Speed..oh!

I’m not sure that I like running fast.  It’s hard.  I sweat.  A lot.  And the mind games it takes to keep going are almost more effort than the actual run.

Yesterday was speed day.  Melbourne had put on an absolute farewell to Winter with glorious sunny, clear skies.  Really, I just wanted to walk in it; feel the sun warm my bones, breathe in this prelude of Spring.  But I have a plan, so through gritted teeth I scanned in at gym and said hello to Mr. Treadmill.

Still a little pissy about missing the goodness outside, I extended my walking warm-up to 10 minutes, gave myself a stern talking to and ran…

1.       10kph                    90 seconds                          30 seconds rest

2.       12kph                    60 seconds                          45 seconds rest

3.       14kph                    60 seconds                          45 seconds rest

4.       16kph                    45 seconds                          60 seconds rest

5.       14kph                    60 seconds                          60 seconds rest

6.       12kph                    60 seconds                          45 seconds rest

7.       10kph                    90 seconds                          30 seconds rest

TWICE

And this is what I noticed;

10kph, 6 min/km feels really slow now.  Especially on the way back down the pyramid.  In fact, it felt a little awkward and was difficult to get a rhythm happening.

12kph, 5 min/km is actually a pretty manageable pace.  That’s hilarious to write.  And again, coming back down the pyramid, I felt as though I could stay here for longer than the pre-planned 60 seconds.

14kph, 4.28min/km – now this was a challenge, and definitely harder on the first attempt, but I clearly remember thinking on the last (fourth) interval at this pace, that there’s not that much difference between 5min and 4 min pace.  Sounds dumb when I read it back – must have been the endorphins!

16kph, 3.75min/km was T O U G H.  I felt like a water buffalo thumping across the belt.  There was no grace, form or style, it was survival mode.  On the first interval set I narrowly avoided becoming treadmill roadkill, my feet barely able to jump off the belt.  I didn’t quite get through the full 45 seconds; more like 41.  The second set was a definite improvement.  I squeezed out 45 seconds but had no more in me.

It’s really important to me to record these observations here for a couple of reasons.  I remember the first time I ran this style of interval on the treadmill, about 18 months ago.  After 12kph I nervously increased to 13kph but could only manage a few steps, and one set was enough.  I may never improve beyond where I am now – this may be my peak, but if it’s not, I’ll have this new baseline to measure myself against.

To me, competition comes in two forms; against the person I was yesterday, and against the voices in my head that tell me garbage stories about why I can’t, or shouldn’t, or won’t.  Yesterday I beat them both.  Winning J

Class act

Wednesday is Pilates day.  It's in my work calendar.  Not negotiable.  I freaking love it.

In the two months I've been a member of the gym, I've only missed one Wednesday.  Yet in that time we've had four different instructors.

The first week was a gorgeous hippy blonde free-spirit type who made me want to come back.  I haven't seen her since.

Week 2 was a fill in for week 2 who was on holidays.  She was more technical, less alternative, and showed me a different take on Pilates.  She made me want to come back.

New week, new instructor.  This one had a questionable command of English, and no one in the class could understand a word she was saying.  She made me want her to not come back.

4th - I had to miss due to a work conference.

5th, 6th & 7th, Miss week 2 was back.  Aaaahhhhh the control, the awareness, the DOMS.

This week - the 8th - I was hoping to see Miss Technical again.  Instead a big (and by big I mean overweight), loud, spiky blonde haired, tattooed kick boxer.  And this class moved me to tears.

Instead of the usual Pilates format, she taught the class as a Les Mills "Body Balance", which is more yoga-based.  It was bloody magnificent.  Graceful.  Difficult.  Flowing. Challenging. I stretched in ways I thought long-gone.  I relaxed into it, closed my eyes and felt my body surrendering all tension.    And when the 45 minutes ended with a brief meditation, there were tears of release.

The loud kick chick knew she'd reached me.  We hugged it out at the end of the class.  As you do.

Was it timing?  The instructor?  Yoga?  I don't have answers but I REALLY want to give yoga another try to find out.

Peace.  Out.

A diet balanced

It's a delicate balance this running / diet thing.

Ideally, I'd still like to drop a few kilos.  Like, five to be exact.  But I also need to fuel my longer runs and strength sessions.  I am hungry ALL THE TIME and the weight isn't really shifting.  A kilo lost, a kilo gained, a kilo lost, then found again.

Three years of calorie counting, activity monitoring, deficit creating has left me with a fair idea of what it takes to maintain an even weight.  This running caper has tipped the scales - pun intended.

So it makes me wonder... Are running and weight loss at odds with each other?  

You see plenty of very lean runners.  But... are they former fatties?  Does that history of obesity have a permanent impact on the way our bodies process energy?

More questions than answers, so for the next few weeks I'm hooking up with an old mate - My Fitness Pal.  Together we'll sort through the ins and outs, we'll track and we'll analyse. We'll systematically work it out and strategise a plan to find balance.

Let's see if it's that simple, eh?

To Hallam back

Sunday is long, slow run (LSR) day to get some miles and hours in the legs.

Mission accomplished...

Starting in Berwick, we headed North to the Highway, to Sweeney Reserve, and along Hallam Valley Trail.  A little wet in places under foot, but a really good, wide, quiet trail past some areas that you can only get to on foot.  

Rather than return the same way, we headed toward Pound Road, which meant a long, slow hill, before looping around and heading back towards Berwick Springs.

There was nothing overly strenuous or sweaty, just a solid, enjoyable, social trot with time for selfies and road crossings and bio breaks of course!  The body held up really well.  Just a few minor aches in the knee and hips, but there was plenty of fuel in the tank, and my mind stayed really positive throughout.

Could we have kept running?  Absolutely.  This is all about gentle build-up, sustainability and learning about what my body can do.

Total time on feet this week is about the time I'm thinking the half marathon will take, so the challenge is to increase the distance - slowly - but keep the time consistent.

Hallam Valley Trail gets the big tick from me :)

Those three little words

Hills.

Sprints.

Intervals.

And what do you get when you add the together?  A bloody good workout!

Thursday after work looked a little like this;

1st km      5:21     "Oh, this feels alright"

2nd km    5:55      "Running sucks - why do people do this?"

3rd km     8:17      "I'll just walk for a little bit, yeah?"

So at this point my options were;

a) abandon

b) suck it the hell up

Which gave me the slightly warped idea of hacking out some hill intervals.  The long, fast kind.  Torture, right?

Wrong!  I loved it, and worked my ass off with a big stupid grimace grin.

I'd guestimate my hill of choice was about 50m long, an incline of about 5% and nice soft, well-worn bitumen.  It was about 4.30pm, 10 degrees and pretty much as good as it gets.

So I crank out the first sprint.  Felt good.  Jog back.  Repeat. Get to five I told myself.  Feeling dead at 5.  Decide to walk back from the 5th.  Second wind. Lose count.  Do 9.  Top speed 3:27/km. HR peaks at 152.  Cadence reaches 212.  Those two are usually the other way around.

Maybe these hill things aren't so bad after all?

Run-plugged

It's no secret that I love my gadgets.

This week at parkrun I did the unthinkable - I ran un-plugged.  

Now, this didn't happen by design.  I had signed up to volunteer today.  Not that I really wanted to.  The only way last week's event would start was if three people signed up to help out.  After an awkward delay only netted two suckers, I put my hand up so we could get on with things.  This morning, Mr Lean was still suffering from his back/leg/foot soreness and decided to come along to parkrun anyway.  And with no other volunteer positions available today, circumstance gave me the opportunity to run.

Not that I was prepared for it.  With no earphones or armband, the phone (and therefore Nike+) was left behind.

So I ran.

And I liked it.

In fact, for 26 minutes I used all of my senses.

I felt the path beneath me.  Where my feet made contact.  And the breeze on my arms.  Changed the position of my hands to see what felt better.

I heard things for the first time.  The louder footfall over the first bridge.  The constant bump of steps on the long straight.  The crunch of gravel as I rounded the corner next to the rotunda.  And my breathing.  I heard how easy mine was, so I played with it.  Three out to two in.  Two in and one long one out, making my feet keep time.  I heard the encouragement of the pacers both in front and behind me.

I saw and smelled the first signs of spring.  The clumps of runners bunching next to an orange-clad pacer. Ducks on the water.  I took it all in.

And I tasted my own sweat as I crossed the finish line.

Every part of me ran today.  Mind, body, heart, soul.

I picked up a friend's Son with 500m to go, laughing as I told him not to let an old duck like me beat him, and pushed him through to the flags.

I picked myself up when my thoughts started to drag into negative country, gently bringing them back to the present.

But most of all, I picked up a greater sense of who am I, who I want to be, and what I need to do to get there.

The agent for change is changing

I started to write this post a few days ago, yet struggled to bring it together.  Last night the why was revealed...and now it's taken on a different tone.

*****

Back when I started this 'transformation' (not a fan of that word, but it's better than 'journey'!), I happened upon a local Facebook group. In fact, I didn't even have a FB account then.  I remember the hesitation before I posted the first time.  How it took me weeks of reading through people's comments to learn the ropes and feel my way.  Over time I gained the confidence to contribute, which led to me joining my first group activity - with complete strangers.  I can smile at this now, but back then, it was a fear, and it was real.

It's been a while since I've been active in the group.  I'm still a member.  Sentiment means I can't let it go, even though I rarely pop in to catch up on happenings.

Last night, the founder of the group posted about the group's impending closure.  The admins are burnt out and aren't getting what they need from the group themselves.  That, combined with the number of lurkers in the group have led them to make the decision.

I'm strangely affected by this.

In my health and wellness studies there's a fair focus on the psychology of change and the typical stages you go through.  The first two are pre-contemplation and contemplation.  These resonate VERY strongly with me.  After all, it's not like I suddenly woke up one morning and sorted my shit out.  Sure, I had a health scare, but in reality, when I analyse it all, the actual process began many MANY years ago, before 12wbt had even been conceived.

Without knowing it I was accumulating knowledge that would eventually point me in the right direction.  I’d read a little about different diets.  In fact, if you open some of the boxes I have in storage, you’ll find dusty, dog-eared titles such as; Eat Right For Your Type, The Liver Cleansing Diet, Fit For life, all with sticky notes and scribbles in the margins. Contemplation and I were best friends.

So these stages.  They may take a few weeks, months, years or decades.  And there are no formulae to correlate length with success. No means of predicting whether a quick transition between denial, thought and action is more effective than a drawn out series of seemingly ineffective attempts.

But there is plenty of data that supports the need to find your tribe.  That success is more likely when supported in a group setting. Should it be a two-way street though?

Do those who have successfully navigated change and live a healthy lifestyle have a kind of responsibility to tell their story?  Not so much for their own sense of importance, but in the hope that others may change their lives too. 

You just never know who is watching, listening, reading, preparing and contemplating change.

Outside in

As part of National Diabetes Awareness week, my employer arranged heart health checks for anyone who could spare 10 minutes.

That in itself was interesting.  An external company came on site for the series of free assessments, and even so, the take up rate was quite low. And this floors me; attendance rates at pre-booked appointments were around 50%.  I’d love to analyse this further, but that’s a topic for another day.

When I began this lifestyle change bizzo I took the usual measurements, but didn’t go for the recommended health check.  D’oh!  How I would love those results now for comparison.  I know externally I have changed significantly, but I don’t know the full extent that these changes have had internally, which really, is of significantly more importance.

So how did I measure?

Total Cholesterol:            5.3mmol/l, which is in the ideal range.

HDL Cholesterol:              2.14mmol/l, which is also in the ideal range.

Glucose:                              4.8mmol/l, which gave me a gold star

Type 2 diabetes risk:       4, which is low risk, with all points earned due to being over 45.

Waist circumference:     <80cm is ideal, which wasn’t an issue.

Cardiovascular risk:         <5%  YAY

 

As a non-smoker, very occasional drinker and someone who exercises more than 2.5 hours each week, I am ranked in the top 2% of staff here that took the test.

But my blood pressure.  Gaahhhhh.  It’s a tad on the high side.  Like 151/93 type high.  The body is in shape, but the head clearly needs work!

Run positive

Even before we left the house this morning, I knew I would PB at parkrun today.

Last Sunday on the bus from C2S finish line to Bondi Junction train station, I knew it.  Coz 5km is easy when you're coming off 14.  And a flat 5 is even easier again.  Then add in a solid recovery to a well nourished and well rested body, and there's no reason not to, is there?

Let's rewind a little?  March 1st held the record for my fastest 5km.  On that day I took one whole second off my previous best, coming in at 25:43. That was after three months of trying.  

The next week I was super pumped and had a sub 25 in my sights.  Kilometre 1 and 2 were on track at just over 5 minutes each. But that 3rd km always gets me and my legs start to feel heavy.  I lengthened my stride, figuring that the less they turned over, the less they would hurt.  It also put extra pressure on my slightly annoyed ITB, and at the 2.6km mark, I pulled up like I'd torn a hammy. 

Good news: it wasn't my hamstring.  Bad news: it was a minor ITB tear, down low just over the knee.

Because I was less active during the recovery, (and moving boxes at work) my stupid back decided it would freak out too.  So in reality, I've been in recovery and strengthening mode for the last 5 months.

So today...

I go out hard.

1st km    5:12

2nd km   4:50

On pace for <25 minutes.

3rd km   5:04

4th km   5:05

All I have to do is run another 4:50 and the illusive sub 25 is mine.

And then my head decides to butt into the conversation.

"You're going to hurt yourself if you keep at this pace".  "Remember last time?".  "Who cares if you go sub 30 anyway?".

So I drop back to a walk.  Yep.  At the 4km mark.

One of my running buddies, Rachel, who was right on my tail, gave me a burst of verbal encouragement.  It was enough to kick my rear end, and I picked the pace back up to run with her for 200m or so.  Until I just couldn't.  Breath was hard to come by.  Nausea was rising.  I walked some more.

This was NOT the way I wanted to finish.  There was 500m to go and I could see the finish line.  So I just ran. 

5th km    5:11

Which, according to my Garmin, gave me an unofficial time of 25:19, official came in at 25:32.

The photographer captured how I felt perfectly.  S.P.E.N.T.

Thanks Rachel for pulling me through.  And congrats on smashing your own PB too.  A positive mind achieves great things.

The running contagion

Is it just me, or does seeing someone run make you want to stride it out yourself?

I've been noticing this more and more lately.  At first it was a sideways glance.  Then it became a full on  runners perve (at gait, stride length, those type of mechanics rather than a check out "perve").  But recently it's become more than that.  I want in on the action too.

It's kind of like yawning.  Someone around you yawns, and the impulse to join in wins every time.

The contageous yawning thing: it's supposedly linked to empathy -- the ability to understand and connect to others' emotional states.  So applying this theory to running, there could actually be something scientific in it.

The more I run, the more I identify with being a runner.  And as I gain experience, both in events and in training, the more emotional it makes me.  Which is saying something!

Every single person that runs has their own story.  They must.  Because walking is so much easier.  And staying in bed or on the couch is easier still.  So to be out there running, means you've made a choice; a decision to prioritise a portion of your day for yourself, rather than succumb to the endless demands we place on ourselves and have placed upon us.

Do I have empathy with that?  I'll tell you when I get back from my run :)

Getting the treatment

Other than through self trial and error, how do you know the best form of treatment to help you recover from a body-busting event?

Massage?  Physiotherapy?  Osteotherapy?  Myotherapy? 

This week I found someone who ticks all of these boxes - and some.  MST - musculo-skeletal therapy.

According to Google (who knows everything, right?); The musculo-skeletal system is responsible for the body’s structural stability and physical movement. It is composed of many different kinds of muscles, ligaments, joints, tendons and bones. Musculoskeletal dysfunctions are very common; many people experience muscle pains, aches, joint dysfunctions etc. MST is a branch of physical therapy that focuses on the treatment of the musculo-skeletal pain and dysfunction viewing the body as a whole and not just focusing on individual places. It involves an extensive physical evaluation, orthopaedic testing, postural analysis, manual therapy and a rehabilitation plan.

Worth a try...

So the hour-long appointment goes a bit like this;
Whats going on now and past injuries.
Posture check...mmm... your left shoulder is lower than your right.  Lean on a mouse for a lot of your day, eh?
Jump up on the couch and lets have a feel around.
Hamstrings tight (yeah, ouch)
Calves tight (yesssss, double ouch)
Knee very swollen (thats coz it's stuffed)
"You don't stretch very often do you?"  Hmmm.  No.

Off with the dacks (and on with a towel) for a closer feel of the sore parts.
Feeling for a change of texture in major muscle groups.
"Does your left hip give you trouble?".  Oh yeah, I forgot about that.
"Does your right ankle swell up for no reason?".  Right again.
"Have you had trouble with your right knee?".  Giggle.  Dude, you're freaking me out.
"Your mid-foot strike is great - have you had running training?".  Okay, no training, but how do you know what part of my foot I run on?

And we're only 10 minutes into the hour by this stage.

He discusses all of the major muscle groups with me, and then moves onto the minor ones that surprisingly give me no discomfort at all.  Which is because I don't use them.  Which is why the majors are all screaming, because they're over-compensating for my lazy legs.

Then, he asks is he can do some work on my left knee.  I reluctantly agree, but hold my breath as he massages a muscle at the back of my knee.  On the pain scale, this hit a 9.  But as I relax and breathe through it, it eases.  As does the tightness in my knee.  So he suggests that we try to stretch it out - gently of course.  Magically, he gets another 10 or so degrees of flexion, which, given I've been stuck walking like a granny for 10 years, it's a bit exciting!

More massage.  More groaning.  More flexing of the knee.  And we're done.

Then came the happy ending.  A special recovery machine which is like inflatable pants that expand and contract via an air pump, that compress and release the muscles.  AND this part WAS FREE!

So for $85, $35 of which was covered by BUPA, I came out feeling like a very relaxed, well cared-for athlete.  Until I looked in the mirror anyway!

I went away with a few exercises to strengthen my lazy minor leg muscles, and I'm due to return for a tune-up in three weeks.

Overall, it was a great experience with no up-sell or frequent return pressure.  A bit perfect really.

City2Surf - fab5 style

In reality, the event itself started around six months ago.  Researching and sourcing accommodation and flights + an equal measure of daydreaming and scheming about C2S consumed hours and even days.  Reading, asking anyone and everyone their experiences and some training was thrown in there too, to make sure that we were ready to take on the worlds largest fun run.

Ready?  Even if we'd trained like elite athletes, we could never have prepared ourselves for THIS.

The day, THE DAY happened well before sunrise.  Sleep was hard to come by;  a combination of nerves and a buzzing inner-city street below.  As the sun rose, the foot traffic below increased, becoming a parade of runners all heading North towards Hyde Park. Four hours pre-start and goosebumps combined with that nervous energy that makes sure you keep a loo nearby.

Time to fuel up. Breakfast: Two pieces of toast with peanut butter and honey, washed down with enough water to hydrate without causing the need to queue for a portaloo later.

In reality, we were ready to go by about 7am, but our wave, the yellow zone for "those who intend to jog most of the way", wasn't due to start until 9:05.  A little after 8am there was no longer a reason not to go, so we quietly strolled, shivering the 800m to the Hyde Park starting area.

The blue zone was just underway, and from our viewpoint there was literally a sea of people.  Mexican waves and beach balls kept the waiting runners engaged, and when our wave began to move slowly forward, jumpers were shed and thrown high to the footpaths as we marched obediently towards a start line we couldn't yet see.

Once we turned that first corner, past Red Foo revving the crowd up, the start was in front of us and just like that we were running City2Surf.

The first couple of kilometres was electric.  Crowds lined the roads on both sides and it felt more like a carnival on speed than a running event.

Bands played from rooftops, curb side and even bridge overpasses.

6 lanes of foot traffic bumped their way through the tunnel.

It was literally a sea of people both in front and behind us.

I think you get the idea; 80,000 people of all ages and sizes, all united for this iconic event.

The course itself was tough.  Heartbreak hill seemed to go for 5km, and every time you thought the top was within reach, another corner would appear.  At times I thought about dropping back to a walk, but I really wanted to beat it, so stayed strong and pushed through.

Following the advice of the "lazy runner" I stopped at each drink station except the last, choosing water at the first stop and gatorade at the following three.  I had a little internal battle near the top if heartbreak hill.  We'd learnt from City2South that they place a timing device at the bottom and top of the hill, and weren't surprised to see the reader at the base of heartbreak.  Before we got to the top reader, there was a drink stop.  Now I knew from studying the map that it was another few kilometres before the next drink station, so I had a coupe of seconds to decide whether to push for time or drink. The second option won out, and I don't regret that choice, because little did we know, the hill climb wasn't over yet.

At the top of the first peak of heartbreak hill, at a little over the half way point, if you looked over your left shoulder, the city was clearly visible, and the centre point tower showed just how far we'd travelled.

A little further on, at the top of the second peak, a glimpse over your right shoulder revealed the opera house and harbour bridge.  Breathtaking.  Or maybe that was the result of the climb.

The downhill stretch into Bondi was bittersweet.  I didn't want it to end, although my legs didn't share those feelings.  Coming down from the descent, my legs turned to concrete as they tried to carry me the final kilometre on the flat.  It was the longest km I've run.  With about 500m to go, the crowd were 10 thick, hanging over the barriers with signs of encouragement and cheering everyone on.  At the hairpin bend that took us to the finish line I had tears streaming down my face and my skin was tingling all over.  That final hundred metres seemed to be in slow motion, and I pumped my fists in triumph as I stepped over the finish line.

With medal in hand, I made my way through the thousands of recent finishers toward the ocean with my shoes hanging over my shoulders. Not even the freezing water could wipe the smile from my face.  As runners waded in the shallows as part of their recovery, we shared our race experiences, laughing about that damn hill, crying over the dozens of memorial tee-shirts on runners, and vowing to come back again next year to do it all again.

Now, recovery happens.  I'm not sure which will heal quicker; mind, body or soul.

*crowd shots sourced from various instagram accounts.

St Peter's parkrun

It was a brisk, foggy morning in Sydney.

All tired from our travels the night before, no one would have blamed us for pulling the covers up high and catching some extra rest.  We HAD come here to run, but the main event was the following day.

We all piled together into the one hotel room, excitedly preparing the athlete's breakfast of choice (peanut butter and honey on toast), before layering up and facing the cold, 7am commute to St Peters park run AS TOURISTS!

A short walk to Central station, an easy train ride, an even shorter walk across the road with groups of other parkrun tourists from near and far, and there we were, in that familiar parkrun environment 1,000km from home.

We mixed and mingled with anyone and everyone, determined to squeeze every ounce from this experience.

In fact, we talked so much that we sort of missed the start and found ourselves at the back of the pack.

The course at St Peters is around a lovely reclaimed brickworks site that they've turned into park land.  It's basically an out and back with an interesting loop (with hill) at the turn point.

I'm sure each of the fab 5 will have a slightly different view of the event, but from my lens, here's how the 5km unfolded;

Keen to not go out too hard and destroy my legs for City2Surf, I planned on a comfortable 6:30 - 6:40 / km pace.

1st km    6:39

2nd km   6:50

Thats the good thing about plans - they're subject to change.  Just before the 2km mark, one of the many people I chatted to on course completely lured me in.  He was struggling; laboured breathing, slouched posture and moving at a shuffle.  And the more we chatted, the more I wanted to know.

Running in the 65-69 age group and on his second ever park run, David's chest swelled with pride as he told me how much he'd endured to be at this point.  Five years ago he underwent a double knee replacement and at the time, even walking was difficult.  He remembers feeling as though he would never be able to walk properly and live a normal life.

But he kept at it.  And two weeks ago, on his park run debut he almost ran the whole 5km and crossed the line just a few seconds short of 40 minutes.  We chatted some more.  I shared my story and the reasons why the group of us were in Sydney, as well as what we'd all accomplished.

I could tell though that David was incredibly strong of mind.  He was proud of his first-up time, but felt a little disappointed that he hadn't run the whole way.  He so desperately wanted to make his kids and grandkids proud by completing the 5km without stopping.

David was also intrigued by my array of techy gadgets, which I was only too happy to share.  And as each kilometre beeped on my watch, he'd ask me how we were going.

3rd km    7:54

4th km    7:43

We were on track to completely smash his PB.

The 5th was tough.  A sneaky little grassy hill that was quite slippery underfoot meant that we had to back off the pace a little.  But not long after the top, we were on a downhill and heading for home.  When the view of the chimneys came into view, David's sigh of relief was audible and I became his personal cheer squad.

5th km    8:03

We crossed the line together in 37:14.  Almost 3 whole minutes faster than his best.  And he ran the entire distance.  

Parkrun - you've changed me.

And I thank you for it.

Sounds like a plan.

This whole half marathon thing is getting serious.  The past two weeks I've not only made but STUCK to a plan.

I know.  Shock, eh?

Last week...

Monday: Recovery walk post Run Melbourne

Tuesday: Rest

Wednesday: Pilates

Thursday: Treadmill session (7.5km)

Friday: Rest

Saturday: Parkrun

Sunday: Long jog, which was actually a wog (11.5km) with the injured man.

Upcoming week...

Monday: Long jog (8km)

Tuesday: Rest

Wednesday: Pilates

Thursday: Gentle strength session & walk

Friday: Rest

Saturday: St Peters parkrun (5km walk)

Sunday: City to Surf (14km)

After keeping my nutrition too tight the week before, this week saw larger portions, especially protein, and it paid off.  I dropped 1kg and had energy to burn.

And I don't know if you read the entry up there for Sunday?  

Yes.  City to Surf.

Excited much?