A New Evil

No, I am not talking about spinning. I have now done two spin classes and while they are tough, they are bearable. No, I am talking about a brand new evil. One I had no knowledge of until this Tuesday. 

Normally Tuesday is my run club day. A nice gentle 4K run around my town with some like-minded ladies. I look forward to my Tuesday runs. This Tuesday however was miserably wet and cold and resulted in the class being cancelled. The lady who runs the club suggested that those who still wanted a workout should come along to the cryptically named "team training" class that evening. I asked her what this class involved and she told me it was a fun class with a bit of spinning and something she called "circuit training". Some of you may already see where this is going. I, however, had never heard of circuit training and was told it was "just a bit of step" and that I would manage fine.

HA. (I would laugh harder but my abs still hurt.)

Those 45 minutes were the longest, most painful, movement-packed I think I have ever lived through. There were weights (the really heavy green ones, not the pretty pink light ones I use during the "tone" part of spinning), sit ups, press ups, planks and about a zillion squats. Add to that the sprinting on the bicycles and the jogging/bunny hopping on and off a step and I honestly didn't know which way was up. Oh and we did some suicide runs as well at the end, you know, cause we had loads of extra energy left over. 

I don't think I have ever sweat so much in my life (ladylike, I know). I woke up the next day and every single muscle (every. single. one.) was on fire. Muscles I haven't felt in years were suddenly screaming at me and I wasn't even moving, I was just sat (collapsed in a heap) helplessly on the sofa. I'm still hobbling about today. Two whole days later and I'm still sore!

I'll tell you one thing, that is the last time I ever get lured into a class on the promise of it being fun and easy. The next person to come near me with the words "circuit training" will get a big punch on the nose. Or at least they will once I can actually lift my arms up past my waist again!

The holidays are over!

Merry/Happy etcetera, etcetera... 

Yes, I can believe it's 2016. No I haven't made any resolutions. Why? If you need to ask then you've clearly never made any. 

Have I been for a run this year yet? YES. Yes I have. Today. 

Ok, so it was the first time in about a month but please save your pointed disappointed stares, my aching legs and semi-burst lungs tomorrow morning will be punishment enough. Oh, and just in case you think it's not a sufficient punishment then you'll be happy to know I've signed myself up for a beginner's spin class too. The first lesson is this Thursday which will give me just enough time for walking to become bearable again. The almost certain leg agony aside, I am excited to be mixing things up with my training as I have to admit I was starting to get a tad bored of just running all the time and this will also be a good way to kick start this year.

Speaking of which, this year is actually going to be a pretty big one for me. 

2016 is the year in which I will be turning 25. I will be getting married and letting go of the only surname I have ever known. I'll be going on my honeymoon. I will be running a half marathon in February and hopefully take part in a mini triathlon in July. Last but not least I will be planning a potential trans-Atlantic move which is both terrifying and exciting and may not actually happen until 2017.

So, here's hoping this year goes well for me in all my endeavours and for you all in yours!

Hurty feet indeed.

When I named this blog "My Feet Hurt!" I did it half jokingly. I was expecting my feet to be a tad sore from all that pavement pounding. I even expected a minor injury, perhaps from putting my foot down funny or slipping on some gravel, all of which I am told are the common perils of running. So when my first foot injury arose on Friday you'd think I'd have been celebrating. I would now be able to proudly show off my battle scars, proof of my dedication to my chosen exercise regime. Not so. I didn't hurt my foot out running. How, you ask, did I injure myself? A slip? A fall? No, no, no. 

My shoe bit me. 

Yes you read that right. Friday night I made my way to the tube station to go to my fiancé's work party, and my shoe bit me. My sensible, flat shoes that I had worn specifically with the aim of preventing foot injury. The sensible shoes I was planning on later swapping for the highly impractical 5 inch heels. My sensible shoes have a funny sense of irony that's all I'm going to say. In all honesty I had noticed a slight pinching sensation on my (5 minute) walk to the station, but I figured I must have just got something stuck in the shoe. Picture my shocked, disbelieving face when I pull the offending shoe off at the station to find my heel completely red with blood. Blood! My sensible shoes made my foot bleed! This is the type of injury I would expect had I decided to run a marathon in my aforementioned 5 inch heels! Or just taken part in an Army-style march across the Brecon Beacons. In the rain. 

My lady readers might understand this sentiment more than my male ones, but you place your trust in your sensible shoes and mine betrayed me. Traitors. 

Anyway, for those of you who like seeing this kind of thing, I have thoughtfully included a photo of my heel. It has healed over somewhat now and is no longer actively bleeding (yay) but still hurts to the point where conventional shoes (ie: anything that's not a welly or a flip flop) are agony to wear. 

Oh, and for those of you (probably not) wondering what happened to my night out? Well I went to the work party anyway, in my pretty knee-length cocktail dress with my handsome dinner-suited-up fiancé. And what did I put on my feet? 

Flip flops. I wore flip flops. 

PS: special shout out to my fiancé who left work early to go on a mid-winter mission to find and buy me said flip flops.

Marathon Misery

As you all know, last April I entered the ballot for the London Marathon and this October I got the email saying that I hadn't managed to get a spot. Gutted to say the least. I have considered going down the charity place route but having had a look at the options I seriously doubt I will be able to raise the (scarily large) required amounts in time at this point. This means I am having to think outside the box a tad. This blog is about going from zero to marathon in a year so I need to find a marathon to run. I have found a couple of other marathon options which could work for me timing wise. However, a new option has just presented itself to me today: a triathlon. 

I have to admit I have never really given much serious thought to the idea of a triathlon. I have friends who have completed many and even a couple of friends who have completed an Iron Man. Which is just beyond human. So why a triathlon? Well the lady who runs my Monday run club is also a certified triathlon coach and she sent out an email today about a triathlon course she is thinking of running at some point in the near future. I registered my interest in a sort of spur of the moment burst of optimistic thinking which I am sure I will later come to regret. Still, I have to start somewhere, right?

The point is that, while I can say with 99.99% confidence that I will not be running the London Marathon in 2016, I will definitely be taking part in either a marathon or a triathlon. Who knows, I might do both! How's that for optimism?

Bang goes the other shoe!

Remember my last post where I talked about how everything was feeling good and I was getting the hang of things, and that it all made me very nervous and I was just waiting for the other shoe to drop? Well, drop it did. I have to hand it to those Running Gods their vengeance is swift. This time it took the form of a stinking cold which appeared on Saturday and stuck around until Friday, meaning I missed both running classes (and my dog's training class too but that's off topic). Normally I wouldn't worry about missing a run but the problem with missing a class is that they all move onwards and upwards without you. So when I came back to class yesterday I was told that we would be running for 6 minutes and walking for 1. The last class I had done with the group we ran for 2.5 minutes and walked for 1. Quite the jump in my opinion! Obviously I set off way too fast and spent the rest of the time mentally kicking myself for it. As we got to the last repetition I genuinely felt like crawling and am amazed I managed to make the drive home without my legs spontaneously dropping off. 

I woke up this morning slightly stiff (to be expected I guess) dreading this evening's run club. I battled the urge to miss this one too and dragged myself there only to find I was one of only two others who had managed to come along. While that made me feel happy (in a sort of proud we-are-so-hardcore way) it also meant that somehow the pace was sneakily increased to the point where, not only did we run 4K non stop but we also ran it faster than we ever have before, shaving three whole minutes off our time from two weeks ago. This makes me very happy. It also makes me very worried. Worried about how achy my poor, barely recovered body will feel tomorrow. 

Still, three minutes faster. Boom. 

One of Those Days.

So as you might have guessed, today's run did not go well. I've had my ups and downs with my running in the past but today was just one of those days where it started off wrong and just got worse. You know what I mean? One of those runs where from the beginning something tells you it's not going to go well. I should have listened to my gut on this one. It is usually right. 

I was getting ready for my run today, the first one since coming back from holiday so I was already worried about having lost some momentum in my training. I go to charge my Mp3 player and nothing happens. Cue much plugging in and unplugging again, blowing into the usb bit and hitting the reset button. Nothing. Great. I've never run without my music. Here was my first sign from the Running Gods that they were busy conjuring up a plan. Still, I thought to myself, I have been putting this off for too long, I just need to get on with it, music or no music. I put my shoes on and out the door I go. I get to the end of my street and am struck with humongous self doubt: did I lock the front door? 

Back home I go to check. Yes, I did. Grr.

I set off again, trying to focus on my pace and breathing and for a little while things go alright. Not having music isn't the end of the world. I don't feel as psyched as I usually do but I'm not bored out my mind so it could be worse. Famous last words. 

As I get to the halfway point of my run (which takes me over a gravel path) I put my foot down and feel the gravel slip from under me. I don't fall down (that would have been the cherry on the cake of crappy-ness) but it does make my ankle start to twinge. Excellent, just what I need. Could it get worse?

Yes, yes it could. The Running Gods don't seem to understand sarcasm. 

It starts to rain. Ok, so not to the levels of my run in the hail back in May but still not exactly pleasant. At this point I give up hope of being able to turn this run into a positive experience and just focus on getting home. 

So there we are. The Running Gods punishing me for my two week hiatus from pounding the pavement. Hopefully my ankle will be ok by Thursday. It doens't feel too bad so lots of rest tomorrow and I should be fine. I would say it could have been worse but I'm not going to tempt fate for next time. Those Running Gods, they love a challenge. 

Life's Tough

So here I am half way through my lovely holiday. It was my birthday on Monday and I celebrated by getting up at 4am to go stand in many queues at Luton airport before landing in the 34 degree heat that is northern Italy right now. The 4am part wasn't ideal but at least I had the whole day ahead to enjoy my birthday. Since then I have done a bit of swimming, some sunbathing (although I will still be depressingly pale upon my return to England) and a lot of eating. Ice creams, proscuitto, salami, homegrown tomatoes and all of the fruit ever grown in this country. I have to say it has been a struggle, but someone has to do it. 

As for any running, well I didn't pack any of my kit so that's not happening. I am swimming every day though so hopefully should be able to pick up where I left off when I get back to training next week. The thought of doing any planned or regimented training at the moment is far from my mind. It is beyond hot and humid here. While this means I need a fan on all night in order to sleep it does also mean I can completely justify floating about in the pool with a cold drink all day. And (most importantly) I can have multiple ice creams a day. It is almost encouraged! 

Anyway, I am off for a swim now. I will leave you with a photo from yesterday's pre-lunch drinks in a town near my house.

Next Steps

So here I am, just over a week from my first race. I have to say I may have rested a little more than I really needed to but I also spent a lot of time thinking about what's next for me. My first milestone has come and gone in a sort of anticlimactic blur. It was amazing on the day but then the next couple of days I found myself at a bit of a loss. I went for a short run today which has re-awoken my motivation somewhat and this week will be the beginning of the new training period leading up to my next milestone: the 10K race. I haven't actually signed myself up for a 10K race. Don't get me wrong, I fully intend to very soon. As you know I use races to motivate myself (coerce might be a better word) into actually sticking to training, I just haven't been able to settle on which race yet. My favourite at the moment is the Running 4 Women 10K in Windsor at the end of September. Not only does this give me ages and ages to train, it is also a nice course which takes you down that long road away from Windsor Castle and round a big scenic loop before bringing you back to the Castle again. Also I hear it is supposed to be quite flat. I know I should try to like hills more or at least incorporate them into my training but really, (really?) let's get real, nobody enjoys hills. Unless they're the downwards kind. Or you have some sort of mechanism to get you up them. Like a car.

Anyway. I have to say I am feeling slightly daunted by the distances I'll be running. I know in my head that 10K isn't that far but I can't help thinking past that to what will come next. I will have to be doubling my running distance every three months until next April if I'm going to do what I said I would and actually run a marathon. I'm also going to have to get a tad quicker because while 5K races don't really have cutoff times, half marathons and full marathons certainly do and I don't think I could cope with being branded a non-finisher (unless medically necessary).

So you can see I most definitely have my work cut out for me. Am I constantly asking myself why I had this bright idea in the first place? Yes. Am I cursing myself for starting this blog because it means I can't slack off or everyone will know it? Yes. But at the same time, I know that when I ask myself in a year's time if this will all have been worth it, the answer will be YES. 

Oh and also, next week I am going on holiday to Italy where most of what I will be doing will be eating and sitting by the pool in the sunshine. I will aim to get some swimming in as a form of cross-training (and so I don't feel totally lazy) but I think I will limit my running and just enjoy myself. So yay!

This is not my photo or my dog but a) it looks like my dog and b) it accurately represents my plans for while I am on holiday.

One week to go!

So here we are. One week to go before my first ever 5K race. Although I have to say I keep thinking the word "race" isn't exactly right. I don't stand a chance of coming anywhere near first. Honestly I'll be surprised if I finish in the first hundred! The only people for whom this is a race are the five freaks of nature that can run 5K in the time it takes me to put my running kit on! For me this is about milestones. This is my first and it will be a good indicator of where I am in my training and how I'm doing. It will give me a chance to re-assess my plan and take stock of how far I've come. And the raising money for charity bit, that too. I am generally quite excited for the race, partly because I get to cover myself in these: 

Race for life sent these, along with my race number, and I can't wait to stick them all over my arms! They remind me of when I was eight and stick on tattoos were the height of cool and symbolic of baby rebellion.

Anyway, now that I've got a week to go I'm trying not to panic. I'm keeping training fairly light this coming week, only two runs at the beginning of the week and then rest. That's the plan at least. However, the plan may not happen thanks to a humongous and extremely painful blister I have managed to pick up on my pinky toe. It looks angry. It feels angry. As much as I would like to use this as an opportunity for a rant about the Running Gods, I can't. For once they are not the cause of my misery. I managed to cripple myself (ok, slight exaggeration) by walking round London in heels and running (tottering might be a better word) from the tube station back to my house. The irony is that these were the lowest, least threatening pair of heels I own (hardly two inches in height!) and the ones I thought would never inflict such a wound on me. To say I feel betrayed by them is an understatement. So now I'm panicking at the thought of it not healing in time and not being able to train this week and my race being a very negative, painful event. *hyperventilates*

Moral(s) of the story: 

• don't run in heels,
• definitely don't run in heels the week before your first race
• blisters hurt and I'm an idiot. 

Oh and a quick thank you to those of you who have donated to my JustGiving page, I am touched by the support! For any of you who haven't and are feeling generous you can still donate here: https://www.justgiving.com/ashleyrolando.

Wish me luck!

People suck

I don't like people. I try to minimise the number of times I have to spend in crowded places with lots of people I don't know. Crowds of people irritate me. I'm sure we've all felt this at some point. You know when you're walking down your high street and there's some person in front of you walking so slowly it's incredible? And they seem to somehow take up the entire pavement? With their sixteen bags and a pushchair and a little scooter and twelve children and an old person? Staring at their phone and bumping into everyone in front of them? You know that person. We all know that person. Let's call that person Meandering Man. Well today when I went for my run Meandering Man was out and had brought some friends along. 

When I started my run today I felt positive (shocking, I know). It wasn't raining or overly sunny, my new shoes are still comfy and I had just put a couple of new songs on my mp3 player that really got me in the mood to run. Everything was fine until I reached the main road and realised that the town fair was today. I had been hearing about it for weeks but completely did not realise that today was the day. Silly me. Aside from the millions of cars parked everywhere, including halfway on the pavement, there were millions of Meandering Men (and Wandering Women, don't get upset). Everywhere. This made running in a relatively straight line impossible. It would genuinely have been easier and possibly safer to run on the actual road. Which at one point I had to do because Meandering Man, Wandering Woman and their entourage took up the entire pavement and grass verge. Any plans I may have had to run three miles today went swiftly out the window. I was not putting up with this chaos any longer than I had to. Adding to the fun was the fact that many very fit looking (fit as in healthy not the other "he looked wellll fit innit" way) firemen and military personnel were at the fair, making me feel very inadequate and at the same time incredibly aware of how un-sexy I must look. Damn it. 

Anyway, back to my main point. Having to navigate past, around, through, under and over these many Meandering Men and Wandering Women added a good 40 seconds to my run time (picture my unimpressed face) and resulted in me feeling absolutely knackered. Genuinely the most exhausting run I have been on since I started. So in conclusion, I refer back to the title of this post. People suck.

Except for my readers. I love all of you. :)

My Bra

My bra is awesome. I really can't say that enough. There is literally no bounce when I run. Zero bounce! Do you know the last time I could move without my boobs also moving? I was twelve. Countless "sports bras" later and I had basically given up hope that I would ever find something to strap my DD puppies down. Lo and behold I have finally found it: the Shock Absorber Run bra. My holy grail of bras. There is nothing worse than running (or indeed walking) around with an uncomfy, non-supportive bra on. Now I can smugly run around knowing that while I do, everything stays in its place.

(This is definitely not my stomach by the way, although my boobs are way more awesome than hers.)

See? Isn't she (the bra) glorious? No pointy wires that stab you, some extra heavy duty straps which don't dig in and a little bit of pink to keep me feeling girly. Love it.

Now, we've all at one point or another stuffed something down our bras: money, ID, another bra... so obviously, when faced with the dilemma of where to keep my music when running my mind went straight to my bra. I don't have a bumbag and the pockets in my trousers are far too small for both my music and my keys. With this in mind I decided to conduct an experiment and went for a run with my mp3 inelegantly stuffed down my cleavage. I attached a lanyard to it just in case the bra plan failed me mid-run but I have to say, so far I haven't had any mishaps. My mp3 player nestles snugly in there and I don't even notice it! This is nigh on miraculous for me and only adds to the many brownie points this bra is earning with me. I do hope that my mp3 player is at least slightly damp-resistant though cause you know, sweat is a thing that happens.

I should mention I haven't been asked/paid by anyone to write about my bra,  I am just genuinely this excited by it. Sad, I know.

Lazy Lady

I am lazy. There, I said it. I have always tried to lie to myself, telling myself I'm not lazy I'm just doing what I want, when and how I want. Empowering myself by making all my own decisions regardless of outside pressures. Recently though, I've stopped buying my own bullshit and have forced myself to own up to it. Don't they always say that admitting you have a problem is the first step towards recovery? Well I am admitting it. Shouting it from the rooftops (silently in my head).

I am lazy.

This doesn't bode well for my running plan. Especially since the last fond memory I have of running was when I was ten and I was racing a classmate's little sister across the playground. I was sooo much faster than her (obviously. I was ten and she was six) but I still let her win. Since then all my running has been either enforced PE running around a 200 metre track in the baking Italian summer heat (I grew up in Italy and did all my schooling there) or half-hearted guilt-motivated runs on a treadmill in a gym. This cocktail of unpleasant memories coupled with my general slothfulness means that on paper I should really not be excited about the upcoming miles I plan on running. And yet, I'm excited. 

I'm excited because this morning it finally clicked in my head. I've never gone running for myself. It was always either because I had to or because I felt I had to. This time I set the goal. I chose it. And every time I find myself battling my laziness and struggling to get on with it I will think back to ten year old me running full pelt across that playground, not a care in the world, and I'll let it carry me forward.

Now all I have to do is get up off this couch...

Ready...Steady... Couch!

Yes, I am still sitting on the couch. No, I haven't been for a run yet.

But I am going to. A week from tomorrow marks the beginning of my training which, a year from now, will see me entering and running in a marathon. I have been formulating this plan for quite some time now but only recently revealed it to my nearest and dearest. Parents and partner were supportive, if not slightly sceptical given the zero amount of exercise I have done in the past six years (yes really, zero). My best friend however was slightly blunter. "I'm questioning your sanity dude. You hate running. Really. You hate it." Obviously she was eventually supportive but I like to think this is a testament to my level of beginner-ness to running.

Now, don't get me wrong, I have tried to get involved in some sort of fitness/exercise activity over the years. Gym memberships bought and cancelled after a couple of visits. Perhaps a quick, painful run around my area and much vowing never to do it again. None of it has stuck. This time however, not only have I created an actual (free) personalised running plan, courtesy of Runner's World SmartCoach, I have also signed myself up for a Race for Life 5K this July. This is the crucial piece of the puzzle. There's no backing out now. I have made a commitment to raise a certain amount and run in this event and this is what will hold me to my training plan. At least in the initial "why am I doing this to myself" stage.

So here we go. I have my routes mapped out, my plan is set and my new running kit is due to arrive within the week. New pretty things, a motivational tool if ever there was one.