Good thinking, citylinking

As the month of May is nearly behind us, this is a quick summary...

I was fairly pleased at how quickly I recovered from the Fling. I even managed a PB at the Women's 10K the weekend after and finished 119th out of over 10,000 finishers. Which probably says more about the runners (eh, walkers) than my athletic ability. I agree that is wasn't the best recovery strategy, but the race is really special to me. It's the reason I started running in the first place. My ninth in a row, so I would have crawled round on my hands and knees if required. Thankfully there was still a little bit of zip in the ol' pins. And that's my annual 10K over with for another year. Way too much like hard work for me.



The piece de resistence of West Highland Way training was centred around a two-day run, covering the 72 miles (of the 95 route) to Kingshouse. Milngavie to Beinglas on the Wednesday (41 miles) and Beinglas to Kingshouse (31) on Thursday. Sometimes the logistics of a point-to-point routes are more taxing than the actually running itself. This year I booked good ol' Citylink bus back each day, which worked out brilliantly. The downside is being restricted to specific timing as the Citylink service is a pretty irregular service - from Kingshouse there was a bus at 2.30pm and 7.30pm - and standing about chittering waiting on a non-punctual bus service.

Originally I planned the week off work, but a major project launch put a swift kick to that. I try to be as disciplined as possible when it comes to training (when the body's willing) so I just had to work round it. Which meant five days off became two, I had to carry two phones, stop for regular email/phone breaks and work in the evening. But hey ho, it meant I could get out on a trails for two days, so it was worth it.

The Gibbering Midget had also taken two days off. I train so much on my own these days, that it really makes you appreciate some buddy support. The miles always tick by. Plus, we pretty much done all our long together, so we're in sync. There's the unspoken way we know when to pick up the pace, knock it back, walk the hills and start again. And regardless of how many times we tell each other we're going to take it easy, it's always eyeballs and elbows out for the last mile.

Both days just flew in and were really enjoyable. The weather could have been kinder, but it could have been a whole lot worse. In true Scottish style, we were hit with all conditions. Head down driving rain and wow-wee-check-out-the-view blue skies. Unfortunately our feet were sodding wet for most of it. I think my feet practically came off with my socks. Oh well, my summer sandals have been redundant for a few years now.



The plus-side was my legs felt fairly good at the end of it all. Much better than they were after the two days last year. I was kinda wishing we could have done the final sections on the Friday. But when I was watching the hail stones pelt off the streets from the comfort of my office, I got over that quite quickly.

The glorious weather continued into the club's annual training weekend at the Trossach's Tryst in Callander. This year Coach Lesley joined us, so there was more training and less partying involved. As I'd done my longs on Wednesday and Thursday and Sonic was running on Friday and Saturday (see what I mean about having to be disciplined), I intended on doing a few leisurely jogs, but mostly spending some QT with my boy. Last year the weather was glorious - actually too hot - and we went on nice walks, ate ice-cream, went to the park and splashed about in the Loch. This year we had bouncing rain, so we were pretty much housebound and stuck watching reruns of Toy Story. My three mile run on Saturday evening turned into seven miles, in a vain attempt to ward off the cabin fever.

On Sunday morning I ran the 12 miles from Callander to Aberfoyle on the number seven cycle track. About five miles of it is all up hill, but it's worth the puff as it's a glorious route. Lots of wow-wee moments. The terrain is just perfect to consistent running and working hard. And as I'd started early I had the place to myself. The other guys started later and went in the opposite direction. I think I took the easier option :-) At least I had a warm-up



Anyway, now I'm off to meet the GM to run from Kingshouse to Fort William. Last piece of the puzzle.

The from-the-horses-mouth version.

Last week, I felt rough. Really rough. I was almost tempted to throw a sickie for the first time in my 11 career in newspapers. Apparently this is a good thing when you're tapering, but I'm not sure why. Thankfully on Friday I had a day to rest and chill out in front of the TV to watch the Royal Wedding. This banner - spotted in the crowd - was quite apt. I think it's safe to say that when two names: Kate Jenkins or Lucy Colquhoun appear on a starting list, it's a given who is going to win. Even fresh from a ridiculously swift time at the London Marathon a couple of weeks ago, Kate was still on top form.

I was pretty nervous before the race. I'm not sure why as, like many others think, the race is more of a means to an end. A tuner for the West Highland Way race in June.

The day was forecast to be unseasonably hot and unfortunately it didn't disappoint. Thankfully the gals and the ol' boys are allocated the 6am kick-off spot. The early rise was a small sacrifice for starting in cooler conditions.

As per my previous post, I was following splits devised by Sonic. My aim was to focus on the pace for the first section (12 miles to Drymen) and then just wing it from there - in the hope that I wouldn't burst too early.

So when the gun went off (or maybe someone shouted ready-steady-go, I don't remember) I tried to zone out and keep a steady/slow average pace. Last year, in all ultras, I got too worked up about who was around me. I continuously reminded myself that I can only control my outcome, not the outcome of others (I'll save my bedtime reading for another post). It wasn't quite a mantra, just something I kept at the forefront of my mind.



En route to Drymen - on a fresh, dewy morning - I chatted to quite a few runners: JK, Jane (who had also run the 100K last month), Elaine, Helen, Ian, Malcolm and John Kennedy - who in the photo below has just commented on my big butt :-)



I think I might have been 11th gal (or thereabouts) at Drymen, but still bursting with energy. OK, I was a minute ahead of schedule, but that wasn't a big drama. Ssshh don't tell Sonic, but I had to faff about in the last mile to slow down my average pace :-)

I headed out of Drymen with Jane, Helen and John Kennedy and eventually caught up with the Gibbering Midget, who looked like she'd lost heart. It's a long way too go if you don't have the drive and have been dealing with illness for the previous month. The group split up and I stomped up Conic Hill and took it easy on the descent. Later in the day, I head the GM had taken a tumble and that was the final straw. Sonic and Cairn (who I hadn't even seen that morning) were waiting at the bottom. I picked up a few supplies and moved on swiftly.



The section from Balmaha to Rowardennan was really tough for me last year, courtesy of the overzealous. This year, I really enjoyed it and picked off a few runners in the process, who I guess were cursing their overzealous start.

I meet Sonic and Cairn about a mile from Rowardennan. Sonic had informed me that JK was about 20 seconds in front of me. But later JK informed me that Sonic had told him I was 5/10 minutes behind. I think somewhere in the middle lies the truth :-)Anyway when I arrived in Rowardennan, JK was perched up on a rock enjoying a snack. In his blog, JK mentioned that I barked at him for sitting about having a picnic, but I kid you not, he was lounging about like Huckleberry Finn.



I picked-up, topped-up and moved on up. You get the drift here. I'd rather walk, than stop at checkpoints. Within minutes JK and Claire has caught up and it was nice to run and chat with them for about five miles. Claire - who is a hardcore Ironman - was running her first ultra, just weeks from finishing London in 3:03. With a 10K PB of 35, she's certainly no fairy. Like JK, she was also from Liverpool. Also an Everton fan. And also teetotal. I know, the world's only teetotal Scousers. Who would have thought :-)

Although it's notoriously tough and fairly technical, the lochside is my favourite section. I like all the skipping and hopping. It wasn't a conscious effort to push on but I left Claire and JK about a mile before Inversnaid. To be honest, I thought they weren't far behind and would catch up. I passed another girl before arriving in Inversnaid.

You got it, I was in an out in a flash and overtook another two guys within the first mile. More hopping and climbing and I reached the top of the loch unscathed. There were a lot of walkers and I got lots of cheers and claps, which really perked me up. On the hill up towards Dario's post, the air was so still and the heat was quite overpowering. I said a wee hello to our absent friend and then - as if by magic - a lovely cool breeze enveloped me.

Heading towards the fence before Beinglas is when the first vet male runner (on the 7am start time) passed me. Given the rate he was going at and where he passed me, he might have been better in the elite male start at 8am.

At this point, my quads were starting to spasm. I've never really suffered from cramp before, until my calves did the same thing in the 100K. I wasn't really sweating, but I knew my face was in danger of exploding. I go a rare shade of purple when I overheat.

I took the steep descent into Beinglas Farm fairly easy as cramping quads is not something I ever want to experience.

Sonic wasn't on support duty for the day (the drop bag system is too slick not to use) but I'd asked him to be in Beinglas, as I'd packed for all eventualities. As I was running towards the checkpoint, I could hear rapidly approaching footsteps behind and knew instinctively that they belonged to Sonic. He picked up my bag and tried to undo the knot - slowly! After I spat the dummy, a Marshall came over and grabbed it off him to control public domestic. Later I did apologise to Sonic for my outburst, although I've since remembered he nearly took my out throwing his bumbag at me at the D33. Mmmm. I suppose the key to support is to take things with a pinch of salt.



I wasn't really sure of position until it was confirmed as I left Beinglas that I was second place.

I still felt good, but I was (surprise, surprise!) struggling to eat. I was, however, drinking a shed load of Lucozade and Coke. But as the section started to get hotter, all wanted was water. And the mix of gas and sugar was having an unladylike effect on my stomach. I'll spare you the graphics, as you know I don't do toilet chat, but there was quite a few emergency stops.

The lead runner, Andrew James, passed me on the steep hill just before Carmyle Cottage. I was doubled-over and watching in awe as he literally bounded up the hill. He was certainly a man on a mission. And his mission, in the form of record-holder Jez Bragg, followed in close suit. The men's race was always going to be exciting, but I would have expected to see "Our Jez" in pole position by then.

On the way up to Crianlarich I had a great view of the chase. But I also had a great view to see if someone was chasing me. I wasn't really concerned about my finishing time, just maintaining my position. And with the WHWR only seven weeks away, I couldn't afford to be buckled.

Although I played a better race card, it certainly wasn't perfect. When you factor in a 100K race, a toasty day and a dollop of complacency, I took too many breaks (and emergency stops!) in the last section. I suppose in hindsight you can always work harder, can't you? But I'm glad I didn't rip the ass out of it, as I've been back training no problem this week. Actually on Sunday I spent the day gardening and dismantling a kitchen.



Given the dry conditions, I was amazed at the number of runners who finished with bloody knees and elbows. Is there anyone who didn't fall? The worst I saw was Rosie Bell, who practically took her kneecap off very early on in the race. Given that I can barely walk along with street without falling over these days, I was amazed I stayed upright until Crianlarich. I'm now black and blue, but I must have been so wasted that I didn't feel at thing. Maybe it was the shock of falling hands-first, elbow-deep in a large puddle of cow piss!!

One day: Four medals. A finisher medal, silver for both the UKA and Scottish Ultra Champs and bronze for the club. All in a day's work.

Allen Smalls (3rd), Andrew James (1st) Jez Bragg (2nd)

Thanks to Murdo and crew, Sonic and Cairn, the amazing stewards, everyone who put up with me on the day and the pictures (pinched from Davie, Muriel and Jude)

The Scottish Athletics version

MONTANE HIGHLAND FLING 53 MILE TRAIL RACE - INCORPORATING UKA AND SCOTTISH ULTRA TRAIL CHAMPIONSHIPS

The 6th running of the Montane Highland Fling attracted a record filed of over 400 starters for the annual 53 mile race on the southern half of the West Highland Way trail. The large field necessitates staggered starts and the super vets and ladies were first off at 6am. Kate Jenkins (HBT) led from the start and by the time they reached Balmaha below Conic Hill on Loch Lomond side, had a clear lead.

Men’s course record holder Jez Bragg (North Face), victor here in 2009, was back to attempt to reclaim his title and when the main men’s start set off at 8am he was prominent in a small group that included Andy James and Stuart Mills(Brighton). At Balmaha (the 18 mile point ) Bragg seemed to be pushing things on in an attempt to break the group up.

The long and demanding stretch up the picturesque side of Loch Lomond to the checkpoint at Beinglass Farm(41 miles) left Jenkins with a clear almost 30 minute lead ahead of Scottish 100km international Debbie Consani (Garscube) in the women’s race.

The mid day temperatures were proving challenging and when James and Bragg appeared together after five and a half hours of running, it was James who looked the stronger as he momentarily stopped to grab his Drop bag of supplies and fill a water bottle, before pushing on and opening a 100 metre lead on Bragg, who took a more measured Check point approach, knowing a good hour and a half of running still lay ahead. He took a few moments to ensure he was well refuelled, also asking the checkpoint marshals to pour water over his head to combat the heat.

Jenkins, although slowing considerably on the last stretch up to the picturesque highland village of Tyndrum, still maintained a clear lead over Consani. The former record holder for the full 95 mile West Highland Way just missed the nine hour barrier with 9.04.24, the third fastest ladies time on the Highland Fling trail and with it claimed the UK and Scottish titles. Consani, just over a month after completing the UK 100km champs, showed her consistency by comfortably taking second place (9.39.32) and improving on her 2010 time by ten minutes, ahead of Clydesdale’s Heather Caulderwood (9.42.59).

In the men’s race it was Andy James who proved the stronger arriving at the finish in a new course record of 7.12.08, just over 3 minutes ahead of Bragg (7.15.12) who was also inside his former mark of 7.19.09. Colchester’s Allen Smalls came through strongly for 3rd and first vet. James, winner of the Lakeland 50 last summer, had come to the race hoping to run inside seven and a half hours but not really expecting to win.

Matt Williamson (Bellahouston Road Runners) after a steady start came through strongly in the second half of the race to take the inaugural Scottish ultra trail title in 5th place overall (7.46.11) ahead of the experienced Richie Cunningham (Carnegie)7.58.23.

With the Scottish team title decided on cumulative times of 3 team runners, Hunters Bog Trotters took the men’s medals and Helensburgh, including Ellen McVey one of the key race organisers, were a popular winner of the ladies team prize.

Full results at http://www.highlandflingrace.org/

Results:
1st Andrew James 7.12.08 (course record)
2nd Jez Bragg North Face 7.15.12
3rd Allen Smalls Colchester (V40) 7.43.31
4th Julian Rendall Thames H & H 7.45.33
5th Matt Williamson Bellahouston RR 7.46.11
6th Stuart Mills Brighton (MV40) 7.51.36
7th Ritchie Cunningham Carnegie H (MV40) 7.58.23

WOMEN
1st Kate Jenkins Hunters Bog Trotters 9.04.24
2nd Debbie Martin-Consani Garscube H 9.39.32
3rd Heather Caulderwood Clydesdale 9.42.59
4th Helen Lees Giffnock North (FV40) 9.51.51
5th Michelle Hetherington Helensburgh (FV40) 9.55.19

Chip off the old block

You're right, Richie, Cairn's working on the spreadsheets.

Good luck to everyone running the Highland Fling tomorrow.

118: Got my number

Seen as I've been assigned such a comedy race number, it would be rude not to partake in Saturday's Highland Fling. I've had a few good runs over the last week and a few stinkers too. I've got no idea how my legs will be, but I'm really looking forward to it. Sonic has had to pull-out - see his blog for details - so some one's got to take one for the team. Cairn's not quite ready for his first ultra yet. Although he did manage a couple of miles on the Kilpatrick Hills on Easter Sunday. We're not pushy parents, he's just not up for being strapped in his back pack for too long.

Cairn's quads must have been sore, as he was using JK's descending the Devil's Staircase approach.



On another note: At Garscube Harriers' AGM I was awarded with the club's "Most Meritorious Performance" Award...for the second time. I also won it in 2008. It came as a massive shock, as the engraved names would suggest that no one has won it twice.



So I'm now officially resting for the Fling. Last run tomorrow. This year, I'll be following a race plan and splits devised by Sonic, instead of my usual lets-just-wing-it strategy. So, this year my plan is to get to Drymen 10 minutes SLOWER than last year. Nervous about that? You bet he is :-)

To fling or not to fling, that is the question

I'm torn on this one. Do I do the 53 mile Highland Fling next weekend? Obviously my head wants to do it, but my body is dragging on the idea some what. I know it's a bit of an ask considering the 100K was only five minutes ago - a race, which incidentally, pretty much broke me - but it ranks pretty high on the wish list.

I'm sure I've recovered or at least on the mend. With less than five weeks between races, there's about a 20 minute window for training in between recovering from one race and tapering for the next next. With this in mind, I probably tried to get back into running quicker than my legs would have liked. I attempted my first run four days after the race. Officially the most ungraceful run ever. I liken it to drinking a bottle of wine and trying to run for a bus. My arms and legs felt like they weren't connected to my body and my eyes were rattling about in my head. And I don't know where to begin with the aches and pains. My calves were a mess. I lasted four miles and walked the last one. Broken. And back to square one.

After that I took another few days off and started back on the Monday. A easy week and then a cracking run on the West Highland Way. I wasn't sure if my legs were up for it, but it was so good to be back on the trails that I loved every minute of it. Twice up and down Conic Hill gave my quads a good kickin' too. It had only been two months since my last real off-road run, but it's amazing how quickly you become un-hill-fit.

Last week, I did my first speed session and it wasn't as nasty as i anticipated. If anything, it was just what I needed. That coupled with a great 18-mile run on Kilpatrick Hills on Friday and my mojo is resumed.

So, as it stands, I'm about 80% sure I'm doing the Fling.

This year - the UK's biggest ultra - will be the UKA Trail Championships and the Scottish Ultra Trail Championships. Looking at the starters list, the men's field is quite spectacular. It will be really interesting to see this one unfold. The Highland Fling is the perfect race to separate the men from the boys, so to speak. It's long enough that you can't wing on marathon training. It's short enough that you can't rely on luck and good fuelling. Hilly enough to knee-cap and road runner and flat enough to disadvantage the mountain-goats.

Anglo-Celtic Plate 2011 (100K)

I've spent most of this week trying to compose this post, so I'm just going to summarise some thoughts and lessons learned - otherwise it could take me longer to write than actually run. You would have thought I would have had loads more time on my hands this week, but in reality it's just taking that bit longer to do basic tasks. Starting with 20 minutes to get down the stairs on Monday morning.

Well, I survived. Just. My hips have just about forgiven me and my calves have almost stopped screaming. In a nutshell, it was tough. Really tough. Although I'm still traumatised, I'm elated. I'm glad I pushed myself to try something new and it was an honour to wear the Scotland vest.

I finished in 9:03:09 which is an average pace of 8:44m/m

Click here for 50K and 100K results

You could skip the drivel and just click on JK's video below, it's much more entertaining. Don't forget the tea and biscuits though, as it's 35 minutes long.



Pre-race: I didn't taper as much as I should have, mainly because this race wasn't the be-all and end-all of 2011. I'm still not sure of my race plans, but I don't like to put all my eggs in one basket. Like most long-distance races, the training takes over your life, but when it comes to crunch time you always think it's never enough.





Expectations: Non really. As it was my first 100K on the road, the jury was out. 100K veterans are fairly keen to tell you their horror stories, which not only involve pain and fatigue, but tears and lots of vomit. I thought physically I could hold it together, but it was the mental aspect that I was most concerned about. My dream time was sub:9, but realistically I was hoping for 9-10 hours. I'm less analytical than may better half - who is still scrutinising D33 splits - but the Crazy (Scottish) German sent me a link to runningforfitness.org for a race time predictor based on my 2008 marathon time. I'd like to think I could better that now, but I based it on fact rather than fantasy.



Competitors: Although I was told I "looked nervous" quite a few times on race morning, I think I was more overwhelmed than anything. Looking at the starters list from other teams (I resisted the temptation to google them, as to not freak out), I knew I would probably come in last of the country runners, so I just concentrated on running my own race.

Course: 42 laps of a very flat 1.5mile loop in North Inch Park. In hindsight, I learned that laps aren't actually that bad. I'm not saying it didn't do my head in. Far from it. But it didn't really take it's toll until I was 30 laps down. Although Adrian informed us at the pre-race briefing that counting laps was just mental torture, I just couldn't help it.

Conditions: Perfect. We couldn't have asked for a better day. Glorious, fresh and sunny. The flip-side to the rare sight of spring, was that families, dog walkers, skaters and cyclists were out in the hoards. There was even a football and rugby game going on in the middle of the course. It was like running in a goldfish bowl, with nowhere to hide. I even saw one of the English girls getting hit square-on by a rugby ball. Thankfully most people were really courteous and accommodating - or maybe it was fear of the snottering zombies coming anywhere near their kids.

Pacing: Started out very conservative, running with the uber-experienced, Pauline Walker at the back of the pack for about the first couple of hours. I pushed on and started picking off a runners in the open race. I haven't seen the splits yet, but from the laps times that Sonic supplied, I was steady at the start, picked it up in the middle and then the wheels started to come off in the last 10 laps. I wasn't alone, as I was passing runners who had lapped me a few times at the start. During the last five laps, I was pretty sure I wasn't going to get sub:9, so lost my drive and just concentrated on finishing. If only I knew how close I would be to it. To be honest, at the time, I gave what I had.



Pauline is the Scottish 24-hour record holder (130+ miles!) and nothing sort of phenomenal. Where most runners fell across the finish line like something from Dawn of the Dead, she crossed and sauntered along like she had just strolled out of Marks and Spencer.



Food: I still can't get my food right. Even more so on a race that requires a bit more constant effort. I managed two bars of tablet and then would only consider coke and sports drink after a few hours. Sonic tried to get me to eat a sandwich, which I spat out in front of a horrified family. Actually the vast majority of the things he gave me, ended up in the bin. I ran out of energy after about five hours and just got through on determination.



Cramps: This isn't something I've ever suffered from. My legs didn't cramp, but my calves were pulsing for the last couple of hours and I keep expecting them to spasm. It wasn't sore, just concerning. Actually my legs felt OK most of the time. I was trying to pull myself together by reminding myself of this. Pete - there was a lot of foul language and warrior talk.

The finish: This probably ranks has one of the happiest moments in my life. Not for the achievement, but for the total relief.





Team Scotland: The guys did really well. Craig Stewart won the race and helped secured the first team prize. As I was lapped quite frequently by all five guys, I can safety say they are all awesome. In the girls team is was no surprise that Gail Murdoch was first, with a massive PB to boot. Followed by Izzy Knox and then me. The Gibbering Midget had to pull-out after falling ill, which was awful. After training with her for the last few months, it was so sad to see her so upset. She's a real trooper though, so watch out for some unfinished business on the Highland Fling later this month.



And now to the thank you bit. There are so many people, I don't know where to start. Thanks for to the organisers and timekeepers, especially Val and Adrian. Thanks to everyone who came out to support and pick me up, especially JK, Katrina, the Pacepushers, Lady Sadie, Davie, Tim and Izzy. Huge thanks to JK for the video, which is the perfect keep-sake.

My biggest thank you is to Sonic for his top-notch back-up and for the support during training. Apparently back-up is "way harder than running". With short laps, I'm sure it's pretty relentless. I hope holding in that pee for nine hours doesn't cause any lasting damage, Sonic. Although I'm sure that's dramatic license. I've seen the video, remember :-)

Thanks, Anita

Another amazing creation.... I love it. Thanks, Anita.

All in a week's work

How do you taper? There is lots of conflicting advice, isn't there? This year started with cram-training because I was scared of undertraining. Then with the rapid increase in miles - mainly road miles - I was concerned about overtraining. Then I hit taper and someone mentioned the concept of de-training and then there was more panic.

Personally I like to knock back on the miles, but stick with some speed work. Not de-training, but possibly overtraining? Who knows?

Mon, March 14: 8 x 3 mins (60 sec)
6.58,6.52, 6.59, 6.29, 6.32, 6.55, 6.44, 6.41
Tues, March 15: 6 miles easy
Wed, March 16: 3 x 10 min (2 mins)
7.10, 6.58, 6.51
Thurs, March 17: Club session with 2 x 2 mile tempo
Fri, March 18: Rest
Sat, March 19: Rest
Sunday, March 20: Get this. I did 42 laps round the pond in Victoria Park. Even the ducks wanted to throw things at me. I thought it might help get my head round the repitition. It didn't. 12.5 miles all in. Although I felt so good doing a normal long run and being home for 10am.


Mon, March 21: 15 x 1 (30 sec)Average 6:30 - although the last one was 5:57!
Tues, March 22: 5.5 miles easy
Wed, March 23: 8, 6, 5 (90 sec) 4, 3, 2, 1 (60 sec)
7.11, 6.50, 6.58, 6.44, 6.43, 6.52, 6.07
Thurs, March 24: 5.5 easy

That's all from me, folks. I've hung up my trusty Garmin and my ipod for the foreseeable future. I just need to stop eating my supplies for Sunday now.

D33 in pictures

Congratulations to all who completed today's D33 Ultra on The Deeside Way in Aberdeen.

Click here for some race pictures

The race was won by Grant Jeans, who broke his own course record, in 3:29. Scott Bradley put in stirling performance breathing down the neck of the course record holder in 3:30. My Sonic came third, taking 20 minutes off his PB, in an amazing time of 3:38. In the girls race, Lucy Colquhoun took pole position in 4:05. Our all-American girl, Jamie Aarons was second in 4:24 and Claire Imrie third in 4:35.

Mothers' of multiples: I salute you.

I almost choked with laughter reading Andrew Lemoncello's weekly training diary. It all sounds very lovely. A wee run in the morning. Nap. Wee run in the afternoon. The bagel run on a Thursday sounds particularly exhausting.



Granted, Mr Lemoncello, you can run faster than I drive. But just by way of contrast, here's a day in my life. Wednesday being the example.

I got up before 6am to hit the pool before work. 100 lengths - front crawl no less. And it's a 25m pool, in case you think I'm splashing about in the spa. Ironically, I view this as my morning "off". I say this in the loosest term, as it means I do and sort everything the night before. Sonic has to dress and feed himself and Cairn, but still manages to be spectacularly late for work. 11.30am is the record so far. For a 9am start.

I'm out before 7.45am and at my desk for 8.30. First meeting is at 9.30 and the morning goes a bit t*ts up. I was supposed to meet the boys with the jet-propelled legs for a lunchtime speed session, but a few dramas later and I'm ten minutes late. Oh well, a lonesome 3 x 10 minutes with two minutes recovery. 8 miles all in.

Back to office, quick shower and I slide back into my office trying not to draw attention to the fact that I've been out for 20 minutes longer than the allocated lunch hour. I hope my employers are as lax about the concept of "lunch hour" as they are about the concept of "9-to-5".

Afternoon of juggling my department of one, which not only covers my own position but anything that no one else knows how to handle - namely readers of our beloved newspaper. I have many bizarre conversations which I tip-toe around in fear that a recording will reappear on some radio wind-up show. Note to self: Call switchboard to remind them that Newscastle is in fact not in Scotland.

Although I try to leave the office at 5:30, I'm bombing to the car at 5:50pm to pick up Cairn at nursery - which closes at 6pm. Sometimes I get the sweet satisfaction of not being the last parent there. Rarely though. I'm sure there's a Dad there that tries to race me.
On the five mile journey we sing songs from Cars (I’ve lost control of music choice) and get super-excited at the site of trains, buses, planes, ducks, trees and clocks. Quick detour via the petrol station and Tesco and I arrive at the front door laden door with shopping/gym/nursery bags, with my head doing 360º to make sure Cairn doesn’t make a run for it. And we’re home. Phew!

First of the evening duties is Cairn's dinner - home-made of course - which has to be eaten with the Buzz Lightyear Spoon and splashed on the carpets and smeared his hair.

Then it's bathtime, but not before I scrub the bath that Sonic used to clean the mud from his trainers that morning. The pre-bath ritual usually involves me chasing him (Cairn that is, not Sonic) and removing items of clothing which are deposited around the house. There's often a screaming match as I try to coax him into the bath. Once he's in and realises that soaking the floor is really good fun, there's often a screaming match as I try to coax him OUT of the bath.

I dry him whilst he clings to my neck and try to pin him down so I can apply lotions and put his pyjamas on. I liken it to trying to put shoes on an octopus. Then he has a bottle of milk, which he drinks very, very slowly, as he has wised-up to the fact cartoon viewing is over when it’s finished. Despite watching Cars/Toys Story/Thomas for the 715th time, it’s still compelling viewing for a two-year-old. NB: I also lost control of TV viewing.

When I tell Cairn it’s bedtime, he jumps round the sofa and hides behind the curtains. I draw him out by telling him there are "spiders in there!” to which he shrieks and crawls out. I rue the day that the spider trick doesn't work.

Story. Bed. Bliss? Not quite, now I have to answer all the missed calls from office and proof pages for the next day’s paper, which can keep coming until 10pm.

I make dinner, which is pre-packed vegetables with baked potato - nuked in the microwave - accompanied by a tin of tuna. Healthy, nutritious and requires limited involvement. Whilst said dinner is nuking, I clean the kitchen floor and sort out clothing for the next day.

After dinner, I’ve got a basket full of washing to do. Two runners and a toddler keep the laundry cycle pretty fluent. Then I tackle an ironing mountain, which is more challenging that some of the hills I run up. The only saving grace is that I can catch up with missed episodes of Glee.

Bed at 10.15… Me and Mr Tim Noakes… before it all starts again the next day. Thankfully I’m in taper for next week’s 62 mile race, as high mileage weeks are way more dramatic. Night, Mr Lemoncello. Good luck with your 26 miles. Look how we’ve reversed the digits

There's an old saying that goes...

If you want to run faster, you have to, erm, run faster. Simples? Well, these days I've been running slower and getting faster. Go figure.

I generally run 5/6 days a week and include a swim session mid-week. Friday is my beloved rest day. I do an easy/steady run on Tuesday and Thursday and weekend runs are as they say on the tin: long and slow. Now I reserve my effort for the spped sessions I do on a Monday and Wednesday. Focusing on two days really seems to be working for me. There's a little bit of zip in my happy-plodding pins.

Here are a few examples. Some of you speedsters may snigger, but this is good for me.

MJ's Wednesday session:8 mins (90 sec rec), 4 x mins (60 sec rec) and 8 mins: 7.08, 6.51, 6.51. 6.32, 6.27 and 6.52

Club Monday fartlek: 3mins, 4mins, 5 mins, 3mins, 4 mins, 5 mins: 6.58, 6.39, 6.53, 6.40, 6.57, 7.00

MJ's Wednesday session: 5 x 5mins (75 sec rec) 6.58, 6.47, 6.44, 6.47, 7.01

So basically by running slower, I'm running the fastest I have have ever run. But guess what? In two weeks time, I'll be back to square one. Simples?

Waterboarding, anyone?

As some/most of you will know, my next race is the Anglo Celtic Plate in Perth at the end of the month. Some of my trail-loving friends may find it hard to comprehend the idea of 100K on the road. Flat road at that.

To be honest, it's not something I would have willingly signed-up for, but to wear the Scotland vest is not an opportunity I can pass up on. But for those who remain aghast at the concept of 62 miles on tarmac, please allow me to delve into the true layers of horror.

Firstly it's a 1.49 mile lap. Now, I'm not good with maths (terrible, in fact) but I knew that was a lot of laps. 42 in fact. Ultra-running supremo, Jez Bragg informed me that it was "42 opportunities to eat, drink, change kit, lap up the atmosphere from the roaring crowds". Personally, I think that’s 42 opportunities to throw myself in the river!

Then I was informed all GPS and pacing devices are prohibited. I haven't run without a Garmin - even when I was preggers - for about five years. I'm not sure my feet will work without it. Thankfully we're allowed to wear a watch and I had the sense to go pace the course last month.

There are also strict rules about feeding/supports stations. Runners must pick up and drop off at the tables only. Support can't move along with the runner, which is incidentally what I was going to get Sonic to do.

The race starts at 7am on a Sunday morning. Now I quite like an early start, especially for travelling home afterwards. But the day chosen for the race is the day the clocks go forward, so really it's 6am in my head. I probably won't sleep for worrying about what the real time is.

And finally, runners are also prohibited from using ipods, MP3 or similar devices. Of course I discover this three days after buying a new ipod nana with inbuilt radio - specifically for this race. All not lost, as I'm sure I will make good use of it. But really? 62 miles of just me. Alone. With only my crazy thoughts.

Next time I'm going to opt for waterboarding as a more humane and civilised form of torture.

...and then the postie delivered my lovely new kit, and all is forgiven and forgotten. I've put in the miles (I think!) and I can't wait.

Taper time, folks. Don't you just love it?

Ginger Ninja's tour of Scotland

This was to be the pièce de résistance. A 45 mile run on the number seven cycle route from Prestwick to Glasgow. Not exactly inspired, but it ticked all the boxes. Flat (well, for Scotland), tarmac and long.

The downside to road running is the lack of wow-wee scenic moments, but the advantage is you don't have the same logistical/travelling issues. For a point-to-point run, you can just jump on one of the frequent trains, go as far as you want and run back. Simples. For WHW runs, half the battle is the organisation.

I got the train from Glasgow and the Gibbering Midget got on at Kilwinning. The route we were running, winds pretty much parallel to the train tracks. It was quite unnerving to know it took Scotrail's finest 50 minutes to cover the same distance we would be running.

Off at the breezy coastal town of Prestwick, first stop was the al fresco powder room, as the GM duly announced "sitting on vibrating things make me need to pee". You gotta love her innocence.

We started running on the promenade along the beachfront...until it run out. We knew we were heading in the right direction, so made a detour along the beach and then across the golf course (all part of the adventure) until we got to Troon. Then it was clearly signposted and we were on our way.




Despite previously posting the weather forecast, we were really lucky. A bit breezy by the coast, but when is it not? Lots of glorious sunshine and only a few showers. And as a double bonus, apart from a undulation between Irvine and Glengarnock, it was pretty flat. We thought we'd won a watch.

The GM had stashed a drop-bag of supplies at Glengarnock (25 miles), so we had a pit-stop and a refuel on sandwiches and coke. Followed by unladylike belching and yelps as we got going again.

On through Lochwinnoch, Howwood, Johnstone and off at Paisley. We took the most direct along Glasgow Road passed Bellahouston Park.

Still feeling good, but we didn't taking into account that is was high-school throwing out time. Gobby wee boys and muffin-topped giggling girls were quite testing when our tolerance levels were at an all time low.



Just before 4pm we hit 45 miles at the Squiggley Bridge in Glasgow's city centre. 6 hrs 41mins. Average pace 8.55m/m. I doubt there will be many times we can say we ran through three Scottish counties. Starting in South Ayrshire and taking in North Ayrshire, Renfrewshire and finish in Lanarkshire. Magic.

The Clock Keeps Ticking

Just finished reading Sharon Gayter's biography. It's a great read for anyone interested in distance running. It's also a really good story, even if you're not that way inclined.



After reading this, I'm quite glad I'm doing a 100K road race. It's a classic distance for an ultra-runner. Something quite measurable. I'm also half-heatedly started searching for a 24-hour event. Although next month's race may knock that idea on the head.

A lot of you will know some of the Scottish nutters mentioned in this book: Adrian Stott, Alan Young, Don Ritchie, Murdo McEwan, Pauline Walker, William Sichel to name a few. Murdo - what is that flapjack recipe laced with? Gotta get me some of that :-)

So far, I've had another good week. On Monday night I made my debut appearance at the club's fartlek session. It starts quite prompt at 6.30pm, which is usually a bit tight for me. I work at home on Mondays (which, in reality, is a lot less pleasant that it sounds), so I rely on Sonic getting home from work in time. Anyone who knows Sonic, knows punctuality is not is forte. Except on Monday he made a special effort. Although it did involve a faster warm-up to get there by the skin of my teeth.

I really enjoyed the session 3mins, 4mins x 4 - with 2 minute recovery. A more generous recovery than I'm used to these days. Coach Johnston doesn't believe in such lenghty slacking-off. I forgot to set my watch for the first rep, so just didn't bother for the rest. I pretty much gave it my all, so Tuesday's 8-miler was a bit rusty.

On Wednesday it was back to Coach Johnston whip-cracking speed session. 6 x 5 mins with 75 second recovery. 6.59, 6.58, 6.47, 6.44, 6.47 and 7.01.

Today I'm enjoying a wee rest day and a pasta lunch at Jamie's before embarking on a 45-miler with the Gibbering Midget tomorrow (Friday). Check out the weather forecast. Should I blame Sod's Law or Sharon Law?

It was worth it to Perth it

After last weekend's exertions, I assumed I'd feel a little worse for wear at the beginning of the week. Not just fatigued, but I expected to hurt. Apart from looking and feeling like I could be cast in Dawn of the Dead on Monday morning, I was generally OK.

On Tuesday I did an 8-miler. No idea what pace it was, just nice and easy and comfortable. I suppose I was assessing the damage. Everything felt fine, so on Wednesday I decided to do the session with the boys with the jet-propelled legs. I started a wee bit early with the view to them bombing passed me somewhere near the end. I must have felt ok as I never even caught a glimpse of the boys with the jet-propelled legs.

8mins (7:08), 6mins (6:55), 4min (6.38), 3mins (6:50), 2mins (6:41), and 1min (6:10). I was pretty encouraged about how comfortable this felt.

On Thursday night I went along to the club, which was billed as an easy run ahead of the National X-Country. A show of hands at the pre-run briefing highlighted that only three of the 60 or so there were actually doing the Nationals though. Thanks, guys. I ran up to the Garscube estate and back home afterwards to clock another 6 miles. I sauntered round the 6 mile route with the lovely Emma. You know you're not exerting yourself when you spend the time house spotting/nosing and talking wedding chat. Emma, one half of Garscube's answer to Barbie and Ken, is getting married in May. It's the week after the women's 10K, so we talked about having Emma and club girls dressed-up as bride and maids.

Friday, rest day. On Saturday morning,the GM and I headed to Perth to recce the 100K course. It was an early rise, as we had to get the laps in before scooting over to the National X-country in Falkirk. Yep, a 170 mile round trip to run 10. It was kinda like Thelma and Louise, but with the life sucked out of it. And that was before we step out of the car into horizontal sleet. Deeply unpleasant. After seven laps I'd lost the will to live. Speaks volumes, doesn't it? Only 35 to go.... It was worth the trip though. I like to know the course, to go over it in my (crazy) head. And as Garmins are prohibited on race day, I can work out pacing according to lap times. Allegedly.

It's safe to say, it's a pretty flat course...



Then it was off to Falkirk to meet up with Sonic and Cairn. I took some pix of the Men's' race. Click here if you fancy a peek.

The races are seriously competitive, with the creme de la creme out show. It was the first time I'd been to the event and it was awesome viewing. Comical to see that the further up the front the runners are the skinner they are, the less clothes they were wearing (in close to freezing temperatures) and the more snot and gob they had on their faces. But my god, they can fairly shift it. It's not for the faint hearted. Seeing some of the facial expressions made me understand why Gary-Next-Door (and captain of Clydesdale Harriers) says ultra-runners "show no emotion". Granted, it's less fierce, but when I'm blubbering, hallucinating and hurting from the eye-lashes down, I tend to display a lot of emotion. And a snotty nose is the least of my worries.

Sonic ran a belter and came in 90th overall.



On Sunday morning, it was Sonic's turn to be up and out sharp, as he had planned a Kilpatrick hill run with JK and Bob. Normal people might kick-back with a fry-up and the Sunday papers, but I used the morning to get on with a long-list of domestic chores.

When Sonic got back, I went for a steady 10-miler round the west end. Poor Cairn really is a relay baton these days. He probably thinks his parents have separated and nobody has told him.

Thankfully the sun made a rare appearance on Sunday afternoon, so we got to go to the park. You know your son hangs out at too many races, when he shouts "Ready. Steady. Go!" at all the runners passing by.

Road to Nowhere

When the folks in the office asked about my plans for the weekend and I replied: "mainly running" I was met with the usual eye-rolling response. To be honest, I don't think they understood that I would quite literally be, eh, mainly running.

One of the big plans for training for the 100k, was to do two fairly lengthy back-to-back road runs. Granted I've done a lot of training on the roads, but nothing over 20 miles. I was quite apprehensive about the weekend. Not because of the distance, but what the terrain would do to my pampered pins.

On Saturday's 37 mile circuit, we kinda cheated and took in about 9 miles on the WHW, but ran up all the cheeky hills - and the "b*stard" ones too. It turned out to be a cracking day and we knocked out the miles quicker and more comfortable than expected.



36.5 miles. Time 5:28. Average 9.03m/m



Sunday's run from Kilbirnie (after leaving Cairn at Gran's for the morning) to Glasgow was a bit rusty to start. Even the Gibbering Midget wasn't gibbering. The weather wasn't the best and the thought of 20+ miles on the number seven cycle track didn't have a huge appeal, but needs must. After about 6/7 miles we got into our groove and, again, the time zipped by. We finished quite strong and in high spirits, so that was a real confidence booster. Road running isn't quite so scary after all.

20.5 miles. Time 3:08. Average 9.17m/m


The GM and I run really well together and I doubt the weekend would have been remotely enjoyable without the support. I know I hold her back most times, but she never lets on. She is the epitome of mind-over-matter. She does have quite spectacular fuel dips though, but a quick sugar stop and she's off like Cocaine Kate. It's quite awesome. Definitely made in Scotland, from girders.



I'm working well with my nutrition plan. Previously when I'm down, I'm out. But I'm focusing on keeping topped up from early on. Making a conscious effort to take in some sports drink and sweets every six miles and not waiting 'til I'm seeing stars. At which point, I can't eat anyway. So far, so good, but I suppose race day will be the tester. Any advances on four jelly babies over 53 miles would be a bonus.

You don't have to be unhinged, but it helps.

Well, it's been all go in the Consani household. Sonic is now being sponsored by The National Stadium Sports Health and Injury Clinic and I've been selected to run in the Anglo Celtic Plate International in Perth in March. Essentially that means Sonic has full use of their facilities and gets to run to exhaustion, half-naked, whilst wearing a mask and I get to run round in circles for 100K. Magic.

So, the last few weeks I've been cranking up the miles. Of the pavement plodding variety. Apparently it's frowned upon to stop for a photo opp and a pick 'n' mix. Thankfully the Gibbering Midget is also on the team, so we've been training together. For club and country, we've had to tone down our specialist subjects of: boys, clothes and make-up for more somber discussions on training plans, routes, logistics and splits. Dear god, we're starting to sound like Sonic and the Crazy German.

To be honest, I'm kinda winging it. I've known about the race for a few months, but never thought much of it. With nine weeks from selection to race day, there's only so much I can do. And that's got to include a 2/3 week taper.

I've had a few great runs and a few bombers. 35 miles being the longest so far. Thankfully that fell into the great run category. I even attempted some circular repeats - this is now my technical term for running in circles. I found a one-miler close to home and ran round it 10 times. Man, that was tough. For once I found it hard to control my pace. The overwhelming urge to get it over with definitely outweighed the enjoyment.

I figured some of the training I would be doing could be quite monotonous, so I decided to put some audiobooks on my ipod. The first book being Michael McIntyre's biography. It's well worth a read, or in my case a listen. I was chocking with laughter whilst running round in circles last Saturday...nee naw, nee naw.

So back to winging it: This weekend the GM and I are running 35 on Saturday and 20+ on Sunday. You don't have to be unhinged, but it helps.

Ultra-running: For fat people who can't run very fast? Indeedy

Thanks to Murdo for sending me this. Made me right giggle, so it did. And saved me actually writing a proper post.

I am an ultra-runner

Running Vs Jogging

The Nutrition Transition

I'd like to think I'm a healthy eater. I like fresh, colourful food and (unless full of beer) greasy make me queasy. I'm not a must-have-chocolate-everyday kind of girl and crips just don't cut. My downfall is sweets. And picking. BC (before Cairn) I was out most evenings, generally training, but now I spend most evenings at home - too close to the fridge. It's not usually out of hunger or boredom, more just because it's there. If it wasn't for the fact that I work full-time, you could probably run reps round me!

I make more of an effort with food, but I know I'm not a healthy drinker. And that's not including the wine. I hydrate on coffee, tea and Pepsi Max. I very rarely drink water. Not because I don't like it, I just don't get to the "oh I could murder a glass of water" stage.

When it comes to eating and drinking during training and races, that's where I really suffer. I could probably list from memory exactly what I ate during the four ultras I did last year. For example, during the 53 mile Highland Fling, I ate the grand total of four jelly babies. I overcompensate with Lucozade and Coke, which generally leaves my bagged-up. You know I don't do toilet chat, so that's as graphic as it's going to get.

So in a vain attempt to start the year's training/races on the right foot, I went to see dietitian Nathalie Jones, who's based at Achilles Heel on Sundays.

There's just so much conflicting advice out there: You need carbs for energy, but carbs make you fat. You need protein for recovery, but runners eat too much protein. Sugar's bad for you, but sports drinks will make you run longer/faster/better. Runners need dairy to fend off osteoporosis, but milk gives you runner's trots. Run on empty to train you body not to hit the wall, don't run on empty or you'll risk muscle breakdown and long term fatigue. It's a mindfield out there. And that's before you take into account fad diets and bogus supplements.

Prior to the appointment I had to submit a training plan and food diary. Basically everything I ate over four (average) days. It's amazing seeing what you consume in black and white. And more so, I was very conscious of how much I pick and eat mindlessly. And that was me "randomly selecting" the good days :-)

The one-hour appointment with Nathalie was very insightful. The plan essentially goes back to basics and seems relatively easy to follow. OK, I've only been doing it for three days. No calorie counting or weighing, thankfully. It's all based on portion sizes. Upping my carbs and dairy and using protein for after exercise.



I'll actually be (well, consciously) eating more than I'm used to and should keep my weight steady, without having to have really good days to compensate for the really bad days. Losing 5/6 lbs would be a bonus though.

Let the fun and games commence

The Marcothon is finished. The parties are over. My house looks like Hamley's. I've acquired a muffin top. And I'm on the wagon. It must be a New Year then.

It started so well, with a nice big thaw of the snow and ice. Yay! And now it's creeping its way back in. My long-overdue return to club training last night, involved six miles of treacherously icy pavements, with some gobby neds in Maryhill thrown in for good measure. Oh joy.

I hope it doesn't overstay its welcome this time, as I really need to get some sort of training - which doesn't involve plodding - in. I did my first session in over a month on Wednesday. I would say speed session, but I fear you may laugh. Let's split hairs and just call it a session with effort.

The last (published) of Johnson's Joggers training plans went out the window - along with my mojo. But I'm all fired up and ready to start my new schedule. I'll post it later this week, but here are the lunch speed (ok, effort) sessions.

w 08/01 - 18, 8, 6 (90 secs)
M 10/01 – 8 x 3mins (1min) [canal - kelvin]
W 12/01 – 2 x 1 mile hill loop (2mins) + 7 x triangle hill sprint (continuous)
M 17/01 – 20min tempo + 6 x 200m [kelvin & kelvingrove park]
W 19/01 – 4 x 6mins + 1 x 3mins (90secs) [canal - kelvin]
M 24/01 – 15 x 1min brisk, 30secs steady fartlek [kelvin]
W 26/01 – 3 x killers [kelvingrove park]
M 31/01 – 4.8 mile out & back tempo [canal]
W 2/02 - 2 x 8mins (90secs) + 4 x 2mins (75secs) [canal - kelvin]
M 7/02 – 2 x 1 mile hill loop (2mins) + 8 x triangle hill sprint (continuous)
W 9/02 - 3 x 12min (2min) [canal]
M 14/02 – 15 x 1min brisk, 30secs steady fartlek [kelvin]
W 16/02 - 8, 6, 4, 3, 2, 1min (90secs after the 8 & 6 then 1min) [canal – kelvin]

I still haven't really done any long runs, which I'm getting slightly concerned about. I had a second stab at the Mingavie-Drymen out and back (24 miles) last week - with Sonic, the GM, JK, Crazy German and unstoppable Mister C. Disaster number two. The big thaw hadn't quite reached surburbia. It's only five miles up the road, but it was like stepping into a parallel universe. Exaggerated by the sight of Richie in a pair of Pantyhose. Under Armour, Rich. The clue's in the name :-)



So on to the West Highland Way we went, which was the first mistake. It was like a rink. Second mistake was going with a Kahtoola/yaktrak clad group. My ice grippers were worn down after a month of pavement pounding and were what I described as "f*ck all use to anybody!". After a very frustrating seven miles of cross-country/field running, I threw in the towel and about turned. A wise choice, as without the grip 14 miles was tough enough. I was feeling pretty sorry for myself and my legs were knackered.

I was glad to get to the car and remove my sodding-wet socks and shoes. A great excuse to put on my lovely new Hunter wellies. Hey, it's been a least two postings since I mentioned new shoes.

I picked up Cairn earlier than expected (bonus) and decided to go shopping (double-bonus). Can you imagine the above outfit teamed up with a skelping red face and a pair of wellies? Now imagine the look on the faces behind the Estee Lauder counter at Frasers when I appeared waving an over-eager credit card. I'm sure Cairn was just pretending to be asleep.

I got home to discover the postman had tried to deliver my new Kahtoolas. I would have been miffed if it wasn't for the fact that when I went to collect them, the company had sent a pair of large microspikes in error - which, again, would be "f*ck all use to anybody".

All was not lost though, as a self-administered big dollop of TTFU and I went out and ran the missing 10 miles. I would not be beaten.

Then came the Marcothon Grand Finale. I was kind of sad to see it end, as it was what kept me (and many others) motivated throughout the weather chaos. I met and was encouraged by lots of great people along the way - the usual maddies and some real troopers. I organised a last-minute small group run in Pollok Park, which was a nice way to end it.



We even had a Marcothon proposal! See the Subversive Runner's blog for more details.

My first run in 2011 was on the Kilpatrick Hills with the Gibbering Midget. The aim was to meet in Old Kilpatrick at 8am. The GM was out on the vino the night before, so I was half expecting a call off. I was woken by a text message, which I thought was said call off, only to read: "Is everything OK?" and I then noticed it was 8:15. F*********ck!! Even Cairn, who's my back-up alarm, was still sound. I was up, half-dressed and out in minutes. I didn't even brush my teeth, but used the mouthwash from the glovebox (ok, it's an Aygo, so it's more of space where the glovebox should be) which I swirled round my mouth and spat out the window. If I had been more awake, I would have realised when driving at 50mph that it was obviously going to come back in and hit me. I got there just before 8:30, minty-fresh and slightly startled. First stop was the al fresco powder room.

Thankfully the run was well worth the panic. Amazing views and the terrain wasn't the usually marshland, so I finished with semi-dry feet. And ready to murder a coffee.

Happy New Year everyone :-) My (small) Kahtoolas arrived today.

Merry Christmas

It's a Marcothon, not a sprint

We're now into the fourth week of our winter white-out and according to the forecast it's here to stay for the foreseeable future. Joy. It has pretty much disabled the entire country. And in true British-style, the weather is the favourite topic of conversation. Michael McIntyre summed it up during the Royal Variety Show last week, when he said the snow has become the news. National news: It's snowing. Sport: It's snowing. Weather: Well, it's snowing. The news where your are: It's snowing there too.

Who would have thought we would - well, most likely - finish the Marcothon in the same conditions we started? At first we all moaned about the snow. Then it stopped snowing and left an ice rink. Then we wished for the snow to come back. Now all we need is rain, which will no doubt give us something else to moan about. In true British Style.

Day 23 of the Marcothon and although I'm underwhelmed by the prospect of stepping outside most days, I'm overwhelmed by the response and enthusiasm of those involved. Nearly 300 recruits. There have been a few DNFs - although I'm sure there have been a few more than those who have confessed to bowing out. No wonder, it's been a tough one. There have been daily postings of hangovers, tantrums, tumbles, triumphs, struggles and lovely winter wonderland photos. Pictures which always look beautiful on screen. Not so beautiful when your ears are in danger of falling off.

There has been a little bit of rule bending, but who cares? It's all about the personal achievement and pushing yourself a little more than you normally would. Especially in the lowest ever temperatures recorded in December. Well, in Scotland anyway.

To be honest, if it wasn't for the Marcothon I don't think I would have bothered. I know it's good training, especially for mental toughness, but I'm also looking forward to:

1) Running under 8m/m
2) Not having to stop to help someone push their car
3) Turning corners without slowing to a shuffle and holding onto to a fence/lamp-post
4) No impromptu Saturday Night Fever moves, when my foot slips from underneath
5) No involuntary whooping and squealing
6) No more jaw-drop gazes from eyes that are just willing you to fall
7) Not having to start-stopping 10 feet from the kerbside
8) Wearing road shoes. Or anything that doesn't involved studs, spikes or grip
9) Being able to feel my face. And being aware that snot is running down it
10)Realising that shorts over tights is a ridiculous look. But my ass is freezing.

Not only has the Marcothon attracted record-holders, ultra-distance race winners, and even some running "celebrities", there are some real humbling stories. Ann McLachlan was stuck in hospital and used the four-hour a day when she wasn't linked up to a drip to complete the distance/time by stomping round the hospital wards and stairwells. How's that for dedication? One chap started the journey on a treadmill on a oil rig in the north sea and another hasn't even done a 10K - yet!

Given the conditions, it's just head's down and plodding. No sessions and no big runs for me. The most I've run is 17 miles with the Gibbering Midget. Even then we planned to run 25 miles on an out-and-back from Milngavie to Drymen. We almost threw in the towel at the car park, but managed a slippery seven miles before we about turned and did a circuit round Langbank. We did have a hoot though. You know you're out with the GM when you say something positive like. "Look on the bright-side. It's not raining. It's a beautiful day. And your glittery eye-shadow looks fabulous". Given that we both had Christmas nights' out that evening, we'd both gone a bit OTT on the fake-tan and turned up like satsumas. Although the GM looked immaculate as always, which might have more to do with her post-run liaisons :-)

That's packed-ice underfoot.


The Gibbering Midget: Outfit by Adidas. High Viz tights: Model's own.

The nightmare before Christmas

Planes, trains and buses have ground to a halt. Cars have been abandoned. Road, airports and schools are closed. Shops have run out of basic supplies, people have become prisoners in their own homes and the ecomony is losing millions by the day. But it would take more than freezing temperatures and white-out conditions to stop runners grinding out out the miles, eh? Tough or mentally-insane? I say a healthy serving of both. Where there's a will there's a way.

Ill-equipped and scantily-clad, snow or now snow, the show must go on. The Marcothon has now commenced. As of today (the first day) there are 267 runners on Facebook signed up to run every day in December. Plus, I know there's quite a few anti-social-networkers on board too.

Looks like it's going to be a real challenge after all. I may need an extra serving of TTFU. Apparently winter 2009/10 was the worst for 30 years. Now 2010/11 is forecast to be the earliest and worst winter conditions for some time.

Saturday brought us the first dumping of snow, which meant I missed out on the Hugh Wilson 10K in East Kilbride. After searching for webcams, we found the conditions were worse there than in Glasgow. We later heard the race went ahead, but there were too many logistical and babysitting issues to bother with a race that involved running in ankle-deep snow. I was secretly relieved.

I opted for 10 miles round the west-end. Every cloud has a silver lining, as I got to try out my lovely new Inov8 Roclites.

Great grip and much lighter than my Trabucos. Only problem is they don't go with any of my outfits. But I've got a solution for that...:-)

Over the last few days - as the snow and ice continues - I've swapped them for my x-talons. Wearing them is probably the closest I'll get to "normal" running, so I'll stick with them for the time being. Hopefully not for the next 30 days though. I don't love them that much.

It may be hard to believe, but I've actually been enjoying running this week. I've kinda got my head round the fact the snow and ice could possibly be about for the rest of the month, so best to suck it up and get on with it.

So far, I haven't slipped. Yet. And I've managed to dodge the snowballs. Thus far. On Monday night, I passed a group of local neds One of them threw a snowball, which landed about two metres from my feet. Probably not my brightest move to say: "you throw like a girl". Next thing there were six 13-year-olds tearing down the street armed with snowballs. You know the sorry state of youth today when I was running on foot-deep snow on the pavement and they were running on the road, and I'd out-ran them within 200m. Another non-smart move was to turn round and give them the two's-up, before smugly sauntering on. I don't think I'll be doing that route for a while...