Emma

07:33 am: During the run of the play, I've knit the feet of two socks (two at a time, toe up on circs, for the knitters reading this.) I'm hoping to get a good chunk of leg done tonight, then I'll have socks knit during the down time of the first play I was in, where I spoke (and sang.)

During the wind down, where we all had a beverage or two, the director asked me "Did you know knitting backstage is bad luck."
Me: "Yes, and I know why. Ask a knitter to do anything, and the usual answer is "Just let me finish this row." Good way to bring down director based-bad luck."

And my technical knowledge was spotted. Bugger. I had carefully looked at the microphones before deciding where to stand to sing. I chose a spot that was kind of sub-optimal for picking up my voice. The tech dudes were saying "Now, a big step back and to the left. Hey, you picked that spot deliberately!" Hells, yes.

It's bloody pissing down rain. I've got a 13km scheduled. It appears to have a gap at the moment, time to jog.

07:09 pm: It's got cold here. The next town over achieved 0.9degrees C this morning. We're still getting up at un-bloody-godly to jog. I'm not into jogging in sub-freezing weather, so I mope while I jog.

New shoes are settling in nicely. I am pleased. They are still a revolting shade of yellow. (yellow! I don't do yellow.) But a few more trail runs should take care of that.

I'm in ramp up mode at the moment. So I jog interstate more and more often. And this morning, a lovely lady taking her dog for a walk commented on how often she saw me. It's nice being the town's running girl. Everyone knows the running girl. I'm slow, and ordinary, but everyone had seen me slugging away.

I'm currently knitting on the hood of a Rogue, it's coming along nicely. See paragraph one, for why we are quite so motivated. I tried it on, the kangaroo pocket makes me look pregnant (which I'm not.) But, it's 0.9 degrees here overnight, warm is good. I don't care if I look spherical, as long as I feel warm.

Less than 6 rows to go on the neverending shawl of despair. Then, outer border (which is equivalent to 12 rows.) I might just get this done by my self-imposed deadline. (August. There's months and months to August. Knitting leave?)

Singing tomorrow night, and the night after. I now have no fear of dieing on stage. (My contingency plan for singing was to whip off my top and do a spot of bellydancing, if it all went pear-shaped. It didn't. Big slaps to the person texting during my song, that's what I get for opening my eyes.)

07:48 am: I'm mean and I'm tough.
I live in a semi-rural environment. I jog a lot, and I don't like strange dogs. So I've carefully figured out which parts of the town have mean dogs that come out and chase joggers.

I was running the hilly course, and there was a new threat! A mean sheep. He was at the top of a hill, bleating that I shouldn't jog over his grass, it was breakfast. So, I crossed the road to avoid him, all was happiness for the sheep.

I'm so tough I cross the road to avoid farm animals who don't like joggers.

05:54 pm: Got my new running shoes today. Yay! I have a pair of the make I like, in the size I wear, which are now, inexplicably, yellow. They are the bug ugliest things on the planet. But after I've done any amount of trail running, they won't be yellow any more. (The old pair was blue.)

Boo to the running shop I tried to buy them from, who explained to me I couldn't possibly want the size I said I wanted. They are an expensive shoe, I have the money, does it matter that the person on the phone with a girls voice wants a man's size shoe? Apparently, it's not physically possible for me to have the size feet I have. I wish someone would tell my feet that.

Boo to my feet. I retired a pair forcibly last weekend, and had been wearing my walking runners for running. (Walking runners are running runners that are a little past it, but still good.) The number of toenails no longer equals ten. Medical professionals get very cross when they see my feet, so I won't be showing any of them my feet.

Yes, I am feet obsessed.

About to go on stage for the second time this weekend. Another time speaking on stage, another song. I am not in such abject terror tonight, but have been practising my note all bloody day. Hence, you long legged bloody spinners, hence.

I don't wear shoes onstage, and my feet get cold.

12:13 am: Well, that went better than expected.
I envy people who can sing. I firmly believe I cannot actually sing. I believe I make a loud, enthusiatic and vague tuneful noise. I believe that as a singer, I am one hell of a dancer. (One of these fine decades, I may actually post video of my kneeling, backbend shimmy.)

Tonight, I made my stage debut with both two monologues and a song. Sung on stage, all by my lonesome. No-one threw anything, or called the RSPCA, and there was applause, so I exceeded my expectations. I sang a solo on stage, and I didn't actually die of terror.

Not dead, no projectiles, no boo-ing. Better than I expected.

06:07 pm: Today, is "International No Diet Day."

Apart from the quibble I have with the name, this is a great idea. (A diet is what you eat. "Diet" has become code for "Calorie Restricted Diet". I'm all for "No Calorie Restricted Diets". However, I'm very much in favour of eating. So, I like the idea of not calorie restricting, rather than not eating.).

For a start, the human metabolism is not simple thermodynamics. It's not a simple question of "Eat less, move more." Calorie restriction would have me quietly passing out at 10km of 21km. I like running 21km, it makes me strong. Oh, ok. I like being able to say that I run 21km. It makes me brag.

Like most people, I've done an awful lot of calorie restriction. I've even combined it with running, which has left me looking at other people's food with utter desire. (It is a bad sign when you cannot see any flaws in the plan: "punch boss in the face, steal his carbs, run away'') Guess what? Didn't work. I'd cut down my calories, get hungrier, get obsessed with food, havev my metabolism slow down, lose 2kg, gain 4kg. Over and over again.

While I'm on the subject, I'll share the greatest moment of shame of my life. Everyone has a memory that they wish could be gone. This is mine. During a boring life crisis, I discovered that my then boyfriend had, behind my back, asked a fair number of my friends to encourage me to diet. When I found this out, I wanted the earth to swallow me up. I have never felt such horrible shame. Did he think I was stupid and blind? Of course I knew I was overweight, I owned scales, a mirror, a tape measure and a set of eyes. Of course I wanted to lose weight, it wouldn't take one of my girlfriends mentioning it to me. The net effect on my weight was not to induce a weight loss. Shame doesn't make people thin. Pride in myself and my strength gets me running.

In a happy accident, the International No Diet Day falls on the third anniversary of my taking up running. For various reasons, I had stopped believing in the future. A friend of mine is a runner, and encouraged me to set a goal, work to it, and have something in the future I could count on. I can count on the road, I can count on myself, I can believe in my strength and my courage. While I bitch and moan about my feet, and the hours spent on the road, and the blisters and exhaustion, and my feet, I also get the self-knowledge that you get at 19km of 21, when quitting is so very tempting but so utterly impossible. When the only thing that stands between yourself and your goal is your own determination. I'm a runner now. A crap one, admittedly, but a runner. Happy running anniversary, me. We've come a bloody long way.

Happy Internation No Diet Day. I'm celebrating with a 7km run and a wonderful dinner of home-made chicken curry, with lots of veggies, all steamed and delicious on rice. If I fancy it, and it seems likely, I'll have a glass of wine. Afterwards, depending entirely on my whim, I'll either eat some chocolate, or not, and knit.

07:40 pm: As a runner, I obsess about my feet. I currently have ten toenails, and having got down to 7 last year, I plan on keeping it that way.

So, my running shoes at the moment are dead. So dead, I have unceremoniously thrown them away. I experienced significant joint pain during the last run, which is a warning sign of badness.

I am attempting to get more by mail order, as I need these things to continue to run. I've got an old pair that's ok but not great. Ok isn't good enough for what I do.

I've found my preferred shoe is discontinued. I am weeping. I've found a good shoe, and it's gone? (As my running style changes, what is good changes. But this one is still good.) I know make, I know size *sobs*

What I don't have is a chance to go find a different type in the near future.

08:59 pm: earlier this year, a water main on our street got replaced. The refill of soil wasn't done particulary well, in my ever so humble opinion.

Last night it rained (yay!)

This morning, we cheerfully headed out for a 10km jog, as one does. We happened to notice a long cave in had occured and there was a ditch full of water for several houses. "Bugger me", I thought, "that was a lousy job of filling in the hole."

No. The water main failed and was leaking. we got back from the long run, and discovered this. No water for most of the day. Hmmmmm, joggers who have stopped jogging and didn't immediately washed. I'm sure the people at rehearsal loved that.

Now, to watch some tv, practice singing high c on demand without a run up or support, and knit on the shawl of despair and destruction.

06:06 pm: I figured out why my camera had a dead battery, despite being on the recharger for time immemorial. The recharger had been unplugged. Since I didn't do it, and the only other being in the house with opposable thumbs is R., I'm blaming him. Yay, I didn't kill technology.

On the other hand, my laptop will talk to a mouse or a USB drive, not both. *glares at it*. It's got three USB ports, what's the problem?

I went to the dawn service this morning.

I've also knitted a lot (got back and most of the front of my Rogue done.) I've been ignoring That Shawl, but I plan to get to it after dinner. I've also been playing with some calligraphy and got my pens out. Nothing fancy, but there is something very nice about black ink on cream paper.

08:01 pm: My very favourite yarn in the entire world is Noro's Silk Garden. It's got long colour repeats, and I'm always excited by long colour repeats: I wonder what colour is going to be next.

I learnt today that they make a sock yarn in Noro's Silk Garden. I am in true and complete love and need some of this to live. Unfortunately, not available in this country yet, or I'd be selling a kidney.

The never-ending shawl of despair and destruction just keeps on going. I'm up to row 112 of 132, which is certainly getting to the right end of the problem. I'm hoping to get the inner border done by the end of May.

I'm also making progress on my Rogue sweater in possum/merino. I'm up to the armholes! Yay! Now to do the back and front yokes, hood and sleeves. It's one of those projects, and has been sitting there forever. Funnily enough, winter is encouraging progress on all my warm clothes.

I had a disaster on Saturday. I had some time to kill, and was knitting on my Lizard Ridge. I then had to use my hands for stuff, and stuck my needles in my pocket. where I broke one of my denise interchangeables by bending. Happily, it can be replaced, but I have to get it replaced before I can continue my Lizard Ridge. Sob.

Back to regular training.

07:38 pm: I do stupid things so you don't have to.
As a trained scientist, I have been taught to make observations and deduct. Today's effort is the following:

A week of having a head cold and being unable to breathe through the nose is poor preparation for a 10km running race.


Thank you, thank you, all Nobel prize nominations will be received with thanks.

On the one hand, I was 2 minutes faster than my last 10km race, and 15 minutes faster than a year ago. On the other hand, two weeks ago I ran 10.5km two minutes faster than I managed today's 10km. (Admittedly, I was as fit as I get two weeks ago, and I could breathe.) The 10.5km was on a very hilly course, the 10km was on the flat. I was hoping for a much faster run today.

I've had a bad technology day today. My DVD player died when I tried to make it play some Buffy, and my i-pod shat itself after 1km, recording long periods of not running when I was running. It was out by over 3km on the 10km race. I suspect the signal isn't getting through, so I need to fiddle with a few things. Hopefully it will come good. It is frustrating because I'm playing a few challenges on the nikeplus website, and I ran 10km. I'd like to be credited for it. It's also frustrating, because I use the wretched thing to help me pace, and it was insisting I was standing still.

In the end, 76 minutes for 10km. It was a community run, with a short and long option. Most people of my running ability did the 5km. We all started at the same time, and I did quite well against the 5km runners, I finished 5km well ahead. It's just that they all stopped, and I was slowly doing a second lap all by myself.

Now, to do the last 11 weeks of half marathon training. I'm not sure how much I need to run next week. I'd like the answer to be "None! Sleep in!", but I don't live in that world anymore.

09:36 am: I'm feeling up to a 10km race (because I've quite clearly gone mad.) It starts at 11am, which is wierd.

I think it's so people who are doing it on a lark get a sleep in.

09:53 am: The plan was to run 5km today, so I could see how I feel about running 10km tomorrow.

I did it, slowly (7mins, 31 secs a kilometer) but I still live after 5km. It had been nine days since I last ran.

It was so easy not to run. I got to sleep in until 7am, I didn't have to hurt. It was very tempting to not start again. It would have been easy to not start again.

I started again. And now, 77days of training before my next half marathon.

11:19 pm: Okay, since the Sydney Half is off the cards (bugger), I've just entered me in my next one. In 78 days I'm running the Gold Coast Half Marathon. It's meant to be an incredibly flat course, which is what we like to hear.

And R. is entered for his first full Marathon. The annoying thing about doing half-marathons, is that everyone who isn't a runner calls it a marathon. Non runners tend to think of "marathons" as "a bloody long way", and anything that falls into their mental perception of "a bloody long way" is a marathon. So, everyone who does half marathons eventually get tempted to do the full, so they can stop explaining "A full is 42.2, a half is 21.1. If I do half marathons, and call myself a marathoner, the other runners will laugh at me."

R.'s time has come. I'm support crew, so I'll run my half, recover, then be ready to help R. recover.

Time to start training again, I can breathe through my nose.

06:32 pm: And finally, something that would be better than an armadillo cake:
http://www.wikihow.com/Make-an-Anatomically-Correct-Brain-Cake

05:52 pm: I have a cold. I'm managing to stay marginally functional (getting through work) thanks to a very broad spectrum approach. (I'm taking massive doses of vitamins, zinc, codral and caffeine. Together, they work and I stay upright.)

As a result, I've not run since last Thursday. This is obscene. It's a balancing act: run too soon, get sicker, not run for longer. Don't run? Lose aerobic fitness that I've worked so hard to earn. Lose the habit of the six am run. It's easier not to run than to run.

I've got through today without hitting the codral, so I think I'm getting better. Considering a gentle 5km tomorrow morning. I've got a race this weekend, that I really want to do (a ten km hosted by my running club), so I am treating this week like a taper.

Anyway, next part of the typical post (it goes running, knitting, personal stuff if any around). I am on row 106 of 132 of the inner border. Yes, the words inner border do imply an outer border. I have corrupted a friend to become a sock knitter. She's done the heel. I was a big meanie, I've taught her bunches of "advanced' techiques without telling her it's hard. Hey, why intimidate? so, she's cheerfully knitting backwards on short rows, and fitting her socks to her feet, and making her own design decisions. Because I'm making progress on the Never Ending Shawl of Doom and Despair, other knitting is calling me. I want to work on my Rogue, and my Lizard Ridge blanket. And I really fancy getting into my Kauni jumper.

Rehearsals continue apace, shows on in a few weeks. I have been given music for my solo singing, and am coming to terms with standing in front of hundreds of people and singing all alone. I'd rather remove a garment. It's less confronting. I currently deal by shutting my eyes a lot: it is a lullaby, after all. (I am possibly poorly calibrated on my singing. I think that k.d lang, for instance, is a good singer. Since I don't sound like k.d, I must not be a good singer. I don't sound like any of the female singers I admire.)

10:47 pm: Very funny, sinuses. Now stop it.

So, I had planned to do the half, and then launch back into training. So much so, that I ran my scheduled runs last week.

The three km on Tuesday was a bad, bad idea, and hurt a lot. wednesday and thursday (5km each) weren't fun, but I did it.

My body has discovered that pain doesn't stop the running, so it has called in the big guns. I have a cold, and can no longer breathe through my nose. I have a 12km tomorrow, and I don't think it's going to happen.

Dear body, we do this exercise so we can be fit and healthy. If you are going to render me unable to run, can it please be before I jog 3km within 48hours of jogging 21km.

05:55 pm: Very interesting.
Well, at least to me.

The ipod said that the weekend race was 22.5km. Hmmm, say I. That's a lot further than the usual 21.1km. I'm staying near a running track, that is marked in 100m increments. I checked the i-plod against that, over the distance of 1km. Spot on.

I understand my slowing down or the terrain (flat, vs hilly) can affect the calibration of i-pods, and that it's not 100% accurate. The race was not accredited as being the correct distance. My previous personal best was achieved on a course that was accredited as being correct. I was 8 minutes faster on the course that was not accredited.

So, either, the ipod and the marked running course are fibbing, or Sunday's course was a little long. I'm now panting to get onto an accredited course for the half. I think there might be another huge improvement...

08:47 pm: When I started on the path to half marathons, 8km was an extraordinary effort. (Truthfully, when I started on the path to be a runner, 300m was an extraordinary effort.) So, after my first half, I had two weeks off to recover. Second half, 2 weeks. Third half? 5 days.

Now, I want to be at the point where I can just go out and run 21km. I want 42km to be the extraordinary effort. So, this year, I've got an aggressive schedule, with half marathons about every 6 – 8 weeks for the next little while.

I can't afford to take any time off. Mondays are rest days. Tuesdays are run days. I went and ran 3km two days after I ran a half. My lactic acid levels are still high, I am travelling for work, so I don't have access to a bathtub. I followed that with a 5km this morning.

Ouch. And ouch. This is a really light recovery week, and I'm really wondering if this is sensible. On the other hand, it might help a week of restaurant food not turn into extra bottom.

So, 8km tomorrow morning. I am quite, quite mad.

02:20 pm: I am only mad, north northeast,
I'm going to share the secret language of runners. This really hit home today, since I live in an area with one 20m tall “hill”. It's not a hill, it's a goosebump.

Running course are always described as “flat” on their race websites. I believe there is only one race in Australia that concedes that a hill is involved, and that is the Coast to Koszi, which finishes at the top of Australia's highest mountain.

Last week, I learnt today's half marathon was on a course described by runners as “undulating”. During the course, there was an elevation change of 50m, which doesn't sound excessive, until you remember “undulating”. That's right. While the elevation change is tiny, you do it again and again and again.

The fabulous R. had the good sense to suffer an ankle injury and have a medically sanctioned break from running. This put him on support crew duties, which include listening to me have a last minute panic about the course (which I had not seen before the run, which was very sensible.) He also had to hold my stuff while I had my seven last minute nervous toilet breaks. Since the course was two 10.5km laps, he had to cheer when I ran past at half time. And he had to fetch me food at the end of the race. (Cheese sandwiches. These were the most wonderful thing I've ever tasted.)

So, carb loaded yesterday, which was wonderful. Baked olives and crusty bread, chicken liver pate wrapped in bacon on crusty bread, and spagetti with chili and fish. (We found an Italian restaurant.) We are in Bendigo, home of the famed Bendigo Woolen mills.

When I was on the pill, I always made sure that half marathon days did not co-incident with my period (and long training runs, etc.). I have changed to what my parents call 'the microchip', so I can no longer decide that it's inconvenient to have a period now, how about next month? (How about the 13th of Never?) I woke up yesterday with an unpleasant stomach cramp and thought “Oh, bother.” Spent the day being delicate and having a headache.

Woke up this morning, still with headache. Took one panadol, which took the edge off the headache, headed out to the race start, warned them that they were looking at the Glorious Last Place winner and I'm slow, entered the race and had seven nervous toilet breaks.

This is a small community run, 61 people started. Generally, in a small field, there are fewer people like me, who run their little hearts out, but basically suck. A quick scan of the field revealed no other little fat chicks, no old people and no people with only one leg. (Yes, I have sprinted over a finish line to beat a person with only one leg. And yes, it did take a sprint.)

I had my usual last minute panic : what if I couldn't make it, what if I was kidding myself about the training, what if I got lost, what if, what if, what if. R. calmed me down a bit, and sent me on my way.

This was a two lap race. I don't run laps, because I hate them. I'm an out and back kind of girl. 10.5km out, and 10.5km back since, well, if you want to go home, your car is actually 10.5km away. I stuck with the pack for 500m, and then I was all alone. I've never understood running with other people (largely because I don't run with others, and my running mentors didn't want me stuffing up their race times. You're born alone, you die alone, and you get through the wall at 18km alone.) But I like to hang onto the pack for a bit longer than 500m, because it gives me hope. Ran the first 4km in sub 7minute kilometers. Noticed a horrible big hill during the second kilometer and really enjoyed the lovely, beautiful flat bit between 3 and 5km. The bit between 5 and 7 was an out and back, to bring the loop up to 10.5km, and it was a series of hills. Run up the hill, have a little dip, then another hill, then 200m downhill. Then the turnaround. Which means it's back up the stupid sodding hill, down a little dip, up another hill, contemplate throwing up, realise there's nothing to throw up, run down a hill. Then, I discovered the next 3 km were uphill. I didn't spare the breathe to swear. Enjoy 500m on the flat, run past the loop end, and R. cheered me on, and around the loop again. This is why I don't do laps. I knew when the hills were coming. I'd tell myself pretty lies like “Get to the corner, and then it's easy”, when I knew full bloody well that we had a hill coming up. I started doing it hard at 15km, which is my traditional place to start feeling pain, and the undulating hills caught up with me. I wanted out at 18km and was ready to quit, but a nice patch of down hill helped me deal with it all. I slowed down to the buggery for the last 3km uphill stretch (this would be a much easier course in the other direction, I think.)

Long story short, tough little course. Pretty, and I saw some hilarious things, such as a home for lost cows. (“Lost cows”: is that the polite word for 'cow that used to belong elsewhere?”) and a sign advertising 'chemical free chicken' and I'm dying to know what that is made of. And wonderful volunteers, who cheered me on.

I came well and truly last, but I ran 21.1km, and did it in a personal best 2hours, 50mins and 48 seconds. I have to check my records, but I think that's a 8 minute personal best. I was a little unsure of where the finish line actually was (there were all these flags with finish line on them, which I rather thought was the finish line.) but it was actually 100m sooner than that. No complaints, but it meant that I didn't actually do a 100m sprint to finish, just a 10m sprint. Of course, with my arms above my head claiming victory. And then screaming when I got to stop.) There were two “DNS” (did not start, someone paid their money and didn't show) and one DNF (Did not finish).

I'm feeling very loved. The volunteers had a chat, and decided that a spot prize should go to the little fat chick who came dead last, so I won two bottles of wine. R. was hearing what the crowd has saying as I came in, dead last, well behind second last, and he tells me a lot of people will be pulling their running shoes on. The crowd feeling was that if I could do it, they had no excuses. Hopefully, next year I'll have a bit more company at the back of the pack.

Wonderful race, great volunteers, I'm currently very close to wool factory, so I'm happy. I'll be putting this one on the race calendar. I have ten toenails, which is unusual at this stage of the game, I've had a shower, and I have two blisters. I can recommend “runners high” to kill stomach cramps and a headache (my body thoughtfully produced a lot of endorphins, as it thought I was going to die.)

Now, I've had a risotto, and a coffee, and a ginger and date pudding with cream and caramel sauce. My plans for the afternoon are to sit in the sun, knit, and rehydrate.

I'm going to have a go at the Sydney Half for my next effort, which has a very aggressive cut-off, so I might only run 10km that time, and then the Gold Coast half, which is a course famed for flatness.

Tags: races, revolting exercise