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.