The Marathon Diaries: Cleaning up the Act

Successful marathon running is all about training, sleeping, and living well. It means having a diet that is supportive of what one is trying to achieve and keeping those things that are harmful to our health regulated and in check.

One thing I’ve always known in the many years I’ve partaken in regular running is that I have an  inherent talent and ability for it. Apart from anything, that’s probably largely due to my mental approach more than most things. I take a determined, never-say-die attitude to running and it has served me well over the years. It’s crucial to cultivate this attitude if one doesn’t possess it naturally I feel.

One of my weaknesses has always been my social life and drinking copious amounts of beer within that social life in particular! I’d be the last person to undertake a ‘preachy’ stance where this is concerned (in fact such people irritate me intensely) but it’s simply a fact that alcohol is not a great tool to use if you want to run well, fast and long.

It’s affects are obvious in the main but less so in other instances. Many of us – runners or not, all know the effects of a ‘slow’ day after going out for a few beers on an evening. Obviously it physically inhibits training efforts for the runner but also the inclination to partake in them (at least to a more strenuous degree) in the first place. We get dehydrated and this of course is the antithesis of the situation we actually require for running long distances.

I’ve been thinking a lot recently about how I can curtail my alcohol intake as I’ve felt the need to initiate some steps in this area because the rest of my strenuous efforts are going to be somewhat stymied otherwise. Of course with running completely to one side, there are many other potential benefits too. It’s just that the issue of running in conjunction with alcohol brings a strong focus to them. What’s ‘good’ for one generally must therefore be excellent for the marathon runner.

These are a few of the preliminary steps I’ve listed:

• Drink lots of water before taking alcohol.
• Order a regular glass of water with a beer whilst in a pub. This allows me occupy myself by sipping at the water instead of the beer. It keeps me hydrated and it also fills me up and seems to take away the capacity for drinking more beer.
• Change my behaviour. This means not placing myself (at least so regularly) in places and situations that encourage me to drink more.
• Drink lower premium beer.
• Taking less money out with me. An effective way of making me drink less, and more slowly!
• I am also gathering information about alcohol and it effects on athletes and drinkers in general. I feel a healthy way to approach the issue generally is to have as much awareness and knowledge as possible.

Some of the above points are more than obvious. I always believe that the most simple and straightforward measures are often the best though. I’d welcome comments from other runners (or anyone with a view in fact) reading this.

The Nag’s Head, Woodborough, Nottinghamshire

In he past I’ve written of a few of my favourite watering holes, particularly in Nottinghamshire. Some have been notable for a particular reason such as their history or perhaps their quirkiness. Others have been well, just because I’ve always simply loved the places. The Nag’s Head at Woodborough easily falls into that parameter.

I’ve always felt close to the village of Woodborough. It’s but a few minutes drive from my home. This is doubtlessly originally because my sister has long and happily resided in the village. I know it very well, and most of it’s nooks and crannies. I also spend an inordinate amount of time there, walking, running and cycling from there and rinking and eating locally. Woodborough and it’s other pretty neighbours of Lambley, Lowdham, Epperstone, Gonalston, Gunthorpe and Hoveringham are just a few of the villages that tend to be my ‘playground’, during the summer months in particular.

The ‘Real’ Geranium

A little shot taken in the gathering dusk on a rough pathway in Woodborough, Nottinghamshire last Sunday night. I always think that wild flowers can be some of the most attractive of all in their natural state.

The Hardy Geranium is often confused with what we think of as a geranium, the much seen pelargonium or ‘garden geranium’ which helps decorate so many pretty garden pots, and hanging flower baskets during the summer months in the UK.

The Hardy Geranium bears little similarity to it’s bolder, brasher and much more showy alter-ego. This perennial has by nature a smaller, bushier habit often with a mass of small flowers. It is a vigorous grower and can often colonise a large area as it seeks to spread itself by virtue of its many runners.

I enjoy the subtlety of such common wild flowers and each winter and Spring look forward to seeing the pretty verges of the country lanes I walk and run along dressed so prettily with the likes of the ‘real’ Geranium

The Marathon Diaries: Drug-free Running

I think quite a lot and quite deeply about the subject of running when my motivation is raised – particularly in times of trying for a new goal in a race, not that the latter has been a major issue in recent times. I also try to consider the things that help me and those that conversely hinder what I’m trying to achieve. It’s been all-too-long now that I’ve been prescribed Citalopram anti-depressants for a long-term problem with depression and also anxiety. This is an obviously an issue that travels well outside the confines of just running but the time has come for me I feel to stop taking medication. I just felt that progress was always going to be limited with the tax on vitality that these drugs possess. With other issues in my life indicating that it would be a suitable to time to end my association with these drugs, I have taken the step of weaning myself of this drug and am closely monitoring the effect it is having on me and on my running.

It’s a little early to say of course but after just a short while without the ‘aid’ of the little white tablets the portents look promising. I feel a little more clear-headed and in charge my own destiny to more of a degree. Importantly I appear to be learning how to ‘care’ again. This is incredibly important as previously this lack of interest in caring has led to poor and destructive eating, drinking and yes, exercise habits (apart from running of course).

It’s very much early days as yet but I am heartened. I feel it’s the way forward for me and my running.

Looking for Love – Gum Tree style!

These are real-life insertions from a website called Gum Tree from the Aberdeen area of Scotland.  the site is for classified advertisements and in one area people leave messages for members of the opposite sex that they’ve had fleeting engagements with. Who needs to observe the traditional rules of getting to know the other sex when you have Gum Tree!

Gizza kiss

You – Gorgeous blonde with short, red skirt walking by herself at 2am on Rosemount Viaduct.

Me – Guy with monobrow and limp who jumped out the bushes

Didn’t mean to scare you! Fancy a coffee some time?

Aberdeen (Hilton area)

I was the one in your bedroom when you woke up, Friday Morning. You’ll know wot am talking about if it’s you lol. You were stunning even if you had just woken up ;)

Get back to me if you get this, would be good to meet again

Cheers x

Edinburgh: The Stockbridge Duck Race

In Edinburgh each year an event called The Stockbridge Duck Race is held in that most pleasant of north Edinburgh areas. For the 21st time this year, 2000 numbered plastic ducks will be launched from over the bridge at Deanhaugh Street, Stockbridge into The Water of Leith. The ducks float/speed (depending on your fortune) past the Canonmills apartments along The Water of Leith, Edinburgh’s river, where my partner and I and our friends have stayed for my Birthday celebrations the past two years and this is what caught my eye.

All photographs are from here.

The race has it’s own Facebook group. You can find more details of the fun here.

The Water of Leith just outside the car park of where we stayed. Unfortunately there were no duckies out in the bracing November when we stayed.

My World

It’s Friday at last (hooray!) The traditional day for a little levity. I’m not sure whether it’s a parallel universe I live in or whether I just keep a keen eye out for this stuff but here’s a couple of happenings from this week so far…

Wednesday:
My partner was in the usual chaotic rush to get to work this day. she decided to take her ‘breakfast’ with her and eat on the hoof. ‘Breakfast’ is this unimaginable concoction of a home-whisked strawberry smoothie complete with cereals added.

All is well so far – it’s not bacon and eggs exactly but it’s a good, solid nourishing start to the day.
Only it wasn’t to be.

I listened on helplessly as I heard the tale of how she, hands full, placed the big breakfast mug on the roof of the Toyota…got in the car and careered off at speed…leaving a trail of pink goo down the middle of the road…

——-

Thursday:
My partner’s cousin travels several days a week to work locally in a school for children with behavioural problems .

One of the older kids was having his usual ‘mare at school yesterday. He was also scheduled to talk to a councellor visiting the school in the afternoon.

All seemed to be going well whilst his counselling session was going on, no tantrums, no raised voices.

Until he came storming out of the room in fairly forthright manner…

“I don’t need no ***ing anger management classes – tell her she can shove her anger ****ing management classes up her ****ing ass!”

Is it just me?

Have a good Friday, all.

Supporting your own (team)

Anyone reading much of this website will know of my Hibernian FC affiliations. This does not necessarily reach out to the game of football as a whole, perhaps surprisingly. Indeed my favourite sport is hockey, the version played on ice that is.

I guess I come from a fairly rare perspective. I got absolutely tired out with football a long time ago due to too much of it. One might add here that of all the TV coverage on offer over the past few years it’s not compulsory to watch it all. At the same time football becomes almost unavoidable in the UK media at times. One cannot switch on the TV or radio or pick up a newspaper without being confronted with it. Even the news stands around  the city I live in invariably have a football ‘headline’ on them during the afternoon and evening. ‘Forest pledge to play football’ or ‘Notts – we must do better’ type of non-news.

Franck Sauzee: ‘Le God’

I came back to the game only with an interest in Hibs solely. That interest was re-ignited by one man – former French international, Franck Sauzee. I was on one of my numerous visits back to the Capital and popped down to Easter Road on a Saturday afternoon to be utterly amazed by the man’s brilliance. I was staggered at his imperious display playing as a sweeper for the Green Jerseys and the flame was ignited once more.

To the topic though. I just don’t care about watching English football or any other football much really. I just don’t ‘feel it’ and can easily ignore it. Maybe that’s something to do with my reservations about ‘hyped up’ things. I seem to have a natural anathema against people telling me how wonderful something is – I need to find out for myself. Personally for me I’d rather watch one live Hibs game than a whole season of other televised football – even the great names of the beautiful game. I don’t expect many others feel the same way though.

Amongst my own – Hibernian FC at Hampden

I find people’s attitudes a little strange on this sometimes (as I am sure they do mine too). On FA Cup Final day recently my partner and I called at a The Fox and Hounds in a Nottinghamshire village nearby. In an otherwise quiet pub with a few families in the yard and idyllic gardens, in the bar was much shouting and ‘yawping’ going on plus lots of bellowed ‘oohs’ and ‘aah’s” as giants Chelsea and Everton slugged it out on the small screen.

Even for a big-time game like that I can’t understand the rabid passion for something that has nothing to do with you. The guys, if anything would probably have been Forest/Mansfield supporters (maybe that’s the reason! Sorry Stags and Reds fans!)

When Hibs are playing I can get genuinely excited. I’m out there kicking the ball with them in my mind, probably like many others. I feel passionate about my club. I grew up with them and stayed with them through everything. The mean something to me. How can latching on to a behemoth like Chelsea compare with that true, honest and genuine feeling and passion for your own club? The truth is I don’t think it can…and I believe much of that stuff, that supposed ’support’ is artificial.

Young Days at Newstead Abbey

I do quite a lot of walking in my locality here in Nottinghamshire. I’m fortunate in that living in a suburb to the north of the city, the countryside is easily accessible to me. To the north of where I live much of that countryside is covered by several old woodlands, doubtless remnants in many cases of the original Sherwood Forest. These number the remaining few hundred acres of Sherwood Forest itself, Sherwood Pines. Clipstone Woods. Bestwood and others. They’re all lovely places to visit. Much nearer than most of them however, practically ‘on my doorstep’ at just five miles of so up the road stands the wonderful Newstead Abbey with it’s main drive heading through it’s stately gates on the A60 Nottingham to Mansfield Road at Ravenshead.

Whenever I pass through the Abbey’s grounds these days my thoughts invariably go back to Sunday visits as a youngster with my family. We all have our bouts of rose-tinted recall but my memories only stretch as far as the sunny days we invariably spent there in the environs of Lord Byron’s ancestral pile. After gaining the bus up the ‘Ramper’ as it used to be termed along the A60 main road travelling to Mansfield, the single-decker Trent bus would take a detour along the long main drive and up to Newstead Abbey lakeside and drop us among the throng enjoying a day out.

The Marathon Diaries: Words of Inspiration

“I believe God made me for a purpose, but he also made me fast.

And when I run I feel his pleasure”

Eric Liddle, ‘The Flying Scotsman’