Welcome to my conflict

Maybe I was a little bit adventurous with my 4.30 goal when I toed the start line of Paris marathon on Sunday.

It wasn't as adventurous as my 4hr wave I had on my bib. (Haha I KNOW! Who do I think I am! 4 hours! Me!! Hahaha. It wasn't even a typo!)

I'd clearly been properly delirious when I entered the race 12 months ago. I hadn't even run a marathon at that point. 

Aim high right?! 

I have now 'run' 26.2 miles, 3 times. 

I need to be kinder to myself. 

26.2 miles is a bloody long way n a HUGE achievement. 

Specially for me. 

Rachel Stead. The non runner. 

Imagine.... The words Rachel Stead, marathon and PB in the same sentence. 

It's not a lie folks. 

It's true. 

A 25 minute PB no less. 

Today I am proud. 

Sunday I wasn't. 

My demons were shouty and loud on Sunday. 

The problem I am having is this - in my head, I can do amazing things. I can make my body run fast(er).

The reality is that my body can't actually run that fast. 

It just can't. 

But it CAN do amazing things. 

It really can. 

Just not run a marathon time that starts with a 4. 

Not yet. 

Maybe not ever.
And while I would REALLY like it to, if it doesn't, that's ok.
Cos 26.2 miles is a bloody long way. 

I need to stop comparing it.... and if I am gonna compare, I need to remember to compare it to a fatter, more sedentary, non moving, smokier, less healthy n non competitive version of myself. 

Not other people. 

And not what I (or others) think I *should* be able to do. 

That is the voice of my dad. Not me. 

In my case, thinking I can sometimes causes conflict. 

I go into battle mode between my parents voice of me 'being a bit crap and how I should be able to run faster' and my own voice of 'screw you this is amazing' .... Then massive internal conflict ensues. Cos actually, I believe my own hype of aiming high and then I fail.
This then leads to the voice of 'aren't you a bit crap?' being reinforced.

And the conflict spiral continues.

And then I get cross with myself and begin to believe that I am a fraud....

That I have no right to be doing the things I am aiming to do.

They are simply too big. That I am not good enough. 

I KNOW I am good enough. 

I have a medal to prove it. 

In fact, I have more than one medal actually.
So screw you.

I need to remember the time i wrote this blog post

Don't get me wrong, I am stupidly proud of what I achieved on Sunday. 

I ran my second stand alone marathon in what was rumored to be 23* heat AND ran a 25 minute PB. 

I hadn't trained to run Paris - my race calendar changed somewhat with the Norseman ballot. 

My training for Paris consisted of a couple (literally x2) 13.1 runs a few 10 miles runs (x4) n LOTS of bike training. 

Paris became endurance training. 

It became a very long run at the wrong point in my training plan. And by God did my hip flexors tell me about the bike training. 

My pacing for the first half was fairly solid. I had planned to set off out a pace that would see me in good stead for a 4.30

6.10 min/km or 10 min/miles for 15/18 miles would be grand. The wheels could fall off a bit then. 

John asked me to pace him n hold him steady due to the weather and heat. For 9 miles I reined him back... But I knew early on that I couldn't sustain the pace. 

Me and John looking fresh.... 

(John went on to run 4.28 in his first marathon *PROUD FACE*)

solid pacing for first 15km

My head n body weren't working together n I couldn't get them in synch. 

The dark thoughts started early n while I could shake them, I couldn't maintain a happy place. 

There was too much energy being zapped by other things. 

Happy required energy. 

Or it did for me on race day.

Usually race happy is something I excel at. The fact it alluded me made my day so much harder. 

It also confused me. 

It confused me a very large lot. 

I tried robbing energy from the beautiful surroundings, from the river, the sun, the trees, the other runners. 

But as soon as I had snaffled it, it evaded me again and was lost.

Probably as I had none to give in return. I wasn't using it effectively. I was trying to hoard it - n that's not how energy works. 

Certain songs lifted my spirits. 

There were moments of dancing, beaming and singing. 

Moments of pure unadulterated joy. 

And then, all too fleetingly, they were gone. 

My hip flexors hurt from about 5km.

I have recently been running on my toes a lot more. I've put this down to running more hills of late. 

I know my gait has changed.

I couldn't find a rhythm that suited.

From 22km to about 29km I was in bits. I kept moving forward, but I was walking. 

It all fell apart between 22 and 29km

I cried.
I cried hot salty tears.

I put a plea out on social media. 

Help me. 

Help came.

(Thank you, thank you, thank you)

News came that Dave had PB'd. 

(I did little first pump at this) 

I was on my arse.
 Nothing more, nothing less. 

Everything hurt and I wanted to stop. 

For the first time in my life I wanted to DNF. 

I had no intention of not finishing but I wanted to stop. I wanted to stop so very badly. 

It would be so easy to just not move. To get on the metro. 

I knew that in order to make it stop I had to keep moving forward, but it was so goddam HARD. 

Looks a little bit pained, but smiling non the less

I took a picture of myself by the Eiffel Tower vowing that no matter how much it hurt, there was no way I wasn't not smiling. 

And then something magical happened. I went through the wall.

about to go through the wall

Then I *actually* went through the wall. 

Charlie Puth sang Left Foot, Right Foot at me. Katie Perry told me I was a Firework. Emeli Sande told me I was a Wonder. 

I beamed.

And while it still hurt, I was spurred on by the time on my watch, by the noise in my ears drowning the noise in my head.

I was going to finish my second marathon. And I was going to PB.

Ok, I would have to run a 10km at the same pace I went out in, but a sub 5 hour marathon was *just* achievable. 

So long as I kept moving. 

Run, walk. 

Repeat. 

Keep taking fuel. 

Keep cool. 

Keep hydrated.

Keep pouring water on pulse points, on the back of my neck. 

Keep on keeping on. 

Lather, rinse, repeat. 

Then I hit the park. 

In a previous lifetime, I have run many miles round the lakes and through the trees. 

My head went again. 

I saw Svetlana, Alexey n Feydor and my heart soared. 

Sweaty hugs were exchanged and I was on my way. 

I needed a Parkrun PB.

In all the heat. 

At the end of a marathon. 

Hahahahahahaha. 

I sped up as best I could.

If I had this much in me, I could've tried harder earlier. 

My head went again.
I knew I couldn't have tried harder.
I had given everything.

Bear appeared with a flag at 41km ish as the 5 hour pacer sauntered past effortlessly, just as my watch ticked to 5.00.00

I applauded the last band and sped up some more.

42.195km

Done. 

5 hours and 10 minutes. 

Hard earned bling

When I think about the girl who, 3 years ago, couldn't run round the block without feeling like she might vom a lung, I am proud. 

I am very proud, in fact. 

I am proud that I have carved my body into a vaguely athletic shape. 

I am proud of my internal metronome. 

I am proud of my clever legs. 

(When did my clever legs start to look like this please!?)

These clever legs are mine, yes?

I have learned some very valuable lessons. 

I need more salt when it's hot. 

I need to use all of the energy systems wisely. And properly.
You cannot cheat them.
They know.

I need to train specifically for a marathon when I next do one. 

I need to run more than 13 miles. Twice.  

I need to be kinder to myself. 

I am not other people. 

They are not me.

While I have never been as fit as I am right now, I need to remember that I am still 'new' to this sporting lark. 

I relearned to swim at 30, introduced triathlon at 32. This is my second year of 'long' at the ripe old age of 35. Running began in December 2012. 

Norseman is coming. 

It is 5 short months away. 

As I publish this, Norseman is 17 weeks away.
123 days (not that anyone is counting)

After crossing the line on Sunday, I was never going long again. 

By Monday, I was planning my marathon rematch. 

The reality is, I can't think about marathon running for a while.
(Although I do know the date for Chester n I'm in a trio at Equinox *cough*) 

I need to take the lessons from Paris and apply them to Norseman. 

It doesn't matter that I'm not a fast marathon runner. 

What matters is the fact I kept going. 

What matters is that I dug deep n didn't give in. 

I did what I promised John I would do.... I would pace him perfectly to 9 or 10 miles. 

Paris was a valuable lesson in endurance, in pushing beyond the pain. 

It was necessary and the timing within the year (and my life) was spot on.

And as hard and as awful it was in parts..... it was perfect and I loved it. 

PB ice cream.... as big as the medal.

What a difference a day makes

So yesterdays run saw me doing 10km surges - which invariably mean that i run faster than my 10km pace as it is just for little bursts before falling back to recovery pace.... except recovery pace is invariably faster too as you feel so ace.

Needless to say, I had the numbers 4.55 on my watch yesterday*.
Not for very long.
But they were there.
And it was long enough for me to see it when it was happening - mid run.
It made me do BIG smiles.

(*min/km not miles.... I only dream of being *that* speedy)

I remember striving for 6.30's not that long ago.
It may not be speedy to some, but I seem to have hit a point where I was making good running progress....

Today, of course, was the exception.

I debated my sock shoe combo this morning.
First error..... sorry..... first lesson.

I had toast instead of porridge.
Second lesson.
I never have toast.... unless it is covered by beans or poached eggs.
These 2 slices had neither topping.

I had a discussion midweek with a friend about how hard training in a morning is.
I bounced out the door within 30 minutes of waking up.
Lesson number 3.
I know I'm shit in a morning.

The first step I took was hard, my legs were heavy from yesterday - I kidded myself that I would warm up soon and my legs would spring to life.
I lied.

Deep down I knew they wouldn't - or I just didn't believe it enough.
Whichever. I didn't happen and they still feel like lumps of lead,

Elle King isn't the right music when you're having a bad run.
Taylor was required - I opted for the Foo's instead, but it was too late then.
There was no coming back.
Pick N Mix might have saved me.
Maybe.

Anyway - its done and I've learned.

I need to manage my energy systems.
Simples.

The energy I allow to seep into my ears, the energy I put in my belly and the positive energy I let rattle round my head.

......What with the head bone being connected to the toe bone and all that......

This chapter so far.....

It is almost the end of February.
Since I last posted on 9th November, its fair to say I have been a little bit busy.

I am 4 months into the biggest challenge of my life (to date)

So far, I have trained myself over a distance of 1496km (929 miles in other monies)
This has taken in the region of 137 hours ish.

I daren't think about how many hours have been spent procrastinating, getting changed, packing kit bags, doing maths about what time I need to set the alarm, preparing food, eating the food.... then of course there are the technology fails..... And the washing up of cooking implements, kit and my sweaty self.

Those hours aren't included in the 137 hours so far.

One Sunday bike session which should have taken 3 hours to complete, took a whole day.
Literally.
A whole Sunday.

I got up, with the intention of riding outside.
Winter kit on, Josephine ready for her maiden voyage, all new and sorted, we set off, turned the corner and were met with a crippling head wind.
I hadn't ridden outside since September and my road confidence was still on the floor after the accident.
10 minutes of negative voice and headwind and I was back home setting up the turbo and changing from winter outside riding kit to as little as possible to keep cool - but enough to protect the bits that mattered.
Then I had a technology fail where I couldn't log my data.
So i sat and sulked... then cooked.
It took all day to get the session done.

The harder the sessions get, the longer they become, the more focused I am finding myself.
I had a really tough couple of weeks in January - just after new year, the time when the money is at its lowest post Christmas and the darkness has been too dark for too long.

Every session was a battle.
Every time I trained, it felt like hard work - and not in the usual sense of challenging and pushing yourself
It was a huge effort to make my body move at all, let alone move at pace, uphill, or over distance.
Every discipline was hard and enjoyment was limited.
In fact, during this time, there was no enjoyment.

But I knew it would pass.... and it did.
I just had to be consistent.

These tough sessions were ticked off a minute at a time.
I knew if I could do 60 seconds, I would be able to repeat it.
If I could repeat it 5 times, I would then be able to repeat it another 5 times.

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
Left foot.
Right foot.
60 seconds.
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

I don't know how long it took for the difficult patch to pass.
It felt like it would never shift.
It did though... and now I am loving training again.

Its hard and I am knackered.
And I am oh so hungry.
I would be lying if I said otherwise.
But I AM loving it.
(mainly)

I am giddy about the progress I am making and I can feel myself getting stronger.

The scales were kind at the beginning of February - they said I had dropped overall weight, my body fat % had gone down and my lean muscle mass had gone up.
I will see what the beginning of March says when I next jump on them.
I'm not obsessing about what I weight - I am more concerned with what my body can do right now.

I seem to be eating A LOT, but, *most* of the time, I am eating well/
I can't expect my body to work if I fuel it on the wrong things.

When I am tired, I tend to reach for the sugar n junk.
This is the bit I need to be mindful of, monitor and modify.
I would like to be lighter - I will climb better if I weigh less.
Simple science.

I haven't been swimming as much as I would like to - but I'm not worried about it.
Cycling and running are the area's I will make most gains.
When warmer waters come, I will be able to combine riding to venues with long swims in the open.
I am also looking to try out a SwimBeam soon for personal use as well as coaching.

You don't need to know about my sores from cycling.
No. Really.
You don't.


Norseman is creeping ever nearer.
There are in the region of 162 days until the 6th August, which is about 3888 hours (depending when you're reading this)..... and for now, I am feeling positive about it.

Birthdays, bridges and blurgh

This blog isn't for pity, or for poor me, or there, there.
It isn't even for you.
Feel free to read it if you wish though - it may help you or someone you know or love who is going through something similar.

I wrote this in June - 2 days after my birthday but never published it.
So now I am.

This is what I wrote......

I have a very familiar overwhelming sadness.

It is sitting somewhere between my stomach and my chest and fluctuates between making me feel full (but only of sadness, never joy or contentment) or it makes me feel as though I have a huge void in my soul that will never be filled.

Never.

I use the word with poetic licence.
I know this too shall pass.
It just feels like never.
And feelings are real.
Especially when you can't rationalise very well.

Full or empty.
Neither are pleasant.

But it is familiar.
I know this feeling.
It is not new to me.

I know the lies that it tells.
I know that it isn't real.
I know that I am happy, that my life is full, I am blessed, yada yada yada.

I just can't feel it.
Not right now.

This is bigger and sucking all the energy out of everything.

My memory is currently AWOL.
I'd like to find it again, but i cant even remember when I last had it.
I cannot retain information.
I am doing my own head in asking the same questions OVER and OVER again.
I keep getting the answers - and forgetting the answers immediately.
There is no space in my head for 'stuff'.
It is full of noise and darkness.


Not that long ago, I had, what can only be described as, a heated debate with someone who I used to call a good friend. Our friendship ended during my last 'proper' depressive episode when I let her down 'too many times'
I should add, I did make plans, I did let her down.  Depression does that to you.  It traps you in the house sometimes. I tried explaining that to her and she failed to understand.  I was told I was making excuses.

The recent debate made it very clear to me why the friendship was over, with no hope of a reprieve.

Just prior to the debate, I had retweeted Stan Colimore who had written something along the lines of 'depression is a cancer of the soul'
I couldn't agree more with him.
At the time I was in the middle of having biopsies on a breast lump, historically I have had cancerous cervical cells removed, I have nursed my gran through cancer and i have suffered depression.
I felt OK in having my opinion.
It wasn't based on nothing.

My friend disagreed.
Her dad had been suffering from a cancer.
In her words 'they had sorted it now though', but she was very clear I was wrong in my opinion.

Nobody asks for cancer
Nobody asks for depression

They can both eat away the real essence of who you are
They both place pressures on relationships
They both often go unnoticed or unspoken/ignored.

Cancer and depression aint that different.
Not really.
Especially when you consider that they can both kill you - or, you're one of the 'lucky ones and get to live alongside them and/or the risk of them returning for all of your life.
The major difference is, you can cut cancer out and kill the cells to contain it.

Needless to say, my 'friend' asked me why I couldn't just jolly myself along and stop being so selfish.
So that was nice.
Cos obviously that's how depression works.


Anyway, its back and has been for a while.
And that's ok.
We have been getting to know each other.
Again.

There is the daily battle to come out on top.
Sometimes I can't be arsed to battle and sometimes it wins.
Sometimes, I fix my mask in place and my face says I am the most happiest person that has ever walked the planet.
Most of the time I am either numb, or in pain.

Frequently, I feel, what can only be described as, stabby.
Not towards other people.
It is always aimed at me.
Generally I would like to gouge my legs repeatedly from my knee upwards towards my hips.
Its a very vivid visual I get.

Occasionally I try make the stabby something positive and make it turn on itself and stab the negative thoughts.

I can be all things in the space of 10 minutes.
And that's exhausting and confusing.

Night terrors are new though.
I have always had slightly bonkers dreams, occasionally disturbing, but nothing I would class as traumatic.
Until recently - there have been dreams of being sexually assaulted, hunted, being made to watch the prolonged torture of those I love.
I am helpless.
Literally helpless.
I cant even wake myself up from the dreams.

Depressed sleep used to consume me for days - now, it is unwanted.
(anyone who knows me well, knows that generally I can sleep soundly for extended periods of time and love nothing more than a snoozle)

I'm not scared to go to sleep - I'm not quite at that point yet.
I just wish I could find some rest from the noise.

I'm not daft enough to blame my feeling on a particular event or set of circumstances.
Currently, there are people I could say are to blame for my feelings.

But that wouldn't be fair.
They are chemicals that aren't working as they should.
That's all.

Are my brain chemicals responsible for some of the things that have happened lately?
Probably.
That's how I see it anyway.

And that makes me more sad.
More sad than you could know.
Because I can't help it.
I promise, if I could, I really really would.
So I go back into a cycle of self loathing.

All very complicated huh?
Or maybe not.
Maybe it just feels it.

I have almost finished reading Reasons to Stay Alive by Matt Haigh.
Its an excellent book.
I am scared to finish it.

Some of the things he said, completely resonate with me.
I am not suicidal - yet I don't want to live.
And its not that I don't want to live, its that I didn't ask for this.
I didn't make the choice to exist.
But I would occasionally like to make the choice not to exist - just so the noise stops.
And that's the suicidal stabby feeling - its the urge to make it stop.
Somehow.
By whatever means possible.


I also discovered that is why I'm not overly keen on celebrating birthdays.
Why would someone who suffers from depression want to celebrate being born (especially mid episode)?

Its nice that I can now understand it rather than just feeling even more of a freak than I do sometimes.

I imagine some of you will read this and be pulling faces.
She's nuts.
Don't listen to anything she says from now on.
Clearly cuckoo.

Yeah well, we all have mental health in the same way we have emotional, sexual and physical health.
I'm just brave enough to talk about mine and run the risk of freaking you all out.
I hope you are never tormented by poor mental health.
I hope you never love someone who suffers from depression as you watch, hopeless to make it better.


I hope you never have to say to someone, 'I've thought about jumping off bridges a lot today' and hope they respond appropriately.
'To go for a swim or to kill yourself?'
'I don't know'

I think the actual answer was to feel - cold water does that to me.
It makes my skin fizz.
It contains me.
I am safe in water. (emotionally safe)
It is my happy place.
I can make the noise stop when I swim.

Trouble is, I can't swim all day.
And it starts again when I step away from the water.
Stupid noise.

Winning the lottery - my numbers

On Friday 30th October, I won a crate of Erdinger Alkoholfrei (whoop!)

On Monday 2nd November, I heard I had won some soup n some cheese (yum!)

Obviously, I was advised to buy a lottery ticket.

I had already bought my ticket. I'd done that on 28th October.

But I hadn't bought a ticket to win millions of £. 

I was buying the chance of a lifetime.

I had popped my name in the hat to complete Norseman Extreme Triathlon in 2016.  

I joined 3087 people who put their name in the hat.

Just 8% of us were women.

66 nations were represented. 

My name came out.

320 of the chosen ones will have the pleasure of leaping from the back of the ferry into Hardangerfjord.
Approx 250 will actually start.

This will happen on 6th August 2016

At 5am the horn will sound and echo down the fjord, signalling the start of the race. 

160 of those starting will hopefully make it to the coveted black finish at the summit of Mt Gaustatoppen (1850m above sea level and 226km later) - providing the weather and conditions allow.

The rest of the field will finish at Gaustablikk Høy[ellshot - a mere 1000m above sea level - distance traveled is still 226km. 

It is point to point and self supported throughout.

Support crews drive the course, the feed their athletes, ensure they are dressed for the weather.

They will then complete the latter part of the run - ensuring their athlete is safe on the mountain. 

Cut off for exiting the water is 2 hours 15 minutes.

Cut off for exiting T2 is 12 hours. 

Cut off for the black finish is 14 hours 30 minutes at 32.5km of the run.

Then another cut off at 15 hours 30 at 37.5km

Cut off for white finish is 17 hours 30 minutes at 32.5km - there is no further cut off. 

There are no medals.

It is difficult to compare results from year to year.

It is difficult to measure black times and white times within a single year.

Did I mention the 10% climb on the run up Zombie Hill?

I want black. 

I will work for black. 

I will work HARD for black.

But I don't know who will start on the day.

And I don't know what Norway will throw at us. 

(I do.... big climbs, moorland, hail so fierce it bruises, snow, big steep descents on open roads)

The water is generally in the region of 13*C - this year it was 10* and the swim was shortened.

Air temp on the bike leg can range from 5-20*C.

The 'flat' part of the run can have air temps between 12-28*C dropping to 2-12*C on the mountain. 

Previous competitors give excellent advice 

"Train smart, train long, train steep, train cold, train plenty.

Train swimming, train cycling, train running, train nutrition.

Then train some more."

I have experience Norseman.

I was support crew for Bear in 2014. 

There isn't a blog post about it, simply because I was never able to find the words. 

That's the kind of race it is. 

It absolutely stirs the soul. 

I am scared.

I am excited. 

I am focused

I am grateful.

I am so bloody lucky.

Glowing, Giggles and Ghoulishness

A while back, one of the Team Bear members who is newer to running found a Glow in the Park 5km event and invited other to join the silliness. By the time Friday evening rolled around, 14 Bears, some who had never met before, some who had never taken part in a run event, some who had run ultra's but fancied some fun and foolery, all assembled in the dark of Heaton Park in Manchester.

With the help of some glowsticks, tutu's and a liberal smattering on neon face paint, we were off.

Its safe to say that the times for the 'run' weren't great - we had to stop and have a dance at various stations, get shot at with luminous goop and get covered in foam, so that reduced the time.

The course had a constant stream of people taking part (1000+), but we were set off in a fairly constant flow. Lots were walking, some were jogging and it was really nice to see all ages, shapes and sizes taking part and joining in with the spirit of the event. I was a bit disappointed that there was no medal, but a jolly nice time was had by all.

It was a well organised event with a really lovely inclusive feel about it. 

Saturday morning saw a hand full of us who had been running on Friday heading to Salford Quays for the first polar dip of the year. We met up with other friends and fellow loons for some cold water immersion, swimming (bobbing) and cake.

We had already plotted that there would be witchy/festive hats for swimming (to stay in the festive mood and all that). It had also been discussed and agreed, as part of a long standing War of the Roses, that Yorkshire (me) would show how brave they were by leaping off the pontoon. Lancashire would match the efforts.

Anyone who knows me will know it takes me in the region of a week to get in, regardless of how warm or cold the water might be. Getting in when its 16* is as tough as getting in when its 8*

On the Friday, there had been discussions on Twitter about witchcraft and how inserting USB cables into the slot the right way round was indicative of witchy tendancies......

Three witches?

Clearly we were taking too long and needed a helping hand

Will they sink or swim?

Oh look. They floated.
Definitely witches.

A fab time was had by all. 
It was really lovely too friends old and new at the quays.  
Those who had traveled for squishes, new unexpected swimmers loving the skin fizz and solitude being in the water brings, as well as those making progress in being brave in the water and pushing themselves to go further, colder, do more bilateral. 

I have loved the quays for a long time. The water temperature on Saturday was about perfect for me.  I could stay in for around 40 minutes without feeling like I was becoming hypothermic, but still got the tingle and fizz that only certain temperatures bring.  I had been in sufficiently long enough that I couldn't fasten my own jeans. 

November will be super fizzy, maybe a little bit burny, the after glow and euphoria, glorious.
I'm excited already.

Quick run on Saturday afternoon before dressing up as a skelington* and kicking teenage arse at apple bobbing..... not that I'm competitive you understand!!

*deliberate spelling mistake and mispronunciation

you thought my gob was bigger than that.....

found a rhythm apple bobbing 

swimming breath helped....

I was convinced I would also be ok at the swinging donut eating too.... however, our time keeper knocked 30 seconds off the time we had versus the time everyone else had.

It was a great weekend, with far too much beige food and sugar, but it was worth it.
My face hurts from smiling and my soul is shiny.
I've had a great weekend which has included an awful lot of the people I love the most.
There were some who weren't there and they were missed.
But right about now, I'm feeling fairly content n more than a little bit blessed.
I've played hard.  Really hard.
I would highly recommend having a weekend of play and dressing up to anyone who has to adult on a regular basis.

A letter to my body

Dear Body,

I'm guessing over the next few months we're gonna fall out.
Possibly a lot.
But that's OK, cos ultimately, you will be pleased we did this.
It is likely that you will have days where you are sore and tired.

It is likely that Chimp will try and sabotage everything we are all working towards.
Chimp will want ice cream and lie in's.
Chimp will try and convince you, that being lazy is good.
Chimp will tell us that staying in the warm is better than going out for a run in the rain.
But we know different.

We know that running in the rain is actually lovely sometimes.
We know that getting up and training is hard, yes it is, sleeping is ace, it really is, especially for one as sleepy as we are... but we know that the training won't do itself.
We know that going in the outside when it's cold n blowy makes coming home to the inside even nicer.
We know it will be worth it.
We know that the bad sessions still count.

We need to look at The Bigger Plan.
We want to be faster, stronger, leaner.
If it were as easy as wishing for it, that would be great.
It would be so very easy.....And everyone would wish for it.
Sadly, due to the amount of ice cream consumed, lean is now going to be a bigger battle than it needed to be. There is now in the region of a stone to shed.
A stone of ice cream. That's quite an achievement (and not something to be proud of)
We could shed more, but that would be excessive and unnecessary.
We don't even need to do it over night.
So long as we are leaner for when we are toeing the start line of Paris Marathon, that'll be OK.
And once we've lost it, lets not do the yo-yo shit that we're so good at.
Can we keep it off for a change? Please?

It will mean saying no to ice cream and biscuits.
I know, I know.
There will be ice cream occasionally.
Just not every day (sorry).
There will be lie ins too.
Again, just not every day
You remember how you felt on race day, right?
You remember how you wanted to be faster and stronger over iron distance and half?
You remember how we all wanted the same thing?
Even the Chimp got giddy and wanted in on the action.

We're having this conversation now, so that when the depression hits again, which it invariably will, we can look back at the deal we made when we were healthy.
When the Chimp attacks, we can re-direct it back to this blog.

It is well accepted that we will never be the fastest.
We will never win our AG.
Lets re-phrase that.... It is very unlikely we will ever win our AG.
Never say never n all that.
We may pick the perfect race and those who would beat us might decide to stay at home on that day.

We can be better than we are now.
Wouldn't it be amazing to find out just how fast we can go? How good we could be?
Yes, we're very late starting all this sporting lark, but it doesn't matter.
We can still be the best version of ourselves.
We can still give it our everything.

We can aim for holding specific power on the bike.
We even know the number we want to hold.
We may hit these targets early in the training and increase them.
We can work on being a better runner.
Smoother, more consistent pacing, better physiology.
Stronger core.

We have times that we would like to achieve.
Times that we don't want to say out loud, but the universe has heard them.
They will be course specific.
And realistic.... Ish
(after all, we need to dream big enough for it to frighten us and it has to be worth getting out of bed for)

It would be easy to say we will get up every morning at 6am to get training done.
We all know that this will be a routine battle which will lead to fallings-out and de-motivation.....because, ultimately, we are rubbish at mornings.
Not only are we rubbish at mornings, we are rubbish in Winter, we are rubbish in the dark and we take an age to get out of the door for a run regardless of time of day or season.
We are rubbish at all of these things separately.... so together? We are properly pants.
That is fact.

IT.
WILL.
BE.
A.
BATTLE

We know it will be a huge battle.
And there will be days when we fail.
It will likely be the Chimps fault on the days we fail.
But that doesn't mean we have failed overall.
One bad day, is just that, a bad day.
It only becomes an issue if we wallow in it and allow it to seep into the rest of the week.

We can be consistent with our food.
We can be consistent with our training.

None of this banting business, no silly diets, just consistent meals, reasonable portion sizes, plenty of greenery and rainbow coloured veggies.
Beige food and biscuits will be kept to a minimum.  (boooooooo, yes, yes, its rubbish)
Ice cream will be kept to being a treat.  
Ice cream will be earned.
Carbs will be used to fuel.
Protein will be used to repair.

We all accept that doing a shorter hill session and swapping sessions round is better than missing one totally.
Body weight sessions may need to be done at home.
Intense turbo sessions may need to be done, rather than long rides.

Life WILL get in the way sometimes.
But we want this.

So, body, apologies and all that.
But we have work to do.

It may be that we aren't in a position to 'compete' in 2016, but we will certainly doing more than completing.

Going long takes effort.
It is not a short race, so it stands to reason that the plan shouldn't be short either.

Its just a shame about the ice cream........