After last night's success, comes the inevitable, pain.
I've tried and tried to get my warm down and stretching right so I don't spend the next day looking like I'm walking on hot coals.
Apparently, it's caused by the soleus muscle, which runs between the two heads of the big calf muscle, taking a beating - because it acts first when you use your calf muscles.
I have no idea what that means, but it uses terminology like "soleus" and "two heads" that sounds like it could have been said by a doctor, so who am I to question it?!
It's basically caused by overuse. So to help, people recommend icing the area immediately after running.
Now I'm still a relative newbie to this running thing, but I'm confident enough to assume they don't mean I need to start decorating my leg like a wedding cake.
Much as I don't have icing sugar to hand at home, I don't have ice either - it's January!
I might have the occasional choc ice or Cornetto in the freezer, but the thought of putting them on my leg after a run seems both wasteful, and somewhat seedy.
Since prevention is better than cure, and I have an unnatural suspicion of all medication so don't do painkillers, I need to get the stretching right.
Apparently I need to do wall pushups religiously. These involve standing about three feet from a wall, feet at shoulder width and flat on the ground, with your hands on the wall with your arms straight for support. You then lean your hips forward and bend your knees slightly to stretch your calves.
Sounds good yes?
Two problems.
I warm down outside my house, which is on a fairly busy main road. I would look a right tit doing these.
Also, I live in a bungalow made mainly of windows, and don't actually have an exterior wall to lean on at the front!
So, if you happen to be in the Chertsey area, expect to see a pale northerner being laughed at by passing pedestrians/traffic as he falls through the glass on the front of his house.
But at least the multiple lacerations should detract from the calf pain.
In your face body! Mind 1, Matter 0!!
Just knocked off a five-miler and, for the first time, managed not to stop for stitches, leg pain, head falling off, or to find a projectile to aim at a passing car who can't work out how to turn off their full beams...
Listening to the chilled out pop-rock of Jimmy Eat World's Bleed American, I began at a steadier pace than normal, and managed to stick to it.
That probably sounds stupid, but it's been a real mental stumbling block for me - it's like putting a wet paint sign on a wall and wondering why there's a Phil shaped silhouette on it 10 minutes later!
Anyway, this mental discipline paid dividends, not only for longevity, but also because it was somehow synchronised to the traffic so I didn't have to stop at a single junction along the way!
Spooky.
After about a mile and a half there was almost an altercation with the worlds least sturdy cyclist but I deftly avoided a spokey pile up and kept plodding on.
In my head I kept saying, "just get to halfway like this and it'll be awesome!"
Then a less easily contented part of me said, "screw that - keep going you lazy t***! If you can't do it by now, you're a f****** clown*****r, who's not fit to eat the **** from a ****'s ****!"
Now, the latter part of me (lets call him Terence) doesn't come out much. So by the time I'd recovered from hearing from him, I was already on my way back.
At this point another bit of me (lets call him Montague) coughed politely and said: "Er... excuse me? Excuse me? I don't mean to interrupt, but you do know your knees and feet are in absolute agony don't you?"
At which point Terence found a metaphorical cricket bat somewhere in my subcouscious, and leathered Montague several times around the head.
I know you're probably wondering how something inside my head can itself have a head, but this was my drifting imagination, and these kinds of things happen in there.
Having both mentally defeated my bodily whinging, and gone someway towards scaring the bejesus out of myself, I was only a mile from home.
At this point, I figured, "What the hell, no point taking any energy back home with me!" and proceeded to cane it home.
The last mile was just over 5 mins - blistering pace from the pale northerner - and the overall time was alright as well, given the problems I've had this last week or so.
So I thought I'd share this feeling of "less disappointedness than normal" with you befor I jump into the shower and begin the inevitable descent into a giant lump of aching.
Listening to the chilled out pop-rock of Jimmy Eat World's Bleed American, I began at a steadier pace than normal, and managed to stick to it.
That probably sounds stupid, but it's been a real mental stumbling block for me - it's like putting a wet paint sign on a wall and wondering why there's a Phil shaped silhouette on it 10 minutes later!
Anyway, this mental discipline paid dividends, not only for longevity, but also because it was somehow synchronised to the traffic so I didn't have to stop at a single junction along the way!
Spooky.
After about a mile and a half there was almost an altercation with the worlds least sturdy cyclist but I deftly avoided a spokey pile up and kept plodding on.
In my head I kept saying, "just get to halfway like this and it'll be awesome!"
Then a less easily contented part of me said, "screw that - keep going you lazy t***! If you can't do it by now, you're a f****** clown*****r, who's not fit to eat the **** from a ****'s ****!"
Now, the latter part of me (lets call him Terence) doesn't come out much. So by the time I'd recovered from hearing from him, I was already on my way back.
At this point another bit of me (lets call him Montague) coughed politely and said: "Er... excuse me? Excuse me? I don't mean to interrupt, but you do know your knees and feet are in absolute agony don't you?"
At which point Terence found a metaphorical cricket bat somewhere in my subcouscious, and leathered Montague several times around the head.
I know you're probably wondering how something inside my head can itself have a head, but this was my drifting imagination, and these kinds of things happen in there.
Having both mentally defeated my bodily whinging, and gone someway towards scaring the bejesus out of myself, I was only a mile from home.
At this point, I figured, "What the hell, no point taking any energy back home with me!" and proceeded to cane it home.
The last mile was just over 5 mins - blistering pace from the pale northerner - and the overall time was alright as well, given the problems I've had this last week or so.
So I thought I'd share this feeling of "less disappointedness than normal" with you befor I jump into the shower and begin the inevitable descent into a giant lump of aching.
New poll
Now, the moment none of you have been waiting for...
Drum roll please, possibly with accompanying fanfare.
Now, following a bit of experience with this running thing, and having witnessed other people running, there is one area that I'm not, and never have been, particularly comfortable with.
Attire.
Now, I'm not a shorts person.
Short - yes.
Shorts - no.
However, when I'm running around rural Surrey, they seemed the natural choice.
I have, however, witnessed a strange phenomenon. Namely, men running in what appear to be tights.
I think "technically" they would say these were "leggings", but then I would try to snap their fingers off and ram them down their "throats" as I hate people who do those air speech marks.
They're tights. Thick ones perhaps. Possibly with a large or smaller dernier than normal (I don't even pretend to know what that means), but tights nonetheless.
Now don't get me wrong, I like my tackle to be well supported when I'm running as I don't want my fellahs getting mangled. But there's support, and then there's support, if you know what I mean.
So, in the interests of research, I'd like to know what people think I should wear.
Shorts?
Tight/legging things?
Other?
Go now, and cast your vote on my main site!
PS I reserve the right to wear what the hell I like, no matter what you vote for.
Drum roll please, possibly with accompanying fanfare.
Now, following a bit of experience with this running thing, and having witnessed other people running, there is one area that I'm not, and never have been, particularly comfortable with.
Attire.
Now, I'm not a shorts person.
Short - yes.
Shorts - no.
However, when I'm running around rural Surrey, they seemed the natural choice.
I have, however, witnessed a strange phenomenon. Namely, men running in what appear to be tights.
I think "technically" they would say these were "leggings", but then I would try to snap their fingers off and ram them down their "throats" as I hate people who do those air speech marks.
They're tights. Thick ones perhaps. Possibly with a large or smaller dernier than normal (I don't even pretend to know what that means), but tights nonetheless.
Now don't get me wrong, I like my tackle to be well supported when I'm running as I don't want my fellahs getting mangled. But there's support, and then there's support, if you know what I mean.
So, in the interests of research, I'd like to know what people think I should wear.
Shorts?
Tight/legging things?
Other?
Go now, and cast your vote on my main site!
PS I reserve the right to wear what the hell I like, no matter what you vote for.
Poll results
I know you're all dying to know the results of my last poll, so, not wanting to keep you in suspenders any longer, here you go:
The question was:
How long will it take Phil to complete the London Marathon?
Less than 2 hours 13%
2-3 hours 13%
3-4 hours 13%
4-5 hours 50%
More than 5 hours 0
Other 13%
So most of you think I'm not going to hit my target of a sub 4 hours.
Thirteen per cent (well 12.5 per cent, but rounding up means there's a chance to encourage the pedants to post comments as it doesn't add up to 100 per cent!) think I will run it in world record time.
Thirteen per cent of you think I'll get in the 3-4 hour time - thats the hope!
Another 13 per cent think I'll be pushing for the UK record with between 2-3 hours, and the remaining 13 per cent I will run it in something other than these times.
Now, seeing that I listed everything possibly over an hour, that means, 13 per cent think I will run it in under an hour!
A car can't do 26.2 miles around London in an hour!
So, whoever voted for that one, think about what you've done, and for the time being, we'll put it down to accidentally clicking the wrong button.
New poll coming soon, keep checking...
New poll
The question was:
How long will it take Phil to complete the London Marathon?
Less than 2 hours 13%
2-3 hours 13%
3-4 hours 13%
4-5 hours 50%
More than 5 hours 0
Other 13%
So most of you think I'm not going to hit my target of a sub 4 hours.
Thirteen per cent (well 12.5 per cent, but rounding up means there's a chance to encourage the pedants to post comments as it doesn't add up to 100 per cent!) think I will run it in world record time.
Thirteen per cent of you think I'll get in the 3-4 hour time - thats the hope!
Another 13 per cent think I'll be pushing for the UK record with between 2-3 hours, and the remaining 13 per cent I will run it in something other than these times.
Now, seeing that I listed everything possibly over an hour, that means, 13 per cent think I will run it in under an hour!
A car can't do 26.2 miles around London in an hour!
So, whoever voted for that one, think about what you've done, and for the time being, we'll put it down to accidentally clicking the wrong button.
New poll coming soon, keep checking...
New poll
Where's the last week gone?
How have I not blogged in almost a week?
Sorry chaps and chapesses! I know you're all out there hanging on my every word, so I've failed in my role of teller of tales from the road.
Anyway, what's new...
Well my feet and knees are killing, but it turns out that's not from the running, it's from the normal shoes I've been wearing. I somehow managed to kill two pairs (lost the heel on one, split the stitching on the other) so I'm wearing some casual ones a lot more.
Unfortunately, these are a bit weird and they've completely ragged my ankles, soles and knees.
Tried to get some replacements at the weekend, ubt only found two pairs, and they didn't have my size in either. Well, for one they dort of had half my size, as the display shoe was a 9. They just couldn't find the other.
Now I know some of you might think "that's ridiculous, how can you lose a shoe", but having spent a time subsidising my meagre income as a student working in a shoe shop, I fully understand how easily it can be done.
The age old "throw the shoe and whoever it hits is 'it,'" was a popular past time. As was hiding the other shoe when someone you worked with who you didn't like was serving someone.
Also, climbing around the stockroom, trying not to touch the floor could lead to boxes being toppled as you looked for a foothold, and the ensuing crash to the ground often sent shoes flying under shelves, behind boxes etc.
So the frolicks of some adolescent schoolboy, probably trying to impress one of his female co-workers in a somewhat misconceived display of bravado mean I'm in pain.
Though that's not strictly true.
My own stupidinty in signing up for this means I'm almost constantly in pain.
And what have I got to show for it?
So far - £155!!
You bunch of skinflints!
So it's really your fault I'm miserable.
I hope you're happy.
Sorry chaps and chapesses! I know you're all out there hanging on my every word, so I've failed in my role of teller of tales from the road.
Anyway, what's new...
Well my feet and knees are killing, but it turns out that's not from the running, it's from the normal shoes I've been wearing. I somehow managed to kill two pairs (lost the heel on one, split the stitching on the other) so I'm wearing some casual ones a lot more.
Unfortunately, these are a bit weird and they've completely ragged my ankles, soles and knees.
Tried to get some replacements at the weekend, ubt only found two pairs, and they didn't have my size in either. Well, for one they dort of had half my size, as the display shoe was a 9. They just couldn't find the other.
Now I know some of you might think "that's ridiculous, how can you lose a shoe", but having spent a time subsidising my meagre income as a student working in a shoe shop, I fully understand how easily it can be done.
The age old "throw the shoe and whoever it hits is 'it,'" was a popular past time. As was hiding the other shoe when someone you worked with who you didn't like was serving someone.
Also, climbing around the stockroom, trying not to touch the floor could lead to boxes being toppled as you looked for a foothold, and the ensuing crash to the ground often sent shoes flying under shelves, behind boxes etc.
So the frolicks of some adolescent schoolboy, probably trying to impress one of his female co-workers in a somewhat misconceived display of bravado mean I'm in pain.
Though that's not strictly true.
My own stupidinty in signing up for this means I'm almost constantly in pain.
And what have I got to show for it?
So far - £155!!
You bunch of skinflints!
So it's really your fault I'm miserable.
I hope you're happy.
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