Nowhere Fast
Hello again!
Well, this thing is up and running, literally.
Today, Sunday, I got up early, much too early in fact, and fannied around on the computer for ages until it was more or less light, at 8:30 or so, and then headed out there.
Running nerds everywhere will be dying to know my pre-run routine. Well, I never eat anything but have at least one, and preferably two, cups of tea first. Having gone to the loo (again, two visits are better than one) and checked the weather, I get dressed for the job in hand. Unless it's arctic outside, and let's face it, it isn't very often, I always go out in shorts and a short-sleeved technical t-shirt. My concession to cold weather is a woolly hat and gloves. Occasionally I'll wear a long-sleeved base layer under that lot, but rarely do I bother these days.
When I was training for the 2009 London Marathon, I remember that practically every morning from January to March it was freezing and the streets were icy. In the space of just six years the weather has changed noticeably, and seldom does the temperature drop below 5-6ºC these days, even in the depths of winter. I wonder why that could be...
Running on a Sunday morning here has its attendant problems. If you go out too early, and around or too near the city, you are going to get some form of unwanted attention from people on their way home from the bars - or worse, from those hell-bent on continuing with the night's frivolities. The bars, pubs and discos don't seem to close at any particular time..or indeed close at all, in some cases.
This attention can take various forms. Shouted comments of varying friendliness are common, as are people coming to run alongside you for 100 metres or so, to the giddy amusement of their friends. I once had someone physically stop me and ask me for a light for her cigarette, and even had the contents of a McDonald's milkshake thrown at me from a passing car. Had it at least been chocolate flavour...In all of these cases, I've found it best to speed up and ignore them, if possible. The temptation to hurl an insult or give them the finger is enormous at times, but what if the following week they see you again? They might not take it too well.
If I've got a run of over two hours planned then I just have to bite the bullet and run the gauntlet of the drunks, but if, like this Sunday, it's only 8-9 miles (13kms) by waiting till 8.30-9.00 you should be all right.
Over the last few months, as my knee improves, I've been doing shorter runs of 5-6 miles, four times a week, but clearly I have to start doing more than that. During marathon training I usually do between 45-60 miles a week (75-100kms), but at the moment I'm only totalling less than a third of that. So in fact, the prospect of running what I had planned this Sunday felt quite daunting.
As far as warm-ups go, I don't do much. A couple of leg swings and light stretches of calves, hip flexors and ankles, and I'm off. Today I had no pretensions to pace at all other than keep it slow and steady: the important thing at this stage is to get mind and body used to the idea of running ever-longer distances for increasing amounts of time.
After a Saturday which was surprisingly cold, the weather today was very mild (16ºC at 9.00 a.m.), so I immediately regretted wearing my hat and gloves, and fretted about it over the first couple of miles. I had planned a route which takes in most of the city and this necessarily involves going uphill for the first 2.5 miles. Once up in the centre it's quite flat, but then to go round the southernmost area of Oviedo you have to go up another hill of maybe 500-600m.
I like running in the city. There's plenty to look at and all sorts of landmarks to act as reference points. I know people who take the car every Sunday and drive out to the country, to run in pleasant surroundings, but I see this as totally defeating the object. One of the things I like about running is that it can be really time-efficient, especially when you compare it to cycling or swimming. You throw on your t-shirt and shorts, lace up your trainers and once out of the door, you're good to go.
After three miles it becomes clear to me just how unfit I am. On the positive side my knee feels good and my legs seem to be all right, too. My head and lungs feel terrible, however. The latter feel as if they've been replaced with dirty brown paper bags while in my head I can think of a million reasons why I should cut the run short and head home. I expected this, though, so gamely press on and sure enough, as I go round the city centre, the negative feeling passes. At one of my favourite points on the run, I skirt the Parque de Invierno and the mountains heave into view, a sight which never fails to give me a lift.
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| La Sierra del Aramo |
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| The walkway over the railway station |
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| The bus station |
I did ten minutes' stretching, 30 press-ups, and headed up to my flat, the shower, and breakfast.
I can do this.
Nowhere Fast
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