Hmmm. I’m not getting much better at getting out regularly. I’m averaging one run a week at the moment – my excuses? Um. None really, just gone from being a bit fed up with life in general and finding it a struggle to do much at all, to perking up and being motivated to anything but run.

We’ve decided to do some work on the house as we’ve been here over 2 years and it’s still chaos, so we’re on a mission… The upshot of this is that we’re now sharing our house with a our friendly local plasterer – when we get him in it’s not so much a business transaction as a social enterprise. Unpredictable, unreliable, often in the pub, but a damn good plasterer when he deems to turn up. We’re also living in the kitchen as the rest of the house is full of either (a) plasterer’s gubbins or (b) contents of other rooms, my level of domesticity has gone through the floor (which none of us thought was humanly possibly) as there doesn’t seem much point when the place is covered in dustsheets. Actually, I say that I’m not being domestic, but the truth is that I’ve abandoned cleaning whilst chanelling all of my domestic energies into the kitchen – last weekend was pies (steak and cheese, lemon meringue) and blueberry muffins (amongst other things), this weekend was slow cooking (lamb tagine and tomato/veggie soup on the stove at the moment), coconut pyramids, chocolate mousee, flatbread and hummus. I’m fat but happy.

Amid all the lard, I’ve done two runs – last weekend was 5 miles (with a bit of walking on hilly bits) and today did 3 miles there and back in the village. Highlights today – using the virtual training partner on my garmin for the way back (and won! Albeit by a second per mile) and seeing a lovely steam train chuffing along. I’m very easily pleased. I keep having to remind myself that I started running this time last year, so if I can start running in the cold and dark, I can carry on running in the cold and dark. I think it’s a bit like dieting though, it’s easier to be motivated at the beginning when the weight comes off and you can see the change (or going from running from 5 minutes one week, to ten, to twenty), but it’s harder to maintain when the rewards aren’t as obvious.

In knitting news, the deadline for the Big Knit is now this week – and these are the fruits of my labours:

21 hats for the Big Knit

I’m particularly chuffed with the little fella on the left. Behatted smoothies will be in the shops from early November.

Since the last post….

1. I have been on a running weekend and survived.
2. Husband has been for a run on his own with my garmin and returned home with an average pace that’s a good minute plus faster than mine.
3. I’ve been on one group run, but that’s been it
4. I’ve had an ear infection which has progressed from feeling like someone was poking my ear with a knitting needle to just leaking ick. Constantly.

1. I was bullied into the running weekend in Whitby and hate to say it, but I really enjoyed myself. We missed the Friday teatime run as neither me or my mate the running bully could skive off work, so just did the 2 Saturday runs. This was an 8.8mile run at Robin Hood’s Bay in the morning and a 5.7mile amble along the beach and back along the cliff tops before tea. The weather was glorious, I coped ok with the running and I felt refreshed and enthused about the whole running malarky.This is despite the fact that there was a fair few Serious Runners on the weekend. I am many things, but a Serious Runner I am not. In fact, being in their presence makes me want to have an extra pint or a piece of cake just to show them (I appreciate that this is self-defeating). I don’t think I aspire to being a Serious Runner, just a regular runner would suit me.

2. Ha. I told you so.

3. Despite the enthusiasm and reminder that yes I really do enjoy this, I have only managed one run this week. I’ve felt a bit poo due to (4) and I’m struggling to adjust to the onset of autumn. Morning runs are harder due to the increasing lack of light (and my general reluctance to get out of bed) and evening runs don’t seem to be happening either. I was pinning a lot of hope on this weekend, but ear, travelling to fantastic gig in Birmingham, travelling back from gig,  2 hour plus sleep this afternoon (I think due to ear-related malady), errands and ear leakage have scuppered my plans somewhat.

4. Ick. That’s all I’m saying.

At the moment, I’m not sure how to resolve my time/darkness/laziness issue. Hmmm. But I do have a lovely new car, which will enable me to drive to more exciting places and run in them. Oh yes…

Alright people, next time I don’t go out for more than a week, could someone shout at me and tell me I’m an idiot. Thanks.

Dragged myself out Saturday morning and clocked up an effortful and quite slow (average of 11.21 min/miles) 5.21 miles. I’m just happy that it didn’t kill me, although I was glistening like an otter emerging fresh from the river by the time I finished. Had to sit for 10 minutes just sweating when I got in. I did a fairly new route for me and ran round the next village and back again, I think this helped to break things up for me as I’ve got a bit repetitive with my routes recently.

Sunday morning I managed to persuade husband into joining me – this is usually asking for trouble as I tend to try and start an argument after about a mile (it’s best not to ask). We went down to an unexplored of the canal and did a lovely 3.42miles under bright blue skies and sunshine. I love running by the canal, but hate the long exposed stretches where the sun just seems to beat down on you, admittedly it’s not quite the stuff of the foreign legion, I’m just no use with heat. The co-running has lead to an interesting (not really) debate about pace, my stamina and the psychology of my running. To sum up: Husband runs faster than me (though he denies that), I therefore run faster to keep up, I get tired quicker (hence the grumpy argument starting) and end up subconsciously thinking “sod it, I can’t do it, I’m rubbish, I’ll give up”, and give up (which is when we fall out). However, in all this, he reckons that I could do more if I try, which I do have do agree with – so we may try an experiment where he sets the pace and I don’t sulk. I’ll either end up faster or divorced.

One thing that has amazed me is just how sluggish and out of sorts I’ve felt for not doing any exercise for a week – I never thought that I’d say that!

Been a lot rubbish since last Wednesday (when I did a lovely early morning 3 miles and really enjoyed myself). Since then the usual combination of being too lazy/grumpy/busy to run as scuppered me and I’ve lost my running mojo a little.

Got to get off my lumpy arse soon because I’ve been “persuaded” into going away on a running weekend next week. I appear unable to weasel of this.

In other news, the hat knitting is going fabulously and I have 15 of the little blighters ready to keep smoothies warm, although some of them are waiting on pompoms.

Yet again my weekend plans went slightly awry!

I’d planned a long(ish) run on Saturday and was going to go somewhere a bit more interesting than round the village. At eight in the morning, I was woken by my phone ringing with the news that my sister had gone into labour two weeks early. When I’d finished shrieking excitedly, I was sent out for a run by a husband who wanted an hour’s peace and quiet (he knows me well enough to realise that I would have just bounced on the bed until the next update). My phone crammed in the key pocket of my tights (just in case), I set off at a very bouncy but ridiculous pace. Far too fast for a long run, so I ended up doing two and a half miles then turning round and run-walking/slow pace running back. I’m not sure what the official name is for this type of training, so I’ll settle on “crap attention span”. I also had problems with my achilles/medial calf, which is probably down to me never wearing the orthotics that I’m supposed to wear and the fact that I need new trainers.

What I learned from this is that I can (and should) go a bit faster, especially when I’m out on my own and not distracted by nattering.  And that I shouldn’t try to do long runs when I’m excitable.

My niece was born at Saturday lunchtime – she is incredibly gorgeous and I’m completely in love.

Crikey heck it’s wet up North. I’m seriously considering a second career as an ark builder and have started wearing my arm bands when I nip out to the shop. Although we’re not as bad as the Isle of Skye, it’s been somewhat damp this week. I don’t know if it’s the same for everyone, but it was as if someone had flicked a switch on Monday night and turned everything from summer to autumn. I’m a great believe that times and dates are tied into our memories, experiences and beliefs about the world, and that this can manifest itself in how we feel and behave. Maybe it’s too many years in education, but even at 30 I can’t shake off that back to school feeling in September – it makes me incredibly reflective (perhaps more so than New Year, which I just can’t be arsed with) and sometimes a bit gloomy.

To counteract the gloominess, I’m doing a bit of looking on the bright side.

• Next week it’s exactly a year since I started this running lark and struggled to do my impression of running for even a minute.
• I’ve talked a colleague into joining the same beginners group that got me started
• I’m the only person from that beginners group who’s still going to the club (even on my irregular basis)
• Even though the weather’s a bit ropey, I’ll soon have frosty runs along the canal to look forward to- that means Sunday mornings that smell of bacon, cold and wood burning stoves on the barges
• It’s Scarecrow Festival in the next village this weekend!
• I can start making soup again – I refuse to make soup in summer and have already broken my soupfast with a lovely carrot and coriander effort
• I’ve got two nearly completed knitting projects which means I can start knitting tiny Innocent hats very very soon

Also, it’s the weekend. Which is nice.

In other news, I’ve continued to be a bit crap this week. I’d love to blame the gloominess for my lack of motivation, but I suspect that it’s just that it took my aged carcass three days to recover from Wembley this year. I did however do 4 miles on Thursday and have a long run planned tomorrow and I’m helping out at a 5k on Sunday, which hopefully will motivate rather than drown me.

Hurrah! Another non-running post. Excuses go:
Wednesday: Waking to rain lashing against window, not condusive to early morning run. Also fell asleep at kitchen table while reading the paper – I felt that this suggested a certain level of tiredness.
Thursday: Made the mistake of going to my mum’s to get changed. Got caught up in the loveliness of having a chat in the kitchen.
Friday-Sunday: Set off for Wembley at 8 o’clock. First beer opened at approximately 9 o’clock. Alternately drunk and hungover for much of the weekend.
Monday: I’m optimistic for later on, but am still feeling the effects of Friday-Sunday.

Basically, I went down to Wembley for the rugby league Challenge Cup Final. We do it as an annual trip and it’s an amazing weekend that is usually fuelled by quite a lot of beer. This year, I had the lovely idea that I could take my running kit, take it easy on the Friday night and go out for a restorative plod on the Saturday morning. I love the idea of running in London (or any city). Whenever I see city runners, especially at lunchtimes, I get running envy and start to whip up fantasies of how, if I had a proper job with a proper lunch hour (instead of 30 minutes eating at my desk followed by 10 minutes trying to shake couscous out of my keyboard), I would be one of those runners. I would also be thinner, less red-faced and have a perky ponytail that bounced as I bounded through the streets. My plan for the weekend was scuppered by the fact that we were staying quite a way out of central London and also that twelve years of experience have taught me that this isn’t the weekend to try and run.

As it was, I was rough as a badger’s arse on Saturday morning, much to the amusement of my husband. He had to endure me whimpering gently as I complained that it was far too hot, my head hurt and I really didn’t want to put clothes on. It took me approximately 45 minutes to get dressed. I was a pitiful sight. I’ll not go into detail about what put me right as it was quite unpleasant, but the end result was that I perked up and set off for London Village for a lovely breakfast and a bit of culture visiting the BP exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery, of which I think this was my favourite.

It’s lucky that I had a spare week in my training plan, as I’m now a week behind (oops). I’ve also found out that the day that I’d planned for my race is the day after a charity do to raise money for Help For Heroes and Myeloma UK (and to raise sponsorship for a Myeloma UK place in the London Marathon). This poses the dilemma of do I do the race, stay sober and have an early night (bearing in mind that I have the breaking strain of a kitkat)? Find another race (which I’m finding a bit tricky as I’m running out of races)? Or admit defeat and weasel out of it til next year (and crown myself Queen of the Weasels)? Answers on a postcard please.

EDIT: I’ve been thinking about this and have realised that I’m absolutely petrified about doing a race as they’ll all be full of proper runners and I’ll be at the back.

When I decided to have a go at following a proper training plan, I looked at the schedule and marvelled at how little 3 days a week looked. In reality, I’ve not dragged out my sorry arse since Wednesday morning. And I appear to be prioritising the easy weekend runs, whilst neglecting the interval sessions, I can’t imagine why…

It’s tricky trying to do different stuff (especially when you’re a wuss like me) when you’re running with company. My friend’s still a bit demotivated on the running front and wasn’t keen to get dragged into a 5miler with fast bits in the middle – I got into enough trouble when we reached my front door only for me to announce “well we’re nearly at 3.7 miles, so we might as well make it 4…”.

My note to self from today was “turn off the garmin’s autonag setting when out with other people” – I don’t think it helped the demotivated friend to be harrangued by what sounds like an angry doorbell whenever we slowed down.

God my posts are whingey some days – I can only apologise.

Since deciding that 10k is far preferable to 13.1 miles (how did I not realise earlier?), I have acquired a lovely 8 week training programme from Runners World and, for the first time ever, have 9 weeks to complete it in. Normally if I decide to do something like this, I usually mistime it by a couple of weeks so that I have to squeeze 8 weeks into 6… I’ve tweaked things around a bit in the first week so that the sessions fit better with my week (although I stuck hard and fast to day one being a rest day) and have figured out how to put intervals and workouts into my garmin.

Unfortunately, I haven’t quite got the knack of simple garmin things, like when can you set off if it seems like it’s never going to find its satellites or if you start off inside. Due to my thickery, I set off on Tuesday’s group run (when knowing the distance would have been fab) with the damn thing bleeping at me and telling me I was auto paused (I wasn’t going that slowly…). I didn’t have high hopes for the session as I was asleep 15 minutes before I needed to set off and was a bit flat after a crap day at work. Of course, I had a good run and really enjoyed myself. The only downside was that our route took us by my office, but in the spirit of mindfulness I noticed that there’s a cornfield a couple of streets up from the industrial estate where I work. I was far more excited by this than I should have been. Plan said easy 2-3 miles, ended up about 4.5miles and a bit more effort than I intended because I was talking to someone who is naturally faster and fitter than me.

This morning’s run was supposed to be 2 easy miles and 2 fast miles. I’m still struggling a bit with the easy pace and end up going at my normal pace and then trying to speed up too much. This meant that I went a bit hopeless and kept giving in and walking, some of this was in my head, but I think the  slightly harder than planned session less that 12 hours before didn’t help either. The upshot of this is that my average speed on the fast half of the run actually ended up slower than my easy speed. I’ll get the hang of it eventually, but in the mean time I’m planning to do a short timed session ignoring distance and pace so that I don’t start getting too stressy about it.

Good things from this morning’s run:
Seeing people that I routinely pass on my drive to work (I love late starts)
Being passed by 2 of our neighbours, which made me quite smug
Seeing a sheep wake up – it kind of unfolded its legs and leaned up on a sheepy elbow, peering at me in a curious and sleepy.

That’ll be the sound of me back pedalling furiously. I had a moment of clarity this morning – I don’t want to do the half that I’ve been muttering about.

I think that although I might be able to do enough to finish the course, I wouldn’t be happy with ‘just about finishing’, I’d want to do it well. The prospect has also taken out some of the fun from my runs, especially while I’ve been feeling a bit snotty this week (when I finished today it was like I had a family of slugs living up my nose, not nice) and I think I’m putting too much pressure on myself.

Back in January, I set some running goals for myself this year – a half marathon did not feature anywhere on the list.  My running goals were fairly basic (and pretty insignificant) but realistic. I wanted to keep runnning at least twice a week (tick! – well apart from high days and holidays), be able to run comfortably for an hour (yup – I’m not a pretty sight, but I’m not wheezing like an asthmatic spaniel), be able to run 10k (I managed just shy of 8 miles the other week) and keep a regular running log (hmmm, does random blogging count?).

My only race goal was do a 10k (and then I added on that I wanted to do it in under an hour). I’m looking a bit sheepish as I type this, but I haven’t actually done that… Why the heck am I jumping ahead? Because I’m an idiot, that’s why.

Did an hour today, 37 minutes at a steady pace (more of that in a minute) and then 23 minutes doing intervals (which I enjoyed more than I expected). It wasn’t what I expected to do, but my head seemed to be ruling my legs a bit too much and I couldn’t seem to find a nice rhythm. Maybe I’m still a bit too obsessed with the garmin (When will that pass? Anyone?), but being able to pace myself properly was rather nice. Last week I found that the only way I had to keep an eye on my pace was whether or not I was going faster than the canal barge next to me. Steady, but it’s not really the most accurate or challenging of techniques. Incidentially I was going faster than the barge. Honest, I was, I promise…