Snow stopped play

I’m flaked out on the sofa, not from the exertions of a punishing marathon training regime, but because of the heavy downfall of snow.

The rail companies famously complain about the wrong type of snow; when it comes to jogging around the lanes of Oxfordshire, any type of snowflake is the wrong sort as far as I’m concerned.

Now I know on the face of it, the fact that I am already behind schedule only a week in, is not a positive sign, but have faith. Come the big thaw and I’ll be back pounding the streets.

Here we go again…

Most people look forward to the New Year with a sense of optimism and enthusiasm, at least they do when the hangover cobwebs have cleared.

I, on the other hand, dread every January 1st because with it comes that dawning realisation that yet again I have entered myself into the London Marathon and am nowhere near fit enough to take up the challenge.

Last year I put off training until a ridiculous six weeks before the off, but I shall not be making the same mistake in 2010. I am now officially teetotal, or at least I am until April 25th, which is the big day. Tomorrow I have my first training run lined up as I attempt to get fit enough to make a passable attempt at my third London Marathon.

Also I have renamed this blog this year. Previously Onefatman08, a rather contorted bingo pun, it is now Pounding the Streets, not because I am no longer fat, but because it is no longer 2008. However, the site will still be my public conscience, and hopefully if you enjoy reading it you may be persuaded to make a donation, however small, by clicking on the Sponsor Me link to the right of this page.

Right here we go…

Touched by heroism

Yesterday I felt like a hero. I completed the 26 mile London Marathon despite the weather, despite my lack of training, and largely because of the constant vocal support from the crowds including friends and family.

And everyone else who completed the run felt like a hero too, and that is the unique attraction of the day. It challenges you to believe in yourself, ignoring your head when it is telling you to stop, and forcing wooden legs to keep moving.

And there is no better feeling than leaving Wonder Woman eating your dust, or overtaking Superman as he begins to tire on one of the short uphill stretches.

I found the heat oppressive yesterday right from the start and although I was able to average 10 minute miles on my training runs, I came nowhere near that yesterday.

At the 20 mile mark I discovered that the fabled wall actually exists and everything stopped working, so it was a very painful final six mile hobble to the finish.

But if I found the going tough, spare a thought for those in bear costumes, Father Christmas outfits, and pack mule garb; heroes all.

I would also like to raise a glass to my fundraising Gestapo, Claire and Nic, but they will know what I mean, when I say I will provide the wine!

Today I am nursing my various aches and pains, but while sitting in front of my laptop have already ordered my new trainers…

So near and yet so far…

Sat in a London hotel counting down the hours to the big one!

My training started too late (although I seem to have been pounding the streets forever) and I am more than a little nervous.

Going for a quick jog isn’t going to help now, unless it’s to the minibar, so all I can do is hope.

Adrenaline and the fantastic crowds make a huge difference so I hope to have finished by nightfall.

The other big fillip comes every time I am notified that someone has sponsored me.

The more the RNIB stand to receive the more determined I am to make the full 26.2.

But whether you give generously or not I can promise I won’t come chasing after you!

On your bikes you rude, lazy *****

Although I have been training in rural Oxfordshire, from time to time I meet other road users during my trundles.

Sometimes it is other sweaty and ruddy-faced joggers, sometimes pedestrians, and sometimes horseriders.

As meeting others is an occasional, rather than regular occurence, we always greet each other politely.

Cyclists are the exception. These lycra-sprayed facists never utter a greeting, or reply to one, apart from the occasional resentful and unintelligible grunt.

At first I was mystified; why should one mode of transport make a group of people so unpleasant and so rudely uncommunicative.

And then I realised; it is envy. Cyclists are actually very lazy individuals and prefer to exercise sitting down.

When they witness someone who is showing real commitment, and running themselves into the ground, they are stricken by embarrassment and inferiority.

And don’t point to the Tour de France, with riders ascending the Pyrenees, to prove me wrong.

If they got off their arses and put in 100% effort they could call themselves proper athletes.

Paula Radcliffe on the other hand, could run the London Marathon in the morning, and win the Yellow Jersey in the afternoon.

I need a gee up!

I was starting to feel relatively confident about my chances of completing this year’s marathon before nightfall on April 26th, but my confidence isn’t shared by those who know me.

So many people have expressed doubt this week about my ability to complete the run I am beginning to think they know something I don’t. Maybe they have seen me run!

I don’t run so much as trundle and during a training session the other day I was trundling along a path parallel to a field in which three horses were being ridden.

As soon as they saw me, all three horses reared up with one unseating its rider, who fortunately was OK.

I may not be the prettiest vision in running shorts but I didn’t realise I was literally a sight to frighten the horses.

I hope there aren’t any mounted police around on race day.

Miles to go…

I have a long way to go to meet my fundraising target for the marathon which is less than two weeks away.

Right now, I would happily pay £750 not to run, so to make sure I go through the pain of covering the full 26 miles please help to raise more than that for the RNIB.

If you would like to participate in my pain, by donating, please click on the ‘Sponsor Me’ text which will take you through to my Justgiving page.

Thanks

The woods are beckoning

Today I expected to write a very downbeat post. It was going to focus on how my mindset has changed running the marathon for the second time.

Last year I was dedicated to running miles after mile in preparation, whereas this year I am resigned to running mile after mile in preparation, which psychologically makes a dramatic difference.

But then I went out for a training run and for the first time everything clicked into place. I actually enjoyed the experience, not hugely, but even having a tick in the positive column is a big step forward.

Without doubt it is very stupid to try to run the event with less than six weeks training, but today for the first time, I felt the first twitch of self belief.

I’m not out of the woods yet but I’m definitely running into them.

A running joke

I went out for a training run yesterday and inadvertently chose a route being used for a half marathon and fun run.

Unfortunately I was going in the opposite direction to everyone else and had to run past a seemingly never-ending straggle of runners.

That was bad enough, but without fail a wag within each knot of runners I passed, shouted out ‘you’re going the wrong way’.

I would like to say it got funnier after the 50th time of hearing but sadly that wasn’t the case.

I consoled myself by shouting at them that the run was ‘there and back’ which seemed to shut them up.

After the Lord Mayor’s Show

Running the marathon for the second time is quite frankly a bit of an anti-climax.

After completing the run last year, I described it as one of the best things I had ever done, and it was.

But so far, training for this year’s event has been one of the worst things I have done.

Running the first marathon is a ‘will I, won’t I’ dilemma filed with a few highs, and many lows, as you doubt your ability to ever cover 26.2 miles at anything resembling a run.

But having done it once, the suspense and uncertainty go. You know you can run that far, it’s just a question of putting your body through the training pain necessary to make the distance.

And yet, and yet. Because I am attempting this year’s marathon with only six weeks training, I am far from confident that I will finish. Well actually I am very confident I will, it’s the where I finish that is in doubt.

And while such a ridiculously short preparation time has meant mainly pain, the ups have been few and far between, in fact there haven’t been any to date.

So why am I running? I can only say that the day itself makes it worthwhile. The people, the noise, the colour, and the pain combine to create a stimulating and sensory experience that assumes addictive proportions.

But it’s not the training that’s addictive, and it’s not the running that’s addictive, it’s the stopping knowing you have just completed 26.2miles.