My wedding dress has arrived! An email from the store this week evoked feelings of both excitement and dread. On the one hand I can't wait to put it on again, but on the other I am filled with the worry that it will suddenly no longer suit me, or that it won't fit...
When I bought the dress, the lady in the shop insisted on ordering me the smaller size. In many ways, this was flattering, the 10/12 was too big and I would therefore be walking down the aisle in a size 8/10. If you'd told me that when I was a chubby 15 year old I would have laughed in your face. That said, there was that nagging thought in the back of my mind that this decision by her would turn out ill advised and that I would find myself trussed up like a Christmas turkey and bursting the dress at its seams.
After I got engaged, I always said I wouldn't diet for my wedding. Of course, I want to be the best version of me on my wedding day but I never wanted to force myself in to an impossible, unsustainable aesthetic. One that would make the months preceding my nuptials miserable and every glance at the photos of the day a painful reminder of how slim I was then, thus making me feel terrible about the inevitable return to normality.
For the most part, I've done really well in this, but the ordering of the smaller size did threaten to throw a spanner in the works. I have lost half a stone since then, but actually this isn't to do with dieting (unless you count too much wine and too many biscuits as dieting...)
I bought the dress only a few weeks after returning to running following my knee injury and it just goes to show how exercise alone can change your body. Fingers crossed that all goes well when I go for my fitting next weekend.
In other fitness news, my training plods on. I've kept up the strength training on Wednesdays and have countered the time issues preventing running by introducing short HIIT sessions when I can. All this means I am managing to maintain 4 sessions a week of various exercise or fitness activities and I have been pleased with the positive impact the strength training is already having on my running. I am already finding that I can push up hills with that little bit more power, and maintain speed more easily on those same inclines.
As the wedding approaches, dress worries aside, I do feel that I have managed to maintain perspective and that I haven't thrown myself in to crazy diets or regimes to prepare for it. When the day comes I want to feel that I am a fit, healthy and, most importantly, REAL version of me.
Wednesday, 22 March 2017
Sunday, 12 March 2017
Legs, bums and runs.
What a week. As suspected, this week has been incredibly busy at work; back to back meetings, lessons, more meetings, conference calls, paperwork... it just felt never ending!
My predictions in my last post we pretty spot on. On Tuesday, we managed our usual tempo run, having had to sacrifice the usual Monday steady run as we both had meetings and then mountains of work to plough through in the evening.
Wednesday was strength day and, having focused on upper body last week, this week was legs and core. I enjoyed the workout a lot; cardio sprints on the rower followed by squats, lunges, crunches and, by the end, press ups too (just for fun...)
The burn in my legs the next day was unreal and, in typical DOMS style, got progressively worse as the day went on and then continued in to Friday...!
Long run day dawned and 10 miles became 7 as, once again, time was squeezed by our busy schedules. Happily, though, my Garmin logged just over 12 miles by the end of the day having logged the dog walks, shopping, house work... it's amazing how these things add up!
So, a fairly slow week with half the mileage of last. I try not to feel guilty about this but I do like to get over 15 miles a week + strength and missing this always makes me feel a little low.
It's so important to remember that life gets busy, that we are increasingly called on to reconcile our work, social and leisure lives in a way that is simply impossible. At times like this, we have to learn to fit in what we can, stay positive and, most importantly of all, be kind to ourselves.
I am notoriously bad at all of these but I am trying hard to be better. The dilemma, of course, is that my way of being kind to myself and staying positive is to run. A catch 22.
As I desperately await three weeks off to run and sleep to my heart's content, my mission for the week ahead is to make headway with that third important rule; to be kind to myself.
My predictions in my last post we pretty spot on. On Tuesday, we managed our usual tempo run, having had to sacrifice the usual Monday steady run as we both had meetings and then mountains of work to plough through in the evening.
Wednesday was strength day and, having focused on upper body last week, this week was legs and core. I enjoyed the workout a lot; cardio sprints on the rower followed by squats, lunges, crunches and, by the end, press ups too (just for fun...)
The burn in my legs the next day was unreal and, in typical DOMS style, got progressively worse as the day went on and then continued in to Friday...!
Long run day dawned and 10 miles became 7 as, once again, time was squeezed by our busy schedules. Happily, though, my Garmin logged just over 12 miles by the end of the day having logged the dog walks, shopping, house work... it's amazing how these things add up!
So, a fairly slow week with half the mileage of last. I try not to feel guilty about this but I do like to get over 15 miles a week + strength and missing this always makes me feel a little low.
It's so important to remember that life gets busy, that we are increasingly called on to reconcile our work, social and leisure lives in a way that is simply impossible. At times like this, we have to learn to fit in what we can, stay positive and, most importantly of all, be kind to ourselves.
I am notoriously bad at all of these but I am trying hard to be better. The dilemma, of course, is that my way of being kind to myself and staying positive is to run. A catch 22.
As I desperately await three weeks off to run and sleep to my heart's content, my mission for the week ahead is to make headway with that third important rule; to be kind to myself.
Sunday, 5 March 2017
Weights and measures.
This week I spent two days existing in a world where anything above shoulder height or below waist height was out of bounds. Wednesday was my strength training session and, working in a school with a plethora of professional coaches, means that meant pain!
Ollie is a strength and conditioning coach who works with aspiring Olympians and Saracens rugby team, to name just a couple of his clients. I can't imagine what he thought when he found himself faced with me and Vicky and our 'chat more, workout less' attitude, which, I might add, he soon put an end to.
45 minutes of squats, burpees, kettle bells and weights later and I was waddling to my car. It will be worth it, though; I need the extra power to help with hill work and a bit of extra strength never did anyone any harm. And variety is the spice of life, after all!
I had Thursday and Friday as rest days; Thursday is agility night with Ace so there was enough running there to tide me over. Friday I found myself working later than I would have liked, and some nagging pain in my glutes and the long weekend run looking meant I chose wine over my trainers.
Saturday's long run was a 10 miler following the usual procedure: two warm up miles, a couple of miles where we repeatedly told each other to slow down or we 'wouldn't make it', before giving in to our natural pace and just getting on with it.
Ten miles no longer feels like a trek to me now. I'm used to spending 90 minutes plus on my feet and I enjoy the fact that we have long enough to chat about everything from work to weddings to cars.
To top it off, we managed our fastest time for 10 miles at just over 1hr 25mins. Total for the week: 18 miles (1 steady run, 1 tempo run, 1 long run) plus a strength session.
Next week is busy, and I am expecting a lower mileage. I suspect we will end up ditching the steady run and just doing tempo+strength+long, but such is life. So long as I get to put my trainers on a couple of times, I'll be ok.
Ollie is a strength and conditioning coach who works with aspiring Olympians and Saracens rugby team, to name just a couple of his clients. I can't imagine what he thought when he found himself faced with me and Vicky and our 'chat more, workout less' attitude, which, I might add, he soon put an end to.
45 minutes of squats, burpees, kettle bells and weights later and I was waddling to my car. It will be worth it, though; I need the extra power to help with hill work and a bit of extra strength never did anyone any harm. And variety is the spice of life, after all!
I had Thursday and Friday as rest days; Thursday is agility night with Ace so there was enough running there to tide me over. Friday I found myself working later than I would have liked, and some nagging pain in my glutes and the long weekend run looking meant I chose wine over my trainers.
Saturday's long run was a 10 miler following the usual procedure: two warm up miles, a couple of miles where we repeatedly told each other to slow down or we 'wouldn't make it', before giving in to our natural pace and just getting on with it.
Ten miles no longer feels like a trek to me now. I'm used to spending 90 minutes plus on my feet and I enjoy the fact that we have long enough to chat about everything from work to weddings to cars.
To top it off, we managed our fastest time for 10 miles at just over 1hr 25mins. Total for the week: 18 miles (1 steady run, 1 tempo run, 1 long run) plus a strength session.
Next week is busy, and I am expecting a lower mileage. I suspect we will end up ditching the steady run and just doing tempo+strength+long, but such is life. So long as I get to put my trainers on a couple of times, I'll be ok.
Tuesday, 28 February 2017
The tortoise and the hare.
I am a tortoise. A fairly nippy tortoise with somewhere to be, perhaps, but I am a tortoise nonetheless.
I did my tempo run today. I try to do one of these a week and, gradually, this is having an impact on my pace. But I hate them.
I would much rather slog out a two hour half marathon at 08.40 pace than a 3 mile tempo run at 8.00 mile pace, without a doubt. I know so many people who would disagree, and I understand the logic but I suffer from guilt if I run less than 5 miles at a time!
My knee injury did something to combat that. As I recovered, I could only run two miles at a time and then four. For a while, this was my limit as the muscles and ligaments strengthened; I was proud of my restraint here, of how I listened to my body and only did what it told me it was comfortable doing. A happy side effect of limiting my mileage was increased pace. Since then, I've introduced these more rigidly in to my routine and have smashed my PB for 5km no less than five times, my PB for 10km twice, and I'm heading for a sub 2 hour half marathon when I next race.
Today, we powered in to a headwind and managed a negative split run with each mile slightly faster than the one before. The problem with these runs, I think, is that we often run straight from work and do a simple out and back through a less-than-interesting industrial estate. Going straight from work means you still feel weighed down by whatever email you were last writing, or essay you were lat marking, but at least it allows some distance to be placed between you and work. Valuable head space.
It's the route I struggle with. I've always run better outdoors, and I've found that an interesting and engaging route can make any run far less onerous. The winter is particularly tough, as the surroundings are almost always shrouded in impenetrable darkness and screened by rain or the sting brought to your eyes from the cold and the wind. As the lighter evenings have started to return, I've found that I get home to tell Ed about what I saw while running; places I didn't know existed or that had changed from last time I did. This replaces the winter debrief that ends up being about how long it took for me to be able to feel my feet and how long it was before I subsequently lost the feeling in my fingers.
Thus, a tempo through an industrial estate is a slog:
A) I'm running too fast (!) and breathing too hard to really notice anything and,
B) it's all just grey buildings and car parks anyway.
And yet, I still put myself through it. Maybe it's that buzz I get from, just for a moment, feeling like a 'proper' runner. I get to use words like 'tempo' and my average pace starts with a 7 (just...)
It's a very different way of running and, whilst I feel good at having powered through at lightening speed...ish, and all in less than half an hour, I think I'm much happier in tortoise mode.
I did my tempo run today. I try to do one of these a week and, gradually, this is having an impact on my pace. But I hate them.
I would much rather slog out a two hour half marathon at 08.40 pace than a 3 mile tempo run at 8.00 mile pace, without a doubt. I know so many people who would disagree, and I understand the logic but I suffer from guilt if I run less than 5 miles at a time!
My knee injury did something to combat that. As I recovered, I could only run two miles at a time and then four. For a while, this was my limit as the muscles and ligaments strengthened; I was proud of my restraint here, of how I listened to my body and only did what it told me it was comfortable doing. A happy side effect of limiting my mileage was increased pace. Since then, I've introduced these more rigidly in to my routine and have smashed my PB for 5km no less than five times, my PB for 10km twice, and I'm heading for a sub 2 hour half marathon when I next race.
Today, we powered in to a headwind and managed a negative split run with each mile slightly faster than the one before. The problem with these runs, I think, is that we often run straight from work and do a simple out and back through a less-than-interesting industrial estate. Going straight from work means you still feel weighed down by whatever email you were last writing, or essay you were lat marking, but at least it allows some distance to be placed between you and work. Valuable head space.
It's the route I struggle with. I've always run better outdoors, and I've found that an interesting and engaging route can make any run far less onerous. The winter is particularly tough, as the surroundings are almost always shrouded in impenetrable darkness and screened by rain or the sting brought to your eyes from the cold and the wind. As the lighter evenings have started to return, I've found that I get home to tell Ed about what I saw while running; places I didn't know existed or that had changed from last time I did. This replaces the winter debrief that ends up being about how long it took for me to be able to feel my feet and how long it was before I subsequently lost the feeling in my fingers.
Thus, a tempo through an industrial estate is a slog:
A) I'm running too fast (!) and breathing too hard to really notice anything and,
B) it's all just grey buildings and car parks anyway.
And yet, I still put myself through it. Maybe it's that buzz I get from, just for a moment, feeling like a 'proper' runner. I get to use words like 'tempo' and my average pace starts with a 7 (just...)
It's a very different way of running and, whilst I feel good at having powered through at lightening speed...ish, and all in less than half an hour, I think I'm much happier in tortoise mode.
Saturday, 25 February 2017
Why I am.
Blogging is something I've tried before and never really got on with. It would be nice to say that this time is different and this time I will gently nudge my way out of blogging obscurity and become a full convert. The reality is, I don't really know if I'll get on with it this time, leaving the question why am I even bothering to try?
The answer is, it's not about whether I'm 'a blogger' or not, it's about the fact that last time I tried this, it was borne out of affectation. It was a way of projecting and image of what I wanted to be (such is the nature of most people in their early twenties, probably), rather than who I really was.
I've turned 30 recently and that was a psychological milestone for me. Finally, I felt like I could stop trying to fit a mould that felt wrong: uncomfortable, restrictive, like shoes that don't fit or the label in the back of a shirt that makes wearing it a constant nag. Now I feel liberated, like my age finally permits me to be who I really am. Ridiculous, I know, but true.
But why the blog? Yes, I feel like I'm me now, in a way I never have been, but that's not really enough to sustain more than one, somewhat self indulgent, blog post.
Honest answer? I want to talk about me. I want to talk about who I am and what I love and I want to start by talking about running. In particular, I want to start by talking about why I run.
Often, I am made to feel bad about talking about my running. Be it via social media or face to face, it's like my running is a dirty secret that shouldn't be shared. It's as if cat memes and banal comments about Donald Trump have more place than my hobby does. Maybe an understanding of why I run my help. If it doesn't, then I don't really care (I'm 30 now, remember, I don't care what people think), but it it's worth a try.
To understand what running means, you have to understand what it has replaced. For years, I battled with who I was. I don't want to make it sound like I was depressed, or like I had any sort of serious mental health problem, because I didn't. To claim I did would be to undermine the severity of the situations so many others fight against every day. But I did really struggle, particularly with food.
When I started university, things got a bit beyond me. My control over what I ate became extreme, and so did my exercise. I struggled with binge eating, extreme deprivation and over exercise. I counted calories in and out, I missed social occasions because I wanted to avoid eating too much; I walked 45 minutes to the gym and the same back again to maximise my calorie burn. Looking back, I wasted a lot of that precious time on my anxieties with food and exercise.
I ran on and off throughout all this, but I never really committed and it's when I did (about the time I moved to London to do my teacher training) that my world changed. It's a cliche to say that running changed my life, but it's true.
I still hate it a lot of the time; it hurts, it's hard, my legs ache and my lungs burn but it makes me feel free, and sometimes there are runs where I feel so alive it's like I'm flying. Suddenly, I am in control of my body. I train and I get fitter; I practise and I get better and the sense of achievement I get is enormous.
Now, when I run, I am reminded of everything that I can do. I can feel every part of my body working and I feel strong. When I stop, I feel like I've conquered the world. When I push up a hill I realise that I am powerful, when I run 12 miles I realise that I am dedicated and focused and capable. I am at my best when I run.
To a non-runner it sounds like bullshit. It's the stuff they put in the adverts for over-priced running gear to make you spend £40 on a shirt in the hope it will make you Mo Farah. To those that run, though, I hope I'm making some sort of sense. You know how it feels because you are part of that club.
Running has made me feel at one with myself. It has allowed me to focus on what I can do rather that what I can't and it reminds me every week that I am strong. It has also transformed my relationship with food.
When you commit to running, even just as a hobby, you start looking at food differently. It's your friend, not your enemy. Food is what allows me to run further and nutrition makes me better at what I do. I love cooking and I love food, and learning how I can fuel my body to make me a better runner is so much nicer that planning how I can cut more calories from my daily intake.
Becoming a runner had a direct correlation with a sense of self that saved me from a spiral that could have seen me in a much darker place. Those one or two times where, following a binge, my fingers found their way down my throat, could have been so many more had I not laced up those trainers and run. If I hadn't run, I wouldn't have found my fiancé, I wouldn't have passed my NQT year, I wouldn't have the job I have now.
So, the likelihood is that I will blog, Instagram, Facebook, talk, read and dream about running. The likelihood is that people will continue to roll their eyes, think I'm arrogant, or (somewhat arrogantly) think that I am trying to make them feel inferior. The truth is, though, that running is not just part of who I am, it is why I am.
The answer is, it's not about whether I'm 'a blogger' or not, it's about the fact that last time I tried this, it was borne out of affectation. It was a way of projecting and image of what I wanted to be (such is the nature of most people in their early twenties, probably), rather than who I really was.
I've turned 30 recently and that was a psychological milestone for me. Finally, I felt like I could stop trying to fit a mould that felt wrong: uncomfortable, restrictive, like shoes that don't fit or the label in the back of a shirt that makes wearing it a constant nag. Now I feel liberated, like my age finally permits me to be who I really am. Ridiculous, I know, but true.
But why the blog? Yes, I feel like I'm me now, in a way I never have been, but that's not really enough to sustain more than one, somewhat self indulgent, blog post.
Honest answer? I want to talk about me. I want to talk about who I am and what I love and I want to start by talking about running. In particular, I want to start by talking about why I run.
Often, I am made to feel bad about talking about my running. Be it via social media or face to face, it's like my running is a dirty secret that shouldn't be shared. It's as if cat memes and banal comments about Donald Trump have more place than my hobby does. Maybe an understanding of why I run my help. If it doesn't, then I don't really care (I'm 30 now, remember, I don't care what people think), but it it's worth a try.
To understand what running means, you have to understand what it has replaced. For years, I battled with who I was. I don't want to make it sound like I was depressed, or like I had any sort of serious mental health problem, because I didn't. To claim I did would be to undermine the severity of the situations so many others fight against every day. But I did really struggle, particularly with food.
When I started university, things got a bit beyond me. My control over what I ate became extreme, and so did my exercise. I struggled with binge eating, extreme deprivation and over exercise. I counted calories in and out, I missed social occasions because I wanted to avoid eating too much; I walked 45 minutes to the gym and the same back again to maximise my calorie burn. Looking back, I wasted a lot of that precious time on my anxieties with food and exercise.
I ran on and off throughout all this, but I never really committed and it's when I did (about the time I moved to London to do my teacher training) that my world changed. It's a cliche to say that running changed my life, but it's true.
I still hate it a lot of the time; it hurts, it's hard, my legs ache and my lungs burn but it makes me feel free, and sometimes there are runs where I feel so alive it's like I'm flying. Suddenly, I am in control of my body. I train and I get fitter; I practise and I get better and the sense of achievement I get is enormous.
Now, when I run, I am reminded of everything that I can do. I can feel every part of my body working and I feel strong. When I stop, I feel like I've conquered the world. When I push up a hill I realise that I am powerful, when I run 12 miles I realise that I am dedicated and focused and capable. I am at my best when I run.
To a non-runner it sounds like bullshit. It's the stuff they put in the adverts for over-priced running gear to make you spend £40 on a shirt in the hope it will make you Mo Farah. To those that run, though, I hope I'm making some sort of sense. You know how it feels because you are part of that club.
Running has made me feel at one with myself. It has allowed me to focus on what I can do rather that what I can't and it reminds me every week that I am strong. It has also transformed my relationship with food.
When you commit to running, even just as a hobby, you start looking at food differently. It's your friend, not your enemy. Food is what allows me to run further and nutrition makes me better at what I do. I love cooking and I love food, and learning how I can fuel my body to make me a better runner is so much nicer that planning how I can cut more calories from my daily intake.
Becoming a runner had a direct correlation with a sense of self that saved me from a spiral that could have seen me in a much darker place. Those one or two times where, following a binge, my fingers found their way down my throat, could have been so many more had I not laced up those trainers and run. If I hadn't run, I wouldn't have found my fiancé, I wouldn't have passed my NQT year, I wouldn't have the job I have now.
So, the likelihood is that I will blog, Instagram, Facebook, talk, read and dream about running. The likelihood is that people will continue to roll their eyes, think I'm arrogant, or (somewhat arrogantly) think that I am trying to make them feel inferior. The truth is, though, that running is not just part of who I am, it is why I am.
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