Showing posts with label running. Show all posts
Showing posts with label running. Show all posts

Wednesday, 30 July 2014

Wednesday Weigh-In 30 July

Did you miss me?

It has been a bit of a prolonged absence from the blog. More than 50 days away and probably lots of questions about what has been going on. In that time there has been the World Cup, a trip with the family to Disneyland Paris, the start of an interim promotion at work, a birthday, a wedding, my eldest finishing Reception Year at school and my youngest deciding that partial lower limb paralysis was not going to stop him getting vertical.

Who is a clever boy then?
I've not spent a great deal of time thinking about my weight. Until the last few days I've done very little exercise either, with my 6 week gym membership expiring with little usage. All the while my wife has been very proactively dieting and doing incredibly well. I'm very proud of what she has achieved to date thus far and only wish I had been more supportive in recent weeks.

I wouldn't say that I've been in self-destruct mode, but I've definitely not been at my best on the eating front. I'm carrying a bit more lumbar than a few months back but things could have been a whole lot worse. I briefly touched 15st a couple of weeks ago which I can't say was a tipping point, but has prompted some corrective action. Spending a few days with Mickey Mouse certainly helped as there is a hell of a lot of walking involved going round the park day after day. The prohibitive cost of food meant I was restricted to the picnic prepared every morning, cutting out top up snacks. The walking and hot Parisian sun certainly helped to burn the calories.

This week I've started to turn my attention back towards exercise. I signed up some time ago for the Royal Parks Half Marathon in October and it has dawned on me that it won't be long before that comes around. Barring a handful of sessions on a treadmill in my short lived gym experience, I had not run since my half marathon back in March. Knee and back injuries, apathy and the lazy lure of summertime have put paid to my fitness levels, and when I embarked at the weekend on my first parkrun since February it showed. I recorded my second slowest time over the 5k distance and it was one hell of a struggle.

Slow Slow Slow
Still, it was a starting point to move forwards from. My first meaningful run in months, exhausted from the week away. Probably a bit dehydrated. Lots of excuses I could draw upon, but ultimately down to my inactivity in recent times. With the cobwebs shaken and the body given a rude awakening to the concept of exercise, I felt better for it. Last night I went for another run and it was easier. Still a lot of mileage to cover in the next couple of months to get me race fit.

Tuesday night action
So where do I sit on the weight front. Better than expected to be honest. I'm approaching my 6th wedding anniversary and I'm virtually 1st lighter than the day I got hitched. The 14st target remains aspirational and not altogether out of sight, and with the upcoming surge in training I should be able to shift a few lbs without having to starve myself in the process.

Content
Onwards and upwards then. 73 days to go until I run this  Plenty of work needed to get me to the finish line.




Saturday, 22 February 2014

Spina Bifida is not a dirty word

Forgive me for taking the blog in a slightly different direction with this article. Rather than talk about my dieting exploits or bore you further with exercise boasts, I'm going to write about an issue that is very close to my heart, namely Spina Bifida.

There have been quite a number of articles about Spina Bifida this week in the national press, or at least in the online versions. You can read some of these by looking at the links at the bottom of the page, including one that was featured on the Telegraph website. For those who don't want to read ahead, the general jib of these articles concerns research which shows only a third of women are taking folic acid before falling pregnant. As such, their babies are at risk of developing a neural tube defect, such as Spina Bifida.

I appreciate you may not really know what Spina Bifida is. Rewind the clock 18 months and I was blissfully ignorant too, but received a crash course during the pregnancy of my second son after his 20 week scan revealed that he had drawn the short straw and was the 1 in 1000 unborn children affected by the condition. While 9 out of 10 Spina Bifida pregnancies are terminated in the UK, we chose to continue, with my gorgeous little man born last February.

Where does folic acid fit into this equation? Well, if taken in the months prior to conception, it is said to reduce the risk of neural tube defects by up to 70 per cent. A number of countries have introduced folic acid to bread flour to ensure than mums to be are getting a sensible dosage. Part of the stir in the media this week has been the discussion of this happening in the UK. Cue lots of negative comments about governmental meddling by inserting man made chemicals into staple food, which will only be to the short term benefit of females of child bearing age. I'm not going to make a case for or against messing with a loaf of Warburtons, but I do think that if more people were aware of what Spina Bifida is, there would be a lot more people wanting to proactively take folic acid.

Spina Bifida for my son has meant the following. His spinal column did not form properly, causing part of the spinal cord to exist outside his body, in the form of a lesion on his back. Hours after his birth, a neurosurgeon operated, to repair the spinal column. However, the exposure of the spine results in nerve damage. As a result, the function level below the lesion is impacted, meaning bladder and bowel issues along with a degree of lower limb paralysis. He requires catheterisation five times a day. We're yet to fully discover his mobility impairment, though the physiotherapists are optimistic he will be able to walk, albeit with assistance. A wheelchair is likely to be necessary for anything further than short distances. We'll need to adapt our house or look for a more suitable property. We're already becoming familiar with a range of clinicians, including his neurosurgeon, bladder specialist, physio, paediatrician and urology nurse. There are medical appointments a plenty, including MRI scans and videourodynamics. From reading stories from other parents of Spina Bifida children, we appear to have got off relatively lightly, with no additional surgery or stays in hospital to date. Long may that continue.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining about our lot. We made our choices. There were 'options' presented to us. I'm very much in the pro-choice camp, and can fully understand why others may reach an alternative decision when faced with the prospect of all that is listed above, or in many cases far worse. The prospect of more women taking folic acid, whether hook or by crook, is a welcome development, particularly if it results in less families having their world turned upside down following an anomaly scan.

Of course, while taking folic acid could be good news for 70% of affected pregnancies, there will still be Spina Bifida babies due to other 30%. My wife took folic acid when we were trying for a baby. A Dutch lady who responded to some of my recent tweets informed me that she did the same, and yet her newborn son has Spina Bifida. Whether folic acid is introduced to bread or not, there will still be families like mine who will receive a diagnosis they were not expecting. And that is why I am a passionate supporter of the Shine Charity. Not only do they actively push the Go Folic message, but they are also on hand to provide information and guidance about Spina Bifida (and Hydrocephalus). When we first learned about our son's condition we had more questions than answers. Shine helped us to gain a broader understanding of the condition and what it could mean in practice. Their input was invaluable, certainly more so than the regimented 'Spina Bifida Bad' voices we heard from various doom merchants we spoke to in the days and weeks following the scan.

I was rather annoyed with one article that referred to Spina Bifida as a disease, before a couple of tweets to the editorial team saw the word amended to condition. My son is certainly not diseased. He is just like any other 12 month old. He loves to sit and play. He claps his hands. He takes great joy in splashing his daddy with bathwater. He can be a real pain in the backside when he decides to wake up at 4 in the morning. He is now trying to crawl and making a bloody good fist of it. Admittedly he looks more like a commando slithering through mud on his elbows, but he's finding a way to get round despite his mobility impairment. He was awarded Star of the Week at his daycare provider today. Was he pleased about this? You bet!



I am incredibly proud of my little ray of sunshine. There are going to be challenges ahead, but they will be overcome. Spina Bifida is not a dirty word, and thankfully there are organisations like Shine who are prepared to educate about the condition as well as spread the word about the benefit of taking folic acid.

I will be doing my little bit to spread awareness too, by running my first half marathon next month, wearing a Shine vest and fundraising for the charity. You can support me by offering sponsorship on my Just Giving page - all donations go straight to the charity and any pennies you can spare will help to support families like mine that are affected by those two little words.

Thanks for reading, and wish me luck on 22 March when I tackle 13.1 miles!



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Monday, 17 February 2014

The Art of Self Destruction

It has been a frustrating few days. To be honest it has been a frustrating few weeks. Whereas in January I got my head down, dealt with Christmas and put myself back to where I want to be, February to date has been 17 days of damage. Trent Reznor might call it the art of self destruction. I'd borrow another of his song titles to articulate what I've been of late. Piggy.

When I'm on form, I can diet, exercise, work, be a great dad, decent husband and keep going like the duracell bunny. Knocked out of stride, the diet goes to pot, exercise is removed from my dictionary, work becomes a struggle and while I'll always do my best for the family, I'm not great fun to be around when I'm exhausted. Dosing up on sugar and caffeine stabilises things in the short term, but when that avenue has already been passed all that is left is the inevitable crash.

I've probably been there today. I was unusually abrupt with a colleague, snappy when I got home. After days of overeating and not getting enough sleep, all I really wanted to do was crawl up into a ball in a dark room. But the kids still need putting to bed and dinner still needs cooking. Realising that my fatigue was more mental than physical, I reached for the running gear and opted for a dose of shock treatment, A short, quick run around the block designed to wake me from my slumber.

21 minutes is a not a long run for me these days, but tonight I think it was long enough to clear the cobwebs. I don't want a Head Like a Hole. Nor do I want to Hurt. Tomorrow is another day, a chance to start afresh. Hopefully back on track.


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Monday, 10 February 2014

364 Days Later

I’m not quite sure where to begin with this article. Do I chasten myself for buying packs of biscuits at work last week and scoffing the lot? Shall I talk about experiencing 4 seasons in 5k on Saturday morning, when a mix of glorious sunshine, rain, hail and gusty winds made conditions testing for ParkRun? The 6 cans of cider on Saturday night? Going to my mother’s house on Sunday where I consumed fruitcake, chocolate cake, trifle, a huge dinner and biscuits, before setting off for an 8 mile run in the evening? Or how about managing to remove the skin from my heel this morning courtesy of an incident with a wheelie bin?

To be honest, while all of the above could fill a number of blog articles, the only thing I’m really interested in writing about today is reflective of where I was 12 months ago. On this day last year, my wife and I pootled off to hospital unsure of when we’d be home again. Full of nervous energy in anticipation of meeting our little boy and seeing how his surgery would go. The next morning we met him and our journey began. Tomorrow we celebrate his first birthday. In that context, all of my trivial diet/running ramblings are rightly put in their place.




Tuesday, 4 February 2014

The Kindness of Strangers

Since entering the bloggersphere some time ago, I've been pleasantly surprised by the level of support that exists. For all the talk of social media trolls, and lets be honest the abuse thrown at the likes of Stan Collymore goes beyond the pale, I've found the world of blogging and Twitter to be full of people who want me to do well.

In recent weeks, I've hooked up with a #WobblesWednesday collective of bloggers who are trying to do something about their weight. I love the encouragement that everybody gives to one another, leaving comments on blogs and interacting through twitter. The number of positive messages I receive for my weigh-in articles provide added incentive to do well. Until now I've very much dieted alone; now it feels like I've got a mini-community rooting for my success.

Away from the dieting, I've received kind words in support of my running exploits. Since exchanging tweets relating to parkrun, we've continued to interact, culminating in mutual sponsorship for our forthcoming runs. The fact that somebody I've never met wanted to help with my fundraising efforts is quite incredible. I wish them all the very best as they prepare to tackle the London marathon in April.

While I'm on the subject of sponsorship, I've been touched by the response to date. People who I've not seen for a very long time have shown immense kindness. My great aunt and uncle on my father's side who I have not spoken to for years got wind of my half marathon plans in a Christmas card from my mother, and put a cheque in the post. I've received donations from people connected to my time short time in Swansea some 12 years ago. A guy I knew from school added to the sponsorship pot, saying he found my blog inspiring, and he was trying out my spinach and chorizo salad for lunch. All relative strangers, all incredibly generous.

My blog has even found an unlikely source of support. Author and former Conservative Party MP Louise Mensch took an interest after I responded to some of the posts on her JoyHacks website which explores personal happiness and well being. A few tweets from Louise's account made a noticeable increase in traffic to my blog. I don't necessarily agree with or endorse her often outspoken political views, but we share a lot of common ground on fitness and health. Besides, anybody with close connections to Metallica is alright in my books.


Of course it not just strangers and people from my past whose support has helped my dieting and fitness kick in recent times. My loved ones, friends and colleagues have all played their part too, not least my wife who has taken charge of the boys on Saturday mornings since July, while I've been improving my performance over the 5k distance. I can't thank everybody individually, but would like to offer a collective Cheers.

Just under 7 weeks to go until I run 13 miles. With the kindness of strangers, as well as the support and love of my nearest and dearest, I've nothing to fear.



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Wednesday, 29 January 2014

Wednesday Weigh-In - 29 January

After a two week hiatus, the weigh-in is back. Technical difficulties with the bathroom scales have been fixed so it is back to business as usual. It turns out the battery was fine, though I did buy some spares just in case. My best guess is some moisture got into the scales causing them to have a paddy. Now they're working again and so on with the show.

Two weeks ago the scales put me at 14st 3lbs. Today we're a little bit lighter.

On the money
Two weeks of Christmas took me up to 14st 11lbs. Four weeks of relative sensibility got me back down to where I was immediately prior to the festive season. 14st dead is the lightest I've been in my adult life and I vowed when I was here before not to actively diet to achieve further weightloss. I stand by that and now 2014 is all about maintenance.

Had the scales been functioning properly last week I think it would have been a very different reading. I'd been under the weather, not exercising and eating noticeably more. While this week I've not been a saint on the food front, I've had easily the most productive week of exercise in months. I've notched up more than 27km in training for the half marathon (17 miles in old change) which more than takes care of the take out last Thursday night and typical weekend snacking. Judging by the scales this morning, it did more than just that too.

As I ramp up my training to the next level, there is pretty realistic expectation of dipping under 14st. That won't be unwelcome, and will be the first time I've hit that territory since I was a child, but I won't get carried away with it. 14st is a healthy weight for my height. My physique is already starting to look a little silly, with skinny bits surrounded by excess skin from my 24st era. I'm never going to have a well chiselled bod, so no point putting myself through the wringer to try to achieve one. Running may help firm up some areas, but in my case it can't revert nature.

So with my Christmas gut dealt with before January is out, now is time to focus more narrowly on the half marathon. Keep on running and my weight will tick along with minimal intervention. That is the theory, let's see if I can put that into practice.



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Tuesday, 28 January 2014

I am Karl Pilkington

Tonight I learned a valuable lesson to take forwards with my half marathon training. Essentially I know nothing about running and I am an idiot.

Yes I am
Why do I think this? Well, to date I've been making things up as I go along. A bit of running here, a bit of running there. I've not followed any particular plan or schedule, and have just been getting by on my own instincts. When I wasn't feeling 100 per cent a couple of weeks back, I listened to my body and held off on the training front. So far so good.

On Sunday I ran 10 kilometres. I've never run further, and so by default that was my long run for the week. If you look through simple training plans, such as this one following a long run should come a rest day and then an easy/recovery run. Yesterday I rested. Today I should have been a recovery run. Only I knew better and had greater ambitions. I wanted to raise the bar a bit higher and get up to the 8 mile mark tonight.

I felt pretty fresh and had no ill effects from Sunday's exertions. But it soon became apparent that my body wasn't up to anything challenging this evening. Unfortunately having set out for a long run, this epiphany occurred only after I had run 4 and a half kilometres away from the house. Clearly a ploddy run around the block would have served me better tonight, rather than find myself a long way from home. The journey back was a patchy mix of walking and running. My apps tells me in total I ran just over 7.5km which is still a good workout, but well below what I was aiming for.

So today I've learned that I don't know best. I'm going to formalise my training schedule and listen to the advice of people who know a lot more about this running lark than I do. I've still got 7 and a half weeks to get this right, and I will.



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Saturday, 25 January 2014

Saturday Struggle

Following my tongue biting exploits of a couple of days ago, today represented a chance to get things back to normal. Saturday morning means parkrun, and having missed out last week I was raring to go this morning. The overnight rainfall meant the ground was always going to be soft under foot, but it wasn't particularly chilly so I was anticipating a good run.

What I had was a struggle. It became self evident early on that my lungs may have been up for plodding around the estate on Thursday night, but they were not going to play ball at parkrun pace. I could hear me gasping before I reached the 1k marker. Before reaching the 2k, my parkrun acquaintance caught me up, wished me a good morning and I could barely muster words back to him. On reaching 3k I did something I've not done for some time and took a breather slowing to walking pace. 

I absolutely thought I was done. Like a broken steam train I was coughing and spluttering. A fellow runner asked me if I was ok and I assured him I was, but didn't really feel that was the case. I was staring at my first DNF and concerned about the psychological repercussions that may have for the challenges ahead. So I got myself moving again, and decided to make the best of the situation. If I wasn't feeling physically strong, why not turn this into a training session to replicate the latter stages of the half marathon, when I know I will find the going gets tough.

At the 4k post I found myself taking a breather again. The incline at this point on the Black Park course is nothing like as severe as Bradford's teeny tiny hill, but when I've already mentally given in earlier in the race, it stands to reason that I will also slow down for the most difficult part of the circuit. Into the last stretch and I found it difficult to keep pace with a junior female runner. I know when I'm running that I'm not in competition with anybody else, but it isn't great for confidence when overtaken by a little girl.

Yes, I run like a girl
At the finish line came a sense of relief. Things will get easier as my chest and lungs clear up, and I get back into the running groove. I wasn't particularly interested in my finish time but when the text came through I was rather surprised at it's respectability. 24.29 is by no means a poor effort (my PB is 23.46) so with two breathers and some lingering germs factored in, this was a good run. It just really didn't feel like it at the time!

If the chance permits, I'll get out again on Sunday for a more leisurely if longer run to build up stamina and put distance back into my legs. I felt no ill effect from my Thursday night plod around the estate so something at a similar pace should do no harm. 
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Friday, 24 January 2014

Only Smarties Have The Answer

I sometimes think how good it must be to be in advertising. I don't necessarily mean chain smoking, adulterous head cases like Don Draper, but more the fruit of labours of advertising types. Whoever came up with the concept of being a Secret Lemonade Drinker must chortle that R Whites continue to use that line when promoting their goods all these years later.

Smarties British Candy
Smarties British Candy (Photo credit: fritish)
As a child I was always taken by the Smarties slogan, 'Only Smarties Have The Answer.' It was never a product that needed clever advertising, after all, how many children aren't going to love brightly coloured chocolate? Looking back now as an adult, I do wonder about the tagline and what it actually means. If Smarties have the answer, what on earth is the question?

Well, I think I may have discovered this yesterday evening. Rather shamefully I grabbed a handful from my son's Christmas stash, and proceeded to eat them. Except karma redressed the balance of me pinching chocolate by causing me to not just chew through the crisp outer coating, but also to thrust my teeth into my tongue, leaving me a bloodied mess. The great Smarties question apparently then goes something along the line of What is the most ridiculous way to demonstrate to diet blog readers that eating chocolate is bad for you?


The single most attractive selfie ever?
Speaking of teeth, it has been an interesting week for my youngest. Over the last 7 days he has acquired three teeth to offer company to his solitary incisor that pushed through in late October. All mums and dads reading this will know about the side effects of teething, and I hope will be sympathetic to how the past week has been for my household. It has been great fun scrubbing vomit from his clothes night after night. Yesterday I got a face-full of petit filous for my trouble after a pre-bedtime coughing fit. Fortunately we've got through today minus any sickness so hopefully that is the end of the teething for now.

Having felt like a tool for my Smarties exploits, and smelling delightfully of baby puke, I decided I needed to do something positive and so after a 10 day break from running dusted off my trainers. Conscious that my lungs were still not clear of gunk I didn't stray too far from the house. I managed five and a half kilometres in a very respectable 27 minutes and suffered no ill effect. Back to parkrun for me then on Saturday morning and maybe a longer run on Sunday.

After learning my lesson about chocolate, the reward for running was delivered pizza, which from a diet perspective didn't make much sense. However, if I am going to indulge in a takeout once in a while, it may as well be on a day when I've worked for it.



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Tuesday, 14 January 2014

Going The Distance

Tonight I've had a bit of a psychological breakthrough in regards to my half marathon training. I'm not afraid to admit that up until this point I've been feeling a little nervous about how far I'll have to go. I've become comfortable doing 5km but the thought of doing that four times back to back with a sprint finish on top has filled me with dread.

Last September I competed in a 10k run, coming home in a respectable 56.38 but a fair chunk of that race was covered at walking pace, most notably that blimming great hill in the middle of the golf course. I wasn't fit enough to run the entire race and in the four months since I've not gone beyond my comfort of a Saturday morning 5k. With the half marathon just over two months away, I had to get out there and get some distance into my legs.

The problem is as a working dad, time is a precious commodity. It is unrealistic for me to run first thing in the morning as I need to get my youngest up and ready for nursery before getting his big brother ready for school. My lunch breaks are now restricted by the fact that I'm making up time that I lose first thing, due to not being able to leave the school gates until 8.40 at the earliest. After work I get home, get the boys fed, bathed and ready for bed. After that, I cook for my wife, who has a much more stressful day than I do, and then my choice is to eat at the same time or pull on the running gear.

So many reasons exist not to go out in the evenings. Fatigue. Hunger. The weather hasn't been entirely helpful for my motivation of late, though I have made it out a couple of times for half hearted efforts. Last night I hoped to run but the rain arrived and drowned my good intentions. Tonight, with clear skies above me I left my excuses at home.

To mix things up, I made a change from my usual route. Going past all those take away outlets was getting a little old, plus a new direction meant I would be unaware of how far I had run. My mind tends to play tricks on me when I see distance markers, even at the parkrun, meaning I suddenly feel weary or notice an ache or pain that wasn't there before. Running blind tonight meant that didn't happen. And when I got back to my driveway I stopped my app to be informed I had managed this.

Boo-ya!
Just under 10k in 52:30. Had I known I was at that sort of distance I'm sure I would have found an extra 100 metres on my way home just to take it up to a nice round figure! Still, I'm feeling pretty darn satisfied this evening. If I can do this on a cold Tuesday night after the little one kindly provided me with a broken night's sleep, then maybe this half marathon business isn't quite as scary as I had been thinking.

13 miles. 21 kilometres. This guy is starting to believe he is going the distance.


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