Just like old times...

I seem to have resumed an old routine. Work out, come home, carbo load, excrutiating physio session, work out, come home, carbo load etc... I seem to have more training fixtures in my diary than social ones, so I'll apologise if by the time we're heading up the mountain I'm fit and healthy, but have lost the knack of general conversation.

Making my life even more retro feeling is work being back in the headlines. Seriously impolitic to comment here, but for those of you who actually have a sense of what I do, you might get an idea of why my department is a little over-worked this week. Just goes to show you can have bad weeks in the public sector...

Fortunately I get to escape the office on Thursday and go to the lovely town of Wigan (always a silver lining).. So having just made it home from the trim trail, (cycle back speed significantly slower than cycling there speed) I shall be up in 6 hours or so to get a train at an unGodly hour. I really hope Euston station sells decent coffee at 6am, otherwise I'm going to have to issue a formal apology for my colleague who gets to hang out with caffeine deprived Curr for the 3 1/2 hour journey.

Tragically deprived of one of my few social events therefore, and not able to come to the trektator / tenzing gathering. To be fair, this may have divided my loyalties... so far I'm Hillary all the way, but I'll be waiting to hear reports of whether Tenzing lifted their game Thursday night and if they recruit trektator alliances...

Naturally back Saturday am to see what evils the other Sharland has in store... but at least I can watch some rugby after that!

Under my umbrella

Trim trailing in the rain is my new favourite thing. Saturday early doors, pouring rain, mud, field, monkey bars, and sprint training. Sharland is reaching new levels of sadism, pyramid sprins hitting six reps, lovely. That will make you think about losing your breakfast.

But the joy of Wandsworth Common is the bus home to my house - although the other people on the bus might not have shared my enthusiasm, picture muddy, soaked, lycra clad, gently glowing Curr on the 319 home. Oddly enough people were not gathering nearby but looked slightly aghast at my general state.

Follow that up with the most peculiar night out at Doon and the weekend has been opening whole new Horizons. Dressing up with the ladies to be surrounded by 40 somethings sucking face on the dance floor was deeply disturbing.

So, next tasks in the Everest prep will involve some serious kit buying. Fortunately my trip to Australia is close to the land of sheep, so I should get kitted out with some merino base layers. What the fashion icon I shall be a 5,000 metres. But at least that will reduce the amount of lycra.

Right... now for Sunday afternoon leaf raking. Domestic bliss or domestic incarceration?? Who decides...

Bleeps and Drop Outs

So... Sunday I went and got bleeped. Needless to say it did not go well. Turns out I am not good at running fast, or turning round, or keeping going...

Think I will be doing some sprint training between now and the next trip.

But, the drop out section of this entry doesn't actually relate to me (I'm in denial about that side of the bleep). I've had an email from Elaine to say that she won't be able to make it to Everest after all. She has decided that she will continue to drift around South America over the next year, and doesn't want to be a liability as she won't be able to get much in the way of training sorted out, and doesn't think she will be able to do any fundraising either.

So if you read this girl, we'll be thinking of you, and I'll raise a glass when we get to the top.

Points on arrival

Wednesday, so the rumour goes, is Trim Trail day. So there I go, thinking it sounds delightful. 'Trim' brings up images of gentle calisthenics. Perhaps we might limber up, do some light stretching and then jog gently on the spot for a while.

In fact we did start jogging on the spot... but the followed a list of things clearly designed for the infliction of pain on others. I'm sure there must be some treatment available for this level of sadism

Anyway...

Sadly there were some areas of manly working out which I was not quite able to keep up with... generally anything involving any upper body strength (chin ups, dips, funny reverse press up hanging off a paralell bar), or any level of co-ordination (attempting and failing to throw myself repetatively over progressively higher wooden beams was a definate highlight in the stakes of looking like a complete girl)...

On the plus side I was the queen of star jumps, squats, playing on the monkey bars, and lying down gently in the mud at the end of it all.

So I'm guessing tomorrow I'm going to feel pretty immmobile.....

But I figure at least I was there.

Base fitness.

So, from the photographs circulating at the trektator party, you could be quite easily mistaken in thinking I was on the beers. Obviously I was sober as a judge, and doing shots of purest strawberry juice only with Brooks.

I'm thinking 6 months of marathon training with very little boozing may have left me ill-prepared. Or was that just ill?

Fortunately by way of recovery I was allowed out walking in the Chilterns Saturday, as once again the trektator crew outnumbered the teams in a gentle stroll in the hills. Gorgeous blazing sunshine seemed quite random for a Saturday in the middle of October, and we may have happened upon an outstanding pub or two along the route, but still its all training... right?!

Having said that walking slowly up a couple of slopes without a backpack did not give an encouraging idea of quite what a trek we are in for. On the shopping list - boots, breathable kit, my own personal sherpa and kendall mint cake supplies...

Guess I'd better start hitting that trim trail and trying to get some upper body strength for pack carrying. Seems marathon running really might be just 'base fitness'.

Back in training

So Kirt if you read this, I am taking your training warning seriously. 7 days post marathon and I was back at the gym. Although I did look like a wuss gently cross training. I need my finisher tee-short to intimidate people properly.

But either way, I am back in the game...

2 hr half here we come ...

Although I might take Wednesday evening off.
Off the wagon.

Hc

Its a long, long way...

Ah the entry I've been waiting for... I am now officially post-marathon. Am a "finisher". Have a medal and everything.

I think I spent much of the last 20 k thinking in my head what I could write on my blog, so that I could stop thinking about how bloody difficult it was to keep putting one foot ahead of the other. Naturally I didn't come up with anything all that exciting, my brain power seemed to be absent by that point.

At least anxiety dreams were not predictive. I did not either lose my trainers or run alone at the back of the pack, although it was clear at the start that Berlin is a race for serious athlete types. Not a fattie or oldie in sight. and very disappointing lack of fancy dress. Still at least that way I didn't get overtaken by a womble, which would always have been disheartening.

Its kind of hard to say what a 42K race is like. Really very nice to have Alan with me for the first half, but I lost him somewhere after 23k and had to carry on alone. I think this was possibly a good thing as I was in a somewhat delirious state for much of the second half. There was definately whimpering at points. And counting footsteps. Seemed to keep me going.

Had an absolute highlight from Bryan Adams at one point, and quite enjoyed John Denver. German crowds were quite peculiar. A lot of noise makers (literally people who had come out with a saucepan and a spoon and just banged it as you went past!). But I was very unimpressed with the bugle player who gave me the Last Post at about 10ks. Seriously I had a long way to go at that point, it seemed really quite out of place. Bastard.

Anyway, made it over the finish line, which was bloody amazing. Spectators stands on both sides and music all the way down from Brandenburg gate. Felt like a hero... but afterwards I was so tired I had to get someone else to get my timing chip off my shoe as I couldn't bend down. Absolutely amazing crew in the form of Pete, Jo, Coralie, Nigel and Sally who are all friends and running as well. Despite their own tired legs seemed to be able to pick me up and take me for beer. To be fair I lasted about an hour in the pub before I was half asleep on the table.

Still, one race down, and now a break from training for a little while. I got a text message from Alan in the middle of the night last night and I think its fair to say he has fallen back off the wagon.

Now I wonder how long it will be before I can walk down stairs...