For months Kim and I had been training hard for the Clarendon Marathon. We’d been out in all weathers, mostly wet, walking miles and miles to prepare ourselves for what lay ahead. Of course, neither of us really knew what lay ahead, except that it would be hilly, or at least the last part would be. What I wasn’t prepared for though, was a horrible cold, striking me in the week leading up to the big day. In an attempt to get rid of it quickly I took tons of Lemsip and had lots of sleep and rest but, when the big day arrived, I felt dreadful and it was clear my cold was going nowhere fast.
Last summer Commando and a group of friends tried kayaking for the first time. They had a whale of a time and all agreed they should make kayaking trips a regular thing. Various pieces of equipment were purchased, including a wetsuit. There was even some talk about buying a kayak. Somehow though, getting everyone together at the same time when the weather and the tides were right proved impossible. Today Commando decided to grasp the last gasp of this summer and go alone.
The route for our ten mile Clarendon Marathon training walk was an obvious one, at least to me. The midpoint between my house and Kim’s is Woodmill so we arranged to meet there at eight o’clock this morning. Eight might seem a little early on a Sunday morning for most people but, given the heatwave we’ve been experiencing, starting early, before it got too hot, seemed the sensible thing to do. Besides, Rob and Commando had gone out at silly o’clock for a run so we were both awake anyway.
Now the Million Steps challenge has officially started so every day I’m walking a long loop to the shops rather than going straight up the hill. There are a few variations to choose from, each adding both distance and time to my walks. Some days though, time is at a premium. This was the case on Wednesday. Commando was taking advantage of the hot, dry weather by painting the decking and I was supposed to be helping. To save time, I did a dash straight up the hill and back again, stopping only to snap a couple of pretty flowers along the way. The steps I lost from not taking a long loop were more than made up by all the steps I got painting decking though.
Kim and I are loosely following a marathon walking training plan to get ready for Clarendon. Loosely being the operative word because Kim works shifts and we live on opposite sides of the city. During the week we walk separately, each trying to fit in miles as and when we can. The plan is to have one long walk together a week. Much like I did for my last Moonwalk training, the long walks alternate between one long walk week and the next half the previous week’s distance. Each long walk week is two miles longer than the last. It sounds complicated but it really isn’t.
This week I have been getting my head around the enormity of the two challenges I’ve undertaken. The Million Steps Challenge doesn’t begin until 1 July but I’ve worked out I will need to walk around eleven thousand steps a day. Training for the Clarendon Marathon should more than take care of that.
A little while ago I saw a Facebook post about a challenge to walk one million steps between July and September this year. Thirteen weeks walking around 11,000 steps a day seemed doable and the money raised would go to Diabetes UK. As my wonderful Mother in Law, April, suffered with type II Diabetes, it was a charity close to my heart so, on a whim, I signed up.
Today was my final Running School session and I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or sad. The previous sessions had all been extremely tough, pushing me to my limits but there was something almost enjoyable, in a masochistic way, about being tested and getting through it. Maybe enjoyable isn’t the right word and maybe the joy part when they were over was more about having survived. Either way, I set off this morning with mixed feelings. For once there was a good chance of getting wet along the way and I was actually wearing a thin raincoat. Continue reading Slip sliding to the final running school 28 August
For three whole days after my last Running School session, I could barely walk. On day one, Commando laughed every time I groaned and winced as I tried to get out of the chair. It was slightly better on day two but I still looked like an elderly lady who had lost her walking frame. Yesterday I managed to get up the big hill without stopping, but it was slow, painful progress. Oddly, my Achilles hadn’t hurt at all, throughout this epic DOMS extravaganza, my calves were the problem. Today, apart from a little residual calf tenderness, normal service was more or less resumed and we were off to Lymington for another spot of parkrun tourism. Continue reading Lymington, parkrunning and fairy doors
Now we’d been bitten by the parkrun tourism bug we couldn’t seem to stop. Rob said we should declare August parkrun tourism month and try a new venue every week. Everyone was talking about where to go next. The popular vote was Moors Valley and, even though Commando and I had been there last summer, we didn’t want to miss the fun so decided to go along too. Poor Kim had to work so couldn’t join us but our numbers were swelled by Ian and Kate. Continue reading More parkrun tourism, Moors Valley revisited