JaneTomlinson's Run For All 10k in Leeds

WHOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

1 hour, 8 minutes and 57 seconds!

I am more than pleased with that time, especially given that this morning was the worst weather I've run in so far, and that there were roughly 9000 other people on the route, forming a wet, warm, steamy and sweaty crowd as we crossed the start line on the Headrow outside the Art Gallery.

What an amazing experience, and I'm so proud to have taken part. Somehow, I don't have lots to say about warming up in the rain in Millennium Square, or the course, or the weather (wet), or my time (far better than I thought), or my feet, or the chafing from my trousers (tummy and back - getting rid of those!), or much apart from motivation, and this is after a natter with my Dad about his thoughts today.

As it's Fathers Day, I had arranged for my wandering parents (who until very recently could have been described as being of no proper fixed abode whilst touring around in their campervan) to meet me after the run for a meal. My Dad is a recovering runner (he's not done it for years now, but used to have a habit that took him up to 2 marathons: it was a serious addiction), and he gets his running kicks vicariously through me these days. I know when I'm not running (like the last 3 years) I feel guilt and envy whenever I see a race, or when I see any lone runner on a long one, and he still suffers this 20 years on.

The course went around town before taking us out to Meanwood and then bringing us back into Leeds up North Street, where I was struggling at the 9k mark, having realised that it's one of those long slow hills I hate so much. Although I'd enjoyed the run and had settled into a decent and comfortable pace, an hour is a long time. I had to keep focussed on crossing the line running, and among runners, not walkers. Regardless of what time I got, that was my target. At various points I had remembered to keep my eyes out for Sadie's hearts and butterflies, and there was no shortage, as Heart Research UK had a fair number of runners in logo t-shirts, among other heart charities, and this put a smile on my face and kept my chin up when my head could have been hanging down. When we crossed the 5k mark I checked the stopwatch on my phone to see that it was 34mins, my best time so far. The 2 lads on either side were suddenly desperate to know the time, and when I told them we all seemed to pick up our pace a little. Macmillan had people stationed around the whole course clapping and yelling "Come on Macmillan!" whenever they saw a green t-shirt, and that gave me a boost each time. But at the top of the hill, all was darkness and difficulty in my head until I suddenly heard my name being yelled clearly over the sound of stomping feet and panting: both of my parents were there against one of the barriers, waving, clapping and smiling. I blew them a kiss and ran on, saying to the 2 people running next to me with a mixture of pride and relief "That's my Mum and Dad" (and then I realised I sounded like an overgrown school kid getting off the bus from a school trip). Seeing them pushed me on enough to get me across the finish line, despite that last kilometre feeling as if it was lengthening itself out with every step I took.

After I'd collected my finishers T-shirt and my bag from the storage back in Millennium Square, I called them to find out where they were, and went back to the finish line to meet them, thinking they'd be waiting patiently somewhere sensible. I found myself stuck on the opposite side of the road from them, with the runners and walkers still battling their way across the line, but I could see my folks, both of them enthusiastically cheering and clapping everyone who crossed, with massive and genuine grins of pride and encouragement. By the time I got to them, I could tell my Dad had been crying. Apparently he'd had a good sob when he'd seen me, and while I was cooling down and doing the post-race tidy up stuff, he'd found himself watching the hour-and-a-halfers, the "purple-faced-strugglers" as he called them. It had struck him that anyone who is still battling on at that point really has a reason, they've got a burning motivation to keep them going when they've worked so hard, and in these races, that reason is loss.

I've always found the end of runs to be emotional places. People are high as kites having achieved what they've been training for for months, and then the adrenaline crashes away and all that's left is tired muscles and mixed feelings about not having to go for a run in the morning. It's when all of the ideas that got you out there in the first place, and the memories of loved ones affected by deadly diseases your charity is trying to stop swim up to meet you to say thank you and you realise all of your efforts can't bring them back. It's when you realise 10k is nothing compared to what some people are going through. And when the simple acts of personal strength and bravery that you've seen around the course really touch you.

For a short while, I was running between a young man who was doing it barefoot, and a woman who I would say was in her late fifties. Her back plate simply read "In memory of my Dad" with his date of birth and 2011 on the next line, followed by "Happy Fathers Day, love you always." I had wanted to hug her and tell her that my Dad would be waiting for me at the end, and that I'd give him an extra cuddle for her Dad when I saw him, but had realised that that would've just made me, and possibly her, tearstained as well as sweaty and rain-damp.

As I walked up the edge of the Headrow, finding my way around the barriers and safely across the course without getting in the way of the battling plodders and the worn out walkers, and towards my parents, it all hit me, and I had had a little cry too.

So many people were out there in the rain today, running like me to raise money to thank charities for help, to research cures, to continue providing services that make a difference, and to get themselves fit and make a difference in their own lives.

If you'll excuse the pun, after 10k in the rain, I find that staggeringly inspiring.

... so I've got there and finally booked myself onto next Saturday's 10k Race for Life for Cancer Research UK at Temple Newsam. This is run number 3 of my 5 for my challenge for Macmillan, and you can sponsor me through my Just Giving page for them still, but if you'd rather donate to Cancer Research UK, click here instead!

Pants-tastic!

Well I don't know about you, but I've had a fairly cracking little week, as far as the running's been concerned.

After my lovely long run featured in last week's blog-post, I went out again on Tuesday morning, and ran 6miles straight off, down and back along the canal, and was buzzing with positive running hormones for the rest of the day. By the time I got in from work that night, I'd done 17 miles on foot, and I slept like a very contented baby. Then on Friday, I thought I'd better test my 5k time, and got home inside 38mins, even though I had to admit defeat by that f!@{ing hill and had walked the last few feet.

So this morning, feeling well and truly ready, I pulled my team Macmillan shirt out of the wardrobe, and was nicely surprised that it's no longer as snug as it first was - there's a little more room in there these days. I even pulled out my slightly tidier tracky bums, the ones without the paint stains on, and they fit me too, which they haven't in years! And off I went to Roundhay Park on the bus.

I have to say, it wasn't especially well signposted when I got there, so I'd walked for about half an hour, round the big lake, up the hill to the little lake, and then back to the Lakeside Cafe by the time I found the small gaggle of people in t-shirts under their gazebos on a hill near what I've always thought of as the posh bandstand (apparently it's called Barran's Fountain). The people standing around were a mixture of obvious habitual runners, families with young kids or dogs, students, older people, all out for a bit of a plod, a walk, a jog or a run, and mostly wearing their pants on the outside of their clothes. I saw plenty of fabulously colourful y-fronts, some stripy boxers, some french-knickers, some spotty granny knickers, a pair of grey ele-pants, some frilly bloomers, and a few doggy-pants too. I had forgotten the ones I was going to wear on my head.

The wind was coming up, which made the poor drum majorette troop look a little dafter when they were throwing their pom-poms up in the air and failing to catch them, but then they also failed to have a music system that worked so they performed their routine unexpectedly to the sound of a car stereo crunching their intended cd tracks. I have always had a fear of drum majorettes, and cheerleaders have the same effect - they make me want to cry and run away. This made me decide to go away and have a little private warm up session where I couldn't see them. Then, just as I'd completed my normal routine, a very loud and muscly man from British Military Fitness introduced himself to us all and made us run around and do warm up and stretchy things for another 10 minutes before setting us all off on the course, which was 3 laps of a 1mile-and-a-bit circuit.

We took off down the hill towards the cafe then took a sharp right under the lea of Hill60 and the adjacent woods, round the edge of the cricket pitch, on the path that all too quickly climbs towards the main gates on Princes Avenue.

It's a hill. I can do hills.

I did the hill, and recovered at the top where the route did a very tight hairpin bend at the gates and went back under the Mansion (New Walk). I got my breath back and settled into an even pace and turned right onto The Carriage Drive and back to the lap point. The second lap started well, at 10m55s, and in my head I was already imagining myself arriving back and finishing. I noticed the second visit to the hill was much harder than the first, and I took it slightly slower, but by the time I reached the top, I was more tired than I was expecting to be. I walked the hairpin, taking about 30 seconds to get my breath right before setting off again along the nice long flat stretch and the easy down hill bit. I didn't catch my time for the lap point, I was just determined to finish by then, and I was kicking myself about walking for that little bit.

And then far too soon, I found myself at the foot of that long, gentle hill again, and my mind went blank. I couldn't do it. I walked my third ascent, really laying the guilt down about not making it, and prodding myself with the thought of failing next week on the 10k, just because of a hill. I started running again at the hairpin, absolutely resolute to finish well, and very quickly found myself running far faster, but comfortable. I remember thinking "This is great! I've not run this fast in years!" as I strode round the corner, and could not believe the speed I picked up on that last 500m. I came haring across the finish line, suddenly feeling supercharged and full of energy, knees well up and full of fire. 36minutes and 16seconds, even with the laboured walk up the hill. The last time I did a 5k race, in June 2006, my time was 33minutes, but I was 3 stone lighter!

Someone lovely put a bottle of water, a cereal bar and a medal into my hand, and I found I could speak. Two very fit looking guys were standing next to me, in the same state as I was, red-faced and sweaty. I asked if it was just me, or was that hill a killer, and they both agreed loudly. One, who runs in most of the charity runs around Leeds throughout the summer, and has done this route every year since they started (4years ago), told me that some of the lads from his running club came with him last year, because they didn't believe him when he'd told them they'd find it harder than the Great North Run (13miles) because of THAT hill. He was alone this year. My guilt disappeared! I've stopped kicking myself. We all agreed that not knowing that a difficult hill is in front of you is fine, but knowing a tough one is coming up is a mental trap, and they both said they find it easier to run up steep hills than long shallow ones. I am not a freak!

So, that's the first one down. I'm happy with my time. Based on this, I should finish the 10k next week at about 72minutes. If I can come in under that I'll be chuffed to bits.

Hurray!

C

PS: LOOK AT MY TOTAL! Well chuffed and proud to be on £190 - nearly twice my original target already! Thanks to everyone who's sponsored me so far, it means a lot to me, and has given me the encouragement I need. I'm still looking at a few more events - but will confirm which and where when I've had time (and spare cash) to register for them.

Foot testing, sunny running, wobbly stuff falling off and new motivation...

This morning, after a week and a half of taking it rather easy on my twisted foot, I went back out for a little tester run to see how things are.

I'm very conscious that I need to get my distance back after a few weeks of either flat-out not running, or what now seems to be even worse - giving up early and walking home on fairly short routes. After a few days of strapping it up and using it as little as possible, followed by reintroducing my walks, was my foot up for a proper run? Could it stand up to any useful sort of distance? How long should I give it to heal? I would have to see how it felt.

The answer is that my foot didn't like being squeezed into the tubigrip support, and it twinged when I put in into the trainer, but after that, it was absolutely fine - a perfectly normal foot.

And so I warmed up, stretching my feet, ankles, calfs and heels carefully, and off I went. And surprised myself for the 2nd time in the course of this training. I ran down Kirkstall Road, past the Abbey, turned up the hill just before Morrisons, and joined the canal, following it all the way into town in the most beautiful morning sunshine. I didn't stop or switch to walking, even though on this occasion I'd told myself it wouldn't be such a bad thing considering the amount of work I've got to do in the next few days to catch up, and felt fantastic by the time I touched the wall of the bridge at Lock No1 at Granary Wharf. I last completed this run on the 24th April, and although I loved it then, and have promised myself I'd do it again one of these long weekends or bank holidays, I'd not managed it since. It's 4.5miles to Lock No1 from my doorstep, and I ran all the way, then turned around, stretched again and set off walking and running back. So I've done 9 miles on foot, with probably about 5 or 5 and a half miles of running, and was home by 8.45.

I think this might be the way it'll be for the next couple of weeks. It's time to move up a gear with the training - more frequent and longer runs must happen now if I'm going to make the full 10k distance on the 19th. On this route, I can extend my run by just keeping going for more of the way back. My shifts at work between now and the 19th mean that if I'm out of the house by 6.30am, I can fit it all in, come home, have a shower, then set off walking (back down the same route) and get to work on time.

I'm tipping the scales at just under 14 stone (my weight is still going down despite eating like a proper pig and consuming more beer than is sensible during the week that I was "resting my foot"), and the runs are feeling much easier already. Fingers crossed I can shed a little more of the wobbly stuff before the big race.

AND - I am incredibly grateful, stunned, and filled with new motivation at having exceeded the sponsorship target I originally set. I'm not one to push for sponsorship, or harass people, and I know that giving to charity, and the choice of that charity is a very personal thing. My methods so far have been to put the message out there and see who wants to sponsor or donate to the charities or organisations I've selected.

I'm now terribly proud to have the sponsorship of Dave and Sallie, Sadie's Mum and Dad (my brother's lovely parents-in-law). Macmillan helped their family immensely in terms of information, advice and support all the way from Sadie's diagnosis to her death from kidney cancer. I want to raise money to ensure that other families going through such a difficult time can continue to get this vital help and support.

I'm running with a new determination, and now, on Dave and Sallie's instructions, I'll be keeping an eye out for hearts and butterflies for Sadie along the way.

Pants In The Park

At last, I've signed myself up for Pants In The Park on the 12th June, the week before the Leeds 10k.

It's a 5k fun run, raising funds and awareness for Prostate Action, a charity dedicated to research and education to beat prostate cancer. As a lovely guy I used to go to networking meetings with once spent an entire presentation telling us, if you have a Dad, a brother, an uncle, a boyfriend, a husband or mate who is a bloke, it's something you should make sure he's aware of, but men rarely talk about "problems down there" and prostate cancer is rarely picked up until it's too late, but if the signs are picked up early it's treatable.

So I've got to get the foot working again, and find some time over this week to get out for a run. Seems I was a little over-eager on Friday. Walking's not been as easy as I thought it would be when I leapt out of bed and wrote that last note. My foot is still stiff and painful if it's moving anything other than in a perfectly flat straight line up and down. And this week I'm working 12 hour shifts that start early and finish late. Might be the perfect time for a rest.

I set myself the challenge of finding 5 running events arranged by various cancer charities, and so far I've only managed to commit to this and the Leeds 10k, thanks to changes in practically everything in my life (yes, really!), but I'm really glad to have clicked onto this one. The idea is to run in the events, raising money for them if people prefer to be specific with their charities, but collecting sponsorship for Macmillan for the general project, thereby spreading the support around.

My shout out on Facebook the other day about needing more sponsorship and motivation resulted in almost doubling the amount I'd raised so far - and my lovely sister-in-law Mim managed to give me a boost with a few words. It was the loss of her sister Sadie in February that kicked off this whole project, and I'm very proud to run to celebrate her memory.

If cancer has touched the ones you love, please click on my Just Giving page and sponsor me!

Disaster strikes!

With less than a month to go! Well, slight and temporary disaster, anyway....

I have sustained a drinking injury. I went out for a catch up with an old friend on Wednesday, and on the way home, weaving rather than walking, I went over on my ankle. Being in a rather relaxed frame of mind, I walked all the rest of the way home with the recognition that it hurt, but not really very bothered. I fell into bed around 1ish.

...And then woke up at 6am to go do some early overtime, wriggled out of bed and realised my foot wasn't working. It was all swollen and stiff and wouldn't move to either side. Putting weight on it was not a good idea. I've sprained it.

But it's not a very bad one. I strapped it up yesterday and fed it ibuprofen, didn't walk on it, spent all day at work with it nicely resting, and got a very healthy 9 hours sleep last night. This morning, the swelling's gone down and it's doing as it's told again, but I'm not going out for the run I was planning. I am about to walk to work though, it felt really wrong to be getting the bus yesterday, and I'm not missing another easy 8miles today.

Thanks so much to everyone who's given me an extra dose of motivation - I promise this won't slow me down for long!

Non-writers guilt.

Oh deary me. I've not written for more than 6 weeks.

This does not mean that I've not been running though. I've had some glorious long runs out through Horsforth woods and along the canal into town in spring sunshine. I'm up somewhere around the 5 mile mark, on about an hour of running. Or at least that is, I am when I've got time.

I have all sorts of excuses - not the least of which are the interruptions of consultations, weddings, and editing, cleaning the house and showing prospective housemates around, which have absorbed my morning and evening times around shifts at work which are on a rolling pattern which sometimes make a morning run impossible.

However, I've been getting out when I can, and I've got a new attitude. I've spoken to a few people in the know, a highly placed amateur very long distance athlete and a personal trainer who've reassured me that as long as I can say I've been for a run, then I'm doing ok, whether that was for an hour's slog or a 20min jog. I'm doing alternate days, keeping going for as long as I can manage, rather than going on just 2 long runs a week. And I'm sticking with that.

In the meantime, it's less than a month to go til the big long race. Im working on getting the distance up, and getting my weight down. 40 miles of walking a week is beginning to show, I can see muscles in my thighs and the scales are below 14stone for the first time in ages.

Now I need a big dose of motivation and a really good long run that I can relax into on Sunday morning.

More later!

Non-Runner's Guilt

My last post was a little too optimistic. The sudden increase in my activity, with 2x 4mile walks every week day, absolutely wiped me out. My chest was tight, I was shattered all the time, my legs felt stiff, and my feet raw (thanks work shoes!), so I decided not to push it, and took a few days off, deciding to just move the plan for last week into this week.

It did me no harm. When I got out of bed and back into the running stuff on Monday, I found myself having a far better run than the previous Monday's. And on Wednesday I so very nearly closed the gap on the hill that last night (Thu) when I walked home, I mentally broke down what I need to do when I next tackle it, and had already conquered it in my head ready for this morning.

So as a result, all night apparently, I've been running up the hill in my sleep. I'm knackered now, and can hardly move with really stiff knees and heels. So I decided not to run this morning. And I've reasoned with myself over this weekend's plans and promised that I'll go out tomorrow morning before I go to Manchester so that I don't have to take my running stuff with me for Sunday morning.

And I'm sitting here writing this feeling so guilty.....

But (more reasoning), I'll be walking to and back from work again today, and that'll mean I'll've walked 40 miles this week on top of the running. It's not like I'm being lazy.

There was some good news on the weight front at the beginning of this week, which seems to have given me a bit of a boost of motivation. Having somehow made it all the way up to 15stone (must be muscle.... I've put it on since starting the exercise), I'd lost half a stone after last week's walkfest. Hopefully the tide has turned and now that I'm running 15miles a week and more, AND walking 40 miles it's all going to fall off me. If it doesn't, I shall not be very pleased.

And, this week, I've received the 12 week training plan from the team at Run For All (The Leeds 10k). I'm smug cos they're suggesting people start the training from scratch now, and I'm already on 5k. Unfortunately, this smugness, doesn't quite counteract the guilt..... Oh I so should have gone out!