It's all going swimmingly, well...

I saw my GP last week; the pain in my ankle wasn't getting any better, and any length of time walking wasn't helping. Sadly, I cannot afford to take time off from working. One of the perils of being self-employed.

I have been referred to the physio, so I am currently waiting for an appointment. In the meantime, I'm not allowed to do any exercise that may aggravate the injury, so will have to continue with the swimming. Arms only.

I've been steadily ramping up the lengths per session. I'm now at 40, which is 1,000m. It doesn't sound a lot, it doesn't look a lot, and at around 25 minutes to complete, it's doesn't take long to complete.

Trying to take the positives out of the situation, for somebody who has never had a swimming lesson, I'm not a bad swimmer. Okay, technically I'm not perfect, but the benefit of having to use a pull buoy is that I can focus on my arms. The kicking bit is important, but as I favour crawl, it's going to be easier to work on once I'm allowed to use my legs again.

I taught myself to swim back in the summer of 1983. Mostly out of frustration, if I'm being honest. I was 9 years old, and should have been having lessons with school. I spent the first 10 years of my life living in the city, where few schools had swimming pools. Consequently, my school had use of the nearest local pool, which was a mile away, every fortnight. The top three years of junior school went, so it was fairly chaotic when we got there. Every other Friday afternoon, the (lack of) Confidence buses would turn up, we would pile on, and be taken to Cossington Street baths, as they were then known, for our lessons.

We were placed into groups according to our ability, and having none, I was in the beginners' group. Which was fine for the first couple of weeks. Each group had a swimming instructor and a teacher looking after it, except for our group. We also had a lifeguard, which far from reassuring some of the kids, seemed to frighten them even more.

It also didn't help that our instructor wanted us all to be at the same level before we could go on to the next stage. Sadly, for that first year, we didn't progress any further than blowing bubbles, whilst holding onto a float, and holding onto the pool wall and kicking our legs. For a lot of the other girls, the thought of putting any part of their face into the water was apparently the most terrifying experience they could go through. When I put my head fully under water to prove a point, one girl panicked so much, our "lesson" was cut short. That's how wimpy some of these girls were. They would not blow bubbles for love nor money, and until they did, the rest of us were going nowhere. Literally.

We had an entire school year of hanging onto the side of the pool. A whole, nine months.

Needless to say, things needed to change. I had to learn to swim a bit, to get into the next group up. I was going to do it, by hook or by crook. In fairness to my parents, my Mother couldn't swim either, so she didn't want to take me, and my sister, and brother swimming. My Dad, who could swim, couldn't be expected to manage three kids on his own, whilst having a bit of exercise himself. Dad was a self-taught swimmer. He said swimming was easy, if you could float, you could swim.

On holiday, I spent every day in the pool practising my floating. It was pretty easy, just lie back, and let your lungs keep you afloat. The next step was to move. So floating on my back, I started to move my arms. Lo, and behold, I moved. I was swimming!

By the end of the holiday, I had become braver. I found that I could tread water. I had accidentally swam into deeper water, and had started to panic that I couldn't touch the bottom of the pool. It had then dawned on me that I hadn't actually gone under water, and the flailing that I was doing was keeping me upright. Once I'd calmed down, I found that not only could I tread water, but if I moved my arms in a certain way, I was swimming using a crude doggy paddle style. Go me!

But I wasn't a swimmer yet. I needed to continue the good work when we got back from our holiday but I thought my chances were very slim. However, an opportunity came about when my best friend asked if I wanted to go swimming with her and her dad. My Mother said, "yes", so off I went. For about three weeks running, we went swimming. I was getting better, and had developed a pretty nifty doggy paddle, and I was beginning to use my arms in a proper backstroke style.

Then it all went wrong. My mate cancelled swimming. Her dad was ill. What was I going to do now? If I didn't practice, I would never be a swimmer.

I then had a brainwave. A brainwave that I knew Mother would never agree to. I would go swimming. By myself. I would just tell her that I was going with my mate and her dad. It wasn't like I would be in any danger, after all there were plenty of lifeguards at the pool.

So in the biggest deception I ever carried out, I went swimming, all by myself. It was a success in that by the end of the summer, I could swim. Not brilliantly, but I could swim an entire width of the pool without stopping. It was also a success in that when I finally confessed to Mother what I had done, at the age of 35, she was mortified. She had never known, and had she known, she would have stopped me from going.

When I went back to school in the autumn of 1983, I told the swimming instructor that I had learned to swim during the holidays, and needed to be moved to the next group. "Do you have your badges with you?" she asked. "Er, no...", I replied. I was told that without swimming badges, I was going nowhere.

So I suffered another year of holding onto the side of the pool. In between kicking sessions, and blowing bubbles, I would swim off, just to make a point, but the instructor really was a pedant.

Thankfully, for my swimming, we moved house, and I moved schools. Swimming in PE was never organised into lesson groups. In my last year of primary school, my teacher preferred us to have mini-races, or play water polo. At high school, we swam lengths, the speed of the lesson determined by the slowest swimmer who, surprisingly, wasn't me. Those who couldn't swim used floats, and as long as you could swim two widths of the pool, kids didn't require any assistance. Although the kids who used floats didn't get any assistance. In my GCSE years, swimming was a huge mess about, with floats and inflatables, and no proper swimming.

I only started to work on my technique when I went swimming to improve my fitness whilst in my early twenties. It seemed to work, and my swimming improved further, without any intervention from anyone else.

Over the years, I have gone through spells of regular swimming, usually whilst recovering from my many flare ups of patella tendonitis. At one point, I was managing to swim a mile (or 64 lengths of a 25m pool), three times a week.

I've no idea how long this injury will take to clear up, but to keep up the cardio, I am looking to get back to mile sessions. I am being careful, and I am building up to it, so I don't injure or fatigue my arms and shoulders. I've already had problems with my right shoulder, and I am conscious of not doing any further damage.

I know I'm not the perfect swimmer, and I probably could do with a few lessons to get the technique right, but do I feel that I've missed out by not getting a badge? No.

The price of running a marathon

My Mojo had well and truly upped and left after the London Marathon. I think part of it was the disappointment, and part the various illnesses catching up with me.

To overcome it, and to give myself something to focus on, I looked towards the Leicester Half as my next target, and hoped that going somewhere sunnier would help.

View of the Boardwalk, so much nicer when it's not raining.

It did. In terms of my desire to run, once I arrived in Florida, I couldn't wait to get out onto the Boardwalk. Which was a good job as the hotel fitness room had only one treadmill.

There's something about running along coastal paths that I enjoy. I am guessing it's the fresh air, and the breezes. Coming from a landlocked county, I love trips to the seaside. We had tried beach running last year on our visit to Daytona. The sand is very firm, and I found it a decent surface to run on. The OH disagreed. This year, we were sticking to more solid surfaces.

The morning we ran, it was throwing it down with rain. The temperatures were still very warm, so the rain gave us some relief. But it wasn't the weather that delayed our start; it was my ankle. I had noticed it a few days before leaving the UK that I was having to wait for my ankle to un-sieze itself when I got up in the morning. It wasn't the pain that was troubling me, but the tightness. I've always been quite flexible, and I'd never had too many problems with tight joints. I'd been spending time on stretching my calves and achilles tendon, but it hadn't been loosening up.

It was something that plagued my holiday, not just my running. The OH was happy to drive, and we spent a fair amount of time travelling to various places. Getting out of the car, I would need a good 10-15 minutes to loosen up my ankle. So I stretched it more, and walked for miles, seeing as I wasn't running as much as I'd hoped. I still managed to get some runs in, despite the pain. Our second hotel, in Key Largo, had an "adequate" fitness room, with two treadmills, although one did have a sloppy belt. It was a good job the fitness room was better, as there wasn't very much in the way of safe looking running routes outdoors, with the hotel located on US-1. We didn't see many runners out and about on our travels, confirming to us that we were better off indoors.

Our hotel in Marathon also had a fitness room with two fully functioning treadmills. Sadly, the air-con unit wasn't very good. It was less of a problem when we were able to get in there first thing, but we weren't the only other people to have this idea. Luckily, there was a decent 3-4 mile route around Key Colony that was quiet and safe for running along. Drivers, especially the school bus driver, were more accommodating to runners, and gave us precedence in crossing roads, so we didn't have to slow down or stop, a rare occurrence back home in Leicester.

Our final hotel had the best fitness room, and I was also able to work on strengthening and conditioning, which during my marathon training had been allowed to lapse. Whilst there were a lot of people out and about running, the roads around the hotel were pretty busy throughout the day. We stayed indoors.

The ankle problem never really disappeared. So I stepped up the training when I got back, and continued to stretch the joint. A week ago, whilst running, I had a horrible stabbing pain in the back of my heel. It was at this point, I stopped running, and decided to investigate the problem.

Had I investigated the problem sooner, I would have realised I have achilles tendonitis. The pain and stiffness in the mornings was apparently a classic sign. More worrying was the discovery of a lump on the tendon, which could be a precursor to a full on rupture, or lead to degeneration if not allowed to heal properly. I have no idea how long it's been there. But knowing that I have made the injury worse by ignoring it is frustrating, as I could now have permanent damage at worst, or have hindered my chances of a new half-marathon personal best at worst. I also need to learn to listen to my body, and not to ignore symptoms, instead of shrugging them off, and telling myself to "man up", and "get on with it".

Rest, Ice, Compression, and Elevation

I should have been resting, icing, compressing, and elevating (RICE). I now have some Voltarol (I cannot use ibuprofen, as I'm allergic to aspirin). My Polar Powder ice pack has been in regular use. I have been concentrating on upper body work; weights, and an "upper body ergometer", which is a machine that looks like an arm cycle. I have also transferred my cardio workout to the swimming pool, using a pull buoy to prevent me from using my legs.

It appears to be working. On Friday, I woke up with no pain or stiffness. Today I tried a couple of lengths of crawl and breast stroke using gentle leg kicks. I think it's too early for to use the legs, there was a bit of pain in and around the ankle. I haven't swam seriously for years, so I have been working on my technique. Using the pull buoy, I'm able to use more strokes before taking a breath. I'm already seeing an improvement on speed, which as a runner, I find swimming doesn't have the same effect. I never feel like I've had a proper workout in the pool.

Unfortunately, it's all I've got for the foreseeable future. There is a danger I will try and push myself too far in the pool. I don't know how, yet. I need to remember that I am consolidating my fitness, and aiming to recover. Will I be able to? I really don't know.

The Quest goes on...

But never again over 26.2 miles.

My next target is the Leicester Half in October. My training this far has been poor. I've been completely knocked back by my lack of immune system. I'm taking vitamins, I'm eating properly, but the one step forwards, five steps back is starting to get me down.

I'm also feeling guilty, as it would appear others have started running on the back of my marathon achievements. I'm stunned that anyone would see me as a role model, but I'm very pleased, and I hope you all enjoy running as much as I do. Maybe one day, we will all meet up and have a social run...

Tomorrow I fly out to warmer climes. I'm hoping the sunshine, and fresh sea air will perk me up. I need to get over this spell, and I'll be back on it.

In the meantime, keep on running, folks!

Recovery

It's not been as easy as I thought. The virus(es) that have plagued me during my training, have knocked me out, physically, since the Marathon. I've managed the odd jog, but it's only today that I've managed to run on consecutive days.

Whilst I have a holiday coming up, and more time to recover, if I want that elusive sub 1:50 half marathon time, I've got to put the work in over the summer months.

It starts now.

One week on...

This time last week, I was on my way home after completing the London Marathon. I can't thank everyone enough for their donations and their support, it has really meant a lot to me.

A few friends have said that they feel inspired by my efforts, and want to try running themselves. One has expressed an interest in running the Race for Life, which is a series of events, aimed at women, to raise money for Cancer Research UK. The races are 5k (just over 3 miles), with some 10k races available (about 6.25 miles).

Leicester's events are 9 weeks away; conveniently, the NHS has a "Couch to 5k" plan that takes, you've guessed it, 9 weeks! There are some other tips and advice on there, to help the novice runner.

I would add the following:

• If you haven't exercised for a long time, it's always best to get a quick check up at the doctors. Some pharmacies can test your blood pressure for free, so there's no excuse not to make sure it's safe to start a running programme.

• Having the right running shoes is important; a proper running shoe is designed to support the foot, and ultimately the leg, depending on your running style. Wearing the wrong shoes can lead to injuries. You can have a specialist running store analyse your gait, and advise on the right type of shoe. Mizuno also provides a useful tool to check yourself, if you feel comfortable doing this. You do not need to spend a fortune on running shoes; I don't spend more than £35 for a pair. If you are just starting out, you may find that you don't enjoy running, and having spent £90 plus on the latest technical wonder, you may find yourself hating running even more! Sports stores should have staff trained to point you in the right direction, but having said that Sports Direct's stores have a dedicated running section, where the shoes are clearly labelled. One last tip; if you are a pronator (your foot rolls in), running shoes have a grey section on the inside of the midsole, like this example:

• Similarly, you don't need to spend a lot of money on specialist running clothes, again for the reason you might not enjoy running. As long as you feel comfortable with what you're wearing, you should be fine whilst starting out. However...

• Ladies; do not attempt to run without buying a sports bra! It can hurt, and you can end up with tissue damage. Even if you are a smaller woman, you still need proper support! Again, you don't have to spend a fortune, as Tesco and Primark sell decent sports bras at a reasonable price, and they both make them for the less endowed woman.

• Find a friend. You can keep each other company, give each other support and encouragement when things are feeling tough. If one of you is feeling a bit lazy, hopefully the other will drag you off the sofa!

• Whether you have company or not, music is great to run to. There are some mixture albums out there, but make your own playlist, as apparently, running to your favourite tune can improve your performance!

• Track your performance. A lot of newer phones have apps that can track your routes, or you can use a number of websites to log your runs manually. If you can see what you've done, and how much you've improved, it'll give you the motivation to keep going.

• Finally, enter an event. Then you have something to aim for, and no excuses to give up!

I have said to my friend that I will help as much as possible, and I may go out once a week with her, just to keep her on track. It got me thinking about running groups, and I looked into it. Sadly, to have the proper accreditation to lead a group, it will a) cost £110, and b) I can't get onto a course until the autumn, and that's dependent on the football.

Then there's the issue of my career, and where it will lead me. I may not be in Leicester this time next year, and I need to think long and hard as to whether or not it's something I actually need to do.

If you have read this, and you now feel you're ready for your own running challenge, or want to start running after a break, good luck!!

RACE DAY!!

It's taken me until now to come to terms with a mixture of emotions. If you followed my progress online, or on Twitter, or Facebook, you'll know things did not go to plan. I did not get under four hours, but I did get a new personal best.

My training had been hampered with illness. Just over a week before, I'd been unable to get out of bed, and I was worried I'd have to defer to next year. I really did not want to do that, as I am still hopeful of pupillage, and training for a marathon and an fledging career as an advocate would not be possible.

I managed to train over the weekend, and the week leading up to the marathon. I actually felt okay for the first time in weeks, and so on Saturday, I took my registration document to the Excel Centre, and collected my number and chip.

Asthma UK held a pasta party in Canning Town. I had a huge bowl of spaghetti bolognese, and a can of full fat coke. The husband had the same, for a donation of a fiver, and given the quality of the food, and the portion size, it really was value for money. If anyone is thinking of running for a charity, Asthma UK do know how to look after their runners!

I had a relaxing day, and night. The hotel wasn't the quietest, but at least I didn't have to get up at stupid o'clock like last time. I'd been very nervous in the days leading up to the Marathon, but on the morning itself, I was fine.

One thing that I really like about the London Marathon is being waved through the gates by the Underground staff. We get free travel, and certainly when going into the centre where the stations are quiet, the staff wave us through with words of luck and encouragement.

I left the husband at Charing Cross station. There seemed little point in him coming with me to the start. The trains are crowded, and the main areas are cordoned off so non-runners aren't allowed through. We bid our farewells, with him telling me he'd see me at Tower Bridge, and off I went to Greenwich Park the Red Start. Despite the forecasts, the sun was shining, and the sky was blue. No sign of the cold or rain, and the decision to go with my running gear and a tracksuit looked good.

Except.

When I reached the start area, and handed my special London Marathon kitbag to the appropriate van, it was warm enough for me not to be cold. Anyone who knows me will know that I feel the cold far too easily. So to be wandering around in shorts, running tights, t-shirt, and vest without a goose bump in sight, I knew it was going to be a warm one.

I was hoping that being in pen 5 instead of pen 8 would see me across the start line quicker than last time - WRONG! It was just under 10 minutes, exactly the same as in 2008, before I officially started my London Marathon. I did see the kit lorries leaving, and someone wit near to me did remark "would they notice if I jumped on board"?

The first mile is never quick in a race I've ever entered. I'm not quick enough to warrant a start place near to the front, and so I eased into my race pace. The first three miles average 9min/mile, which was where I wanted to be, and I felt comfortable and relaxed. So much so, mile 4 was a worrying 7:52! I quickly reigned that in, and maintained my target pace from then on. Every mile on the course is marked, and there is a clock at each one, although one (I can't remember if it was mile 6 or not) was not working.

The crowds south of the river are amazing, and there's a real party atmosphere along some stretches. I appreciated the resident in Greenwich who was probably breaking a hosepipe ban to try and cool us runners down, and I hope he wasn't punished for it.

Cutty Sark still remains a problem. People slow down far too much, even though it's a sharp bend, but I don't like to have my rhythm or momentum disrupted. At least this time, I actually made my own way round!

I reached Tower Bridge in good time, but didn't spot the husband. He said he saw me, and I looked comfortable. I felt it. I reached halfway in under two hours, just, and still felt comfortable.

The problems started at just after 15 miles. I could feel my nose running, so wiped it with the back of my hand, as I didn't have any tissue. That was an oversight I regretted; when I pulled my hand away, it was covered in blood. I had to slow down to try to stop the bleed, and to try and get some tissue. I didn't want to stop. I managed to sort myself out, and after 16.5 miles, the bleeding had stopped. But my rhythm had gone. I was now running at 10m/mile pace, and calculated a 4:05 finish. "I'll take that", I thought. I was giving it my all, and if a poxy nosebleed was going to cost me 5 minutes, it wasn't the end of the world, just one of those things.

It's amazing how that changes though. Shortly after the 20 mile mark, I develop a stitch. I can cope with a stitch. Breathe in through the nose, and out through the mouth as the opposite foot strikes the floor. Sadly this doesn't work when you quickly develop a stitch on the OTHER side as well. The pain was unbearable, so I slowed to walking pace, and tried to stretch the stitches out. This worked to the extent that I was able to jog 400-600m, then walk 200m, and then repeat for nearly 6 miles.

As I struggled to get through those last six miles, I felt angry with myself for having such a crappy body, I felt guilty; so many people had sponsored me, and I felt as though I was letting them down, and I felt like a cheat. Did I think anyone else struggling was a cheat? Of course not, but I'm not everyone else. There were points were I was very close to tears, and there were points where I did mentally kick myself up the backside and tell myself to keep on going. The main thing that kept me going was I wasn't going to give up, and I didn't want to be one of those people who doesn't finish.

At about mile 22, someone told me my nose was covered in blood. My top, thankfully, wasn't. I managed to get some more tissue, but the bleed was an old one that had stopped by itself, as I managed to peel off a nice ring of dried blood from around my nostril!

Along Embankment, I came across another Asthma UK runner, Graham, who was struggling. We walked together for a bit, and he'd been walking and jogging for about as long as I had. We spent the last three miles bunny-hopping; one of us had the strength to jog for a bit, only to be caught by the other. This helped me to keep going, I don't know whether it helped Graham or not!

The one thing I did say was I was not going to walk down the Mall. I managed to jog the last half mile, even though my sides were in bits. Sadly, I didn't spot the photographers in time, and there are some awful photos, but once I realised I could be caught on camera, I did my best to make it look like I wasn't struggling! The sprint finish was out, but I crossed the line 4 hours and 16 minutes after starting the race.

Unlike last time, where I was elated to have finished, I was bitterly disappointed and in pain. I couldn't get hold of the husband, and had to cry down the phone to my parents. My mum's pride made me feel even more worse than I did. I could feel the texts coming in on my phone, and once the Nike + app had been turned off, buzzes from Twitter and Facebook notifications. I felt that I'd let everybody down. It took a while for it to sink in that despite the problems, I'd actually run my quickest ever marathon.

Four days on, and the emotions are still mixed. I can't help showing off my medal, but can't shake off the disappointment at not getting close to my target time. My problems are put into perspective though, when I heard about Claire Squires, a fellow Leicestershire runner, who collapsed, and passed away, a mile short of the finish, I count my blessings I finished. RIP Claire, and I am sure your family are taking comfort from the public's response, and the donations to your fundraising page.

Medal and t-shirt - not as good as they used to be...

My own fundraising is modest in comparison; as I write this blog, the total is £1,655.38, which includes Gift Aid. Many, many thanks to everybody for your support. The generosity of friends, family, and strangers who I know only in a virtual world, is amazing. You are all brilliant, and on behalf of Asthma UK, and those who suffer with the condition, thanks.

It's not too late to donate, if you prefer to do so once you know the person has actually completed the event! You can donate by visiting this link.  Thank you.


This is my last marathon. I finished with no blisters, all of my toenails intact, but my sanity? Well...

Following me on the day

I'm both nervous and excited about the Big Day. 

I have received the details of Asthma UK's supporter "Cheer points", which are located at Tower Bridge (12.5m), Isle of Dogs/City Pride pub (15.2m & 18.2m), Embankment (24.8m), and along the Finishing Stretch (26m). The support of the crowd makes a big difference; strangers giving you words of encouragement, offering you sweets, the little kids high-fiving near the start, it's all good. Except the blokes with the crates of Carling, just before the 15m water station, who said I was cheeky for trying to grab a can.

Last time, I didn't see the Hubby, who was able to cheer me on. If any of you are in London on the day, please go down and support the many thousands, because we will all appreciate it. If I don't wave back, I'm not ignoring you, honest!

The letters for my running vest came today, so you should be able to spot me!

It's in Lestoh, all right?

 You can follow me online too; I will be chipped, and there are timed points along the course, which can be followed online with my number.

All the Asthma UK runners will be starting from the Red Start (boo) at Greenwich. I think I'll be giving the banter at the merge point a miss this year ;)