I Would Jog 500 Miles…

…and I would jog five hundred more

Just to be the man who jogged a thousand miles for no particular reason whatsoever and then kicked off your new year by blathering on about it*

*last line requires work and possible kickbacks to The Proclaimers

Sitting in front of the Mac eating biscuits and drinking tea in an effort to bleed out the excesses of New Year’s Eve seems like the perfect time to review my year of running.

At this point a normal, upbeat person would insert a line like And What A Year It Was! I shall spare you such vomit-inducing positivity but I will go so far as to say, It Wasn’t Bad.

What’s Missing From This Picture?

No, not the one at the top. This one.

Need a clue?

Ten Truth Tuesday

1. It’s highly unlikely this will become a regular feature. However, I was literally getting snow-blindness from staring at a blank page over the last two days and I had to do something. As an interesting (you be the judge) aside once your retinas are properly word processor scorched try closing your eyes. It looks like an orange door floating close enough to touch…and beyond the door is a magical world where writing flows like methylated spirits through a piece of cheap bread and oh bugger it’s gone.

2. My wife is showing signs of being a foodie parent. I caught her cutting viennas for the kids on the angle.

And So We Come To Race Day

So yesterday was marathon day. My fourth marathon in four years.

My first marathon was something I got talked into almost as a joke. I’d been running regularly with a friend and we decided, along with his brother, to have a crack at the Cape Peninsula Marathon in February 2012. It all went fine for about 30km (apart from knee pain which kicked in at the 2km mark) and then my body went a bit weird and my running partner got cramp. I eventually walk-limped over the line in about four and a half hours and vowed never to run a marathon again.

Fast forward to February 2013 and I’m running the Cape Peninsula Marathon – this time as a potential warm up and qualifier for the 2013 Two Oceans Ultra (56km). It all went fine for about 30km and then my body went a bit weird. I eventually walk-limped over the line in about four hours and fifteen minutes and vowed never to run a marathon again.

Two Truths For A Sunday

One is a poem.

One is a 100 word story.

I think you can work out which is which.

*

Sunday. Click. Monday

The overriding sense that

A change is needed.

*

Tidy Ticker. Tapering. No Parade.

I’m going running in the morning. A nice gentle 20km and back by 9am for a late breakfast.

If you’d told me eight weeks ago I’d be running even 2km I would have gone slightly pale at the thought.

For those of you who don’t know the background to this it’s nothing earth-shattering but I spent a large chunk of June and July on antibiotics for pleurisy and bronchitis. Any runners reading this will know that anything of a vaguely upper respiratory nature is not a good thing to throw into the running mix.

*insert apology to anyone who already knows this stuff here*

The Three Hour Bus To Lacticville

A month ago you may recall

I set myself a goal

To place upon my sickly bod

A most exacting toll

 

From pleurisy and medicine foul

And sinus pain of note

A training plan for marathons

In Excel fair was wrote

 

And from that day come rain or shine

My running shoes have trod

Five mile runs four times a week

‘Cept Sundays when I plod…

 

For miles and miles and miles and miles

And miles and miles and miles

And miles and miles and miles and miles

OK enough. You get the picture let’s move on.

 

Running From Memory

I’ve got a 21km run tomorrow morning to try and stay on track for a September marathon. This means an early night. And a very short story.

My Saturday night 55 word epic: Running From Memory.

*

FUD

Fear. Uncertainty. Doubt.

And not an Elmer J. in sight.

I’ve got a decent case of all of them right now. Especially when it comes to running.

The last month of my life has not been of a particularly good vintage in terms of my general health and wellbeing. Since the middle of June I’ve had pleurisy (mild), bronchitis (medium), strep throat (ouch) and sinusitis (epically bad). I’ve lost count of how much money I’ve EFTed to health practitioners. Seventeen days of antibiotics aside I’ve also lost count of the various medications I’ve chewed, swallowed, sniffed and sprayed. Throw in three visits to the doctor and a wallet-lightening set of chest X-rays and payday can’t come fast enough.

It’s difficult for a naturally upbeat person to remain positive in periods like this so you can only imagine how I’ve fared.

OMTOM Time Again

Or the Old Mutual Two Oceans Marathon to give it the full beans.

Two Oceans weekend is almost upon us. It’s dubbed The World’s Most Beautiful Marathon and it’s a reasonable claim. Aside from the early kilometres along Main Road there is some truly breathtaking scenery to behold – which is a good thing because it has some fairly killer climbs to negotiate.

56km of wonderfulness.

Or so I’m led to believe.

When I attempted it I only negotiated one ocean and had to pull out at the 30km mark with severe stomach cramps. It was a cold, miserable day and I saw the scenic parts of the route in a combination of agonised walking and the failure bus of shame.