I'm oh so quiet, I'm oh so still - and I'm oh so going

I know I said I'd keep this blog and the one on the Argus going, but I just can't. It's too much faffing.

If you're following the blog via Facebook, I'm going to try to work out how to pull in the posts from The Argus. Otherwise, PLEASE subscribe to follow me at:

http://www.theargus.co.uk/blogs/blogs/brighton_marathon/profile/34535/

Below is my recent post on that site. Ciao.

I have made the cycle commute a couple of times this week, just to keep the blood pumping and remind my body to create muscle, not fat, from what I eat.

Today I walked home from the office, a trip I believe to be between five and six miles. Along the seafront all the way from the West Pier to Hove lagoon, then onwards through Portslade.

I know it's trendy (one of the longest trends ever, I suspect) to slag off and generally bemoan all politicians. Normally, I'm moaning along as loudly as anyone and I think the kind of politician we actually get to see on television and hear on the radio and read quotes from in the press is basically a waste of skin and a potential food source for the third world.

But whoever's in charge of maintaining that stretch of the seafront deserves a medal. It's so clean. There are plenty of what the Americans, for once cutely, refer to as 'facilities'. And loads of bins with cigarette stubbers that, as far as I can tell, most smokers actually seem to use. The restored bandstand and the swirly pavement around it look lovely. Just yummy. I can't wait to do a marathon on it.

Speaking of which, I'm tentatively planning to include a run in my day tomorrow. At some point. Possibly.

Stag Do + Scorchio = Slowio

Having run Friday morning, I gave Saturday morning's usual session a miss this week. Besides, I was attending my first ever stag do in the evening. I had been advised to practice talking about women and cars. I wasn't sure that was completely right for this particular group and the research was boring, so I had a drink and an afternoon nap like an old person instead.

I did spend some time researching Breakdown Cover, as I've just had a renewal notice from my current provider. They want to charge £137 for the year and the comparison sites are presenting some companies prepared to offer equivalent cover for under £50. I'm sure you get what you pay for, but I've tried reading a lot of the policy wording documents and, although I'm not stupid, it's all utterly meaningless. Could someone please just tell me who to go with and what level of cover to purchase if I want to be able to get home from anywhere in the UK and have a hire car if mine's seriously poorly, including home cover?

Anyway, this stag do business. I've heard quite appalling things and, not having been into Brighton for a night out, much less a Saturday night, I was interested to see if it was all as bad as I've been led to believe. Well, I can only say I was very pleasantly surprised. We went to Due South (9 of us) for a 3 course meal. I can wholeheartedly recommend this as a meal option, if you don't mind paying a bit. It's worth every penny and, although I was on water all night I understand the wine list is very good too. The staff are patient, friendly and can put up with drunk old men being a bit difficult. I did notice a tendency among the clientele to pour their wine using the thumb-in-the-dimple-on-the-bottom-of-the-bottle-that-people-who-put-their-thumb-in-probably-know-the-name-for technique, as opposed to the more common grab-it-by-the-neck-and-tip-it-upside-down we were using. But, live and let live, I say.

We fitted right in, with Ollie (the other youngster and son-of-the-bride) regaling us with edifying tales, such as and e.g. his friend used to DJ in a club in Brighton and Ollie used to come down and meet him and then the DJ would drive them both back up to London and on the way out of Brighton they would stop off at a place called Top Totty where the women weren't actually up to much but if you bought a lapdance you got a free pizza so why not?

Then it was on to The Cricketers on Black Lion Street for a few drinkettes (mineral water for me) and a civilised conversation. The Cricketers has perhaps the most cheerful bouncer ever and a really nice atmosphere, even at the end of what had clearly been a very long night for some.

The guys' taxi arrived at 12:30 to take them all back to Heathfield, and it was while walking back to the car that I began to see signs that Brighton's not entirely benign at 1am on a Saturday night (Sunday morning). There were hundreds of young people (and some old ones, ick) 'walking' as if their legs were on backwards and they were trying to avoid gaping holes in the pavement, only there were none. I felt all sort of grown up and superior.

I'm fairly sure I've scuppered any chance of being invited for a week of largeing it in (on?) Ibiza, but most of my friends are married already, anyway. Some of them have even found the time to get divorced as well.

I've digressed massively from the training-for-a-marathon raison d'etre of this blog. I do that, you know. I'm famous for it at work.

So, back on topic. I finally got to bed last night at about 2am. So that would be this morning, then. I'd made some vague noises of a '15k tomorrow' nature, but in my head at least had given myself the option of 12k. Thank god, because how hot and humid actually is it actually? Also, I didn't sleep all that well. I think my body had gone into shock from not being in bed at 10pm, or something, but I was still awake at 3, awake again at 5 and again at 7.30, eventually getting up about 9.15.

I'm very lucky to be living so close to the majority of the Brighton marathon course. I tend to head South and hit the coast at the bottom of Boundary Road and then head into the centre along the prom, and then back. Ooh, I must digress again.

This is the second run I've blogged here. On both occasions, there have been cyclists on the No Cycling bit down by the sea. But, do you know what? I don't care. They are big enough to see coming if they're heading towards me and, if they're going the same direction I am, one of those laws of relativity things means I am basically stationary in relation to any object whose velocity can be measured, and they can come past me with no problem at all. The problem? Pedestrians. Keep your dogs and your disgusting ill-mannered offsprings under control and there's no reason why cycling, walking, running and those people who are really old enough to know better but travel around on boots or planks on wheels can't all use the same space.

I got to 5k in 32 minutes, which was quite nice. On the way out, the sea breeze was in my face. The 7th kilometer was huge nightmare, in part I think because I'd run across Hove lawns and was travelling back alongside the coast road and the cycle lane - which, by the way, was absolutely rammed; has anyone considered the possibility that congestion could be a reason why some cyclists, especially those who can wear lycra without getting vomited on and travel at respectable speeds, might not want to be restricted to a 2-foot-wide section of one of the widest pavements in christendom?

Kilometers 8, 9 and 10 were quite good (I was back by the sea, you see, and the Lucozade Sport was kicking in), but 11 and 12 were pure torture.

I finally finished in 1 hour 8 minutes and 59 seconds. Theoretically, this is still sub-4-hours for a full marathon, only if you consider I was barely moving by the end and this implies additional downslowage over incremental distances, let's call it 5 for now.

We have recorded the Girls Aloud concert at the O2 (I LOVE THEM), which I shall now watch while again trying to decipher this breakdown cover rubbish. Please comment with a suggestion ASAP if you have one and save me some work!

Solids are definitely the way forward

Well now. Our local newspaper, the Evening Argus, has invited me to join their team of bloggers. It's all too exciting. I promise to keep this blog going, too, but am being very lazy today and just reproducing my first published post from their site below. Follow me at: http://www.theargus.co.uk/blogs/blogs/brighton_marathon/profile/34535/

If you've not read my old blog and, let's face it, you haven't (but you should), you're probably quite rightly wondering what on Earth I'm going on about. Allow me to explain.

From the bio, you'll know I'm in training for my third fundraising marathon for Diabetes UK, which happens rather excitingly to be the first one ever n Brighton. I've created a full training plan (I'm a project manager by trade, not a total lunatic, by the way) to prepare for the big day, but I'm starting now to try to build up some level of fitness. I've spent most of my spare time since the last marathon in a vegetative state. Apart from a couple of sessions on the Wii Fit, which is now basically gathering dust. And that doesn't really count anyway...

So, two Saturdays ago I did a 10k run, which I prepared for by eating a curry and drinking a foolish amount of vodka the night before. It took me 57 minutes and 41 seconds.

I did another 10k last Saturday. I decided my preparation for the previous one probably had not been the best, so I changed some things. On the Friday, I ate nothing at all, all day, and drank even more vodka. This time it took me 59 minutes and 5 seconds. Not a lot of difference time-wise, but it was, like, really, really hard.

I am working from home today, which means if I get up at the usual time, I can wake up slowly and get a run in and still log on at the same time I would usually, if I'd rushed about, got the bus to work, arrived there and realised I'd forgotten my glasses and my lunch and logged in. So that's what I did.

Last night, I had a curry again. But, because even my tastebuds are a bit limp, it was a mild, red thai one. And I had a sensible amount of wine. While watching the Proms. It was actually rather gorgeous.

And the run today took only 55 minutes and 32 seconds. Now, that's not a massive improvement time-wise. But it felt so much easier. Absolutely no urge to 'do a Radcliffe', no dry heaves or retching. I won't say I floated along, because I quite simply am not and never will be built for that kind of ease of movement. But it all felt coordinated. It flowed. I could tell that my head and legs were connected. By what is not quite clear (see 'not floaty' comment above), but nor is it hugely relevant. I ran 10k and it felt good.

So, we have learned, food is very important and getting drunk is not advisable when you're trying to prepapre for a very long run. I shall call that a success.

I remember before my last marathon, towards the end I was dreaming of running, of passing Paula Radcliffe in a sprint finish, of 'negative splits' and being all thin-waisted and stuff. Last night, I dreamed that I had a pet fox that I'd trained as a kind of sheepdog, only with squirrels. And then I went to a meeting with my boss (I think it was my boss from about 4 jobs ago) and explained to her with a completely straight face why the Wii Fit was going to revolutionise the World and banish obesity, saving the governments of the World gazillions of £, or $, or whatever in healthcare, and allowing us to feed the starving while the fat became thin. And she told me if I could put it in writing as well as I'd explained it to her, I would win the Pulitzer. And I did, and I did.

Stick with me, people. Now till 18 April 2010 is going to be quite a ride.

Brighton Pride 2009

Minced in, trolled around for a quick varda and minced off again. Needs nice weather and proper planning to really enjoy it, I think.

There are some photos here. http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=127655&id=530049972&l=7ed9a6109c

They are not very good. My feet are killing me.

Another 10k

Last weekend, I did one, if you remember. I thought that time that my preparation had not been the best, so this time I made some changes.

I ate absolutely nothing. At all. All day. Yesterday. And I drank a bit more vodka than last time.

Am I a committed athlete, or what? That's a serious question, actually, if you know what I am please tell me. 57:41 last time and 59:05 this time.

I know you can do something clever to your car to make it run on chip fat. But what the hell kind of modification does the human body need to make its performance bloody nearly identical, whether it gets any solid fuel in a 36-hour period or not? And, more to the point, how did it happen without my noticing?

So, a bit of calfular crampage and spots before the eyes aside, another successful, if not stellar, outing this morning.