Wednesday, 26 February 2014

Clap along now

Know the song? The one all the kids sing along to, the one that puts a smile on your face, the one that gets you tapping your feet to the tune, the one with the feel good video?

No? Yes?

Here you go - just because I never tire of it:


So, what's the point? Well, there is none really. Aside from a realisation today that we should never take things for granted, be grateful for our friends and loved ones, enjoy life every day, and not waste time wondering "What if?" but rather just 'do it'.

And on that cryptic note I will leave you with this image, as apparently it will be my 'reincarnation' and contribution next week on World Book Day.

vast improvement on the original LCM

Like I said: just do it.

Even if you have to dress up as a minion.
Anything for a great cause.


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Sunday, 16 February 2014

The exclusive interview

A phone call.
An introduction.
A request for an exclusive insight.*

How could I refuse?

Indeed, I couldn't.

I didn't need to even dress up or put on mascara.
Or change out of my filthy training kit for that matter.
Gotta love the phone sometimes, it even outranks Skype on such occasions.

Interviewer: So, I hear you are training for the London Marathon? I thought you took part in triathlons?

LCM: Hello there! Thanks for having me on the show. I was so excited to receive the phone call this morning literally out of the blue and be asked to take part in your Q&A session. Of course, this isn't the first time I have been interviewed, or appeared on the telly for that matter - but that's a whole other story, ha ha ha ha, and I was only nineteen at the time and it was the equivalent of 'Blind Date' in Australia, can't remember the name of the show, oh yes, it was 'Perfect Match', which I was, the perfect match that is, but I didn't get chosen which is just as well as he was a short-arsed peroxide dunce anyway - but either way, well, WOW! How fantastic! Imagine silly little me being interviewed! That's just great. Wait until I call my mum and tell her. Sorry, what was the question?

Interviewer: What made you take up this challenge?

LCM: Which challenge? Oh, you mean the marathon? Yes, well, I woke up on new year's day with a slightly woolly head and remembered walking home the night before wearing someone else's borrowed wellies - because otherwise I would have had to trek the two kilometres home in high stiletto heels - and that led me to answering an email from many months earlier about joining a team to run the London Marathon. Which now makes even less sense than it did at the time, but, hey-ho, too late now!

Interviewer: How do you find the time to train?

LCM: I steal it from the family. The kids have a rota that sees them alternate washing, cooking, shopping, cleaning, vacuuming duties. My OH chips in when he doesn't have his work phone glued to his ear. I occasionally see them long enough to thank them - and the fire brigade - for not setting the kitchen alight or bringing home stray dogs, although I fear their enthusiasm is waning somewhat as my dinner is more frequently burnt of late.

Interviewer: Do you follow a special diet?

LCM: Aside from food? Uhmm, not particularly. Should I be?

Interviewer: What have you learnt so far on this journey?

LCM: How long have you got? Let's see... 1. Anyone who says you don't need to pee during a long run either has a bladder of steel or wet knickers. 2. I hate being overtaken. 3. I will never run a four minute mile. 4. My feet hurt. 5. Likewise my knees. 6. Sitting down is nice, but getting up is painful. 7. Do you need more? I could go on for a while here...

Interviewer: Where do you get your motivation from?

LCM: You kidding me? Fresh air, the great outdoors, hours away from domestic chores, school homework, client projects, work proposals, no WiFi, no phone, no concerns... Unless you count the mud. And the rain. And the cold. And the looks from well-heeled pedestrians who give a wide berth when you are approaching.

Interviewer: Any special tips for our listeners?

LCM: Yes. Take up a knitting.

Interviewer: And after this, what next?

LCM: I am going on a cycling camp! Actually, that is before the marathon. Not sure how the running fits in, but I'll figure it out. Oh, and skiing! Also before the marathon. No idea how the running fits in there either, but the marathon is the day after we get back, so as long as I don't break a leg...

Interviewer: What would be your parting words of wisdom for others looking to run a marathon?

LCM: Do not borrow wellies from friends on new year's eve. They put funny ideas in your head.

Warning: can seriously affect
your judgement

* this may well have all taken place in my imagination


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Thursday, 13 February 2014

Saw feet

Week six of marathon training.
My knees creak.
My hips ache.
My head throbs (dehydration, no doubt, or that glass of wine that "seemed like a good idea at the time" last night).
My shoulders are sore (no, I have no idea either how you get sore shoulders from running, but there you go, stick that on Wikipedia medical).
My pelvic bone feels like it belongs in a retirement home.

And my feet...

Well, thanks to the glory of the internet I now know what is wrong with my feet.
It is called metatarsalgia.
Try saying that in a hurry after a ingesting one of those disgusting sticky energy gels (more of that in another post).
Akin to feeling like someone is poking hot needles through your toe bones and then relieving the associated pain by placing a pebble under the joint to the ball of the foot.

Add mud, puddles, various pieces of debris courtesy of the British weather of late and you have a rather interesting exchange on Twitter:




So here's to gel cushions, foam plasters, kinesiology tape, and many more kilometres before I get to my destination. With, or without, toes intact.

I may be walking in a most peculiar manner by then.

Mud - inside and out


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Monday, 3 February 2014

Busting a gut

Okaaaay, so, one month in.

The brilliant idea that was me running the London Marathon.

And still is, still is, no backing out, no excuses about sore knees, clicky hips, painful toes, twisted pelvis, unstable discs, slippy towpaths, dark mornings, drizzly downpours, or...

M U D .

Gawdomitey.

I thought I had done my penance on the rugby pitches with three lots of minis kit and boots (plus OH's, because I am nice after all, nothing to do with marginal OCD and hating dirty gear being left on the garage floor regardless of owner) to clean up from September to April.

Nup. It would seem that the heavens have conspired against me and that I am duty-bound to share the frustration of flood-stricken Brits in the South-East (although, I'll admit, at least I can still use the paths/roads/lanes and not have to resort to floating vessels to navigate my route) and thus ensure that any outing consists of the following:

  • easy warm-up
  • get into running rhythm
  • hop over puddle
  • hop over more puddles
  • jump side to side to avoid stretch of puddles
  • squelch through mulchy border either side of mud bath
  • attempt hop over pond
  • fail
  • wade through pond
  • continue running with one sodden and one almost sodden trainer
  • distract self from very wet feet by looking at scenery
  • realise scenery is increasingly aquatic
  • wonder if taking off shoes might be better option
  • look at shoes and fail to recognise them from previous incarnation
  • am grateful cannot see rest of self if this is just the 'bottom part' of attire
  • give up trying to find a 'dry bit' to run on
  • keep on going with chorus from the Ride of the Valkyries playing in my head
  • return home and consider undressing in full outside front door before venturing inside
  • reconsider
  • spend next hour cleaning MUD off everything

Repeat.

The upside is that I have become (almost) immune to the brown stuff.
The downside is that I am running on my own because other potential training partners are far wiser.
Who knows, by the end of this whole venture I may morph in to one of these:

rugby plus mud all rolled into one -
yeah baby!


Anyhow, more to the point: HAVE YOU SPONSORED ME YET AND IF NOT WHAT THE DEVIL ARE YOU WAITING FOR?

That's what mud does to you. 
It makes you very shouty.


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