A change of scenery

I started out using blogger because it was easy and only a click away from my gmail page, but truth be told I find it a bit boring looking so...

I've moved.

Find the blog now over at:

 chasethepavement.wordpress.com

I hope you follow me over there, it looks much nicer :o)

Double victory - two firsts in one run.

I crested the highpoint of the run, breathless and tired I was thankful at the realisation that there were no more ups. This was my first trail run and I'd picked a whopper to start with - the first ever Great Trail Challenge and I was running the 10km, also another first for me.

Why losing weight has lost its weight

On a fateful morning in early April I stepped on my bathroom scales. I knew what they were going to say before they'd even finished calibrating.

Yes, I don't drink. No, I don't think it's weird.

We sat down in the restaurant and promptly handed our Groupon voucher over to the girl.

"Do you know what the voucher includes?"

"Um, sort of"

"Well it's 3 courses from the A La Carte menu and a glass of Prosecco each"

"Oh right, well can I swap my glass of Prosecco for a diet coke instead please [raises hand] non-drinking driver here"

"Oh, um, right [turns to Gordon] unless you want both glasses of Proescco because a diet coke is only £1.50?"

"No, that's fine, we'll have a diet coke instead please"

I'm not a runner. Am I?

I'm not a runner. Despite having spent these past eight weeks going to running classes and parkrun religiously, and despite having signed up for a half dozen events, and despite having been for a gait analysis and spending £70 on new trainers and socks, and despite the pain I now have in my soleus muscles almost continually from pushing myself each session, I'm not a runner.

My first running injury

I'm such a sensible girl you know, I got a niggle in my leg within a couple of weeks of starting running and so when it didn't go away after a week of trying to rest it I booked an appointment to see my very sympathetic sport-friendly doctor. I had gone to see her before starting out mountain biking all those many moons ago and she commended me on my sensible attitude towards getting a check-up before I started clocking up too many miles. I've clearly watched too many documentaries about obesity which have a disclaimer at the end pleading with you to "consult your doctor before embarking on any strenuous exercise".

So I booked the appointment 2 weeks ago and in true style the niggle has since lessened to a barely noticeable twinge. But still, just to make sure I went along to get it checked out.

5km is so last month, 5 miles is where it's at!

The first aim for anyone starting out running seems to be 5km. Despite living in prehistoric Britain - where bananas can't be weighed in pounds but all the roads are measured in miles - 5km is the desirable first achievement for the average 0 - 10 week plan. Well, no offence to those plans but if you just shut up and run it doesn't take that long. I did it in 3 weeks and started from rock bottom carrying about 3 stone more than my body has ever been used to.

From couch to 5k in... 3 weeks??!!

I kicked ass yesterday. No, seriously I did. Well, for me I did.Yesterday marked my third parkrun and they just keep getting better.

"It's easier to eat junk" and other feeble excuses

I always blamed my increasing chunk on my overgrown appetite. "I just love food" I'd say, thinking that it was something strangely divorced from my own actionable choices. I'd call at the supermarket in the morning and find it hard to resist the lure of freshly baked cookies, or go to a restaurant for a nice meal out with hubs and be so weak-willed that I'd have to have starter, main AND dessert even though it usually left me feeling less than romanced by the end thanks to uber-greedy eyes and an over-bloated gut.

KMs and PBs - it's all about the acronyms.

I'm trying desperately not to think about all those thousands of experienced runners preparing themselves mentally and physically for the London Marathon tomorrow. At the minute the thought of running 26.2 miles is attractive but an utter world away from my capabilities. Thinking of all those 'athletes' makes my own achievement today seem pathetic and unworthy of mention but I have to focus on my own progress and how if I concentrate hard enough on it, that could me me gearing up for the starting line next year.

My name's not Forest, it's Ivor.

"Look at that rain coming down, I bet you'll not be going to running club tonight, eh Carrie"
"Why not?"
"Well 'cause it's lashing down, you'll get soaked!"
"It's only water, it'll not kill me"

Long legs might make for a faster runner, but...

... It is making it very difficult to find kit to fit.

Being tall has always brought with it problems when trying to find clothes to fit but oddly enough not in the way most folks of average verticalness would think. I don't have a problem finding bottoms to fit, when out on the bike or now running I tend to go for shorts or 3/4 lengths anyway so bottoms present no problem to most skyward-bound goddesses such as myself.

Why I ran a 5k straight away

I tried taking up running a few years ago you know. I went out, bought a pair of trainers and set about doing the couch to 5k plan (C25K) but doing it by myself I got bored after less than 2 week and gave up. The trainers slowly languished in the corner of the room and plans to run became an inevitably unmentionable part of my 'history of fads'.

I clearly went about it all wrong. If I have to do anything alone with no support I fail, it's just the way I am and I've learned that through many disappointments over the years. That's why this time I decided to join the beginners running club so at least I had a weekly club to go to surrounded by other women in exactly the same position as me.

Up and running

I sauntered around the Gosforth Central Park feeling slightly less than conspicuous in my black 3/4 gym pants, black cycling jacket and bright yellow and grey trainers. I was looking for a girl named Kerry but I had never met her before and had no clue what she looked like. I did a lap of the park and heading back towards my starting position hoping that I could muster the courage to ask someone "do you know where the running club meets?". But I'm not a runner. I don't look like one, I don't even look like the kind of person who would contemplate running but yet there I was, looking for Kerry.

Dear fat, prepare to die. Love, me.

Dear fat,

Please, you might want to sit down for this as what I'm about to say will upset you. After a lengthy relationship I feel it's about time I admitted - I don't like you.