I want to run more

That half: it was hard work. It could have been easier, I was 4 minutes slower than last year (even with the slightly easier course), my heart rate was woeful (my heart rate is always woeful – I have a lovely, slow, resting heart rate, but I seem to spend entire half marathons at 180+ bpm. This seems to worry doctors until they look at my resting heart rate. I had an ECG this morning – which put the first part of my pulse a bit short, but is apparently nothing to really worry about. I also reckon both symbicort and ventolin push up the heartbeat). But, by golly, I enjoyed this race.

And I want more.

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I am particularly chuffed with that PR – I seem to recollect last year I whinged quite a bit round about that point.

This time, I walked when I needed to. I walked when my heart rate was >190 (and dropped it down to 175). I sweated profusely – and chafed something horrible under my heart strap and on my shorts label (I am covered in sudocreme now). And I LOVED this race.

It’s small – about 600 last year (not sure for this year, but about the same). The marshals are awesome, and there’s LOADs of them. There’s water at sensible intervals, it starts at a football stadium, so there’s a fair quantity of proper, flush, loos. A most excellent goodie bag, and a pretty decent medal. Lovely route (apart from the first and last mile – it’s a bit industrial estate getting out of the stadium), mostly on road, but just enough off-road to keep me happy.

My knee yelped a bit at mile 3, then behaved perfectly. I got through 3 gels. I felt good – not pushing too hard (and it was never, ever about a PB for this race).

But now? I want a bit more running. I want to be back up at 20 miles a week. I need to keep the weight (I am 26.2% fat – spot on for conceiving. BMI is 22ish – needs to be at least 20. Wasn’t in December…). I need to keep the fat. But I want to run more. I am going to have to work this one out. Next half is the Farnham Pilgrim in September. Another hilly one. And the vicar is wildly running 52 half marathons this year, and has invited us to join him for the Thames Meander. Please sponsor him: he’s a sweetie pie, he did us a wedding sermon with a Dr Who theme, and he’s raising money to keep the church in one piece (more or less). He’s now got a half marathon pb of 1:45…

Apparently I’m also possibly slightly lacking in calcium. I wonder if this is the missing piece in the fertility jigsaw…certainly, none of the pre-pregnancy vitamins have any particular addition of calcium, and I mix up milk with non-dairy milk. I shall go and find a supplement.



In times of k-need

drink gin? Knit? Consume chocolate? All of the aforementioned in turn? Or simultaneously?

Having not run for a week, after falling over, it seems that I’m perfectly capable of morris dancing a mile and then some (balls of the foot), but, as a heel-striker, running, not so much. Sunday’s 8 miler got aborted about 0.7 miles in. Tuesday’s 2 miler was a bit better, but still painful at times. 2017 is not my year for running.

I *think* I’ve worked out what’s going on: tight muscles – there is much foam rollering happening. With appropriate grimaces, groans and attempts to remember to breathe. I *think* I’ve worked out how to tape it: not how I taped it on Tuesday. I *think* I’ll be OK for High Wycombe Half on Sunday: it’s going to be boiling hot anyhow and there is no shame in walking parts of the course. Particularly the hilly bits. And DNF is generally an improvement on DNS.

I hope I have worked out what’s going on here. Because, frankly, this week is being just a tad tiresome. Friends are suffering. Period arrived just late enough to raise hopes (10 day luteal phase? Not long enough, really, if you think about it. But the three mornings of feeling utterly nauseous were, shall we say, thought-provoking? Yes. I think that’s a reasonable description. Better luck next month). The diet overhaul is possibly not quite enough, but almost right. Maybe. Perhaps I am clutching at straws here. We are supposed to have a referral to IVF, but the clinic has no record of it – but then again, Mr R hasn’t been in to open his letters (from himself to himself…).

Roll on the weekend? Or is that wishing my life away?



We did Pride

With my morris side (@newesperance). 

I am more knackered than I ought to be. There was a lot of waiting about. But once we were parading it wase awesome!

(And my lippy is still vaguely attached!)


Glad tidings

I made it in to work without falling over. That I then managed to ram my grazed knee into my desk is neither here nor there. 

But I thought you’d all like to know, being, as you are, agog regarding the status of my knee. 



I ran 10 miles.

I collected my prescription and bought some replacement tweezers.

I did ironing.

I tidied.

I started sewing up the widdle knitted jeans (So. Cute!)

I made banana bread.

I harvested two radishes.

I ovluated (which I’d given up hope of doing, given I’m 23 days into my cycle. Twenty Three).

Today: by 7.15 am I had fallen over into an A-road, grazing my knee so badly I needed to get a dressing from the Train Station first aid kit (rather than bleed at my fellow commuters). I spent the entire commute into London in actual shock (i.e. feeling sick), bled through the dressing, bought some more dressings at a chemist, bled through one of those by lunchtime (gosh, tarmac is sharp), and failed to properly get going.

With knee rapidly stiffening, I would like to declare that I am done with today.