Before I begin my running ramblings, I would like to apologise for the lack of posts in the last month or so - I have absolutely no excuse, although I'm sure I can conjure up a few...my dog ate the laptop, I've had a five week power cut, I've accidentally superglued the buttons on my keypad, {insert your own excuse here}. Anyhow, I am sorry.

So, apology accepted (hopefully!) I can now gloat about the fact that I ran nine miles at the weekend! 

My training has sort of gone out of the window the last few weeks, and I have been really struggling to find the motivation to get my running gear on and get outside. I've been using a whole host of excuses in order to get out of training, and I'm embarrassed to say that my 3-4 runs a week has whittled down to just 2 runs a week. Yet, I'm still managing to push myself that bit further each time, and Saturday was a real achievement for me. 

I decided to try a new route to mix things up a bit, and so drove down to my local Sainsbury, parked in the car park and ran along the cycle route. It was simply lovely. New surroundings really does make a huge difference, I wasn't counting down the miles and I was enjoying my time outside. 

I am starting to find I get into a bit of a routine. My first half a mile I'm all over the place (Phoebe from Friends style), then I seem to get the beginnings of a stitch, although it never really arrives, and I struggle. It takes me about two miles to finally get into a rhythm, but then I plod along just fine! 

Now, when I say plod, I mean it! People keep telling me as part of my training to try and increase my speed, and that if I push myself I'll be able to finish in a good time...blah blah. What a 'good time' to run a half marathon in is, I have no idea?! I'll simply be delighted to cross over that finishing line whether it be on two feet, or on all fours! 

Running nine miles isn't easy. As soon as I stopped my legs turned to jelly. I could barely walk to the car without falling over. As soon as I took my trainers off I realised my feet were going to be in all sorts of trouble, I won't divulge, but I think a pedicure is in order! My shoulders were sore, my ankle weak, my knees were feeling it too, but my biggest problem were my hips. I lunged my way around Sainsbury's searching desperately for a cold bottle of Lucozade and willing my hips to crack and release all the pressure. 

I have been reading up on recovery tips, but no amount of chocolate milkshake is going to help my hips. On race day, my legs will manage the 13 miles, my lungs will keep me going, and with a better fitting pair of trainers my feet will be fine, but I'm petrified my hips are going to be too painful for me to keep going. 

I'll be devastated if I don't finish on Race Day, no matter how much I hurt, how exhausted I am, and how much I want to stop, I simply can't not finish.

                                             

Super Alice!

I have reluctantly invested in some Go Faster running leggings. They aren't the most stylish item in my wardrobe, and I'm pretty sure you wouldn't catch Kate Moss strutting down the runway in them at London Fashion week, but at least I can now tell people I am an 'athlete'.

I am unsure as to when one becomes an athlete, but I'm rather certain that the deciding factor is all in the leggings - the tighter, the shinier, the rubberier, the better.

I proudly showed my colleagues my new sportswear, only to be greeted with sniggers and wetsuit related comments (perhaps an allusion to my wet bike ride in the canal), but I'm becoming rather fond of them.

I feel rather similar to a superhero, albeit a frightfully ineffectual one. All superheros maintain the need to have a secret identity, and it seems they are powerless without their often shiny and lycra laden ensemble.

Once I have managed to wriggle* my way into my running get up, tied my hair back into the tightest of ponytails (not dissimilar to Vicky Pollard), tied the laces on my trainers in a triple knot, and activated Britney on my iPhone I suddenly have a superhuman thirst to go hell-bent for leather.

This is most definitely a placebo effect, but it's jolly well working, and my cat woman come wetsuit attire seems to have been worth the £33.95 I paid for them.

*Girls, imagine your 'skinny jeans', you know the ones you never throw away, or stick on eBay as you're certain that one day you WILL fit in to them? Now, imagine trying to get your calfs, thighs and hips into these jeans. I am certain you have all experienced a scenario when you're jumping up and down, yanking the waist up, squatting to try and make them that little bit stretchier, and lying on the floor, pulling in rage, sweating with anger and gritting your teeth in the deepest of frustration - this is my exact routine when trying to slip (!) into my Go Faster leggings...

Week 1, Day 3

...and another task completed.

I ran a little further this time, and didn't stop - not even once! When I arrived back to my starting point I was out of breath, but not completely knackered; my little legs were running sloppily, but I could have continued; the album on my iPhone had stopped, but could have been restarted. Basically, I was running well! I had one set back, and this was my right ankle.

I am rather ashamed to say what I am about to say, but I feel it is probably necessary! About 10 years ago my little brother, Ben was absolutely desperate for a pogo stick. He waited, and waited and finally Father Christmas managed to pop one down the chimney for him. Ben was delighted, and could not have been more excited about the prospect of pogo-ing himself here, there and everywhere. 

Ben was a little unsure as to what skills were needed in order to get the pogo-stick started, and so, as older sister I felt I was able to help him out. Now, pogo-sticks look pretty easy to work to me (probably about as easy as a space hopper, a scooter or a hopper popper), so I took the liberty of providing Ben with a demonstration on how to use said pogo-stick. 

Two bounces, one dislocated ankle and half an hour later I was in Stroud hospital conjuring up a less embarrassing explanation for my injury. The doctor on duty happened to be the Good Morning star, Dr Mark Porter, and to my horror (and my fathers!), my step-mother spent the majority of Christmas day swooning over Mark.

It's safe to say, it wasn't the best way to spend Christmas Day, and my dodgy ankle ensures I shall forever be reminded of yet another embarrassing incident.

12 weeks to go...

With only 12 weeks to go until race day, I've realised that the only way I am now going to have even the slightest chance of completing 13.1 miles, is to follow a strict training plan, and stick to it.

My colleague, Hannah (Membership Assistant) has kindly provided my with a copy of Womens Running Magazine which includes a beginners guide to running the half marathon. The plan is scary, but do-able and so with a little help and encouragement, I actually now hold the belief I can do this.

In preparation I downloaded an iPhone application called Run Keeper in order to help me track my progress, and more honestly, to stop me from exaggerating when people ask me how my training is going. I am given updates from an American lady (whom I have named Britney), telling me how far I have run, how long I have been running for and my average mile time. Britney also plots my route on a map and stores it all online for me, which is particularly kind of her, and although she can be slightly annoying, I am pretty hopeful we'll become fond friends in no time.

So, my official 12-week training plan has begun. Yesterday was Week 1, Day 1 and I am proud to tell you I have completed my first task!

With Britney's help, I am now in a position to give you accurate and honest facts about my training. No porky pies and no exaggerating...promise!

So long, farewell...

I have decided to take a big step and say a fond farewell to the treadmill.

My father's treadmill has been good to me, we've had our ups and downs, but I think the time has come for me to move on and forge a relationship with the outside world.

Treadmill running has been a great way for me to get my fitness up a little, and more importantly to give me the confidence I need to get out and face the prospect of being seen running like a loon by other human beings.

For those of you that know the American sitcom, Friends - imagine Phoebe running (you know the one!), multiply that by five and you'll be getting somewhat closer to understanding how I look whilst training.

I am not the most graceful person you'll ever meet. I have a tendency to walk into things, fall over my own feet, or indeed ride my bicycle into the Gloucester Sharpness canal (yes, it's true). I have self diagnosed this affliction as dyspraxia, however, most would condemn me as unbelievably clumsy.

In my opinion, running on a treadmill requires a great deal of balance and the need to get into a rhythm. I have, on occasions managed to combine balance with rhythm, but it most certainly does not come easily to me. Losing either one of these through lack of concentration, or my dyspraxia (!) leads to injury.

For those of you that are unaware, treadmill injuries can be rather serious, and friction burns on your chin, forearms, knees and hip take a while to heal. This is a lesson I am embarrassed to say I have learnt through experience. I can confirm the below video is not me, but it is a rather accurate representation of just one of my painful treadmill related incidents.

And so, my treadmill fling is officially over and I am in search of a more serious and long lasting love affair with the great outdoors.

A plea for help...

It's 6.15pm on a Thursday evening and I am typing on my Mac with a cafetière of vanilla coffee brewing (smelling truly delicious) and a four pack of Flakes. This is not how my Thursday evening was supposed to be - I should be on the treadmill sweating out the minutes until I can hop off knowing that I've done a reasonably good job at continuing with my training. 

This is a problem I am continually having. I am a person of routine and if my routine alters, even a tad, I am in all sorts of trouble. 

Working 9 to 5 means that I am lucky enough to have plenty of time to go straight from work to my Dad's gym and be home by 6.30pm - giving me time to shower, have a cuppa and cook dinner ready to eat at the strict time of 8pm. 

Yet today, I made the terrible mistake of making a detour to Blockbuster. This detour lost me 45 minutes and has left me with five terrible DVD's I need to watch in the next 7 nights, four flakes that must be consumed in the same amount of time and minus one much-needed run.


I can find something that 'needs' to be done pretty much most evenings if it means I can get out of going for a run. I have even resorted to blaming the weather, which would be fine if I was running outdoors, but I'm not! 

I'm running in my Dad's homemade gym in his garage, which I hasten to add has a heater for days when it's freezing, a fan for days when it's boiling, is completely water tight and even includes a gigantic HD TV with surround sound, DVD player and a load of other stuff I don't know how to use, so frankly, weather complaints are not an option. 

To solve this problem I have come up with an ingeniously original idea to create a 'training plan'. This is possibly something my colleague Jan Ryder has been attempting to get me to do for a while now. Her subtle hints of emails with links to great training websites, countdowns until race day and those 'suggested' training plans she's accidentally left on my desk seem to have gone over my head. 


I think it's about time I started to take some advice, create a plan, and most importantly stick to it. 


So, I'm going to make a plea for help. At the bottom of this page is a comments box, I'd be hugely grateful if you could provide me with advice. Advice not only on how often, how hard, how far and how quickly I should be running, but also how to stay motivated, how to add running into part of my weekly routine and more importantly how to ensure I don't put off training for a night in with pizza, trashy DVD's and a disgustingly obscene amount of chocolate. 

I can, and I will...

A couple of months ago I accidentally agreed to run the Stroud half marathon in October, and today I accidentally agreed to write about it, hence this blog!


This story begins about two months ago when my colleague at Gloucestershire Wildlife Trust, Jan Ryder decided it would be a great idea to get a bunch of people to run the Stroud half marathon and raise funds for the Trust at the same time. My mouth generally seems to react faster than my head, and this was a classic example of me getting myself into yet another kerfuffle of a situation. 


Once my head had caught up with the fact that I had 6 months to train to run thirteen miles I thought "how hard can it be?!" Ten runs, two months, and one treadmill related incident later I can run about two miles without feeling the need to curl into a ball and die. I have today decided that running thirteen miles is going to be harder than I had originally anticipated, and that I am no longer in a position to be able to wriggle my way out of it. 


So, in a Gladiator style, Russell Crowe-esque manner "today is the day I, Alice Elizabeth Paling will avenge all those who hold little belief in my ability to run thirteen miles. I can, and I will...WATCH ME!"

P.S. I shall divulge upon the treadmill related incident another time - the story deserves a post of its own!