Tom Roper's Running Training

An Isis run

There's nothing like running in strange towns. I was up early to run in Oxford, a town I don't know as well as I should. I decided that the river towpath was the best option, and set forth. I ran along leaf-strewn paths, under a bridge where a man who'd spent the night there greeted me as he pulled together his carrier bags of possessions. Oxford is so like Cambridge, yet so different. Then I came to Christchurch Meadow, and found a magical sight, rowing eights training in the dark, pilot lights on each bow. I felt a bond with these young women and men, as they pulled their oars, though, as a good son of Cambridge, I should probably have hidden their bungs. Back through the side-streets and allies, and more street sleepers. I had covered 3.25 miles; the knee hurt a little

When I've had a couple of drinks on a Saturday

I enjoy running in new locations. Though I've visited Glasgow a few times, I'd never run there, so, as I packed for the Health Libraries Group 2012 conference, I threw in shoes, shorts, t-shirt and Garmin.

Conference running is morning running; I've rarely managed it successfully at any other time for after breakfast one is swept up in the hurly-burly. So, for my first morning, I went from my hotel near the station down to the Clyde and east. People on their way to work, dressed for winter rather than summer, queued at bus stops. Glasgow Green had been recommended to me as a place to run in the pub the previous evening, and it was a great, and uniquely Glaswegian place. Here poor mad John McLean would address the crowds at rallies against the First World War, and an old shop steward I knew when I worked as a hospital porter, Jock Curley, told me of the unemployed demonstrations that met here in the 1930s, often attacked by the police. In the centre is the People's Palace, the Doulton fountain and an obleisk commemorating Nelson. The fountain is the largest terracotta fountain in the world, and is impressively imperial: Scottish soldiers, such an important part of empire, guard figures representing Australia, India, Canada and South Africa.

On the second morning I resolved to head west. I crossed the river by the piers of an old bridge, inscribed by Ian Hamiton Finlay with a quotation from Plato in both English and Greek, All Greatness Stands Firm in the Storm, or TA ΓAΡ ΔΗ ΜΕΓΑΛΑ ΠΑΝΤΑ ΕΠΙΣΦΑΛΗ ΚΑI ΤΌ ΛΕΓΌΜΕΝΌΝ ΤΑ ΚΑΛΑ ΤΏΙ ΟΝΤΙ ΧΑΛΕΠΑ. From here, I ran along the south bank of the Clyde, at least as far as I could for I came to a housing development who had, illegally, I would imagine, fenced off the path. Making my way inland, I found myself in Govan. I passed a junction at which an average-looking pub is crowned with an impressive Art Deco sculpture. I ran back to the other side of the river over the Clyde Arc. Shortly after this, disaster. I slipped on gravel and fell, injuring knees, hands and my face. I lay on the ground for a while, and then picked myself up and began to walk, painfully, home. A kind and beautiful young lassie out running stopped and asked me if I was all right. I told her I was. Whoever you were, thank you for asking. After limping for a while, I started a slow shuffle and made it back to the hotel, where I assessed the damage.

After cleaning myself up, eating breakfast and checking out, apologising to the receptionist for the blood in the room and assuring her I had not been engaged in murder during my stay I headed out for the conference. I paused to buy a newspaper. The newsagent looked at my bloody hands and asked me how I had hurt myself. 'Running', I replied. 'Oh aye', he said, 'we saw a bloody man running past a couple of hours ago'. 'That was me', I confessed. I was a little proud to have offered a remarkable spectacle to the citizens of a city that prides itself on its toughness.

I have not run since. I missed the Phoenix 10k. While the black eye subsided, the wound on my left knee is infected and I contrived to fall over again yesterday. I am now on antibiotics and somewhat anxious to see if I shall be fit for the Bexhill 5k next Wednesday evening.

Technorati Tags: hlg2012

In which I aestivate

There is some debate about whether I am a worse runner or blogger. I have not put pen to paper since the end of Juneathon. I've been feeling lethargic, and run once or twice a week at best, mostly with the Striders. True, I did run the Brighton Trailblazer, finishing in just over an hour, a conference run, the first for a long time, at Umbrella, and there was a memorable evening run with the Striders where I rashly joined a faster pace group than usual. I have been swimming regularly, both in sea and pool, trying to build my stamina, but it's slow work and my shoulders hurt.

I was shocked out of this state of aestivation by a reminder that I had, when the balance of my mind was disturbed, agreed to run the Folkestone Half Marathon at the end of September in company with JogBlog, Travelling Hopefully, HelsBels, Fit Artist and Highway Kind, {and, JogBlog reminds me in the comments, iliketocount; sorry Shaun] and that the event is six weeks away. I hastily knocked a six week training programme together and did the first element, a modest two mile run yesterday morning. On to Folkestone. People with local knowledge tell me there's a hill.

Look not thou upon the wine when it is red

I ignored this wise advice from Proverbs 23:31 last night at the Newhaven and Seaford Sailing Club midsummer party and had to leave the car there and walk home, so this morning I ran from home to Splash Point, all the length of the front to Newhaven east pier, and back to the club to collect my car. Though hot, I have run in hotter conditions.

Also this week I managed two conference runs while in Exeter and had the pleasure of the company of a fellow delegates on each morning. I wish I had been able to lead them better; my intention was to run along the banks of the river, but finding the river from the university is not as easy as it might seem.

I also swam in the sea yesterday, for a good fifteen minutes. It is considerably warmer. I shall go in again this afternoon.

1st June, Rome: 3.13
3rd June, Rome: 3.59
6th June, Seaford Half Marathon: 13.09
12th June, Seaford Head: 2.98
13th June, Seaford front and Tidemills: 5.61
19th June: Seaford Head: 2.98
20th June: High and Over: 6.76
22nd June: Exeter: 2.77
23rd June: Exeter: 3.82
27th June: Seaford front: 4.77

Juneathon total: 52.48 miles, 10 days out of a possible 27.

And three sea swims of a total of around 30 minutes

From university to university

My conference running habit has not had many outlets in recent years. The days when I would nonchalantly knock off a few miles in Washington DC, or up Arthur's Seat in Edinburgh, are gone. I wonder if Sweder, as he lives the rock'n'roll life on the road, has taken his running shoes and kit with him.

I have run in Manchester before, and along a similar route, but this morning I set out before dawn from the University of Manchester and ran to the University of Salford. It was a four mile trip there and back, and by no means beautiful. The tall buildings blocked the Garmin, signal, the city centre looked dank and miserable in the early light, and then the road to Salford runs by closed buildings, old disused mills and boarded churches. The only sight of nature was the river Irwell, as I approached the end of the journey out, but the experienced of looking down over its gently curved meander was tempered by the six-lane road beside me. The anecdote about Engels came to mind: as he was writing the Condition of the Working Class in England, he met a Manchester bourgeois, and held forth at some length about the atrocious conditions in the city. The bourgeois listened patiently, and replied, 'and yet there is a very great deal of money to be made here. Good day to you, sir'.

My cough troubled me more than usual. I attribute this to the inner-city pollution. Oh for the clean Sussex air.

Kilkenny castle

On a soft damp morning I ran to Kilkenny castle and along by the river
Time: 37:08
Distance: 4.11
Pace: 9.02 (best 7.09)
Average heart rate: 158

Kilkenny

In Kilkenny for the HSLG conference, I ran first out of town on the Athy road, then back and into the centre.
Time: 36.59
Distance: 4.12
Pace: 8.59 (best 7.35)
Average heart rate: 161

Arthur's seat again

This is becoming an Edinburgh tradition. I ran  to Arthur's Seat, before dawn on a very windy morning. This time I didn't attempt the climb to the summit.
Tine: 54:15
Distance: 5.39
Pace: 10.04 (best 7.31)
Average heart rate: 151

Arthur's Seat

To purge the disgust I feel at yesterday's events in London, I ran up Arthur's Seat this morning in bright sunshine, halfway round the basalt plug, up to the summit (which the trig point told me was 250.5 metres) and then down to complete the circuit. I'm afraid to say I had to walk the last bit of the ascent, and I stopped for a rest and a look at the view at the top, but I paused the timer for that.
Time: 48:14
Distance: 4.65
Pace: 10.23 (best 7.1)
Average heart rate: 165
Edinburgh runners are rather dour though, lots of them about, but few returned my greeting.

Last conference run

For my last effort, slightly slow and short run in a Salford direction. I think it was last night's conference dinner that made me slow.
Time: 23:48
Distance: 2
Pace: 11.21
Average heart rate: 155