Copacabana

Barry Manilow. One heck of a schnozz to chisel out.

One step forward...

... and at the moment it feels like two steps back. From a high point post Malvern when the miles seemed to pass (looking hazily lazily backwards) with consummate ease as I floated along on the back of a PB, I've reached the point, a few days before my next half marathon at Sturminster Newton, where every mile gained has to be chiselled out from a lump of solid Granite with pummelling foot falls and pounding arms. Training is reflected in the sun shine and showers of the weather, only without the sunshine, and all I can gain from it is the fact that I'm still getting out there. Typically, having taken pleasure in reaching a parenting clearing, behaviour has rapidly deteriorated and we're back attempting to fight fires by fanning the flames and cutting down branches of the forest while tripping over the debris we've failed to clear away. Everything seems hard work. I guess I'm simply weak-minded, insufficiently insulated against negativity and too sensitive to atmosphere. Too easily influenced by the mood and attitude of others to be able to achieve. Successful athletes appear able to steer a highly individual course, single-mindedly determined in pursuit of their goal and able to control their emotions, channel them, to an unparalleled extent. Who wants to be like that? Not me, there needs to be some room for simple humanity, but I would like to be a little more untrammelled (is that a word?) a bit more like the oil tanker, able to pursue a smooth, straight course through choppy waters rather than the lightweight sail boat I seem to be. Anyway, things will turn around I'm sure. The sun will shine through August and spirits will be lifted across the board. In the meantime I'll keep getting out there and chiselling away, after all, Simon's incredibly generous faith in me needs to be justified.... I mustn't disappoint my public. So tonight it'll be some speedwork, complementing the long run of the weekend and the steady run - with swim in between - of yesterday. Tomorrow enforced rest before hills and a general tapering off towards the weekend's race. The tendonitis in the right knee is a constant niggle, but its not been too bad lately and seems under control with ice and anti-inflammatories. There was a boost yesterday when after the session 12:8 appeared on the scales for the first time in probably ten years, but that was mostly dehydration and I know I've a long way to go dietary wise to get the weight off properly (and even further after tonights KFC). Hi-ho, hi-ho, its out for a run I go. One step forward. Total miles to date: 577.93.

Are we nearly there yet?

I used to think that kids sitting in the back of cars saying that was the stuff of lazy advertising execs. An urban myth born of years of back seat bickering between hyperactive siblings and road-weary parents. But now, well now, I hear it nearly everytime I leave the drive. Usually followed by "Is this the motorway?" and "Can I have a sweetie". 500 miles of training ticked over at the weekend and I find myself thinking the same. But as I was chugging along on tonight's steady 6 miler I was also thinking about the kids in a more positive light, prompted by something Jane had said. Its fair to say that having stumbled and tripped our way through the parenting jungle to date, we've finally reached a clearing. With C settled after his first year in school, and S chomping at the bit to get started, the stars are shining nicely in the sky and we're happily toasting marshmallows in front of a roaring log fire. Obviously it won't be long before one of them wanders off into the darkness, burns a hand on a still hot ember or gets spooked by an unidentifiable howl from beyond the trees, but for now, for now, its calm. Nice. Mileage to date: 516.42. Weight bubbling around the 13 stone mark.