Minor irritations, major implications

No running in the last week. Hardly a positive move towards the big day, but the health simply hasn't been up to it. A bit of cycling and a bit of swimming has kept things ticking over but the health is going to have to improve considerably before I can truly kick in on a full training programme. Tuesday saw more acupuncture on the back problem, which was incredibly painful but certainly eased up the left side, but Friday was more of a set back. Jane convinced me to head back to the docs with the cough that just refuses to die, and it didn't take long for a diagnosis of Asthma. Asthma. Me. Its a weird one. I always used to see it as a real weakness. The wheezy kids skipping off PE at school. Old men breathlessly struggling up the slightest incline. Not something which was ever going to afflict me. After all, its not as if I live in the middle of a polluted city, or work in an industrial environment. What could possibly bring it on? Hence, when first the doctor told me that was what it was I took quite a dip, immediately envisioning a bloated, useless Rob, gasping everytime he walked up a set of stairs.... but then I thought about Steve, who's not only seriously asthmatic, but also older and a far better long distance runner than me. And it didn't take long looking on the Runners World website to see that its an issue which affects thousands of people, but not one which they let affect them. Isn't Paula Radcliffe asthmatic too? So there's still hope. A chest x-ray has been done, an inhaler prescribed and an appointment with the Asthma nurse made. In the meantime although the doc suggested laying off the running while we "get it under control" I'm really interpreting that as avoiding running in really cold air..... okay, that's a rather liberal interpretation, but I don't think a quick jog out over three miles on a beautiful day like today is going to hurt. Overall, problems are there to be overcome, and this is just another set back to be countered. I'm still determined to be on that start line in October, and although it seems a long way off at the moment time ticks relentlessly on, and on, and on ..... it will happen.

Its dark these days

I guess it is a fairly ridiculous notion. The fact that so many people have now done a marathon diminishes the achievement somewhat - talk of ultras and the like not helping either. Yet its still 26 miles. Its still a heck of a long way. How can someone with a dodgy back (which seems to be getting worse, not better, with the exercise) a couple of damaged lungs (the deathly rattle which awakens me each morning still being there after lord knows how many months now) and a wine belly which has taken years (and thousands of pounds) to perfect possibly drag his ancient frame so far. After puffing around a little over three miles last night, I just don't think its going to be possible. It seems so unlikely, so easy just to capitulate and opt for the easy life (as I so often do in other ways). Why put myself through this for a start? All relevant questions. But then why did we persist with the adoption process? We could have stayed in a very comfortable life with nothing to concern ourselves beyond planning the next citybreak. The answer has to be a rare form of masochism. A bloody-minded stubborn-ness which drives us on to do things which takes life down an altogether more pitted road. Almost relentless inclines with what seems like the briefest of moments to enjoy the view after any number of false horizons. No, from here I'm not sure I can do this. Its a long, long way. But then, I can look at our adopoted son snuggled under my left arm as I write this, and think exactly the same. As I did any number of times in the first few weeks he and his sister came to live with us. And in a minute I shall post this message, get their breakfast ready, wash them, brush teeth, dress them and get them ready to face the world. Its the only way. Another small step on the road. Masochists unite. Total mileage to date: 21.63, alcohol intake: never enough.

The end of the road.... for now?

All I want for christmas is a painfree back, a painfree back, a painfree back. After a few lengths in the swimming baths on Monday a working trip to London brought no relief in the back pain stakes. I plodded around a 5 mile run on Wednesday, just to try to get some time on my feet, but a trip to the osteopath yesterday has brought home the extent of the problems and she has recommended that I don't run for the time being. At least until my next appointment on Tuesday. The response? Rebellious thoughts that I could sneak in a couple of short, quick runs under heavy painkilling sedation? Of course, but it also prompted me to fix the puncture on my bike with a view to some cross-training to keep things at least ticking over on the exercise front. So for now, the mileage isn't going to increase much. Not the end of the road perhaps, but a temporary set of roadworks causing a tedious diversion. Total mileage to date: 16.49. Alcohol intake: too high to be healthy.

The slowest of starts

One thing is for sure, my phlegm distribution skills have improved no end. There was a time, mainly throughout my school years, when I'd run a mile rather than get sucked into a spitting contest, knowing all too well the embarassment of slimy discharge dribbling down my chin as another failed fob was stillborn. Taking these first few faltering jogs down the road in the general direction of Amsterdam (via any number of yet to be determined local stop offs) the remnants of the murky cough which has dogged me for so long has guaranteed a steady supply of practice material, which - with a firm roll of the tongue - has been despatched some impressive distances for my standards, and occasionally in the direction I intended. As for the running, its a case of little acorns being planted..... and the green shoots of recovery being as slow to show as a firm offer on a Birmingham Penthouse. The snowy conditions are an excuse I'm happy to jump on, but the back has also been a major problem, with much pain through the middle of the week compounded by my inability to get an appointment with the Osteopath until this morning. I tried. Oh yes, I tried, racking up about five miles on Wednesday and another 3 and a half on Saturday, but its not been the best start - that I have to admit. Still, another trip to the Osteo this week and if we can get some motion going then the flow of miles should follow. Sure as phlegm follows a good old fashioned chesty cough. Total mileage to date: 11.48 (not even a measly half marathon). Weight: who cares. Alcohol consumption: Moderate to heavy.

Off and running

Registration complete, flight booked, accommodation booked. We're now fully committed, and perhaps should be. A short run to start with. A familiar jaunt down along the canal towpath, the icy wind lashing into my face and a steady three miles which all but completely wiped me out. But it has to start somewhere and those first three miles were not a disaster, more a reminder of how far I've yet got to go - and only 250 odd days to do it. But I will. Clearly the mother-in-law has her doubts, questioning the wisdom of the venture as I stand with her in the chilly school playground, laughing as our son's face moons from behind the glass classroom door. But then I can understand that, and those closest to me will provide the support I need, the doubters only serving to make me more determined. It's going to be a question of slipping in the runs wherever and however I can - when the kids are asleep at either end of the day as the weather picks up, perhaps alongside a cycling family at the weekend, but for now squashed and squeezed around the necessities of work and domestic life. Perhaps we should get a dog. Spaniels seems popular around here, as I saw three on this first run, making me idly wonder whether different areas have a bias towards particular dogs - hard and short in the North, fluffy and leggy in the South, plain daft in the west. A spaniel would no doubt make a good running partner, their bouncy ears brightening the spirits on a long run, although a tendency to dart in different directions may prevent adherence to a particular route and pace. The idea quickly fades. Not yet. Suzanne - our daughter - is still at the stage of terrorising the cat and two highly excitable animals in the house would no doubt drive poor Lilly into a feral state. Perhaps once this is all over and I need a more routine exercise method. Perhaps then dog walking will appeal more. For now though we're literally off and running. The journey has started with a few small strides on wintery roads and I'm looking forward to the ride. Positive thinking. Distance run to date: 3.17 miles. Weight: 13st 4lbs.

It all starts here

An icy cold February morning and a soon to be 39 year old, sitting behind a laptop and waiting for the registration for the 2009 Amsterdam Marathon to open. He's never done a marathon before, is carrying a little too much around the middle (well, rather more than a litte), has a cough which has been lingering since last November and possesses as much athletic prowess as a one-legged Koala. But it has to start somewhere.

Its fair to say this one-legged Koala has some experience of running. After all, he's known this moment has been coming for a good few years and has got some practice in by running away from tourists, climbing high for the juiciest eucalyptus leaves and generally using his training as a means to escape - work, walls, life - for a blissful half hour of random music and pulsing footfall, but - in truth - that was just playing, and in all seriousness it starts here.

Hopefully it'll end in the 1928 Olympic Stadium, in Amsterdam, on 18 October. Hopefuly it'll end within 4 hours of the B of the bang. With a fair wind and a whole heap of support from my co-koalas. Hopefully it'll end with a nice pot of money for Adoption UK, a smiley face and - of course - Blisters from Amsterdam. But for now, it all starts here.