Tom Roper's Running Training

The tale of Tom Kitten

If you were to ask me if there is a literary figure with whom I identify myself, then I would like to offer some existentialist man of action, one whose tormented soul makes dangerous choices, only because one must choose, and the choice being secondary to the act of choosing itself. 

The truth is, after two weeks off running, and with a poor record before that, I identify most with Tom Kitten, the eponymous hero of Beatrix Potter's Bildungsroman. Tom, you will recall, grew so fat that when his mother tried to dress him in his best clothes, the buttons burst off. The same thing happened to the pair of trousers I wear as I write.

I ran yesterday for the first time for a fortnight; I shall run again tomorrow. I have learnt that it will take a long time to recover fitness. The best way to think of this is to go back over ten years, to when I started this present bout of running, with slow lunchtime jogs and what passed for a long run on a Sunday was four or five miles. If I can establish that base again, even though ten years older, I stand some chance of fitting into my trousers again.

Falling at the fifth

My knee was a little troublesome today, but when I came home in the evening, changed into running kit, and readied myself to go out to the Seaford Striders evening run, I found my leg swollen, clearly oedematous. Running didn't seem like a good idea. I wonder when it will?

The fourth day of Juneathon

Has it only been four days? It seems so much longer. Tonight, after the journey home on a number 12 bus.on which I nearly fell asleep, no mean feat, I went out for an early evening run. The first mile or so was hard, though my legs moved a little more fluently than yesterday. Then, once I'd climbed to South Hill Barn, it suddenly came together, and I enjoyed running over Seaford Head and down. When I reached tarmac again, the old lassitude came back. 

It's hardly surprising, after some erratic training, and rather a lot of sherry, that I should be slow. I have faith that Juneathon will make things right. 

The difficult third day of Juneathon

Running with the gait of a duck with a rupture, I managed two miles. My knee didn't like yesterday's eight miler, though not the knee I injured last year in Glasgow, puzzlingly. Maybe I put extra stress on it, trying to protect the other. It was a beautiful evening. A few late strollers enjoyed the passegiata on the seafront. I puffed and moaned my way past them. Who said running should be pain free and pleasant?

Juneathon: second day, or Trinity Sunday

I am very behind in my Bach cantata listening. Here we are at Trinity Sunday, and I'm still listening to the Whitsun ones, including ones for Whit Tuesday, oddly.

Nevertheless, Juneathon proceeds apace, with eight miles here, out to the Cuckmere, the beach spotted with bodies, past the Golden Galleon and along the banks of the river, past herons and cows. This is the reverse of the Seaford half marathon route, which I and other gallants will attempt in a week's time. I made it to the Litlington bridge, then crossed, turned south again and climbed the hill to High and Over, then back through fields of sheep to Seaford, home, a shower and an excellent sailing club lunch.

I should also mention last night's Seaford Striders quiz night, for I believe running club quizzes attract extra Juneathon points. Our team came last, but we did at least know the chemical symbol for tungsten, so all was not lost.

Oh to be in England, now that Juneathon's here

In fact I am in England. Non-runners, or even runners with no interest in Juneathon, will be deserting my blog posts and tweets in droves, as I run every day of the month, and blog about it. Much as I grumble, it comes at precisely the right time. I am in something of a rut, and training has been patchy, if not entirely absent. The regular discipline of running each day, logging it and blogging about it, under the stern though benevolent gaze of Juneathon's tutelary genius, JogBlog, is just what I need.  In the month, I have the following to look forward to:

• the Seaford half marathon on 9 June
• the Heathfield 10k on 23 June
• the Seaford Striders solstice run on 26 June

I would like to cover over 100 miles in the month. For my first effort, I chose a modest three miles, in the late afternoon,  over a very familiar route, to the end of Chyngton Road on tarmac, then up the hill to South Hill Barn, and back over Seaford Head. Though it had felt quite cool in the garden before I set off, once I was running I found it warm if not hot.