Neil and Lance and lessons from both

I started putting this post together about halfway through today's long run, which took in the first part of the marathon course and a meander around Auckland's north shore. A fantastic weekend had been marred by the news that the first man to walk on the moon, Neil Armstrong, had passed away at the age of 82, and I was feeling contemplative as I slowly negotiated the streets of Milford.

If one is feeling reductionist about things, an 82 year old man has died. This sort of thing happens all the time. He lived a good life by all accounts, was a well-respected academic and administrator in the post-Apollo years, a father and a husband. But for the 29th of July 1969, his death would be sad but not unsurprising, he would be mourned by those who loved him and that would be that.

But he was not just an 82 year old man. He was much, much more than that. With his passing we have lost a man who did one of the truly great Firsts of earth's history. We may not know who the first creature to use fire was, or who rode a horse for the first time, or used language. But until today we shared a world with the very first human, the very first creature of our world's billions of years of evolution and change, to set foot on a celestial body that was not this one. And that is a loss that is immeasurable. There may be others who are the first to step on Mars, or Europa, or further afield, but he was the Very First. And now he is gone.

As is so often the case in our culture, there's already a backlash (to a man dying. Christ on a trampoline).

"Oh, he was just the one that landed, thousands of people got him there"

"They never landed anyway"

"Macho white imperialist bullshit. They could have spent that money on famine/ending war/me"

Is it weird of me to find this thinking actually upsetting on some level? I'm sad that people are so closed-minded, so lost to something larger, that they can't grasp what this stood for. Not just the first American. Not just the first white guy. Not just the first man. Not just the first human. But the first anything from this entire planet. From all the things that are, or ever were. The first to step off this tiny little marble to somewhere else.

Yes, he didn't get there alone. But his name will be one that carried their, and our, collective accomplishment into the future. A humble man who loved flying, who never cashed in on the incredible thing he had done. His is the name that will be remembered in a thousand years from our time. As Neil DeGrasse Tyson said on twitter today:

Would the money spent on getting him there have been spent on famine? Or ending war? No. Would it have ended either? Also no. The US spends more on pet food every year than they do on NASA. It's comforting to think that, regardless of the motives of the top brass, money was thrown into something that changed everything in a positive way for once. 

And if you don't think we actually went to the moon then get the hell off my blog. 

What has this got to do with running? Nothing, on the surface. The man himself infamously quipped that

"We all have a finite number of heartbeats, and I don't intend on wasting any running up and down the street"

However, wasting heartbeats or not, I felt extra motivation today. I felt that by striving to move myself forward, to do something more with myself than just what is easy, to do something positive, I was trying to emulate one of my few real heroes. Will this endeavour that I'm putting myself through change anyone but me? I highly doubt it. But it is a desire to be something more than I am which is, I feel, something that all of us should be aiming for in some way. Something that was until today embodied by Neil Armstrong. 

For all mankind.

However, epochal as this news was, it was not the only thing that had my attention as I considered the relative merits of a jambag at 12k or holding off to 14. Another Armstrong had been in the news for a more insignificant though still interesting reason. Lance Armstrong, seven time Tour de France winner and all-round cycling Titan, had decided not to contest charges of blood-doping brought against him by the US Anti-Doping Agency (USADA).  In doing so, he has all but admitted to taking performance enhancing drugs and cycling's governing body (the UCI) agrees with USADA, he will be handed a lifetime ban from the sport and stripped of his titles. The reaction to this news in the sporting world has been huge. Most pundits have condemned Armstrong and his actions, with support being seen as a patriotic duty by some rather than a considered stance. 

I've always held a rather ambivalent view about drug use in sport. It always seemed like an interesting thing to single out when athletes do so many weird and wonderful things to their bodies in order to excel. Hyperbaric chambers, creatine, branch chain amino acids, all fine. But a drug that boosts the amount of red blood cells (effectively a pharmaceutical oxygen tent or high-altitude training camp)? Worth a ban and losing your titles. I don't want to talk about this ad infinitum but I can highly recommend the attached documentary Bigger Stronger Faster which mainly focuses on steroid use but has a few interesting points to make, even if I don't agree with all of them. 

What got me about this story (and what it has to do with my marathon) is what people will do in the pursuit of their goals. If Neil was the embodiment of the positive trait of striving to be more than we are, what does that make Lance?

It's a relevant story to me as I have been grappling recently with the desire to shed some weight to make running easier on myself versus the need to not obsess over what I eat and potentially lapse into some disordered eating patterns that have plagued my adult life. Since losing weight I have become very twitchy about food (I have talked about this elsewhere on here) and to be in a situation where everything I read talks about the importance of a 100% balanced, weighed, portioned-out diet 100% of the time has made it very difficult to relax about what I eat. The guilt has made training this week especially very difficult and I've found myself becoming resentful, even petulant, at the self-imposed demands made on my life by this race.

How much of yourself can you sacrifice for the goals you set yourself?

Lance's story brought me up short. Here's a man who, one imagines, could have won all those titles regardless of EPO or steroids or whatever. Anyone driven enough to recover from metastatic cancer to be able to compete again would, one imagines, be able to win clean. But in a sport where 86% of the TdF winners have been accused of drug use, how do you fight that temptation? Everyone has their limits on what they are willing to do to reach their goals. Some people give up their favourite foods. Some sleep in oxygen tents. Some people take drugs. What was I willing to do for my goals? Was I willing to sacrifice my mental well-being, my health, for this goal I have set myself? Was a self-imposed time limit on finishing the marathon worth months of denial, of guilt when I caved in to temptations that others thought nothing of? What was I willing to do?

And so, as I made my final descent back into Devonport, face contorted from exhaustion and tiredness (I've never come so close to crying on a run as I did today) I decided something. No final time is worth making sacrifices that I'm not comfortable making, that don't sit well with me as a person. I'll strive and I'll keep going and it'll hurt but I'm drawing the line right here on what I will and won't do for this. That I'll finish the marathon is a given. Everything else is an extra. Striving for the best in me without unleashing the worst.

I like to think Neil would approve.

....meanwhile, in training

First off, holy shit that was a lot of interest in my last post! Nearly 2000 views of my post explaining why Hell Pizza are bad citizens. That's a lot of angry pizza-eaters. Thanks to everyone who read, commented, discussed, and ultimately got Wellington Rape Crisis enough funding to stay open five (five!) days a week. If only we could have these essential services WITHOUT having to have the public outcry first (OK, imagine a world where we didn't need rape crisis centres. Much better)

Back in the world of the marathon, things are.....progressing. I guess. I had a rebellious weekend where instead of a two hour run on Sunday I lay in bed with the curtains drawn and cursed whoever invented pinot gris, and was still feeling a bit crap yesterday. Today the sun was shining and spring had most definitely arrived on the porch so I decided to go for a 10k or so to blow the cobwebs out. Of course, good weather and a slight feeling of guilt meant that I overdid it a little and ended up running nearly 15k, before my body decided that a packet of ramen noodles and a cup-a-soup was inadequate for the demand placed upon it, energy gels be damned. 

Speaking of delicious "jam in a bag" nutritional options, I discovered my local supermarket sells Horleys' jambags at $13 for 5. The raspberry ones taste pretty un-raspberry-like but aren't too bad when washed down with some NUUN and water, and they do the job, so I think I'll stick with them for the time being. It occurred to me today (nomming a gel every 5 or so k) that having a gel when running is as close to the effect you see spinach having on Popeye as a real human is likely to get. I had definitely not eaten nearly enough for a 15k run today but having the gel made the legs feel less fatigued, the muscles less sore and almost put a spring in my otherwise weary step. 

That's not a cigar, that's some Chocolate Outrage

I'm getting better at the whole nutrition thing but still haven't quite nailed it. With just over two months to go it's time to really dig in and get all those cliches about giving it everything and aiming high that us runners bloody LOVE. I have to say, though, that part of me is feeling a bit rebellious. I've been training for this bloody thing for nearly four months now, and I find myself feeling almost resentful at times. Hangovers are bad enough without a feeling of guilt that I should be hitting the pavement. A hard day at work is only compounded by the dilemma of a) going for a run when making some toast feels like a big ask or b) making toast instead and sitting looking at Tumblr feeling like the unfittest, biggest marathon loser in the world for not running. Ugh. It makes me reconsider my idea of the Half Ironman next year. Is this really how I want my life to be? Further weekends of wine denial so I can plod my way round yet another course? Endurance events are very much a lifestyle choice and I guess I don't know if I'm, I dunno, good enough? Too slow and self-conscious for the running clubs, I don't feel like I've made the friends and connections that I had sort-of-hoped I would through running. Social awkwardness is magnified when you're wearing running tights and jiggling. 

Still, I'm getting towards that marathon finish line. Slowly, so slowly, but I'm getting there. First ever half marathon in just over a week, and I'm feeling pretty psyched about it. I'm enjoying the feeling of being able to run 10k, not as an "OMG LONG RUN HOLY SHIT" but as a fairly generic shorter gig. I'm enjoying the realisation that I can absolutely do this. I'm also enjoying planning what wine I'm going to buy for the first weekend of November. 

What the Hell were they thinking?

I'm not going to sleep well tonight. I don't after things like this. Tomorrow I'll be scritchy and grumpy and snap at the students and hide at the back of the staffroom with a book or something so I don't have to make small talk. I'll be like this because I'm upset. I'm upset and I'm angry.

I'm angry because I live in a world where fast food companies believe that rape sells pizzas.

"Don't read of you are easily offended" Or, y'know, against raping people. 

I'm angry that I live in a world where people think that not only is rape and sexual assault OK, it's actually marketable. That people who are dithering over which fast food choice to make of an evening might be swayed towards a company that rewards accounts of sexual violence. I live in a world where people who can drive, vote, be parents, teach kids, not just defend this marketing but don't think there's an issue in the first place. Apparently putting a mask on and sticking your genitals in the mouth of a complete stranger isn't rape, it's FUNNY. HAHAHAHAHA. FUNNY. 

WHAT THE FUCK IS UP WITH YOU PEOPLE. 

Not pictured: misanthropy

It brings out all kinds of horrific feelings in me. the people all posting their "LOLS" and "SHOT BRO" high-five bullshit could be the people who drive the night bus. They might be the guy working the late shift at a bar. They might be the driver of your taxi. To quote Fight Club "We guard you while you sleep". 

How safe is that meant to make me, a denizen of this country, feel? That maybe the bouncer at the club where I saw that girl blind drunk isn't going to put her in a cab, because he thinks rape isn't a problem? Maybe the teenager I teach is going to have something hideous done to her by a person known to her who thinks she just needs to lighten up? Maybe some dude is going to wake up, a bit drunk, a bit disorientated, to find himself being violated by a masked assailant and then read an account of his being violated on facebook, along with hundreds of comments applauding your assailant's actions? 

What's almost as bad as the original post was Hell Pizza's response. 

Not "We are very sorry. We were wrong". They apologise to "those offended". "They saw the bad light the post could be taken in."

WELL THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR CARING, YOU PATRONISING BASTARDS.

Apparently, being a masked rapist is offensive depending on the light quality! It can be seen as a prank, y'know, between friends! Shit, I bet this stuff happens all the time!

"Hey bro, you remember that time you were asleep and I, like, totally raped you?"

"Shit yeah dude, you really violated me! In front of a crowd of people! Fuckin' A!"

Because that is what friends do, apparently. They rape each other. For the lulz.

Now, clearly I am doing friendship wrong. When I went to friend upset about the assault I went through, I should have asked to be orally violated! Would have cheered me right up. When, late at night, talk has turned to the outrages we've suffered at the hands of others, and tears have been shed and glasses drained, what we should have done is commit an act of sexual indecency on someone! Silly me!

So, people, here's the thing. If you think hearing about someone being raped is funny, then you're an apologist for rape. That means you think rape is acceptable. To do so means you side with the rapist, not the victim. There's no "lighten up" on this one. If you work in a company that uses tactics like this to sell your wares, you are implying that you think your customers are rape apologisers, or worse. That's not a matter of a dodgy lightbulb, that's you using rape. To sell pizza.

Go to hell.

Sickness and seminars.

I'm waiting for the men's marathon to start, which is the final event in the 2012 Olympics. I don't know about you, but I've absolutely loved the games and found them pretty inspiring. Further down the athletic pecking order, I've had a busy if inconsistent couple of weeks since my awesome ten mile run at the end of July, so I'm just going to put up some bullet points and maybe return to a few of these later...

• I smashed another PB today and popped my 20km cherry. I ran part of the Auckland marathon course in reverse (St. Heliers to the Viaduct and back). I had a brilliant time and was making a steady pace until the last 3km, where I bonked/hit the wall. The last 3km were absolute torture, I was still running but so, so slow. Finished at my car 2 hours 39 minutes after I left it and waded into the sea to cool my feet and legs. Memo to self: take more gels. 
• On that note, GU's "Chocolate Outrage" is both hilariously named and delicious (and has caffeine in it!) Also used NUUN's lemon/lime tablets in my new water belt to keep me hydrated, which worked a treat. Bought some Horley's raspberry gels at the supermarket this evening so we'll see how they go next week. I'm experimenting with different gels to see what I want to use on race day. 
• I'm also starting to use a Nathan water belt for longer runs. It initially felt very odd having what is 

  

  I stopped feeling like a poser with this after the first 5k.

  essentially a posh bumbag bouncing around when I was running, but I got used to it very quickly. The design is excellent and it was nice having another little pocket to store things!
• Speaking of buying things, my new Shock Absorber bras are AMAZING (despite having to send one back due to a defect). Boobs feel supported and even after a long run there's no discomfort. Full review once I've worn them in a bit more.
• Had some great runs the week after my ten miler but fell sick with some child-vectored leurgy on Friday afternoon (yay timing!) and spent almost the entire weekend in bed watching well people be athletic. Had planned to run my 20k then so a week's delay isn't so bad. Was kind to myself and took over a week off running to recover. I have a nasty tendency to pick up chest infections from colds (I'm a whopping cough baby) so wanted to avoid that if at all possible. 
• My gym offers a free 30 minute massage every month (which I pay to turn into an hour). The new masseuse is, erm, interesting. Let's just say it's hard to feel positive about your body when an extremely thin Asian woman is grabbing the fat on your inside thigh and jiggling it. 
• It looks like third time's the charm for my running shoes, as the Mizuno Wave Inspires have left me blisterless and as pain free as my feet are likely to get after nearly three hours of running. Such a relief.
• The NZ website Running Plus has contacted me about reviewing some equipment for them, which is very exciting. Not really able to talk too much about it at this stage but it's a fantastic opportunity! In the meantime please check out their page and like them on facebook if that's your thing.  
• I attended two marathon-related seminars within the space of about a week. One by Mat Lewisham on preparing a good training program for the marathon, one by Tracey Wheeler on nutrition for endurance athletes. Both offered some useful bits of information and Mat especially did a good job of answering my questions about my training and it was very comforting to hear that I am exactly where I should be on this journey and what I need to tweak about my program to help prevent overtraining. There'll be a separate post about these seminars sometime this week. 
• The marathon is 11 weeks away, and in just under three weeks' time I'll be lining up for my first half marathon in Whangamata. Hard to believe that six months ago I was having surgery on my ankle to remove the plate and pins, and a year ago (almost to the day!) since I had my accident. To be well on my way to achieving a life's ambition after these setbacks is very exciting. 
• Speaking of ambition, I'm considering life post-marathon. I don't want to go through all this training, push this hard and get this fit just to fritter it away after the final k. I like my fitness being such an integral part of my schedule, and I like the feeling of working towards a challenge. I am considering entering the Auckland Half Ironman, held on the 16th March. Obviously this is dependend on lots of different variables but I'm keen to have something to train for after the 28th October and I do enjoy my multisport to we'll see. Watch this space!

Breaking the ten mile barrier

It's nearly midnight on a Saturday night and I'm typing this whilst wearing a head torch because the lights blew in my flat this evening but I am so incredibly stoked about today that an update needed to be written. Today my mind triumphed over my matter and I completed the oldest road race in Auckland, the Glen Eden 10 Miler. Not only did I complete it, I loved every second of it.

Last night I'd resisted the temptation to stay out late with all my awesome friends and get a bit drunk on free cocktails (willpower, I didn't know I had it) and go home early in anticipation for this event. This led me to feel a bit crap about the whole endeavour. The marathon is now three months away (exactly, at least for another half hour anyway) and it's causing me to pike on fun social things. The distance and supplied map (with frankly TERRIFYING height graph) left me feeling out of my depth in terms of being able to complete, and the fact they anticipated everyone finishing within 1:45 made me feel like I was punching WAY above my weight with this one. This wasn't a "Fit is fun! All fitnesses catered for!" event. This was a "You must be this fit or higher to enter" and I felt like I'd been caught out standing on a book. It was with a sense of extreme trepidation that I drove out to Glen Eden on a gloriously sunny afternoon. Could I do it? Could I hit ANY of my goals for this event? I had nightmares of being picked up by a tail end charlie van and removed from the course for extreme slowness.


Thankfully, the Glen Eden Harriers are the friendliest bunch of runners you could hope to meet. After registering I was given a ten minute head start on the gun so I wouldn't finish too far behind the pack, and I even got my own photo taken of the off! Every marshal had a positive word and once I started being overtaken (by about the third kilometre) other runners were full of encouragement as they nipped past. Weirdly, knowing the massive hill was coming made it easier to handle and I was able to give a happy response to the overtakers even after three k of incline! The beautiful scenery of the Waitakeres helped and I got caught up in being somewhere new.

I had aimed to complete the run in 2 hours and felt pretty good to pass the half-way mark at 59:30. Unfortunately the next 2k consisted of the steepest part of the hill and my speed, erm, decreased. HOWEVER I managed to keep running (or at least making a running motion with my body, the speed aspect not so much), only taking a few walking steps at the the blessed water stop at the 10km mark. It was about here that the plethora of sticky plasters I'd put on to prevent bra-chafing came off, and my new trainers decided to start giving me arch problems (back to the shop tomorrow, sadly) However, I was rejuvenated by the refreshment and the last few inclines were taken with good humour and the final descent into Glen Eden was done pretty quickly, though as I could feel my legs feeling incredibly heavy on the flat I doubt I'd have run the whole way without the steep descent. I romped home in 2:03 (according to my watch), a proud last place but absolutely overjoyed at how I'd done. I got a warm congratulations from the timekeepers, who humoured me with my revelation that it had been the furthest I'd ever run and one chap even took my transponder off for me as I must have looked in no fit state to manipulate anything off my foot.

The club had laid on an afternoon tea for the runners and I gave in to my ravenous belly and had some cakes, pies, cookies and two cans of diet coke before the prizegiving (unfortunately my belly rebelled against this feast once I got home- too much, too rich, too soon. Oops).

Spot prize!

Excitingly, I managed to win my first running spot prize! As you can see, it's a lamp and some place mats. I actually needed a lamp so that's rad, but placemats would require a dining table so we'll have to see what else I can do with them. I spoke to a fair few of the harriers and found them to be extremely friendly and approachable, which makes me think that joining a club might not be such a dumb idea.

I was considering trying my luck at the Taupo half marathon next weekend but as they've upped the prices I may go check out the YMCA marathon club instead. I shall report back!

I feel like I've crossed a massive barrier with this event. If I can run ten miles, I can run 26.2 miles. If I can grit teeth for two hours, I can grit them for five. If I can run up THAT hill, I can run over the harbour bridge. I thought to myself on the drive there "If I fail this, then the marathon is over". Looks like we're good to go for a while yet...

Event goals


Complete (done)
Run entire event (done)
Complete event in two hours or less (close!)


Body report


Massive blister on arch of left foot and toe on right foot (taking shoes back for refit)
Cuts/chafing from sports bra despite taping (new bras in transit!)
Stiffness and ouch from not stretching properly after run (don't do that again- stretch before cake, always)
Sick from too much cake too soon after event (just because there is a massive spread doesn't mean you have to try all of it)

BASE! (How low can you go?)

Ah, Public Enemy. Always so very quotable (apart from the anti-Semitic stuff). Yes indeed, according to marathon coach, I am 30% through my program and have completed the base (BASE!) section of my program. 

As you might be able to guess from me quoting Chuck D, I am feeling a bit better about the whole thing compared to Tuesday. In marathon training, as in politics, a lot can happen in a week. Here's the stats rundown:

30% completed

Total distance: 226.66km (though a few of those are cross-training k's from cycling round Scottish islands)

Weight: 84kg

93 days to go

So, what's happened? I woke up on Wednesday morning (in my current role I start later on Wednesdays) still feeling rotten about the notion of running but determined to push through. This, I decided, is the difference between people who line up at the start on marathon day and those who don't. I laced up my new shoes (still getting some arch bruising on my left foot but I'm waiting to see if it sorts itself out as I break the shoes in), queued up some tunes and set out on my Wednesday pace run. Thirty minutes easy warm up, then 5x 2min at half marathon pace with 1min recoveries, then a 16 minute slow jog cool down to round off the hour. Due to heavy rain over the previous few days the humidity was surprisingly high given the early hour, but what a luxury to run in daylight!

XTERRA give you a free official photo.
That's my "fuck you, hill" face.

And you know what? I hated every bloody minute of it. By the time I reached 30 minutes I felt ready to throw in the towel. My "fast" intervals felt like I was wading through molasses. My slow run recoveries were a fast walk. But I bloody did it, the whole frickin' hour. It felt like a huge victory, like I'd taken a step towards getting through this rough patch (the alternative title of this post was going to be "Tramping the Hump" after a glorious strapline in Wilderness magazine. Totally unrelated to running but it summed up my feelings). Plugging in my measly distance into the iPod was incredibly satisfying. 

Yesterday evening I also discovered a secret (OK, not that secret) weapon in the War on 42.2. Yoga. I've mentioned yoga a few times on here, but I confess to falling out a regular practice in the last year or so (no time, or so went the excuse). However, on the urging and recommendation of a good friend I turned up at The Loft in the city and I can say they were not wrong! The Wednesday night class is a fun, physical class with lots of balance poses and deep forward and back bends that did a great job of stretching out and loosening those muscles that felt so miserable in recent weeks. In addition, they throw in a delicious cruelty-free vegetarian meal (with pudding) afterwards for free! It's a really nice, relaxing space and I can recommend checking out the class if you're in the area. 

In addition to yesterday's successes, my running Obi-Wan Jane sent me an email after my last post, saying she knew someone who was about the same speed as me and that we should get together for runs. This evening we met up and went for a leisurely spin round the local park. It was ace! Both our training programs had an "easy" run, and it was really refreshing to have exactly that. No busting my arse trying to keep up, just a genuine easy run with someone new to talk to. We're going to run again next week and see about making our easy runs a joint effort, which would be great for my motivation and also to stop seeing every run as an exercise in pain. 

The other day I put down over $100 on two Shock Absorber bras from Wiggle. Why, you ask? Er, because of this:

And that is literally half the story.

This is what happens when you train for hours a week in a bra that might fit great and support you, but isn't actually designed for running. The Shock Absorber Run bras have won awards so I'm betting my boobs on them making running a less painful experience. If they don't get here by Saturday I'll be running the Glen Eden Ten Miler with big sticky plasters and a pained expression....

As a final note, I have stopped listening to music on every run but find it useful on the big ones and the speedwork. This mix by Freq Nasty has a remix of Bring the Noise about halfway through that led to the title of this post. My mate Magneze has put together some ace techno mixes that are great for running too, this is his latest one. (link to download further down page)

Tilting at Windmills

I'm having one of those days where the enormity of the task I have set myself is sinking in. Where it feels like as ridiculous and impossible a task as it's possible to undertake. It's not nice.

Today I decided to face my fears and go running with a social running group. Facebook and the internet has details of millions of them, but one was near my house, seemed very friendly and after I met the guy in charge at XTERRA on Sunday I felt ready to take the plunge and run with that most terrifying of creatures, Other People.

I've been in training now for a shade under two months, so I figured I would slot in with their slow pack. The meet point was a cheeky 2 k or so from my house so I figured a gentle warm up run to the start, introduce myself, 5k tempo run, then a slow jog/walk home. All in keeping with my plan, all good.

I am acutely aware of not possessing a runner's build. I am stocky. I jiggle. I am (thanks to holiday cheese and barbecue) 84kg which puts me firmly in the "Athena" weight class (I love that). At XTERRA there were loads of us Athenas and Clydesdales on the start line and it was great. At the running group, I was the only one. My blistering 6:30 min/km time to the start now seemed a bit pathetic in the face of five or six incredibly fit long-term runners who looked like they had been built for speed not comfort. There was no slow pack.

I lasted about ten minutes at their pace. I'm quite proud of that. I'm not fast at all and to be able to keep pace for a bit was just awesome. Then I found that no matter how hard I tried, the gap kept widening. No biggie, I thought, I'll just run my own pace. Then the group leader saw that I had fallen behind and dropped back to keep me company.

To his eternal credit, he didn't make a big deal out of it at all. He didn't initiate conversation but answered my gasped questions with enthusiasm (given I sounded like I was in the latter stages of labour he probably thought conversation would kill me. He may have been right). Eventually I said that he should go on once we got through the park, that I would run up the infamous Chinaman's Hill and make my way home at my own pace. Again to his credit, he did. No cajoling, no reproach. Thanks dude.

It's all me, I know. The schoolyard fear of being the fat kid in glasses left on the bench. I faced my social/fitness awkwardness fear and had it realised anyway. I walked up the hill and home feeling angry and bitterly frustrated with myself and my slow, heavy body. After all this effort, all the sacrifices I'd made, why is this still so goddamn hard?

I appreciate the gains I have made. I can run 5k in 32 minutes. I can run 10k in just over an hour. Hell, I can run 10k. I know my neighbourhood better than most long term residents. I am sticking to the program (minus the short, cheese-powered trip home). I'm making progress, I have to be.

But the shine has worn off the challenge and the days are short. The weather's grossly uninspiring, the run program is only asking for more time and mileage, and it won't slacken off until the final few weeks before the big day. This is the part of training where marathon runners are decided, not on the start line. This is where I either grit teeth, toughen up and continue to lace up those bloody shoes four days a week, or where I make my excuses and go find something else to do with my time.

So, tomorrow is meant to be a 60 minute pace run, then there's a 40 minute easy run on Thursday before Saturday's ten mile event. I'm dreading all of them, but I'll make every single one.  Hopefully.