap continues as the skin on my hands is beginning to resemble sandpaper it has been so abused by the frozen temperatures.
But despite being preoccupied by kit thanks to the chilly conditions, once I had got over the shock of leaving my warm bed for the frozen streets I was able to really enjoy the run. Perhaps it was because I had had a few days off and felt pretty strong, but it was one of those runs where you feel as if you could go on forever, rather than wheezing your way around longing to be back home again.
I do love watching my breath stream out in front of me like steam from an engine, I love the crunch of frosty grass under my trainers and the stark beauty of the black branches rising above my head when I run off road. I love the wintery urban landscape of chimneys belching out steam and smoke into the city air. I love glimpsing into people's warm living rooms, seeing the twinkle of Christmas tree lights and the strings of cards hanging from their mantlepieces.
I think perhaps running has unleashed a slightly voyeuristic tendency in me as I do adore distracting myself by nosing around my surroundings. One of my favourite runs takes me past rows and rows of millionaire mansions and I always play the 'Which one would I buy?' game to keep me amused as I run past.
At this time of year there is no contest as my favourite is the one lit up like a Christmas tree - well actually like several dozen Christmas trees which are laid out in full white fairy light regalia on the front lawn. It has cascades of ice white lights dripping down its facade, colour changing lights picking out the white colonnaded front, a gate house glimmering with thousands of diamond bright points of light. It's not tasteful, but it sure does look pretty as you dash past.
It's treats like this that keep getting me out of bed on a cold morning. Well that and the fact that I hope that by continuing to run all through Christmas I can avoid piling on too many pounds due to the excess of mince pies, turkey and chocolate coins that lays ahead of me. I think the American idea of a Turkey Trot (as experienced by my friend and fellow blogger Nappy Valley Girl) is a jolly good one, I just wish there was one in my local area so I could jog off damage inflicted by the Christmas feast.
Luckily while I was away in New York I invested in a winter running jacket. I opted for the Brooks Utopia Thermal Hoodie, if I am honest mainly because I liked the colour, but also because I was hoping it would deliver warmth without the sweat factor. Because I am a relatively novice runner I have made several kit errors, including a horribly hot running fleece which heats up like a sauna the moment you break out of a walk.
The problem is that on a super cold morning the first 10 minutes of a run are so freezing that all you want to do is wrap up as if you were venturing into the Arctic, but as soon as your body begins to heat up you begin to swelter unless your clothes are smart enough to regulate your temperature as you get warmer. Thankfully my new hoodie did the job admirably. I was a bit cold at first, but 15 minutes in I was toasty warm, but not drenched in sweat. Clearly this purchase was not one of my rookie mistakes.
The same cannot be said for my running gloves which, while they are swanky with reflective paint to ensure that my hands are highly visible at night time, are totally useless at keeping my hands warm. I think I may have to revert to my skiing gloves if the cold snap continues as the skin on my hands is beginning to resemble sandpaper it has been so abused by the frozen temperatures.
But despite being preoccupied by kit thanks to the chilly conditions, once I had got over the shock of leaving my warm bed for the frozen streets I was able to really enjoy the run. Perhaps it was because I had had a few days off and felt pretty strong, but it was one of those runs where you feel as if you could go on forever, rather than wheezing your way around longing to be back home again.
I do love watching my breath stream out in front of me like steam from an engine, I love the crunch of frosty grass under my trainers and the stark beauty of the black branches rising above my head when I run off road. I love the wintery urban landscape of chimneys belching out steam and smoke into the city air. I love glimpsing into people's warm living rooms, seeing the twinkle of Christmas tree lights and the strings of cards hanging from their mantlepieces.
I think perhaps running has unleashed a slightly voyeuristic tendency in me as I do adore distracting myself by nosing around my surroundings. One of my favourite runs takes me past rows and rows of millionaire mansions and I always play the 'Which one would I buy?' game to keep me amused as I run past.
At this time of year there is no contest as my favourite is the one lit up like a Christmas tree - well actually like several dozen Christmas trees which are laid out in full white fairy light regalia on the front lawn. It has cascades of ice white lights dripping down its facade, colour changing lights picking out the white colonnaded front, a gate house glimmering with thousands of diamond bright points of light. It's not tasteful, but it sure does look pretty as you dash past.
It's treats like this that keep getting me out of bed on a cold morning. Well that and the fact that I hope that by continuing to run all through Christmas I can avoid piling on too many pounds due to the excess of mince pies, turkey and chocolate coins that lays ahead of me. I think the American idea of a Turkey Trot (as experienced by my friend and fellow blogger Nappy Valley Girl) is a jolly good one, I just wish there was one in my local area so I could jog off damage inflicted by the Christmas feast.
Wednesday, 7 December 2011
Night running
It's that time of year when donning your trainers suddenly seems not quite as attractive. Going out for a run on a crisp, sunny autumn morning is a delight, getting wet and cold on a pitch dark December afternoon isn't quite as magical. But given that this is the time of year when we all need to keep moving to keep those Christmas calories at bay I have come up with some reasons why winter running is worth the effort.
You can feel like a pro. No matter whether you are seasoned marathon runner or an occasional jogger if you make the effort to put on your high viz vest, fleece and extra cosy tights for a run on a freezing cold and wet afternoon no one can accuse you of not taking your running seriously.
You don't sweat as much. I don't know about you, but I am not a very ladylike runner. I don't glow, I drip. At the end of a run I am like a dog that has been swimming, if I shake out my hair it showers all around with sweat - nice. But on a winter's evening the cold weather means that I come back much drier than in the summer.
The pretty lights. I am a sucker for all things sparkly and last night as I ran down the local high street in the rain I was uplifted by the Christmas lights twinkling overhead. Even the festive lights aren't lit I love to see the city lit up around me, when I am running at the top of a hill the view of lit office windows and the dazzle of brake lights is like an urban kaleidoscope.
A spot of retail therapy. As Christmas approaches and I rack my brains for ideas as to what to buy everyone, running past all the brightly lit shop windows can help but inspire me. The only slight problem is that because I have to stick to populated routes for safety I do find the maneuver of craning my neck to take in that lovely pair of shoes whilst running along a little dangerous as it has led to the odd near miss with a passing pedestrian.
So next time I look out of the darkened window and wonder why I bother, this post will be my answer.
Friday, 25 November 2011
Running in Central Park
I have just managed to tick off something from my list of things to do before you die. I will admit it is a relatively new addition as I can't imagine I would have been tempted a few years ago, but that didn't make fulfilling this dream any less exciting. This weekend I was in New York courtesy of my most fantastic husband, and in between racking up scary debts in Macys I managed to squeeze in a run in Central Park.
I will admit that the main driving force behind this ambition was seeing Charlotte in Sex and the City jogging around the reservoir, but the reality was so much better than I imagined. Although the park itself isn't that big - its only about 10K if you run all the way around it - it is the setting that makes it special.
The bucolic surroundings are pretty enough, but it is the ring of skyscrapers that tower above you that makes so thrilling. The double towers of the Ghostbusters Building, the pretty green roof of the Plaza peeping above the trees, these are things you don't see while pounding the streets of Finchley. The blaring of taxi horns and the screech of sirens provide the soundtrack to your run, but it was my fellow runners who were the most alien.
The first thing I noticed was how slow American runners appear to be. I suspect their must be some new fangled trend for slow running, as when I am in London I am forever overtaken by fellow runners who zoom past me putting my plodding pace to shame, but in NY I felt a bit like Usain Bolt. Barring one particularly crazy woman who was sprinting along in freezing temperatures in a tiny sports bra and only-just-there shorts everyone else appeared to be ambling along which meant I sped past even at at my slower than usual sightseeing tourist runner pace.
It was quite nice to be one of the fastest on the track for once, but the moment I got home and went for a run I was put back in my place as a grey haired veteran zipped past me so fast I only caught a glimpse of his old school baggy shorts and T-shirt as he disappeared into the distance.
Back to Central Park, as well as the slow runners I also found myself caught up in what I can only assume was a 5K for Jesus. There was the usual crowd of racers, some attempting to beat the throng and actually achieve a PB, most walking or slow jogging along with a look on their sweaty faces which said nothing so clearly as "I wish I stayed in bed this morning, instead of ruining my weekend by signing up for this run'. But what set many of them apart was that they were dressed up as nuns.
Along the way there were motivational posters with Christian messages of encouragement. I know that on particularly arduous runs I do appeal to the almighty, but I never considered that Jesus could actually help to up my pace. Another nod to the son of God was the fact that the post race snack was that favourite of all Jewish boys - a fresh bagel. I was tempted to pretend that I was actually running in the race and sneakily snaffle one, but was worried I might be smite down if I were to steal from a Christian race.
Still it was a colourful blob of American culture and made my route much less confusing as I could simply follow the crowd of nuns on the run, even if I did have to make a detour to find the path around the reservoir made famous by SATC. Sadly I intended to post a picture of this, but when I looked at my iPhone I discovered that I had my finger over the lens in all the shots.
The first thing I noticed was how slow American runners appear to be. I suspect their must be some new fangled trend for slow running, as when I am in London I am forever overtaken by fellow runners who zoom past me putting my plodding pace to shame, but in NY I felt a bit like Usain Bolt. Barring one particularly crazy woman who was sprinting along in freezing temperatures in a tiny sports bra and only-just-there shorts everyone else appeared to be ambling along which meant I sped past even at at my slower than usual sightseeing tourist runner pace.
It was quite nice to be one of the fastest on the track for once, but the moment I got home and went for a run I was put back in my place as a grey haired veteran zipped past me so fast I only caught a glimpse of his old school baggy shorts and T-shirt as he disappeared into the distance.
Back to Central Park, as well as the slow runners I also found myself caught up in what I can only assume was a 5K for Jesus. There was the usual crowd of racers, some attempting to beat the throng and actually achieve a PB, most walking or slow jogging along with a look on their sweaty faces which said nothing so clearly as "I wish I stayed in bed this morning, instead of ruining my weekend by signing up for this run'. But what set many of them apart was that they were dressed up as nuns.
Along the way there were motivational posters with Christian messages of encouragement. I know that on particularly arduous runs I do appeal to the almighty, but I never considered that Jesus could actually help to up my pace. Another nod to the son of God was the fact that the post race snack was that favourite of all Jewish boys - a fresh bagel. I was tempted to pretend that I was actually running in the race and sneakily snaffle one, but was worried I might be smite down if I were to steal from a Christian race.
Still it was a colourful blob of American culture and made my route much less confusing as I could simply follow the crowd of nuns on the run, even if I did have to make a detour to find the path around the reservoir made famous by SATC. Sadly I intended to post a picture of this, but when I looked at my iPhone I discovered that I had my finger over the lens in all the shots.
Monday, 14 November 2011
Going the distance
For any marathon runners out there my achievements will probably seem paltry, but I am feeling very proud of myself after completing my longest ever run yesterday. Like most runners who have the handicap of a family my long runs tend to be consigned to the weekend, when I am most able to escape for more than a snatched hour and this was no exception.
Courtesy of a horrible tummy bug I hadn't run for three days, perhaps not the best preparation for my first attempt at breaking the 1hr time barrier, though I do sometimes find that a bit of time off (albeit not due to such an unfortunate reason) can help to make you a bit fresher for a run. Apparently this is called tapering - I was quite embarrassed to discover that 'all' runners know about this from Running Free magazine, well all runners apart from me that is.
Back to my run. I set off and had the usual struggle for the first half hour. I am really not surprised that most people say they hate running as the majority probably never get beyond this hellish starting point. I felt tired, weak and generally not in the mood, but soldiered on as at least I was out of my house which was infested with grumpy children. Anywhere, even slogging up a hill on dead legs, was better to be than there.
Gradually I got into my stride, perhaps in part due to the AudioFuel Run Free CD I had downloaded to my iPhone. I should add at this point that my blog is in no way sponsored and nor have I received a single freebie (boo) so if I mention something it is because I have used it and liked it. Though I did get the CD free from an old colleague who edits all the great fitness content on NHS Choices.
The CD is a good combination of music which helps to set a beat to which you run and the odd, not too annoying, training tip thrown in. I like the way it tells you how long you have been running as I hate wearing a watch or having to fiddle around with my phone to see what time it is. So after about 40 minutes I had got into my stride and was enjoying taking in the autumnal scenery and generally relishing being outdoors and running.
Not all of my route is so scenic though, I do envy runners who live in prettier parts of the country. I ran at Druridge Bay in Northumberland while I was on holiday this summer and that really is a heavenly part of the country. You can cover 10K and not even notice it in such beautiful surroundings. The same cannot be said for pounding the pavements of our Capital. I have had to dodge splashes of vomit and blood decorating the streets after a weekend night, but such is the joy of running in London.
I didn't let this put me off though and hit my target of running for 90 minutes and covered 14.5K (just over 9 miles to those working in imperial measures) so I am feeling more confident about tackling a half marathon next year. Now just on the hunt for one that is a bit sooner than July.....
Courtesy of a horrible tummy bug I hadn't run for three days, perhaps not the best preparation for my first attempt at breaking the 1hr time barrier, though I do sometimes find that a bit of time off (albeit not due to such an unfortunate reason) can help to make you a bit fresher for a run. Apparently this is called tapering - I was quite embarrassed to discover that 'all' runners know about this from Running Free magazine, well all runners apart from me that is.
Back to my run. I set off and had the usual struggle for the first half hour. I am really not surprised that most people say they hate running as the majority probably never get beyond this hellish starting point. I felt tired, weak and generally not in the mood, but soldiered on as at least I was out of my house which was infested with grumpy children. Anywhere, even slogging up a hill on dead legs, was better to be than there.
Gradually I got into my stride, perhaps in part due to the AudioFuel Run Free CD I had downloaded to my iPhone. I should add at this point that my blog is in no way sponsored and nor have I received a single freebie (boo) so if I mention something it is because I have used it and liked it. Though I did get the CD free from an old colleague who edits all the great fitness content on NHS Choices.
The CD is a good combination of music which helps to set a beat to which you run and the odd, not too annoying, training tip thrown in. I like the way it tells you how long you have been running as I hate wearing a watch or having to fiddle around with my phone to see what time it is. So after about 40 minutes I had got into my stride and was enjoying taking in the autumnal scenery and generally relishing being outdoors and running.
Not all of my route is so scenic though, I do envy runners who live in prettier parts of the country. I ran at Druridge Bay in Northumberland while I was on holiday this summer and that really is a heavenly part of the country. You can cover 10K and not even notice it in such beautiful surroundings. The same cannot be said for pounding the pavements of our Capital. I have had to dodge splashes of vomit and blood decorating the streets after a weekend night, but such is the joy of running in London.
I didn't let this put me off though and hit my target of running for 90 minutes and covered 14.5K (just over 9 miles to those working in imperial measures) so I am feeling more confident about tackling a half marathon next year. Now just on the hunt for one that is a bit sooner than July.....
Wednesday, 9 November 2011
Mud, glorious mud
I love running off road. It's not just that it is hard to be inspired by the endless identikit semis that make up the landscape of the particular part of North London where I live, it's that the challenge of new terrain makes running that bit more absorbing. Leaping over ruts and avoiding pot holes, ducking under branches and dodging grazing cows is a bit more exhilerating than pounding the pavements.
The problem is that my trusty Nike trainers are simply not up to the job. The moment the ground becomes slippery they are sliding away from under me as if I were on Dancing on Ice. Not fun, because as a mum the very thought of an injury that would leave me incapacitated is enough to make my blood run cold. How would my household continue to function if I were to suddenly be unable to run around after the boys? I shudder to think.
To this end I decided it is time to invest in a pair of trail shoes, so I don't have to give up my favourite off road routes when the bad weather sets in. I have a strange aversion to coughing up for specialist kit. That jeer hurled at all newbies to any sport 'All the gear and no idea' is always rattling around in the back of my mind.
I sort of feel that if I can't say I have a marathon or two under my belt, buying specialist shoes has a whiff of showing off. Add to which funds are, as usual, pretty tight so I don't want to waste money on footwear I won't get much use from.
In the end I went along to my trusty running shoe advisors at Sweatshop in North Finchley and after a long and informative chat about everything from the benefits of running in muddy terrain to which gels taste best I left with a hideously garish pair of Adidas Kanadia 4 TR in neon pink and yellow. Why I wonder would you make trail shoes designed for running in mud in pink? Still they were the best (and cheapest) shoe for the job so I will sink my principles and forgive their pinkness.
It was well worth it though as I took them out to test them yesterday on my muddiest route and had a gorgeous 50 minute easy run through the countryside (or what passes for it in my suburban corner of London). While I am not sure they would be up to a run on snow, they were man (or should that be girly given their horrible colour) enough for the job on the muddy trails I frequent.
It was well worth it though as I took them out to test them yesterday on my muddiest route and had a gorgeous 50 minute easy run through the countryside (or what passes for it in my suburban corner of London). While I am not sure they would be up to a run on snow, they were man (or should that be girly given their horrible colour) enough for the job on the muddy trails I frequent.
Tuesday, 1 November 2011
Speed demon?
I love running, hence the existence of this blog, but what I can't quite seem to get my legs around (oo err) is running fast. It's not that I don't want to, I would love to be swift and agile, but I just can't seem to turbo charge my pace. I am a fantastic plodder and I can pound away for miles without too much effort, but up my pace and I turn an instant puce and want to puke.
I know that speed training is the key to improving my race times and to putting more power into my pace, but I just can't bring myself to enjoy it. I tried out a new treadmill workout from Runners World, called the Speed Demon. On paper it looked quite straightforward - always good for a nervous treadmill user like me, but half way through I thought I was going to collapse.
I am not a quitter when it comes to working out so I sweated my way through to the end, but it was tough and I only picked a top speed of 12Kph, which I know to more seasoned runners is a walk in the park.
Thing is I am just not sure I was built for speed. Taking a look at nippier runners they are tiny and delicate, with nimble and lean limbs - the human equivalent of a thoroughbred horse, while I am more a Shetland pony, all shaggy hair, sturdy legs and obstinate temperament. Still at least Shetlands are tough and hardwearing, so while I may never break any records for speed I hope that my sturdy thighs will be better at learning to carry me the distance.
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