Cult of personality

As you may have gathered, I am still alive (just), but more on that later. For now, a quickie. After completing a personality test entitled "Do you know yourself", here is how the world sees me, apparently;

"Others see you as an exciting, highly volatile, rather impulsive personality; a natural leader, who's quick to make decisions, though not always the right ones. They see you as bold and adventurous, someone who will try anything once; someone who takes chances and enjoys an adventure. They enjoy being in your company because of the excitement you radiate."

Well, as this is how "the world" sees me, I can't possibly comment. Quite how they work this out from such ridiculous questions as "what position do you sleep in?" I have no idea. I suppose I should be grateful for the fact that there was no result which simply said "See you next Tuesday"

Ciao for now.

And you will know us by the trail of phlegm...

D-Day is upon us. Well, me. And the "D" in this instance stands for death. The big run in which I have been "training" for is on Saturday. This Saturday. I don't quite understand how this can be the case, I've lost track of the weeks a little, but I just don't believe it's been 7 weeks since I first started whingeing about this run. Admittedly, I first thought I had 8 weeks, but after consulting a calendar, realised that I actually had 7. Can the calendar be lying to me too? Have I been robbed? It seems they are all out to get me, whoever "they" are, but a great conspiracy has unfolded, I'm sure of it. Bastards.

Before I get into the swing of panicking, firstly, my apologies for the lack of updates of late, which may indicate that I haven't been doing anything to write about, but let me assure you, that assumption is only partly true. The last time I wrote, I had been a rather busy boy, although admittedly I'd spent too much time on the bike and not enough on my own two feet. Well I've partly rectified that problem and not been out on the bike since. Problem is, I've not done much running either. I did have a really good week, which started with a return to the reservoir for a few laps. After the warm up lap, I smashed my previous best of 12.25 which a new record of 11.06, and followed this up with the usual lap of mixed running / walking but with considerably more running than previous attempts. That same week I also had another little run out around the local park / graveyard, but these were nothing compared to what can only be described as my finest hour. Well, 1hour 45minutes(ish). Recruiting the only other person I know who does a lot of running, as James seems to have died since our last visit to the reservoir, I met up with my friend Rebecca. Now Rebecca is a real runner, not a slob rookie like myself, so I knew this was going to be hard, I mean, she does marathons, real ones!! Surprisingly, 7 and a half miles later, and some massive hills conquered without too much fuss or walking, I returned home triumphant. As far as I'm concerned, that was a definite result. Ok so the pace is a little on the slow side, but considering how the last time I attempted to go for a run with Rebecca (over a year ago) I got as far as the end of the street, got a stitch, spat my dummy out and went home to play on the Playstation, this was a result.

Unfortunately it all went downhill from there. So much so, that I haven't been out since. The weather was a bit ropey the following week, and as much as I'm beginning to enjoy running, I'm not prepared to suffer the weather and run for the sake of running. This may seem like a bit of a washout as far as excuses go, but that's fine. As with most things, if I don’t enjoy doing something I just don't do it. So I didn't.

So, D-Day. Saturday. The day of days. No turning back now. I'm all packed, as I'm sure I'd never live down the excuse of forgetting my shoes. I'm not ready, but I'm as ready as I can be. However, there is a problem. A huge problem. I have officially being self-diagnosed with the most life threatening of illnesses, known as Man Flu. It's ok, it's ok, calm down. I'm sure I'm over the worst of it, my condition is stable, and my odds of pulling through are beginning to look favourable. Man Flu (medical term being manfluenza) is without a doubt worse than any condition a woman can contract, which is why they mock us men, out of envy, followed closely only by child birth (fact). People still die from Man Flu! This particular strain of manfluenza has manifested itself as a very snotty nose and a chesty cough, and an achy back which I think is as a result of all the coughing. Being struck down with this disease doesn’t bode well for my chances on D-Day, and I'm certain I'll get not an ounce of sympathy from dear old HMC, so the run will go ahead interrupted only by my dieing. Perhaps a more apt description of this series of blogs would be "trails of blood, sweat, vomit and mucus".

So, my imaginary friends, this is it, the final curtain, so to speak. It's been nice knowing you. Remember me, not as a man who died, but a man who lived, tried, failed and then died. It'd make my mum proud less ashamed.

End of Week 3 (?)

It can't be the end of week three already, can it? Or is it week four? I'm losing track. Anyway, what ever plan I may, or, more truthfully, may not have had for this weeks treadmill sessions, has gone completely out of the window. The truth is, I now cannot stomach the thought of going back on the soul destroying, time defying treadmill. This is because I have rediscovered the great outdoors. Since I last wrote, I have ventured outside a further four times, two runs and two bike rides. This officially brings the total to six outings, and a weights day, in the last nine days. Here's a recap of this weeks events since my last blog;

Thursday - Run
Anticipating that my running partner from last week was to cancel our Friday night appointment at the reservoir as he apparently received an injury whilst playing football on the Tuesday (coincidence?), not wanting to miss a day and in a blatant plot of avoiding the treadmill of woe, me and my house mate went for a little outing around one of Bradfords many recreational areas for a steady 3.25mile run, peppered with short walks. The route isn't bad actually for a heavily built up area, and is quite hilly, so it's good practice and is just down the road.
Friday - Run
To my surprise, James stuck to our arrangement despite winging on about this apparent football career jeopardising injury, which amounted, as far as I could see, to be nothing more that a slight bruise. And I'm being generous with my diagnosis. So with the appointment confirmed, it was back to the reservoir for us, with plans grandeur of doing 5 laps. Well, this didn't happen, because by the time we had got there, it was getting dark, and 3 laps later, it was pitch black, which made for some "fun" falling down little dips and trying in vein to avoid squelching kamikaze frogs. BUT, and there is a but, we were successful in completely one full and uninterrupted lap, the full 1.35miles without walking any of it, in a quite respectful 12minutes and 25seconds. What? I don't think that's bad going myself, after all, James was injured for christs sake! (what, I'm not allowed to play his injury card too?) This now of course sets the bench mark for future outings. Trouble is, we're going to have to stop going soon, as winter officially beckons bringing with it shorter and shorter days. We'll have to find a suitably lit route instead, but we've got a few weeks yet I think.
Saturday - Bike ride
In an attempt to escape the madness that is three women arguing over one bathroom, I donned my cycling gear for a pre wedding bike ride. Once again, I headed for the canal, this time in the opposite direction to see where it would take me. You may notice a pattern emerging here. This is because I like canals, as due to the very nature of them, they are flat, and flat is good. They are also quiet, and scenic, and smell nice. Other people, out and about minding their own business, whom you've never met before, greet you, either with a subtle nod of the head, a smile, or a cheery "hello". What more could you ask for on a leisurely ride out? The down side is, short of riding them the length or breadth of the country, they have to end somewhere, meaning normal service will inevitably resume, unless you just turn around and come back again, but where's the adventure in that? In this case, the "normal service" was a bloody big hill. A two mile hill in fact, leaving my quads screaming for mercy, well they would have screamed if they had mouths. Instead they seemed to hatch an escape plan by means of burning through the overlaying flesh and running away. Thwarted they were, as the peak of the hill was reached, eventually. Mountain conquered, I was then rewarded with a nice long descent, which looped back on to the canal from the opposite direction. Aah canals, we salute you.
Here's the route...















Sunday - Bike ride
Today it was back to the canal again, for some more free wheeling fun. I also discovered that the canal which I have been enjoying this week isn't actually a canal at all!! It has been masquerading as a canal all along, and is in fact a river. Sneaky. If you look at the map above, or indeed care enough to look at the map above, you will see that from the West, it is a canal, with a river adjacent to it right up the lock, after which the two merge, making it a river from that point on. Before setting off this afternoon I consulted Google Earth to plan out a route, and here it is,
intending to ride along the "canal" for as long as sensibly possible, and spotted a crossroads in the "canal". Canals don't have cross roads do they? Well as it turns out, no, they do not, firstly because they are obviously not roads, and secondly it's because it's a river system. Ah well, it's still flat, so off I went. What I forgot to check, due to the shock of this discovery, is that there was to be a path for me to follow along the river route. There wasn't, so after a mile or so of overgrown paths through the trees, I ran out of route. Not to be outdone by this, I carried on across grassy fields, sticking close to the river, whilst looking out for irate, shotgun wielding farmers. This ended with me lobbing the bike over a gate and me scaling it, only to see a sign on the other side saying something about trespassing and how it's best for all concerned not to do it. Another section of river, some more blatant trespassing over a viaduct, and I was back to relative civilisation, and hopefully on the right side of the law. Thinking it was best if I lay low for a little while, I continued the remainder of the route on roads. 12.5 miles in 1hour 16minutes or so, not bad considering half of it was definitely what you'd call "off road".

THE CONCLUSION
A good week all round I feel, I'm off of the treadmill and braving the real world, however I'm in danger of focusing too strongly on riding and not enough on the job in hand, running. That said, and even though the distances haven't been great, I have stuck to three running session this week, which I'm pleased with. Next week I'll try and get out on four of the days and just have one stitch prevention gym session on Wednesday. Tomorrow it's back to the reservoir, so we'll just see what that brings.

I want to ride my bicycle...

So I did, on Saturday, although somewhat unintentionally. I packed the bike into my car to take over to my mothers with me, with the sole intention of doing some work to it. The bike itself was given to me a little while ago, needing a full strip down and rebuild. I quite like doing things of this nature, as you may have gathered since I spend just about every weekend restoring a 76 mini, so saw this as another little project to keep me busy over summer. I never thought at the time of taking a "before" picture, but here it is mid build;

Hanging in the professional and clinically clean confines of my shed, complete with decorative antique shovel and old bed frame, whilst the various components dried following the respray...
and here is the end result, all painted and put back together. This has been an extremely cheap little project for me (which is good as the mini frequently empties my pockets), with the only bought items, aside from bearings and paint, being the reproduction stickers courtesy of eBay, a set of hand grips, the bull bars which also conceal multi-tools inside them (fancy!), a set of mud guards, and a basic trip computer, all thanks to Halfords, for less than £100! Bargain! I can't actually remember what model the bike is, as I never thought to pay any attention before stripping all the paint off of the frame, but I think it's a Giant Advantage... or something like that. Plans for the future are to fit it with a set of disk brakes, but as these don't come cheap, they will have to wait. Ye olde V brakes and rubber stop blocks work perfectly fine.

So anyway, Saturday. Well since the rebuild I have been on a couple of short rides, but have been having trouble getting all gears, and since all my tools are in my mums hallway / pantry / loft / bedroom (sorry mum, I will shift it all one day I promise) it made sense to work on the bike there. After tinkering, I decided to take it round the street (with my mum watching from the kitchen window, just like a child) to give it a test... and immediately rode into an overhanging rose bush. Nice. Once I started riding I just carried on, dressed quite inappropriately in a pair of old jeans, skate trainers and a baseball cap.

So here's the route I took:
A relatively sedate route along the canal and back via the local scenery, racking up a gentle 5.5miles in 28 minutes. The weather was nice albeit very windy, in every direction, which defies everything I ever thought I knew about wind. I really enjoy a bit of cycling from time to time and wish I made more effort to get out a bit more frequently, but I must confess to being a bit of a fair weather fairy when it comes to the great outdoors, snowboarding aside. The reason for this enjoyment, it seems, is that I have never grown up, and insist on taking the most difficult way of getting past any obstacle that doesn't have teeth, usually by jumping off or over it. This inevitably ends in injury from time to time, but I doubt I'll learn my lesson any day soon. Another thing about cycling is that no matter how far from home you get, short of getting a taxi back, I have to get home again, so quitting when I get a bit tired just isn't an option. One thing I hate however, is roads, especially pothole ridden excuses for roads. And traffic, well, bad or inconsiderate drivers more accurately, but I could go on about this forever, so instead I avoid the subjects all together and try to stick to off-road routes where ever possible. Plus it's more fun.

I really enjoyed this little re-emergence into my long gone youth, despite being dressed like I'd stolen the bike from someone still very much in their youth, so I have intentionally left it at my mums. We're all off to a wedding on Saturday you see, so while my sisters are fighting over the bathroom and arguing about who's wearing who's shoes, I shall be exploring more of the the countryside at speed before donning my suit and getting drunk.


And now for something completely different

A couple of blogs ago I vented spleen about a reoccurring stitch which has been plaguing me recently, and at the time said that I didn't know what caused them or how I can prevent them. Well, our good friend Google came to the rescue with this, and as it turns out there has been quite a lot of research into this over recent years, and the general consensus seems to conclude that they are caused by the stretching of the ligaments that hold you liver in place, which attach to the diaphragm. The action of running combined with rapid breathing causes the liver to "bounce" downwards whilst the diaphragm is moving upwards stretching the ligaments, causing shooting pains. But I'm sure you all knew this already. As it turns out, there is no magic cure to fix a stitch in the making, but apparently I can prevent them by working on my core muscles. So I've decided that on my rest days between the treadmill / running sessions, I'll spend 45 minutes up in the gym corner of my bedroom, concentrating mainly on abdominal exercises, with a few other bits and pieces thrown in for good measure.
This began last night with 50 sit ups, I lost count but I'd say between 150 and 200 trunk dips with a 20kg weight, 10 elevated push ups, 1o regular push ups, 20 narrow grip chin ups, 5 wide grip chin ups, and a mixture of bench presses, bicep curls, weighted lunges and lateral raises. That's made me sweat a little bit just recalling last nights effort!!

Result? I ache today. Lots. Ah well, my exercise diary on mapmyrun is looking good this week. Next up is 5 laps around the reservoir. Looking forward to it I am. Confident, I am not.

Reservoir Slobs

I am pleased to state that reports of my demise have been greatly exaggerated. I remain alive, and relatively well. I'm also pleased to report that the run around the reservoir actually went really well, and taking a friend with me was a fantastic idea, as I genuinely enjoyed tonight's outing, as opposed to suffering the treadmill.
I picked said friend up, drove to the reservoir to find the car park full, so took my trusty steed off road and abandoned it in the local foliage. Then we had a fag. As we walked down to the big pond, I panicked when I saw the sheer size of it. It looked far bigger in reality than on Google Earth! Initially we decided to run small sections, and walk small sections, but during the first running stage I became quite aware that there were lots of people around, and didn't want to look silly by stopping and walking blatantly so early on, so just carried on running. I was even beginning to think that we might just complete a full circuit! Surely not? Well, as it turns out, no. Not quite. As we turned a corner I had convinced myself, and my somewhat lagging friend, that the end was at the next corner, so mustered up just enough motivation to get me there. As we arrived, it turned out to not quite be the end, so we stopped for a much deserved walk. James (said friend) had left his water in my car so we walked back up to get it. And have a fag.

Quite pleased at the almost full circuit, we set off for a couple more laps of definite run / walk intervals, walks being considerably longer than the runs as it turns out, but overall I'm quite pleased at how much running was actually done, and more pleased that I know full well I could have run more of it and James was the one who, somewhat surprisingly might I add, was wanting to quit. Now I have to be honest, some of this motivation came from the fact that I took sick pleasure in torturing James, who thought we were going home after lap two. Well I expected him to be fitter than me, he plays squash and football a few times a week. So pleased at my fitter-than-him status, I even decided to rub it in by doing a 200meter(ish) flat out sprint on the third lap. Some of the motivation also came from two young ladies who seem to have adopted a similar run / walk tactic to James and I, and although it wasn't particularly unpleasant to be behind them, there was no way they were running more than me. I may have actually said something to James along the lines of "I'm not sexist or anything, but there's no way I'm losing to two girls". As they set off on their next run, we ran, and I would not let poor James stop until the girls were overtaken and well out of sight. Mission accomplished, we walked a for bit, ran back to the steed to recover it from the undergrowth, had a fag, and set off home.

So overall, really pleased with the result, and slightly taken back at just how different running in the real world is, both in terms of physically and mentally. My calf muscles feel a bit tight, and my breathing seemed to be more of a problem than it is on the treadmill, probably from all the chatting / laughing at James / smoking, but having someone with me made the time fly by. We will be returning on Friday for more of the same, hopefully more running and less walking though, and will be rewarding our selves with a cheeky pint afterwards.

I do have a little more to say about stitches and cycling, but - and since I'm in the swing of being completely honest, I'll continue by saying that - I can't be arsed tonight, I'm tired, so I'm returning back to the dent in the sofa for the remainder of the evening. I'll waffle about the above subjects tomorrow (my rest / moan day).

Ciao for now!

A few choice words...

Namely, f@$king stitches!! Had a really good run last night, up until the 31 minute mark, when I had to quit rather abruptly due to a blinding pain in my gut. The run leading up to this began with a stretch, a 3 minute warm up, followed by a 14 minute run @ 11k/h, a 5 minute walk at 7 k/h, then an 8 minute run, again at 11k/h, all at incline "2". The stitch kicked in part way through the second lot of running, I tried to ignore it as long as possible but it just got worse. Aside from this, I'm quite pleased with how it went

I just cannot figure out what causes them. Initially I thought it could be dehydration, so I made sure I had a good drink a little while before starting. This didn't help, so I went the other way. Decided to not drink too much before starting, and limit my drinking whilst on the treadmill, yet this doesnt seem to have done the trick either.

On Monday I will be venturing outside for a little run. I've recruited an equally unfit friend to join me on this outing, and we will be going here...

Ardsley Reservoir, just a few miles down the road from me (which of course I will be driving to) and according to Map My Run is just under a mile and a half around, so me and said friend have said we'll do "a couple of laps", with a few walks in between I imagine. Note the ease of access via the local roads, this will be handy. For the ambulances. I wonder if you can book one in advance, like a taxi?

So readers (mum), I'll let you know on Monday how dead I am.

Let's face the music (and run?)

The observant of you (hello mum!) may have noticed that my blogs seem to have taken a certain vow of abstinence recently, as, well, there haven't been any. I have been avoiding writing one all week, a little out of shame, but mainly for fear of taking a ripping / rollocking from HMC. There have been no blogs, as there has been no running. I do however have a very good reason for this, well, a reason at least... more of an excuse, if you will.

You see, I had last week off work, and unlike most who take this as an opportunity to have a little R&R, I am not like most, and choose to spend my free time carrying out hard, physical labour. This comes mainly in the form of restoring my 76 mini, which generally involves me kneeling down on a ridged concrete floor for long periods at a time. To add to this, years of subjecting my body to this abuse in my free time, as well as sitting down for a living and as a major past time, have left me with a rather prematurely bad back. So, there we have it, the three separate elements which combined, form my excuse - tired, sore knees, bad back. I did initially try and keep up to week 2 of my plan, having a good run on Monday night which consisted of a 15minute run at 11k/h, followed by 5 minute run / rest intervals for the next half an hour. Attempted the same on Tuesday, managed another 15minute run, but was too knackered and limpy to carry on for another half an hour. Wednesday the plan got abandoned in favour of the excuse.

BUT

I had a good run last night. Normal service has resumed, I am now back at work, and this was marked with a return to the treadmill. The recent spate of laziness didn't initially appear to have taken too much of a toll on me, so I decided to do intervals 0f 7 minutes at 11k/h (incline 2 - however much "2" is) with 3 minute rests at 7 k/h. I managed to keep this up for 35 minutes, but I was beginning to drag my legs, and knowing first hand how much it hurts to fall on a treadmill, decided to call it a night. I was quite pleased with this despite the premature end to the session. Aside from limping a little towards the end, I actually felt alright, no stitch or anything! I fear I may be getting fitter.

My laziness of last week has had an impact today it seems. My legs have ached all day, not badly, and not as bad as when I first started, but enough to pull a funny face when walking up a flight of stairs, and enough to just know that I wouldn't have been able to beat last nights run, so I have taken a rest day, with the view of having a good run tomorrow. This leaves me with a bit of a dilemma:

Do I run every night and only manage half arsed results OR do I run every second day and be able to put in full effort? The logic in the latter part of my thinking is that when I still used to go to the gym, my instructor specifically told me not to do two days in a row as this will mean you can put in full effort every other day, rather than half effort every day. I wasn't going to argue with him, the guy was like a shaved bear, plus it meant I got to spend more time with my friend, the sofa.

What was that about "I will not fail"?

End of Week 1 - The Summary
As you may have gathered, I failed. After taking a much needed rest day on Thursday, and missing a day on Friday due to "conflicting appointments", I believe I may have foolishly said something about getting up early on Saturday and making up for what I'd missed. Yeah, that didn't quite go as planned.
Saturday morning arrived in the form of an 8:15 awakening, and feeling the effects of drinking a lot of the various flavoured vodkas that Revolutions have to offer, I decided to sleep a little while longer, just 15 minutes I told myself. After what felt like a delayed blink, it was now 11:30. I was at this stage an hour late for picking up my father for another day of restoring the mini, so whilst running around the house in half asleep / half hungover fashion, I nailed some ReadyBrek, and uttered something to myself about doing it in the evening instead.
Arriving home at about 9:30 after a relatively successful day of making a lot of noise and mess, I pulled on my running gear, picked up my iPod, and jumped on the treadmill. It was at this moment I knew instantly I'd made a mistake in typing my final words of the previous blog. It was hard from the very beginning, so knowing in full certainty that there wasn't to be a bloody chance I'd last the hour I promised myself, I decided to just run for as long as I could at 11k/h without stopping. This lasted for a rather poxy 9 minutes, and it wasn't even my legs or lungs that let me down. It was the return of my old foe: the stitch. This one was an absolute killer. After the 9 minute mark, I just couldn't take it any longer, so I slowed down to a brisk walking pace. The stitch continued to hurt even through this. After a few minutes, I decided I'd try and run it off, which didn't work at all. I've never been exactly what you'd call soft when it comes to a bit off pain, but the only way I could remain upright when running the last five minutes was to press my fingers firmly into my stomach, and hold them there. There was no way I could keep that up for long, so with one hand pressed into my waist and the other clutching my iPod, looking somewhat like a teapot, I turned the treadmill off, kicked my trainers off, and swore a few times whilst limping downstairs for a fag, feeling somewhat defeated. The pain remained in my gut for a good hour or so after I'd parked my arse in the dent in the sofa.

I had intentionally planned on not doing any running on my weekends as I'm a fairly busy boy, so I'd rather not make any promises to myself which I can't stick to, and Sunday was no exception. Initially planning on spending another full day on the mini, I got called off to go help a friend knock down and rebuild a garden wall. The original wall was succefully toppled all over the footpath in the time it took to make a coffee, and after laying the inital bricks of the new wall, I decided that I was in fact rubbish at bricklaying, so left said friend to it. Being knackered from swinging a big hammer around all day and lugging rubble around, I had no intentions of trying to challenge my stitch to a rematch. The score at the end of week one was officially 3 - 1 in favour of good days.

So, the end of week 1. I have mixed fealings of how the week went. I'm quite pleased with the fact that I managed the first three days without too much fuss, a little dissapointed that I had to take a rest day, and truley pissed off that I succumed to defeat on the Saturday.

I'm not too sure what the plan is going to be for week two, but I better hurry up and decide, as this begins tonight.

This is not the downward spiral

Not a right lot to write about tonight, as I decided not to do any running today. I'm genuinely not making excuses, this is not the slippery slope to failure, I could not have run for 2 minutes tonight, let alone the 45 I'd promised myself. So rather than try and hurt myself further, I have decided to have a rest day.
The problems is however, that I wont be able to do any tomorrow either, as unfortunately, my social life has got in the way. To make up for this, a little bit, I'll be walking to work tomorrow, and I'll get up early on Saturday morning to make up for what I'll miss tomorrow. I'll even up the time slot, to an hour, and hangover or no hangover, I will not fail.

To rest, or not to rest, that is the question...

Week 1, Day 3.

I didn't do a blog last night because I was just too knackered to after I'd finished, but once again, I surprised myself and lasted the session out. Then I ate some sheppard's pie, and fell asleep.

Earlier in the day I was worrying that I might not be able to, as the old pins were feeling the abuse which they have rather cruelly and suddenly been subjected to the previous two days. Once again, I decide that doing at least a little bit was better than doing nothing at all, so begrudgingly limped my way upstairs and onto the treadmill. It was painful throughout, but once I was on there and away, It seemed more effort to admit to quitting, than to plod on. Eventually, after what felt like hours, the 45 minutes were up.

So thus far the scores work out to be Good Days - 3, Bad Days - 0. The downside to last nights achievement is that today I am most definitely in pain. I'm considering giving it a miss tonight all together, the logic being that it's surely better to miss one night, rather than risk injury by forcing myself? I really don't want to pull a muscle because I think that will cost me about three days, possibly more. I'm not sure, I'll see how I feel later on I guess. Either that, or HMC will shout at me and I'll do as I'm told.

Does taking a rest day count as failing this weeks plan?

Psychic Reading? I'm not sold.

A guy at the place I said I wouldn’t talk about considers himself to be somewhat of a Medium, and initially in attempt to make some money one the side, was offering email Tarot card readings for a small price. Getting nothing much by way of response, he then changed this offer to free of charge, to get some practise in. Being a tight fisted Northerner with the logic of "owt for nowt", and seeing an opportunity to confirm my beliefs without actually having to pay for the privilege, I put my name down. Here's what I received in response;

"Hi,

Ok so 5 minutes of time lets go for it ;)

I pulled 3 cards for you

1. 2 of swords.

Ok this card deals with balance in all things and kinda points in you wanting a better balance in life now this is not monetary balance (although it would be nice)

It also deals with a want for justice and you being very fair minded, now they say justice is blind although in your case I feel that you have thought that justice wasn’t only blind but pointing in the wrong direction.

2. 10 of pentacles.

Now this card looks at relationships and I kinda felt that you have been feeling as if you have been kind of given a cold shoulder and you want to turn the clock back to a time when you were happier. This is also a mystical card and shows that side of you that wants to know more about life in general. I am also sensing something of a deep question on your mind, something you have been asking yourself over and over.

3. 6 of wands.

Now this card is looking at a more physical side as I felt you have been kinda preparing yourself for combat, I sensed a verbal heated discussion where you could achieve no resolution and still kicking yourself for not phrasing things differently. Looking at this card it also shows a celebration approaching this I felt is a big celebration so something special there too.

Regards,"

I'm not convinced, I find myself trying to assign relevance to the reading, rather than the reading actually having relevance. Some of it may be along the right lines, but I'm sure the same could be said of just about anyone, it's quite generic, almost to the point of being given. Some of it has absolutely no relevance what so ever, or at least none that I can presently see. Some of it is just untrue. Although I try to remain open minded, I can't help feeling quite sceptical. I'm just glad I didn’t part with my hard earned cash!

Back on topic - I'm not feeling too confident about tonight's run (but then, I said this last night too, and look what happened there!), legs feel particularly tight today, I'm almost at limping point just walking around. I'll let you know how I get on later.

So, when does it start getting easier?

Week 1, Day 2.
Yesterday I said something about being satisfied with myself. Today I'm definitely proud of myself. The reason for this sense of pride is simple: I was going to cancel tonight all together. I was feeling quite tired from yesterdays achievement, my legs have felt a little tired all day, just walking a flight of stairs was effort enough. Then a friend called asking if I fancied a pint. Does the Pope shit in the woods? (no, I don't get it either, but apparently it means yes).

I decided to cancel the invite of the pint, and at least do something on the treadmill, with the idea that doing a bit was better than doing nothing at all, but feeling tired, a bit hungry, and having a tight achilles tendon, I wasn't feeling too confident about managing the full 45 minutes, realistically I was expecting maybe 15 - 20 minutes. To my surprise and delight, I did it, the full 45minutes, no cheating or anything. God knows how, but I did.

Today was harder and easier than yesterday in equal proportions. Obviously feeling tired, it was more of a mental effort to get through than anything. On the plus side, no stitch today! I'm obviously going to have good days and bad days alike. Today was what I'd consider to be a good day. I'll see what tomorrow brings.

Week 1, Day 1.

Alright, I'm going to cut to the chase, and be honest from the very start. That was hard. Having just sat down from my session on the treadmill, as I write this, I am well and truly knackered.

I got dressed into my running gear, did a few stretches, and began the warm up. All was fine, well, what could possibly go wrong at this stage - apart from nearly falling off the back of the treadmill due to not paying attention the the placement of my feet, whilst shuffling through my iPod . Started the first of the 5 minute runs, shins got very warm almost immediately, but all was still fine. Before I knew it, the 5 minutes were up and I'd barely broken into a sweat. A minute or so into the walking 5 minutes, and I was thinking to myself that a whole five minutes for an active breather might be a bit too much, I was even considering cutting this down to three minutes as from tomorrow. Second lot of 5 minutes runs, sweating a fair bit now, must concentrate on breathing. Was glad for the next lot of walking, however 5 minutes still seemed excessive.

Up came the next running session, and at 18minutes, the calling card of an old foe arrived - the stitch. Lodged firmly under a rib, this was clearly here to stay. Tried altering my breathing, had a little gulp of water, even tried burping it off but to no avail. My old foe was here for the duration. I was really looking forward to a walk by the end of it. Next lot of running, and my old foe had invited some friends - a few more little stitches cropped up, but still taking centre place was the main one just under my ribs. I've got to admit, I was considering quitting at this stage, but the thought of admitting to failing whilst writing this wasn't appealing, especially after, in a previous blog, I stupidly and somewhat cockily said something along the lines of feeling "confident" that I could achieve this weeks plan. I even considered a compromise: "I'll just walk the remaining time, at least I'm getting some exercise" I tried to convince myself, but realising I'd have to admit to that too, I plodded onwards, bearing a funny face. Next up, 5 minutes of walking, which was gone by the time I'd managed to regain my eyesight after rather foolishly rubbing sweat into them. Which hurt. Last 5 minutes were coming up, and at this stage, only one thing was going to get me through: The Prodigy.

I was so glad that it was all over, but at the same time strangely satisfied that I'd managed to stick to the plan without quitting when things got hard. My legs felt a little wobbly, and my achilles tendon feels a bit tight, but I realised that all the way through the run, I hadn't thought about my legs once, the stitch family had taken my full attention, so in a funny kind of way, there may be hope for me yet.


OTHER STUFF THAT I'VE DONE
The weekend arrived. I always look forward to my weekends, not just because they end my association what that place which earlier I said I'd refuse to blog about, but because they are mine, to do with as I please. They make it all seem worthwhile. This particular weekend was mainly filled with time spent at my mothers house, working on my Mini. I wont go into detail here, as seriously, I could talk all day about this, so, as to not clutter this blog too badly, I started another here, for those remotely interested. I did take a break from this to fix a neighbours car, which was suffering from suspected seized brakes. Turns out they weren't seized, just completely worn out, indicating that the previous mechanic at a certain national chain garage, whom I shall refrain from naming (sounds like milk oh rotor wave), did not replace them at the last service, as the receipt would suggest. Naughty naughty.
Saturday night brought with it the monthly event that is The Wendy House, a Goth / Metal club night held at the Leeds University Refectory building. Three words can summarise Wendy House perfectly. Leather. Tits. Fishnets. Seriously, check the pictures.
Sunday, more work on the Mini, realisation that tomorrow, normal service resumes. Depression kicks in.

The real plan... sort of...

I've been pondering this plan all day now. The challenge itself is relatively simple: to get just fit enough to last a short run, in 8 weeks. You'd think putting a plan together would be simple, right? Well, no, it turns out, it isn't.
So what I've decided to do, is not come up with a plan. Nope, I'm not quitting already, the objective remains unchanged, I've just decided not to do a plan. Not a proper plan at least. In my somewhat finite wisdom, I decided I'm going to get back to basics, and break the problem down into smaller, more manageable problems, just as all good loan consolidation adverts tell me to. The first problem was coming up with an 8 week plan that I could stick to, and not knowing how the first week of the plan would go, how could I possibly dictate the requirements of my plan for week 8?

Well, as I write this, a bombshell has just been dropped, and has firmly landed. It turns out I've failed almost immediately. My plan was supposed to be an eight week plan. As I sat here last night, writing my first blog, I'd convinced myself that I have 8 weeks to get fit. Well, I don't. After consulting an actual calendar, rather than using my fingers and thumbs to work out the dates, it has emerged that I actually have 7 weeks. The big day is on the 3rd of October. 7 weeks away, not 8. Fantastic. I've just lost a whole week, I feel robbed, cheated!! This just goes to show that no good can come from calendars, which is exactly why, even though I receive one most years for Christmas, I never put them up.
On the plus side, this does highlight my point about not making a full plan, because at this stage I would have had to bin it and start all over again. Well, not to worry, I'll just have to work a little harder with each of my weekly plans.

I've decided that my plan for week 1 will be relatively simple, not too simple, but one that I'm quite confident that I can do without too much fuss. The logic behind this is that once I've determined how I've done in the first week, I can then amend the plan to suit the second week, and so on.
But before I go into finer detail of the plan, and in a very shallow attempt to buy a little time to really come up with a plan, rather than waffle on about why I haven't done a plan (it's not a cop out, it's legitimate logic!), allow me to show you what I will use to achieve the goal:

Here's what I'll be training in; my indoor running shoes, which were initially purchased as gym shoes, when I actually used to go to one. I've since moved house, which is further away from said gym, and have real bills and stuff to pay now, so this was a good enough reason [excuse] to stop going and cancel my membership. I have been meaning to sign up to a local council gym, but yes, you guessed correctly, I just haven't got round to it, yet.




And here's what I'll be training on, my housemates treadmill. No need to go into detail here, I'm sure you all know what one is and what it does. This particular model is a top of the range Kirsty Gallagher item, purchased by my housemate from the specialist fitness retailers, Argos. Features include an analogue speed knob, variable incline settings (1, 2 or 3, set by adjusting the height of the rear feet) and a heart rate monitor which blatantly tell massive fibs. But, not to complain (mainly for fear that said housemate will revoke the offer), it beats running outside around these parts, where, dressed in my rather chavtastic outdoor trainers, I'm likely to be chased by the West Yorkshire constabulary under suspicion of robbery.

Ok, so I successfully wasted a bit of time, and in waiting for my phone to transfer the photos to the laptop, I think I've come up with a plan. A real one..


THE REAL PLAN (Week 1)
It's a bit of a compromise is the the first week. I need to make sure I keep it achievable, yet testing, so that I can use the results to come up with a plan for the second week. The plan is to train five nights a week, Monday to Friday. I had initially decided that I'd do sessions of half an hour to begin with, but since I've just lost a whole week, I'll have to work a little harder, so I'm going to set a target of 45 minutes per session. I know at this stage, that I cannot run solidly for 45 minutes, I'll have to build up to that, so I'll have to break the 45 minutes into 5 minute intervals which will, in the words of Run DMC, go a little something like this;

• 5 minute warm up, slow walk at 6km/h
• 5 minute run at 11 km/h
• 5minute active rest, brisk walk at 7km/h
• 5minute run at 11km/h
• 5minute active rest, brisk walk at 7km/h
• 5minute run at 11km/h
• 5minute active rest, brisk walk at 7km/h
• 5minute run at 11km/h
• 5minute cool down, starting at 7km/h and reducing one click every two minutes
  

As I've now got that laid out in front of me, it looks quite hard. To me at least. Well, i suppose its better than it looking ridiculously easy, at least I'll be challenging myself. I just hope I don't throw up in my first week, don't really fancy keeping a sick bucket at the side of the treadmill! This begins Monday, not because I'm intentionally delaying getting off my backside, but I'm quite busy on my weekends, so I'd rather set days which I know that I can stick to, rather than make excuses and not.

I'll keep posts frequent as to my progress through the week, and use these to determine what the plan will be for week 2. At this stage, I anticipate that week 2 will be much of the same, just upping the run periods, and reducing the rests... but we'll see...

Wish me luck!!

Confessions of a sofa lover

Never being one for lengthy introductions, and safe in the knowledge that at this moment in time, I have no readers therefore the need for one being completely negated, I'll get straight to the point.

THE POINT:
Ok, the point. Well, before I get to the point, I thought I'd share with you an observation of mine, and knowing me, probably detract from the point quite severely before getting back to the point, but I promise, at some point, there will be a point to be made. So this observation of mine, it seems there is one thing we all have in common. Regardless of age, sex, race, class, colour and indeed creed, one thing is universal: Assumption. Everybody does it, some people will deny that they do it, but they do. In most cases, it is generally safe to assume. We go to bed at night assuming that we will wake up in the morning. We assume day will follow night, and thus far, it always has done, therefore we assume the same will happen tomorrow. We safely assume all sorts of things, but I've made my point I believe (not the point I promised, just a mid point... point. Bear with me) so I'll continue.

Now, assuming (you see, even I do it) that you do not know me, you may read the title of this blog and assume I'm fat. Well, I'm not. I'm not even kind of fat, nor am I chubby under the disillusion that it is muscle. Nope, I'm a human rake. I mean properly thin. I'm just a tad shy of 6'3'', and weigh in at 10.5 stone, fully clothed, PWT [Northern acronym; piss wet through], with a body fat count of 8%. Yep, skinny AND lanky. Great.
Now, people also assume that because I am thin, that I am fit. Apparently, the two come hand in hand. Well let me tell you that they do not! I'm not fit, I mean I'm not wheezily unfit, I don't collapse after walking a flight of stairs, for example, but I'm certainly a country mile away from being actually fit. My idea of a personal challenge usually involves an end of level boss, or finding something to watch that doesn't have me pushing my thumbs into my eyeballs out of the 760 channels of utter guff that Virgin have to offer. Can you assume that because I am thin, I eat well, or little? No you most certainly can not! My weekly diet generally involves at least one take-away and a trip to McDonalds, interspersed with cooked meals (and I use the term cooked very loosely) which are mainly carbs and fat, or potato based. Lets use this week as an example, and bare in mind it's only Thursday, but I have eaten pizza for the last three nights running, with the other "meals" being purchased from the canteen at my place of work, and let me assure you, there wasn't an ounce of health in anything being sold there. I'm not proud of my diet, but nor do I presently care enough to change it. Quite simply, food to me is the means to an end, it prevents me from dropping dead, and that's it. How am I so thin when I eat such rubbish I hear (imagine) you ask? Well my imaginary friends, that would be down to the miracle that is my hyperactive thyroid. And god bless the marvelous gland, for the rest of me is a disaster waiting to happen.
On top of this I also smoke, not a lot, but I do smoke - unless my grandad asks, in which case, I was just holding it for someone, and god help me if he ever finds out because I have actually lied, to his face might I add, and categorically stated that I do not.
Oh, I drink too. Not enough to go into detail about, just thought that I would throw that one in too.

So that's my point, and if you've accidentally stumbled upon this blog in search for something far more interesting and have made it to this stage, then firstly hello there, and congratulations, I was even beginning to bore myself, but I can assure you that it will not get any more interesting, so you may wish to turn around and go back out the way you came in. So quick recap: Skinny. Unfit. Eat rubbish. Smoke. Which just about leads me to the next point (I fear I may be starting to over use this word), the purpose.


THE PURPOSE
Well, the purpose of the blog is quite simple really. It's purely because my friend has one, and I like it, and I wanted my own. Yes, it seems I have not grown up one bit, I see something that someone else has, and I want one too. I don't mind admitting that, I'm not proud.
The blog will serve me at least some form of purpose, and also explains the above point a little better. Initially, it will be used to write about something I rather stupidly volunteered to do. I didn't even volunteer out of pressure. No, I even suggested it myself.

This suggestion comes in the the form of going for a run with my friend, whom I shall refer only to as HMC, for reasons of protecting his identity should he wish to remain anonymous for fear of embarrassment through association. That is, at least, until he is dragging my corpse behind whilst on this run.
Now this run, it shouldn't be a big deal, but I am genuinely pooing myself at the mere thought of it. You see, HMC is currently training for a half marathon and aims to complete this in a sub 1.50minute time, where as I myself refuse to even run for a bus. There'll be another one in 20 minutes, no need to break a sweat is there. As we have ascertained at this point, I am quite unfit, and fear that I may not be able to complete this run. Now, I'm not concerned with HMC doing better than me on this run, because I know full well that he will do better than me. I'm scared I'll die attempting to keep up.

Realistically, there is no need to get so worked up about something so trivial. For normal people. I myself am not normal, and I'm not talking about how unfit I am at this stage. I'm talking about how ridiculously competitive I am. I'm the most competitive person I know, and HMC brings the absolute worst bit of this out of me. Between myself and HMC, after a good night on the sauce, we came up with as what can only be described as the London Leapfrog Championship, which consisted of leapfrogging everything in sight, from parking meters, to bollards, to postboxes. This continued on the journey home, followed by tube surfing, and racing up a down escalator whilst trying to pull each other backwards. This of course ended with, as well as many many laughs, injuries. HMC had a cut on his head, and I had severe bruising to what can only be explained as the groinal regions.
I'm not overly bothered that HMC will royally show me up, barely breaking a sweat where as I am trying to prevent vomit from escaping through my nostrils, but the thought of not being able to complete a short run, when my only competitor is myself, will really frustrate me. I should be fit enough to last a short run, and dammit I will last a short run, even if it kills me!

So the purpose of this blog is to give updates on my progress as I attempt to get just fit enough to last what for HMC will be a leisurely stroll in the park, and hopefully will serve as some form of motivation. Now knowing me, I dare say I'll lose my train of though a few times along the way, and before I know it, will be pebbledashed with random musings, rants, other crap that I've done / need to do / didn't do, and pictures of my frequently acquired injuries. For some reason, I bleed. A lot. I'm forever acquiring wounds, I actually think my body produces too much blood, and feels the need to dispense it at random intervals, by means of interfering with my brainwaves, and making me slip whilst I'm wielding potentially digit severing tools. I think I lose on average a pint of blood a week. If only I donated, I could save myself the hassle. The one thing however that I absolutely refuse to blog about, is work, for fear that I may get wound up and smash my freebie CarPhoneWarehouse laptop to little pieces.

Anyway, progress. I can't blog about my progress if I'm not doing anything to blog about after all, so hopefully this will encourage me to peel my backside out of the dent I've made in the sofa, and get training. All I need is a good plan...


THE PLAN
Right, here's the plan. First, we go in there and get wrecked, then we eat a pork pie, then we drop some Surmontil-50's each. That way we'll miss out on Monday and come up smiling Tuesday morning.

Ok ok, so a Withnail & I quote won't quite cut the mustard, but the problem is readers (hello mum!), I don't currently have a plan. Not yet at least. What I do have however, is time. A little bit. 8 weeks from this point, to be exact. Crap. I do actually own some running shoes, real ones, and I have used them before, literally twice this year! I also have access to a treadmill, thanks to my housemate. So with the aforementioned items, and a little ingenuity, I'm sure I can come up with a plan... I'll need some time for that though... I'll get back to you with a plan.