Alles ist gut

The world seems to be getting back into some sort of order now. Kate has left The Apprentice (is she evil or what?) and I'm getting back to my running after the office move (am I a goody two shoes or what?). Did a lovely run round Wendover Woods with Phoebe dog on Monday evening. We went late and it was just us, apart from some wild animal making a right racket, in the woods. Meant to go out Wednesday but got stuck at work. Last night I took to the roads, apart from a detour hacking my way through the undergrowth because the aforementiond Crong hill was blocked off for roadworks, and did a rolling 20km run in around 90 mins. I'm finding the Chiltern hills to be too easy so I'm going to have to find another way to do my hill training. One idea doing the rounds in my head is to crank the treadmill up to 15% then committing to running 5 miles uphill at least once a week. Not quite the 12 miles uphill on the Jungfrau but it'll have to do for now.

I was in the local paper last night (local to my home town of Doncaster that is). Tony's wife Max had contacted them in response to an article on cancer. She told them about Tony and my Jungfrau run and the fact I was doing it in aid of Brain Tumour UK . Overall the article was pretty good and gave my sponsorship webpage address (no response yet though) but they named the wrong village that I grew up in. This was after detailed discussions about the right villge. Jounalists!

Just had a call in the middle of writing this from my old schoolmate Dave Harcombe who saw the article and is now sponsoring me. Cheers Dave.

Still no news from the cardiologists.

Onward and upward (my motto for the next three months).

Aaaarrghhhh!

I'm in shock having just watched a programme profiling the remaining contestants in The Apprentice. The dreaded Kate, who comes a close second to Maggie Thatcher as the first to go against the wall come the revolution, drives the same car as me (even the same colour), loves running and holds similar views to me about people who don't look after themselves. Knowing how much I rant against her while watching The Apprentice my family thought it was hilarious but I found it very scary.

So I'm selling the car, taking up bog snorkelling and eating KFC as my primary food source.

Chicken leg anyone?

Fly Boy

Last year my daughters clubbed together and bought me a one-day gliding course for my birthday. I finally got round to taking the course yesterday. That's my glider and the instructor (leaning on glider) in the photo. It turned out to be a very interesting day and left me puzzling over my own mental make-up. In the end I declined the third flight and I'm still analysing why. I think it has to do with my attitude to risk. I think that I'm very risk averse. I've done some things that some people would consider risky such as packing in a very secure job to go freelancing. I'd quite happily disappear into the mountains on my own too but both of these things to me were/are low risk because I do my homework first and make sure they are safe. The freelance market was very healthy and I have a lot of experience in finding my way around in the hills and always take emergency supplies.

With the gliding I decided that there were just too many safety factors outside of my control. The flights were in fact lessons not simple joyrides. It was like your first three driving lessons except in 3-D. The sky was full of other gliders and the tug aircraft: above, below, left, right, in front and behind. It was like the Battle of Britain in silent slow motion. Also, despite the hot weather the thermals were hard to find. Comments from the instructor like "We've not got enough height to get back to the airfield" don't help when you're trying not to put the glider into a terminal tailspin. So I decided not to take the third lesson on offer. I felt obliged to because my girls had spent (too much of) their hard earned money on the course but ultimately I knew that they'd not want me to go up just for that reason alone.

Ever since then I've been wondering about what makes me tick and why. For example most sports that don't involve a significant amount of graft don't do anything for me. I've never taken to any form of motorised sport (because we never had a car when I was growing up?). I'd rather do cross country skiing than downhill. I'd rather ride a pushbike than a motorbike. Even then I don't like haring downhill out of control. I use hand hedge trimmers rather than electric trimmers (and I have far too much hedging). I'd rather handwash my car than stick it through a car wash (at least once a year). I sometimes think I was born 50 years too late. Having said that I think we probably did lead a 1930's lifestyle being fairly hard up in the 60's. I think that that is at the root of all this. Because we didn't have anything when growing up I probably subconsciously regard any luxuries as extravagance and anything not earned is not worth having. I'm not sure what all this is telling me. I dread to think what it's telling you!

I reckon I've had a fairly pensive week so far. I'll get over it soon I hope. I've certainly not had a fairly high mileage week. Apart from my long run on Monday and a short run on Wednesday I've done naff all. I'd intended to do a long road run today but went out last night to the aforementioned Rod's (see previous post) and indulged in too many but very nice red wines. I've been dehydrated and hungover all day. What a waste (although I did get to finish Everest the Hard Way. Must be nearly thirty year since I last read that). I'm now officially on the wagon until the evening of September 8th (Jungfrau day).

Going to check out the new office in the morning. No showers and an extra 10 miles on the M25. Lovely.

Chocks away!

Offloaded

Having gotten the previous post off my chest I needed to cheer myself up. Looking through my old photos I came across this one. It's me on my trusty Trek (or not so trusty as it turned out) above Les Arcs with Mont Blanc in the background. I spent a week with my friend, neighbour and foreign beer connoisseur Rod (the only man I know named after a piece of fishing equipment) as guests of Bike Village in the French Alps. I had a great time and learnt a lot about mountain biking on singletrack: namely why drag a lump of metal and rubber round a mountain when you can run it a damn sight easier and faster!? I love biking but there's a limit to what you should try and ride on and for me alpine single track is that limit. I spent ages trying not to fall off my bike down a mountainside on some of the most gorgeous running tracks imaginable.

Regarding the trusty Trek, on the day the above photo was taken the seat pillar bolt snapped. I spent the rest of the day (apart from the few seconds it took Rod to take the photo) stood up on my bike. It also gave me an excuse to take the next day off the bike and go for a long run instead :-)

Talking of running, after my long run on Monday I've only done a quick 4 miler round the golf course near the office. We move office today and apparently there's only one shower in new office for several hundred people. Should be a law against it.

Four weeks today to my birthday.

Tony - One year on

One year ago this morning I sat and watched my brother Tony die.

I'd intended to write a lot about Tony, what sort of brother he was, the fact that he'd finally got his life together, his artwork and the various scrapes he'd gotten himself into but I'm afraid I can't. I'm still angry about the way he was abandoned by the health service who are scared shitless to venture outside NICE guidelines even when the cause in their eyes is lost, about the complete and utter lack of coordination even within the same hospital and about how the hospice service is nothing but a glorified human scrapyard. Abandon hope all ye who enter here.

While I'm at it, I'm also unspeakably angry about people who waste their health so if this applies to you: stop smoking, stop eating crap and get some ferking exercise!

Good night.

Global Wetting

Not to let a simple thing like a gale stop me from going out I decided to get serious and go out for a longer than usual run yesterday. It was mostly off road but I left the dog at home as I didn't want to get half way round to find she'd had enough. At about 6 degrees centigrade it was borderline leggings weather but I opted for shorts (coupled with thermal top and waterproof jacket). As it turned out it was just about right. I overheat very easily. The route took me over the Chilterns highest point (a whole 900 ft), down through Wendover then up Coombe Hill (top left in photo, a massive 850 ft) then down and round the back of Chequers (prime minister's country retreat, see photo). Tony didn't seem to be in. I once ran past there under the watchfull eye of a shades wearing security man sat in his Range Rover in the middle of the field in the foreground of the photo. I guess Tony was in that day. The post and rail fence around that field is made from old railway lines and steel bars. Up over Dunsmore Ridge then back down to Wendover to pick up the Ridgeway path back home. There were leaves, branches and fallen trees all over the place. The trees around here fall over at the slightest excuse. I reckon their roots are shallow as the top soil is any a few inches thick on top of the underlying chalk. I took a Camelbak rucksac with 1 litre of fluids, a banana and two biscuit bars for sustenance. Felt commfortable all the way round but was glad to finish. According to my trusty Polar I did 34.2 km (about 21-22 miles) in 3h 20 mins. Well worth a road marathon considering conditions underfoot. Legs don't feel too bad today which is encouraging.

Cross Training with Soul

One of my lifelong passions has been the Northern Soul scene. In a nutshell, Northern Soul is an underground dance scene that's been around, predominantly in the North of England, for some forty years. It's based on thousands of largely black American up-tempo soul songs that never saw the light of day in the charts but have been rediscovered (rescued) by avid soul fans. The dance style has to be seen (take a look here) but could be described as a cross between Riverdance and Kung Fu! We were breakdancing before most of the breakdancers were born. The fact that we're still doing it in our 40's and 50's is testament to the quality of the music and the scene.

Anyway, the point is that going to a soul night is a brilliant way of keeping fit. Dancing at a rate of knots for 4-5 hours (or 8-9 hours if it's an all nighter) is a fantastic form of aerobic exercise. I keep meaning to take my heart rate monitor one of these nights.

So that was what I was up to last night. A trip out to a new venue near Cambridge with my mate Brian. Had a great time and made lots of new soulmates. Back to the running tomorrow.

Keep the faith. (Old Northern Soul expression).

Big Softie

I really am too soft. I'd planned my long road run on Sunday but couldn't resist taking Phoebe dog out on an off-roader. She loves running and goes mad when I put my shorts on (believe me it's not the sight of my legs). Those pleading eyes are just too much for a big softie like me to resist. So a quick replanning later and off we go down the Ridgeway path, over Ivinghoe Beacon then round back through Ashridge forest. A mere eight miles but a lovely run on a gorgeous spring morning.

Interestingly, I found it difficult to get the heart rate over 120. Not sure what's going on there. Maybe something to do with the curry the night before.

Woof woof!

Me Run

I just spotted a freaky coincidence with my name and the German language (see Ich Lerne Deutsch). My name is Mick Wren. In German 'mich renn' (pronounced exactly the same) translates literally as 'me run'. How spooky is that!

Talking of running, I did the old canal run to work on Wednesday. Another 48 minutes but a bit slower on the way back. I need to work on an eight hour recovery technique for the run home.

Me go now.

Rain Man

I love running in the rain, which was just as well on Sunday as it peed it down all day. As much as I like the sun you just can't beat a good run in a downpour. One of my fondest running memories is running along a lane down which water six inches deep was flowing during a storm. It was just like being a kid again splashing along while laughing my head off. The passing motorists must have thought I was mad.

Anyway, yesterday I set off for a long(ish) road run with the intention to get in as many hills as I could. I went up Aston Hill (after which Aston Martins are named as Mr Martin used to trial his cars up the hill) and through Wendover Woods. I did go off road for a mile or so but it was a fairly good surface. I didn't even get my shiny new Asic Kayano's dirty. Then it was straight up The Hale and round back via The Crong (a lot of hill roads around us have names starting with 'The'. We also have TheTwist.) After the Hale all other 'hills' looked very flat and I even managed to accelerate up them which is unusually for me. In the end I did over 21km (bang on a half marathon) in a very comfortable 1h 45min which I'm more than happy with considering the hills. The rain kept me nice and cool but I was completely soaked when I got home and was banished to the utility room to strip off. Not a pretty sight.

Polar Test

Not, as the title might suggest, a trek across artic wastes but a relaxing 5 mins laying in bed while my heart rate monitor checks my fitness. My Polar HRM performs a test that gives the equivalent of a VO2Max reading. This gives an indication of the body's ability to use the oxygen taken in while breathing. The higher the number, the fitter you are. I have increased a whole one point to 52 in the last five weeks. While this sounds like not much of an improvement the Polar manual suggests that it will take at least six weeks to notice any difference. My maximum heart rate has also dropped two beats to 172, again an indication of improvement. As stated in my earlier post Easter Runny Bunny I'd like to get my VO2Max up to 60 by September. At the rate of 1 point every 5 weeks that'll take me beyond Christmas so maybe 55 is more realistic. Still, 52 is good for a 20 year old and off the scale for someone my age so I can still feel smug knowing that I can beat most of the ipod generation up to the top of the nearest hill. Not that that would remotely bother them of course.

Planning to go for nice long and hilly road run tomorrow. Whilst I prefer to be off road I like the consistency of road running as it lets you get into the groove, or cruise mode as I call it. That feeling of effortless cruising down the road for miles can't be beaten (well almost). It's not so easy off road due to the variation in terrain and having to negotiate stiles and gates.

Whatever!

Route Canal Work

I know I've been whinging about the canal run to work and back but it is teaching me an important lesson in running. As I've mentioned previously I try to do a different route everytime I go for a run. This canal run is the same every time and provides a useful measuring stick for my progress. Having overtrained a few weeks ago I could see the effect it had on me: depressed heart rate, heavy legs and at 53 mins, an extra half minute a mile. Having rested I did it again on Wednesday and did it in 48 mins! That's 40 secs a mile faster in one week. For the non-runners out there that's a massive change is such a short time and is a sure sign that my glycogen reserves were depleted by the overtraining. I could feel the difference. It also seemed a hell of a lot shorter. So those extra miles weren't in vain after all.

Apparently we are moving office in June so I'm going to have to find a new route (assuming there's a shower at the new place).

Having mentioned Jos Naylor in my last post, who should be on the telly tonight but the man himself. He was on the Wainwright's Walks programme on BBC2. He's run from Seathwaite to the top of Scafell Pike (about 5 miles and 3000 feet) in 47 mins. It took the presenter and her film crew ten hours. I walked the same route, with a detour up Glaramara, last November on a gorgeous late autumn day. Think it took me about three hours. The photo, from Glaramara across to the Langdale pikes, was taken on that day. The day before I'd been on top of the pointed hill in the middle (Pike o'Stickle).

Take to the hills!