April Showers

Just back from the Saturday long run. Went to Church Stretton and spent five happy hours on the Long Mynd (or Long Whinge if you're having a bad day). Covered just over 25 miles. When I got back to the van I finally, finally, felt like I could go again. I've been waiting for this for so long. If you're taking on 100 miles more or less none stop, and you don't think you could keep going after a 25 mile training run then you're going to struggle. This has given me such a boost; I'm starting to believe I can really do this.

I'm out with Gary tomorrow morning, doing the Pontesbury Potter route again. That'll be another 57 mile week done. Next week is an easy week but we go up to the Lakes Friday night and have a big weekend planned so I might have to build in an easyish week when we come back instead.

Thanks to those of you checking how I'm getting on and a big thank you for the donations.

Baz

Hard Times

It's been a difficult week, made harder by the fact that I'd convinced myself that this week was an easy week. I've had to change some of the sessions around due to work. So far I've done 23, rest day, 14 then 12. The 23 miler was grim. Gary bonked and I was pretty close; I felt a bit sick when I got home. For the runner, bonking is nothing to do with the Nedge Hill car park. It's when your muscles run out of fuel and can't do their job. Your legs feel like soggy spaghetti and you can't go on - the marathon runner's wall. All you can do is eat, rest and wish that you'd taken more fuel on board.

I've got the next two days off and then I'm back into the schedule again.

Ellen came out with me on her bike on Sunday for my 14 miler. She had a puncture and we had to leave the bike with some very kind people in a green oasis at the back of Woodside. Note to self, spare inner tubes are useless without a pump.

I've been doing some route planning over the weekend, trying to sort out the GPS. The course is MASSIVE. If you get a map of the Lakes and draw a line around the National Park, that's the route! We're off up to Ambleside at the end of the month for some practice. We should get some idea of pace which has been worrying me of late. If we go off too quick we won't finish. Ellen's decided that we'll do the whole of the 50 mile route over the Saturday and Sunday. We should be able to get the rest of the 100 done over the rest of the week.

The Spencer feet are starting to toughen up. Unfortunately, I've discovered that my rucksack rubs on both sides of my neck now that I'm not wearing my jacket in the warmer weather. So, more application of Leukotape should do the trick. By the end of the Summer, I'll have two white patches below my ears, as well as panda eyes.

Running through treacle

Well, the lady that wrote the training program that I'm following said 100 mile training should feel hard but it will get easier. She got the first bit right anyway. I've dropped back to four days per week; the Tuesday two or three miler hardly seems worth the effort putting my shorts on and I feel better for the extra day's rest. The trouble is, the first run of the week is now 12 miles long, followed by six, then 25, then 14. That's 57 miles spread over four days. Each run now feels like I'm running through treacle, lots of effort but not much progress. Come the 31st of July, I will probably be grateful if I feel as good!

I've been experimenting with food, trying to find an alternative to the gels. Malt loaf is good because of the fruit and sugar. It really sticks to your teeth though and is a bit too much to chew when you're running. Gary gave me one of his honey brioches last weekend on the Long Mynd. It sounds a bit pretentious but surprisingly good. There's 100 calories per roll plus whatever the butter and honey runs to. They're soft enough to squish down for packing in the small pockets of my rucksack and easy to chew and swallow. You have to time your breathing quite well though otherwise you end up sucking in brioche shrapnel then coughing your guts up.

You get quite a lot of time to think while you're running. It's strange what comes to mind. I went past two rather large Black Country gentlemen the other day while powering my way up the Wrekin for the fourth or fifth time that morning. They were talking about crisps. "Heard about those Tyrells?" one asked the other.
"The ones with the new flavour? Balsamic vinegar isn't it?"
"Yeah, that's right. They used to have 60 grammes written on the packet in really big writing. Well, I bought some the other day and now they've got 40 grammes written on them but it's in really small writing."
"That's not on, that."
"No, it's not."
Luckily, I was quite a bit quicker than them so I didn't get to hear the rest of their conversation. Two things struck me about this. Firstly, these lads really knew their crisps and had clearly made a study of it. The second thing that sprang to mind, as I tried unsuccessfuly to keep my breathing to a two-two rythmn, was how the human body responds to the demands that we put on it. Marathon runners look like they're supposed to: strong legs, lean, small upper bodies. They just look like they run a lot, which of course, they do. Body builders look like people that lift heavy weights. You get the idea. Anyway, following this train of thought I tried to imagine what these Black Country boys looked like. Then it came to me - crisp eaters.

A big thank you must go out to all of you that have made donations at www.justgiving.com/runbazrun.

Baz.