Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: decree absolute, divorce, family, friends, relationships
I’ve toyed with the idea of writing this post for some time, and not done so to date because it’s more private than most of the guff I jot down here. It has nothing to do with running or food.
Today I received a decree absolute, formal confirmation of the dissolution of my marriage. Some of my more recent visitors won’t even know that I was married for a little more than three years in total – separated for two of them. Those that do know have been kind enough not to ask questions if I haven’t volunteered to talk about it, politely ignoring the fact that I looked like shit after a sleepless night or cried in the loos at work for no apparent reason.
I married a wonderful person who I believed – at the time – I would spend the rest of my life with, someone who continues to inspire me even now. He has taught me a lot about dealing with trauma, coping with disability and living life in the present. But we just didn’t want the same things out of life, let alone our marriage. That wasn’t enough for me. Not enough for either of us.
Receiving the letter today, it’s hard to reconcile the various emotions. I feel sadness and a sense of loss for the happy times; a sense of failure, for not being able to make the partnership work; shame, for standing up in front of my entire family and friends in a big church saying those words that now sound hollow in my mind; guilt, for putting my parents, brother and close friends through the highs and lows of the past three years; and, finally, huge relief that I can enjoy and build on a new and wonderful relationship.
So, now I’m “divorced”. An ugly word, I always think. But in writing it down, saying it out loud, I can begin to accept that it is part of who I am now. I can move on with the love and support of those closest to me – who have been utterly brilliant over the past two years. They know who they are…big thanks.
Anyway, that’s the self-indulgent crap out of the way. Normal service will be resumed in due course.
Filed under: running | Tags: hampstead heath, health, heart disease, Jerry Morris, running
Many thanks to Highway Kind over at Running Matters, who flagged this article on the late Jerry Morris last week – an absolutely fascinating account of the first person to make a link between sedentary lifestyles and heart disease in 1949. Jerry studied postal workers and transport workers; some of whom were active and others relatively inactive at work.
Jerry became certainly one of the first people to take up running as a means of reducing the risk of contracting heart disease:
“I was the first person to run on Hampstead Heath, in the 1960s. Every Sunday morning, if the weather was at all possible, I took off my coat, and my little boy carried my coat, I took off my jacket and my little girl carried my jacket, and I ran for 20 minutes. People thought I was bananas.”
It’s amazing to look at how far our knowledge has developed in the two generations since. Few people in the developed world, at least, can be ignorant of the importance of exercise in promoting good health and long life.
What a shame, then, that the National Obesity Forum has seen fit to declare this “National Obesity Week“. Apparently one in two people do not have an accurate picture of their weight, and are being encouraged to calculate their Body Mass Index (BMI). For the record, at 5′4″ and 9 stone 12, my BMI is 23.7 (just about within the healthy bracket – the result, in part, of a sedentary lifestyle at work and a deep-rooted love of food).
Phil and I ran in Jerry’s footsteps around a bit of Hampstead Heath yesterday morning in torrential rain. Despite being really quite displeased at the thought of going out in the soaking wet, I really enjoyed it once I was out.
4.5(ish) miles
46 minutes
4 very soggy feet
Filed under: food, recipes | Tags: Anna del Conte, food, marmite, Nigella Lawson, pasta
Me on the phone to the boyf this evening (we do talk about food a lot so this is a normal conversation, up to a point):
P: “I’m stuffed – just had round two of the soup I made last night.”
Me: “Nice – I had pasta and marmite.”
P: “Sorry?”
Me: I had pasta and marmite.”
P: “What, together?”
Me: “Yep.”
P: “What were you THINKING?”
Well, what I was thinking when I walked in the door at 8.25pm after British Military Fitness was that I was bloody hungry and I needed to eat within five minutes or I was going to kill someone. I had some fresh pasta, but only root veg which take a flipping age to cook. And I don’t buy ready-meals because I think they’re evil. Then fortunately I remembered reading something by the slight-irritating-but-undeniably-talented Nigella Lawson, recalling a recipe invented by her friend Anna del Conte, the lady she calls the “cook who changed my life”. And this lady used to cook spaghetti with marmite for her Italian-English kids when they were growing up – kind-of based a bit on the Italian habit of using the leftover roast stock a day later as the basis of a pasta sauce.
So, here it is (this is enough for one person). Try it, please…
fresh or dried pasta
25g butter
half to a whole teaspoon of marmite – depending on how much you like marmite. I used half, but will use a bit more next time
parmesan cheese
Cook the pasta according to the instructions on the pack. In a separate pan, melt the butter, add the marmite and a tablespoon of the pasta water. Drain the pasta, and mix into the sauce. Serve, with lots of grated parmesan all over the top.
Ready in five minutes flat. No need for an evil ready-meal. Life sentence for murder averted.
Filed under: running | Tags: running, Knowl Hill Bridleway Circuit, Hellrunner
Upon my return from Morocco last week, it dawned on me that there were only four weeks until Hellrunnner – and I hadn’t run for four weeks. And then it was only about a four-mile run. I don’t think four is my lucky number.
The Hellrunner website says:
HellRunner™ is over multi-terrain and varying underfoot conditions. There will be everything from running tracks and trails to water-filled areas and plenty of steep hills. Expect to get very wet! It will be nature at its toughest. The course will be marked but do not expect to see mile or kilometre markers….that’s for those softy road running types. All you need to know is that the course will be probably more than 10 and less than 12 miles in length. Hey! With what we have in store, who’s counting?
Crikey.
Time for some reasonably serious training then, ideally of the off-road variety. So Phil and I set off for Knowl Hill in the new and improved MINI on Saturday morning, and ducked south of the M4 onto the Knowl Hill Bridleway Circuit intending to run the eight-ish mile bit round in a circle back to the car.
And, to our surprise, we managed it feeling almost fine. A few twinges in the knee department, slightly sore back and leaden legs by the end, but nothing you wouldn’t expect given the lack of recent running expeditions. I had to admit that, left to my own devices, I probably would have done a less ambitious five- or six-miler and worked up over the course of a couple of weeks; but I’m actually glad I proved I could run more than eight at this point in time. Not that we will be breaking any records – that took an hour and 24 minutes over pretty flat terrain, but the great thing about off-road races is the lack of pressure to put in a good time. It’s all about finishing and having a bit of a laugh.
The back was still sore again on Sunday, but I think that’s the hip flexor/glute trouble again. I must must must do more post-run stretching. That’s one thing I’m just beginning to learn as I stumble towards my mid-thirties…
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: 3D Transmissions, clutch, Cooper Reading, First Great Western, gearbox, MINI, South West Trains, Woking
Apart from a llittle ramble on Sunday, I’ve done no exercise for over a week. I have multiple excuses for this:
- I’ve had a sore throat for a week, which hasn’t developed into anything worse, but hasn’t got any better. I’m reluctant to over-do it on the exercise front for fear of getting more ill before I go away.
- My MINI needs a new gearbox and clutch, and I can’t drive it anywhere until it goes to the car hospital. However, I am unwilling to pay the £2,500 quoted by Cooper Reading. Instead, I’m going to take it to a company called 3D Transmissions in Reading, who can rebuild the gearbox and fit it with a clutch and a 12-month/12,000-mile guarantee for £1,100 + VAT. But they can’t do it until the middle of next week.
- I’m inclined to do more interesting things, like go to visit one of my best friends and her five-week-old baby, Ted, for cuddles, tea and cake. However, this does mean employing the services of South West Trains and First Great Crap Western to get to Woking and back, thereby taking up most of the day not already taken up by cuddles, tea and cake.
The reality is that I could have squeezed in a run every day this week. And I could have somehow got a lift to British Military Fitness (thanks Marc, Lee and Mick) had I made an effort to leave Woking slightly earlier today. And I’m probably not going to get swine flu if I go out for a little jog.
Hmmm, maybe tomorrow…
At this rate, I will be doing a lot more walking. The gearbox in my Mini seems to be – to use a non-technical term – f*cked. A bit bloody annoying when I finally have a week off to see friends and family scattered all over the south-east. And I can’t even get to British Military Fitness unless I’m prepared to run the nine miles there, and back again. Grrr.
Filed under: British Military Fitness, Uncategorized | Tags: British Military Fitness, prospect park, Reading
Which one do you fancy?
Hot on the heels of the new Tuesday class in Prospect Park, tonight Steve threatened promised a new Sunday class too. I was too overwhelmed by the possibility of BMF-ing it five days on the trot to digest when the Sunday class will start, but no doubt it will be well attended. Tonight there were over 45 people trotting around in the fading daylight.
I manged two out of the three weekday classes last week – the new Tuesday session with Steve, then Wednesday with Hayley. Wednesday was notable for being the wettest ever session I’ve attended – in torrential rain for the entire hour. Our dejected group was soaked to the skin and shivering by the end of it, as well as being covered in fresh grass cuttings. I practically dived into the car at the end of the class and, despite my seat cover, my car smelled slightly damp for three days. I got out of it at work the next morning in my best pitch suit with a very moist bottom, much to the confusion of my workmates.
Tonight Johnny took the greens and growing team of slightly-more-green-than-blue reds, while Steve took the blues including a number of newbies. Johnny’s warm-up was knackering in itself, then we took to the big hill – up, across the back of the pub and down the other side. Multiple times. While being heckled by small children.
At the end of the class, I stood back from the scene in the carpark as 45 be-bibbed people dived for their car keys. To the uninitiated, it must look like a cross between one of those University hall of residence traffic light parties, where your badge denotes how “up for it” you are; and some sort of bizarre outdoor swinging convention.
Filed under: food, walking | Tags: Beacon Cottage campsite, Cardiff, Millennium Stadium, Perranporth, Porthtowan, Portreath, South West Coast Path, St Agnes, U2, walking
My parents have taken on an almighty challenge since my Dad retired, and that’s to walk the complete South West Coast Path from Minehead in Devon to Poole Harbour in Dorset – 630 miles of coastal paths in total. They’re doing it in chunks of about eight to ten days, twice a year.
I’ve only seen tiny bits of the Path when I’ve been in Devon and Cornwall so, in preparation for our “proper” holiday trekking around Morocco’s High Atlas mountains later this year, Phil and I decided to spend a few days down in Pastyland. We stayed at a lovely campsite near St Agnes – the Beacon Cottage Farm campsite, complete with chickens. I was probably more excited about the mother hen and her four chicks being let out of their coop each morning than the children on the site.
Chickens at Beacon Cottage campsite
We managed two reasonable walks – one from Perranporth to St Agnes; the other from St Agnes to Portreath and back to Porthtowan (where we got on the bus back to St Agnes). On the third day, the weather was a bit gruesome, so we pottered around the galleries in St Ives (nice) and the Tate (complete crap – don’t bother), and did just a short stroll for an hour or two towards Zennor. It actually took 45 minutes to escape St Ives without a map, so that really was only a cursory attempt to walk off the lunchtime Cornish pasty.
Chapel Porth beach overlooked by Wheal Coates
Anyway, big round of applause to Noddy and Big Ears (my Mum and Dad), as the walking is quite strenuous in places – particularly up and down the steep steps between Porthtowan and Portreath! Still, it has the effect of making you feel like you deserve the Cornish pasties (the best ones we had were from the little bakery in St Agnes), ice cream, wild blackberries snatched from bushes along the way, sausages from the local butcher BBQ’d next to the tent, wine, port and a really quite lovely meal at The Railway Inn one night…
During the course of our stay, I pondered why everyone tells you to steer clear of Cornwall in August. The trip down mid-week was fine, the Coast Path was deserted in places and the campsite showers were always hot.
Then we tried to leave.
Oh. My. God. Evidently, everyone in Cornwall was trying to do the same thing, and the A3o was jammed. So was the M5. And the M4, as we turned left towards the Millennium Stadium in Cardiff for the U2 gig on Saturday night.
It took seven and a half flipping hours to get from St Agnes to Cardiff.
Then we couldn’t get out of Cardiff. Two and a half hours it took to get moving on the M4. By that time, my eyes had stopped working and I couldn’t focus on the road. Into Cardiff Services we went, so I could have a snooze. Forty minutes later, and I’d recharged my batteries sufficiently to get back home.
All credit to Phil for staying awake for the whole twelve and a half hour journey, using his Blackberry to establish a fairly creative route into Cardiff via Newport docks (without which we would have surely missed our date with Bono and co.) and never losing his rag – not even when I hit the steering wheel in sheer frustration and nearly cried with tiredness.
U2 were good though.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: back pain, British Military Fitness, osteopath
Seems like a good idea to me (www.plainlazy.com)
Despite spending half the weekend hoofing furniture from Leicester, via Reading, to London, my back’s feeling a lot better. I haven’t been terribly good at doing the exercises the osteopath gave me – partly because I didn’t remember the details and was waiting for them to arrive through the post, and partly because I just didn’t quite get around to it. I should really have attempted a short run too, but didn’t get around to that either. OK, so I was a bit lazy. But why can’t weekends be longer?
So, after several (excellent) meals out over the past few days, and no exercise at all for a week, I’m feeling fat. I’m going to publicly say now that I’m going to go to British Military Fitness tomorrow – even if I tread a bit more carefully than usual with the blues. There, I shall embarrass myself if I don’t go now.
Filed under: running | Tags: back pain, glutes, hip flexors, osteopath, simon griffiths, thatcham
Reading iliketocount’s list of ailments, I thought I might have been a bit of a wimp about the pain in my bum but, after a couple of low-impact sessions at the gym this week, – exercise bike/cross-trainer/stepper on Tuesday and a spinning class yesterday – my back/bottom was feeling worse than ever.
So I traipsed off to Thatcham first thing this morning to see Simon Griffiths, an osteopath who’s effectively treated a couple of running- and ski-related knee problems in the past. I’m not necessarily a fan of all types of alternative therapy, but I really believe in osteopathy. Unlike the experience I’ve had with physios in the past (where they tend to look at the muscles in isolation) osteopathy covers all the bases – bones, muscles, ligaments, tendons and other connective tissues – and helps them to work together better.
Before laying a finger on me, Simon typically diagnoses the problem by asking a series of questions, then fixes it with a combination of massage, ultrasound and prescribed exercises and stretches. He’s got the most phenomenal memory (unless he keeps very comprehensive notes on the personal lives of each of his patients) of which I am just plain jealous, as I am in possession of a head like a sieve. He’s also sports-mad himself, so he doesn’t tut and shake his head disapprovingly when you tell him you’re a runner.
So, what was his verdict? Well, it turns out that the root of the problem isn’t in my back or bottom at all – but in the hip flexor. This acts as the opposite muscle to the glute (like the triceps to a biceps) and is incredibly tight. That’s resulting in pain in the other areas, and also causing a tendon nearby to rub against my pelvis – creating that grinding sound when I do sit-ups.
It’s not terminal – or even that much of a drama. Simon contorted me into various positions, yanked me about a bit, made lots of things crack, gave me a bit of a massage and dispatched me with a few exercises aimed at stretching out the hip flexors and glutes. I’m in some degree of pain now, but it always feels worse before it gets better!
The only things he suggested I avoid doing between now and my next appointment are golf and vigorous hoovering. I’m truly awful at golf and anyone who’s been near my flat will agree that I’m not much better at cleaning – so that’s fine by me.
