You Can't Moan, Can You?

You Can't Moan, Can You?

Hi everyone!

A week is, famously, a long time in politics. Well, I found this week that it is also a very long time in running.

Last Sunday, I crawled out of bed to the sound of rain battering on the windows and the wind howling through wherever it gets into. This is not normally a problem, as I have plenty of bad-weather gear, and in fact I actually quite like donning it all and getting out early when it's really cold.

But last Sunday I got out of the door and saw it absolutely lashing it down, and for the first time in months I thought to myself how little, if at all, I wanted to be out there. This had nothing to do with pleasure whatsoever. Rather, it was simply a case of gritting my teeth, getting the job done and getting home again.

Which is what happened. I cursed my way round 10.6 miles (17.1 kms), not even taking comfort in the perverse pleasure of braving what was at times biblical weather, and people staring at me in wonder as I breezed past them.

I just focused on the idea of getting home to the reward of a hot bath and a decent lunch, and sure enough, before two hours were up I was soaking happily in the tub.

 
This week's running was all about preparing for today's (Sunday 29/11) race, the Cross Popular Villa de Gijón. In fact, this meant taking it a bit easy but throwing in one session of speedier stuff, if only to remind myself what going a bit faster feels like, and whether it's at all possible still. 

So on Thursday I went up to the University and did 16 laps of a 450m circuit there - one fast, one slow. The faster ones came out at about 6:00/mile (3:45/km), so it was nothing spectacular, but it was good enough to put me in a positive frame of mind.

Yesterday morning I finished off an easy 6-miler with 6 x 100m strides, bursts of practically flat-out running where you concentrate on good running form.

So I woke up today looking forward to the race. It's actually back to being 11.5kms, after a few years of flirting with the 12km distance. I've done it a number of times and have always really enjoyed it. I like the route, which basically goes through a park by the football stadium, along the seafront, through the Town Hall Square, past the other town beach, up a hill at mile 3 and then round, over a dual carriageway and back over undulating wide avenues, past the Bull Ring and into the velodrome and the finish. 

It also comes at a time of year when I'm just easing back into a better level of training and fitness, so I don't have to stress about goal times, I just go and do what I can on the day.  

It's always well-attended and crowd support is great, too. Logistically, it's simple for me, which is a bonus: it's a 25-minute drive from my house, and I park effortlessly right where you pick up the race numbers and chip: this is a mere 300m from the finish, so afterwards the getaway is swift, even if the race hasn't been! Oh, and it's only 8€...

It was a beautiful, sunny morning today, if a bit chilly - only 6ºC - when I set off. With very little traffic about I got to Gijón in no time and put the car in the still half-empty car park next to the athletics stadium.

 

You can't tell from the photo, but it's salmon pink!

I collected my race number, chip and commemorative t-shirt in the space of two minutes, and then realised it was only 9:20, and that, with the race at 11:00, maybe I'd been a bit over-cautious in getting here so early.

But in fact it's better that way, as then I can do what I did today: relax and take my time over the pre-race rituals. I sat in the car and listened to some music for 20 minutes before getting out and going in search of a café. I found a very nice one only five mnutes' walk away, and sat reading the papers for a good while before, erm, taking advantage of the establishment's facilities.

This is a vital part of any race preparation. I make sure I "go" before leaving the house, but this second pit stop is key. Without it there's always the chance, however slim, that, well - maybe it's best not to dwell on that.

Back at the car, I attached the race number to my running vest and tied the chip into my laces, before going for a 2-km warm-up. This I finished with a few changes of pace and found that I was feeling fairly good - and that I had indeed warmed up. No need for the gloves in the race after all. Then it was time to strip down to vest and shorts, and apply vaseline liberally to various bodily bits. This is another essential, unless you want bleeding nipples and your family jewels rubbed red-raw. I understand some people do...

I locked the car and jogged down past El Molinón, the football stadium, to the start area, which was a hive of activity as usual, with around 1,600 people who were due to toe the line today. I spoke to a couple of people I know, which is always great for dispelling any nerves, and took up a place midway in the pack (or so I thought) to await the gun.  

And then we were off! I didn't actually hear the gun, and was surprised to find just how far back I was. In fact it was 30 seconds before I crossed the start line and then it was all I could do for the first couple of minutes to get myself into a decent pace without trampling or being trampled...

Soon we were out of the park and after a short uphill ramp we emerged onto the seafront. Gijón is not the most beautiful city in Spain by any means, but I have to admit this area, with the wide sweep of the bay, is spectacular, especially on a clear day like today. With the waves rolling in and crashing on the shore it makes for an impressive sight.

Going along the seafront

San Lorenzo beach, Gijón

 

The Promenade, Gijón

 I had thought beforehand that a pace of about 7 mins/mile (4:20/km) should be manageable, and after three kilometres I was actually a little faster than that, but still feeling very comfortable. However, I knew from experience that a sizeable hill was coming up and although it wasn't as bad as I remembered, my pace inevitably slowed. Just past the five kilometre mark we swung round and began to head inland as we traced a wide arc back to more or less where we started from. 

Going up the flyover, and starting to feel it...

At this point I noticed for the first time that there was a fairly stiff breeze blowing and that I was just beginning to have to work hard to hold onto the pace. We were now going over Gijón's version of the Croydon Flyover, and this one is not much prettier, it has to be said. It's easy to lose focus at this point so I made sure I stuck with the group of five or six I was with (mostly teenagers, curiously) and concentrated on keeping a good running style, carrying myself upright with hip extension, swinging arms and pushing off with each stride.
 

I almost look like I'm enjoying myself. Almost.

The kilometres began to pass and I doggedly maintained the pace. Soon I could see the Bull Ring in the distance, and I knew from that point  there was a right turn, and then the final 1.5-2 kilometeres to the finish. The crowds were now out in good numbers and their shouts of encouragement helped to spur me on. I still had something left in the tank and my pace quickened as I steeled myself for a final effort.


I honestly have no idea what's going on here...

...but in future I will try to enjoy myself less, and run more...

To my surprise, as I went up and over the bridge leading to the velodrome, I saw that this year we didn't have to do a lap of the track and instead there only remained the finishing straight. I won't say that I sprinted it, but I did at least give it my all, and crossed the line in 49:39.

This, for a race distance of 11.5 kilometres (7:14 miles), works out at an average pace of 4:20/km, just a shade under 7-minute miling. So as it turns out I was bang on my predicted pace, and as I picked up drinks and fruit in the finish area and headed back to the car, I felt pretty pleased with myself.

This is the slowest I've ever run this race. Over this distance I ran 49:16 in 2007 and (somehow) 45:34 in 2008. Even so, given the shocking state of fitness I'd come into this race from, I think that this is a step in the right direction. I had no injury concerns, and I'm pretty happy with the level of effort I put in, whilst admitting that I didn't have to push myself too hard.

Since I started this blog in October, I've lost 3 kgs, and so with today's race, I think there are causes for what is usually called "quiet optimism". I know it's going to be a long winter and there will undoubtedly be setbacks and struggles of many different kinds, but right now I think I can go to bed tonight feeling pretty satisfied with how it's all going. So, when I think back to last week and how my mojo was way down low, I can say that a week in running really has felt like a long time!

Now, where and when to race next?

Thanks for reading, everyone, wherever you are. It's great to know that there are people quite literally all over the world following my progress, something I never for a minute expected!! 

Until next time, friends, keep safe and be happy.

Bye for now!


You Can't Moan, Can You?

Transmetropolitan

Transmetropolitan


Hello again!

The thing about running, and this is even more true if you're training conscientiously for a marathon, is that if you're going to do it properly, then you're going to have to cover a lot of ground. A lot, though. And if you're not a total masochist and you don't want to spend hours running around a track and/or slogging it out on a treadmill in the gym, then you've necessarily got to think about where you're going to get those miles from.

That might sound ludicrous, considering the size of the planet and the thousands of miles of roads and trails out there to be run on. But in practice, when I start looking to seriously get the miles in, that's when I realise what a small place I live in and how I've actually got to do a certain amount of planning to find those miles somewhere.

I live in the city of Oviedo, which has a population of about 215,000 people. Most of these live in flats, so in fact the surface area covered by the city is actually quite small, especially when compared to cities and towns of a similar size in England, where even a small-to-medium-sized town sprawls for miles and miles.

Oviedo Town Hall

Oviedo Cathedral

La Plaza de la Escandalera, and the Campoamor theatre

Take Southport, Merseyside, as an example. Every year I spend the month of July there, or at least I have done for the last five years, as I take a group of teenagers over for a month-long summer course. It has around 85,000 inhabitants, yet the place is, by Spanish standards, pretty enormous.

Marine Drive, Southport: it goes on for miles!

Running there is a completely different matter, because apart from from being practically pancake-flat (which helps), there are simply more and longer roads to run on without having to do endless loops and/or repeat the same route day after day. There are also the sands, and the dunes, and the pine forest, and a great trail hugging the coast all the way down to Liverpool. 

The Sefton Coastal Path: run all the way to Liverpool, then get the train back! 

In fact, I'd say it was the perfect place for a runner to live if it wasn't semi-permanently battered by gale-force winds...still, you can't have everything, I suppose. Here's an example of a route I did there - 9 miles with no multiple laps or criss-crossing, and yet still only going round the northerrn part of town.

Because essentially what I find myself having to do in Oviedo is a variation of the same old route, day in, day out. For shorter runs, such as those I'm doing at this time of year, it's not really a problem. I can choose to go up to the city centre, do a couple of loops up there and then head down again, or I can go down to the northern suburbs of the city, which is a flatter option, but frankly, it's a bit grim down there. Plus there's the psychological drawback of having to do the last couple of miles uphill.

Even then, on a run of 5-6 miles I still find myself doing little loops of 500m-1km to make up the mileage. This is mainly because I hate the idea of doing a straight out-and-back route and anyway it's not really practical here, given the terrain in some cases and the heavy traffic in others.

But when I'm in full-on marathon training mode, and doing a run of 13-15 miles on a Wednesday and one of 18-22 miles on a Sunday, I really do have to go from one end of the city to the other and do various laps and loops, all geared at my doing the last couple of miles gently downhill back to my house. Compare this route to the one above...

So it's a good job I've got a GPS watch. It tells me how far I've gone, how long I've been going, what pace I'm doing, my heart rate and number of calories burnt. When I get home, I leave it near the laptop and jump in the shower. When I get out, all the data from the workout has automatically been uploaded to the two online running logs I use, with a map of where I've been, altitude data and more.

When I started running, I used a simple Casio watch that had a stopwatch. This was plenty initially, but as I progressed and did longer distances I wanted to have some tangible evidence of improvement, apart from a disappearing beer belly, of course. Also, I needed to have some idea of how far I was running. I then got a Polar heart rate monitor, which I thought was really great at the time - it was dead easy to use and had all sorts of lap functions, eliminating the need to carry all sorts of figures in my head as I'd had to hitherto.

To calculate the distance, I used to sit down in front of the computer before a run and plot the distance manually on a map. This could often take forever and was generally a really frustrating experience. The real drawback, however, was that then I had to stick exactly to the pre-ordained route...if I could remember it, that is!

The turning point came in the 2009 Bilbao Night Marathon. I was in really good shape, feeling great, and just generally going along very nicely, thank you, when at around 14 miles (23 kms) I realised that the kilometre markers didn't reflect the true distance: some kms were way too long, some way too short. It dawned on me that here I was, nearly two hours into a marathon, with absolutely no notion of whether I was going well or badly, in terms of the goal of sub 3:05 I'd set myself. I felt o.k. physically (not for long - read on...) but suddenly I was overwhelmed by a disorientated sensation, and to be honest, things went a bit pear-shaped from there on in. I finished in 3:08, but not before having all manner of stomach problems, leading to what is probably my worst and most humiliating experience in any race. Twice. In front of a group of young, female spectators, both times. But that's a story for another day...

Bilbao, 2009: no wonder I crossed my legs for that photo...

"Get yourself a Garmin!" was the subsequent cry from all my running buddies, so, taking advantage of an incredibly well-timed special offer, I bought a Garmin Forerunner 305. It is not an exaggeration to say that it changed my running forever, although disappointingly it failed to address the stomach-related issues.

What I noticed immediately was the feeling of freedom. Now I could go wherever I wanted on the spur of the moment (I'm back to talking about running, by the way, not about my stomach), and although it has a great number of brilliant functions, the overriding thing is how it essentially sets you free to explore the world out there at will. It's not absolutely 100% accurate, but it's as near as dammit, and as long as you steer clear of tunnels, it maintains the satellite signal pretty consistently.

The 305 model was, with the benefit of hindsight, dreadfully clunky, and when it finally gave up the ghost after three years of loyal, steadfast service, I upgraded to my current 310xt. There are swankier models available, but on the one hand they are staggeringly pricey, and on the other, the data fields are so small, I couldn't possibly read them while I was running, such is my dodgy eyesight close up these days.

Even I can read that!

I am definitely getting fitter. My running has been fairly unspectacular of late, but it has at least shown a promising level of constancy and commitment. Without fail, five days a week, including a longer effort on a Sunday - that's the thing at the moment, as I ease my body back into something approaching the level of fitness required for anyone with pretensions to starting a serious marathon campaign with a degree of confidence.

Last Sunday I managed just over 10 miles, 16.2 kms in fact, for a total of 30.75 miles (49.5kms). Actually, I have to admit something a bit shameful.

The building where I live, with Monte Naranco in the background

I finished, as always, at the park opposite my house, and on looking at my watch, saw that I had done a total of 9.98 miles. This was obviously unacceptable so I ran round the drinking fountain a few times to get over the 10-mile mark. Is that normal behaviour, I wonder?

Excitingly, I have entered a race, the Cross Popular Villa de Gijón, which a) is not a cross(-country) at all and b) takes place on Sunday 29th November. It's over a distance of 12 kms, and there's always a great atmosphere surrounding it. I've done it 5 or 6 times in the past, and have a PB of 46:10, from 2010. I won't be getting anywhere near that this year - let me make that abundantly clear from the outset - but I will use it as a benchmark as to exactly where my fitness is at.

Well, more about this race and my painstaking preparations for it next week. As always, thanks very much for reading.

Now more than ever, keep safe and well, friends, until we meet again.

Bye for now!



Transmetropolitan

Planet of Sound

Planet of Sound


Hello, everyone!

A quick look at my stats for 2015 tells me that so far this year I've spent nearly 200 hours running. This, in a year when injuries and other considerations have meant I've been out far less than in a normal running year. But even so, when you look at it in terms of time spent on my feet, pounding the streets, it's a long time. So what in God's name is going on in my head for all that time?

Not much, to be honest, and certainly nothing too revelatory. After the first few miles, when I'm shaking myself out of my natural tendency to lethargy, monitoring any signs of niggles and/or downright pain, and starting to deal with the physical and mental shock of settling into a decent pace, I relax into a sort of relieved sense of calm, resigned/committed to the workout ahead.

Of course, and especially when I'm going round the city - which is most of the time - I focus on negotiating kerbs and the various urban obstacles, and on generally avoiding getting myself killed. Every now and then I check my form, that I'm not leaning too far over to one side, and try to ensure that all my bodily movements (shoulders, arms, hips, legs, feet) are going in a forward direction. It sounds easier than it is, I can tell you.

In running, as in politics, I lean to the left...

I also plan out my route as I go, and make decisions based on the distance I'm aiming to do. I often have to be strict with myself and not listen to any voices in my head telling (begging) me to take the shortest, easiest way home.

I don't really ever think about non-running issues, i.e. Real Life, as I'm going along, although thoughts of breakfast and lunch do creep in, and they serve to motivate me to keep going - Something A Little Bit Tasty will be the short-term reward for all this dashing about all over the place.

I very rarely run with anyone. Running is something I've always preferred to do alone. It's really difficult to find anyone to run with regularly, anyway - not only due to different daily routines, but also because quite simply no-one ever runs at the same level, or has the same objectives, as you.

I have run with people, on occasion, of course - I'm not that unsociable - but while it does break up the monotony of training and can make the miles go by in a more pleasant way, it's never really that satisfactory. So when a friend of mine suggested we go out last Sunday and do 8-9 miles (14-15kms), I agreed, but with a bit of a sigh to myself.

This friend started running a couple of years ago, and to be honest has a lot going for him as a runner, in that he's considerably shorter and lighter than me. However, his initial enthusiasm, and delight, at his rapid progress led him to try and smash every session as hard as possible. He did get some good results in a few races, including a half marathon where he actually beat me, something which of course, I was - secretly - absolutely gutted about! Over time I tried, unsuccessfully, to warn him to take things a bit easier, but inevitably he ended up getting injured, and was benched for some months.

His injury woes having relented since then, we went out in bright sunshine on Sunday. It was fine, we chatted for a while, and we did a fairly uneventful 9 miles, (me trying to hold onto the pace in between hacking coughs, by the way) but what I want to remark upon is this: as we set off, I immediately noticed a strange but pleasing sensation, that of the wind rushing in my ears, as we tripped along. Why hadn't I noticed this before? I soon realised what it was: this was the first time for ages - months, probably -  that I hadn't been wearing my headphones.

When I started running, and then for the first few years, I never listened to anything, just the sound of my feet tapping along with every stride, but then as I increased my mileage, I got to realising there were many occasions on which the runs were not done for the sheer enjoyment of it all, but purely to get those extra miles in. And, just as they talk about the loneliness of the long-distance runner, so it dawned on me that I needed the motivation of some company to while away all those hours on the streets. So I did some research, and soon bought myself an MP3 player.

At first, I just listened to music, and built up playlists of my favourite sounds. and more particularly, of those tunes which inspired me onto greater efforts. I soon found that certain songs were more conducive to running faster than others, and I made sure they were playing while I did interval and speed training. It wasn't just in my head, either: I did empirical tests with a variety of music and found that doing kilometre reps with something like this on repeat gained me 10-15 seconds per kilometre! But while I have something like 2,000 tracks on my MP3, with time you do find yourself listening to the same old stuff over and over again. I needed more, but of what?

Then I discovered the wonderful world of podcasts, and to this day it's been a real joy. Music can sometimes even be an unwelcome distraction, but I find the spoken word never is. Over time I've got the heads-up on a number of podcasts, and now I have a regular listening routine which fits in perfectly with my running schedule.

I know it's all a matter of personal taste, so apologies if this is all a bit tedious, but on Tuesdays it's the always-excellent Football Weekly from the Guardian, Wednesdays is The Football Ramble, Thursdays I opt for Documentaries from the BBC and Fridays is Football Weekly Extra. On Saturdays I listen to an often-hilarious podcast hosted by elite Canadian marathon runner, Rob Watson, and the Sunday long run wouldn't be the same without the brilliant and inspiring Marathon Talk, which deals with the various aspects of of the running world and is in fact a whole community which I now feel part of. It's full of training tips, listeners' shared experiences, motivational challenges and information on upcoming events. Best of all are the interviews with a whole range of people, from elite athletes to coaches to "normal" runners with some amazing stories of overcoming illness, disability and personal setbacks. In short, it's unmissable. So, I owe a big thank-you to Tom Williams and Martin Yelling for their unstintingly brilliant work.

With Martin Yelling at the London Marathon Expo in 2013

Having said all this, on race days I never use my headphones. I don't - or at least shouldn't - need any other motivation than the event itself, and I don't want anything to take away from my concentrating on the job in hand. In the bigger races, with plenty of crowd support, there is so much going on that it seems to me to be defeating the object of taking part to block everything out by listening to music or anything else. Hearing the the cheers and shouts of encouragement is more than enough, and for me is the highlight of any race outside of my own performance in it.

Also, if you wear headphones in a race you are a hindrance and possibly even a danger to others. With hundreds and sometimes thousands of other runners around you, you need to be fully aware of everything that's going on, and that includes any instructions from the race officials. Many's the time I've come up behind a runner in a race and nearly taken a tumble because they're totally oblivious to what's going on around them. So don't do it, people!

With last Sunday's run I clocked up 28.3 miles (45.7kms), so the mileage is getting to where I want and need it to be at this stage. 40 miles per week by Christmas seems to be a reasonable goal, and my body is playing along so far, too. So, real good, then, as they say.

Oh, before I go, I should also say that my flights to London for the weekend of the Brighton Marathon are now booked and paid for, so nothing can stop me now.

Can it?

Thanks very much for reading, and stay safe until next time! 


Planet of Sound

Eat Y'self Fitter

Eat Y'self Fitter


It happens every year. Every bloody year.

Every year since 2004 (with the worrying exception of this year), I have run a Spring marathon. This means that come race day in March or April or whenever, I will have been following some sort of training plan, more or less to the letter, for the previous sixteen weeks.

Let's take a moment to think about what that really means. It means that during those four months I'll have been going out 6-8 times a week in all weathers for a weekly total of 50-70 miles (80-110kms). In a typical week I'll have bashed out an interval session of some description, let's say 6-8 x 1000m at 5-10km race pace, a tempo run of 6-10 miles, a medium-long run of 13-16 miles and a long run of 18-22 miles. On top of that little lot are the easy runs designed to flush your legs of toxins and get them ready for the next hard session. Oh, and if I've been a good boy I'll have been doing core-strengthening exercises, as well as lunging, squatting and stretching like it's going out of fashion. This, for sixteeen weeks. It's a marathon in itself.

So if I haven't succumbed to illness and/or injury (it's a big if), when I stand on that start line on the big day, I'll be in good physical shape.

Actually, no. No false modesty here - I'll be in great physical shape. There'll be hardly an ounce of fat on me and my arm, shoulder, leg and stomach muscles will be toned and pleasingly defined. That probably goes for my arse, as well...Anyone under 30 reading this will no doubt be thinking that with a bit of self-discipline, this is fairly simple to achieve. My advice to them is wait until you're into your forties, mate, and then tell me about it. Horrifyingly and bafflingly, I turned 50 last month, and let me assure you that it takes a lot of hard, sustained work to get into that kind of shape.

It is definitely worth it, though.

So, I run the marathon, bask in my personal glory (if appropriate) for a few weeks afterwards, do a half marathon or two on the back of all this fitness, and then, come the end of June, I declare "the season" to be closed and decide, with a sigh of relief, to take things a bit easier for the summer.

The pressure's off, so I'll just keep things ticking over nicely, run for the sheer pleasure of it, go into the mountains a bit more, maybe even finally get the bike fixed and go out on that a couple of times a week. Then when September arrives I'll be rested, refreshed and ready to give the Autumn races a really good crack and so build up a nice solid base on which to start the marathon programme again after Christmas. That's the plan, and you've got to admit it sounds like a bloody good one. So do I do it?

Do I fuck. What happens is that as I don't actually have to go out running, I generally don't, or maybe only two or three times a week. So there's a massive drop-off in terms of mileage and also in intensity. But - and this is where all of this is leading to - doing less running is only half the story, or even less. The problem is I also start to enjoy myself (God forbid, eh?) with the eating, and if I'm honest, more particularly with the drinking.

Yes, the living is easy. A bit too bloody easy, to tell the truth

This is not a tale of galloping alcoholism, but it's definitely true to say that over the summer I drink too much. It's "only" beer and the odd glass of wine, but when you get into the swing of things and get to like it a bit too much, before you know it, that cold beer on a terrace in the sun turns into two, three or even four, and in the evening a similar amount goes down.

Summer looks like this. Just a bit too often, though

I'm generally a sensible eater, but again, over the summer all bets appear to be off, and multiple bar snacks are fair game. At home, so are cake, biscuits and chocolate, and although as I write this I realise I actually don't commit too many food-based atrocities, I don't do myself too many favours, either.


A sunny morning: coffee (with sugar), a chicken pincho, and the paper...I mean - why wouldn't you?

So, every bloody year I get to October ten kilos overweight and totally unfit. It's like digging a massive hole in June, jumping into it and then trying to dig my way out of it.

I do actually feel genuine remorse and self-loathing after eating one of these

What's to be done, then? The first thing is to wean myself off so much beer, something I've managed to do, and now I'm on a maximum of one a day during the week and a couple more at weekends. I did consider going totally dry for October, but I know I'd never manage it, so why torture myself unnecessarily? I will try to have at least two alcohol-free days a week, I promise.

Food-wise, I think it's just a question of common sense. I already eat plenty of fruit and green vegetables, and these days I eat far more fish than I do meat. This fish (sea bass, red mullet, cod, hake, sardines etc) is always fresh from the fishmonger and I grill it or bake it.

You couldn't make it up, could you?

There so many debates as to what a runner should and should not be eating that it's a veritable minefield of contradictions, but I think as long as I cut out processed stuff as much as possible and reduce my intake of bread, I think that just being a bit more particular about what I'm shoving down my neck, combined with a greater volume and intensity of training, should, over the space of three or four months, be enough to get my weight down to an acceptable level.

Simply running more will not get me to my race weight, that is clear. I'm always hearing that because I run, I can put away whatever I like, but this is totally missing the point. I am fully aware of the importance of good, healthy eating and how it affects my running performance. Why throw away all the benefits of a good, long workout by going home and eating a load of rubbish? It makes no sense. Besides, I don't equate healthy food with boring food at all.

In the last couple of weeks my weight has come down two kilos by the application of the above principles. Let's see how this progresses. Christmas is just around the corner, after all!!

As for some actual running, well, last week the total mileage crept up to 24.3 (39.2kms), with the longest run one of 8.5 miles (13.6kms), so still a paltry amount. However, I definitely feel some green shoots of fitness starting to come through, I have no injury/niggle woes, and this week I increase the number of weekly runs to five, so I should be getting up to 30 miles per week soon. The idea is to get to 40 mpw by Christmas. I have just decided that, by the way. 

Well, it's time for dinner (smoked salmon salad), so until next time, keep well and thanks very much for reading. Please do feel free to leave comments below, I'd greatly appreciate it.

Bye for now!


Eat Y'self Fitter