Races

Ok, so it's technically still dry and I know I said I'd go for a run again today, but it's cloudy so I won't have a spectacular sunset to distract me, plus I'm knackered after a long week. Instead I have come up with some possible races for next year, to fulfil the 'more racing will force me to be faster' part of the plan.

Here they are:

• 20 January
  Fred Hughes 10 miles (St Albans) - aim for sub 1.32
• 9 February
  PPUK Valentines Run 10k (Battersea) - aim for sub 53 mins
• 16 March
  Forthside half marathon - aim for sub 1.45
• 23 March
  Alloa half marathon - aim for sub 1.40
• 26 April
  Balmoral 10k - aim for sub 48 mins
• 20 April
  Balfron 10k - aim for sub 48 mins
• 4 May
  Dunfermline half marathon - aim for sub 1.35
  OR Great Edinburgh Run (10k) - aim for sub 45 mins
• 25 May
  Marathon - aim for sub 3.45

Now there's no way I can do all of these: for one thing, the entry fees aren't cheap. I definitely want to do Alloa and Forthside and either Dunfermline or the Great Edinburgh Run, which unfortunately clash. I'd like to do one of either Balmoral or Balfron and one of either St Albans or Battersea. Surprising that there aren't more 10ks to choose from but I suppose it's quite a specific time period and I can't travel everywhere, especially during the week.

Oh, and the aim times are very rough estimates. I'll refine these as I do more research on 3.45 training schedules.

Evening run

Shock horror - I actually did one of those run things that are supposedly the subject of this blog last night. Was meeting Al and friends for dinner at 7.30 so Pathetic Ruth thought 'Oh, there's no time for a run between work and dinner.' But Annoyingly Righteous Ruth pointed out that when I'm training I think nothing of knocking off a quick 10k after work and still turning up at a restaurant on time, so the patheticness was brought to heel.

It was a gorgeous clear day with the views from my window at work even better than usual, so I found myself actually looking forward to getting out. Especially as this is the last week I'll be able to run after work in daylight. So I speed-walked home and got my kit on, unearthing a sports bra from the bottom of the heap. Took gloves because it's gone very cold lately, in a lovely crisp, wintery way. I decided to take it easy and do a steady anti-clockwise Queens Drive loop, not taking a watch or timing anything but not stopping to walk.

I'd been expecting a great sunset and I wasn't disappointed. First, as I reached the last evil steep stretch, a huge lemon yellow moon appeared, reflected in Duddingston Loch below. It was so arresting that it quite took my mind off the last of the climb. Then I had the flat to recover into a steady three-paces-to-a-breath, whilst admiring the cygnets in the top loch which are almost grown up. There were two big flocks of geese: one lot of big ones with black heads and necks and some smaller brown ones. Coming downhill, there was the sort of ridiculously beautiful and lurid sunset that, if you painted it, would look really tacky. The tourist-perfect silhouette of the Edinburgh skyline in dove grey (complete with the Balmoral clock, Calton Hill and St Giles) sat in front of a sky striped bright pink, yellow and baby blue. As soon as that slipped behind the equally glorious autumnal trees, I was treated to the ruins of St Anthony's chapel silhouetted in front of the moon.

All in all, well worth the exertion. I had no trouble keeping up a slow, steady jog. It's probably about three and a half miles, maybe just under four, from door to door. If it's still dry, I'll go again on Friday, maybe up to the trig point.

Weekends away

I went down to Sussex for the weekend prior to a meeting in London on Monday. For some reason Horsham is full of 16 year olds. They are everywhere: in all the shops, on the train, blocking the pavements in gaggles and forcing me to walk in the gutter. I listened in fascination to many of their conversations. It is like listening to aliens. I would transcribe them here but I fear I would get repetitive strain injury from typing ‘Oh my God!’ that number of times.

We had curry and watch the rugby. Both were good.

On Sunday we set off in a convoy to complete the biannual exercise that is moving Jenny’s stuff to and from my parents’ garage. She always has one or two really random articles among the crates of pink books and seemingly identical pairs of unworn Dorothy Perkins jeans. This year there was her collapsible pole dancing pole (yes, really) and a ‘paint it yourself’ miniature cow parade cow (unpainted).

It’s a real pleasure to wander round the garden. These visits make me wish I had a garden, even though I know that if I did it would in no way resemble the Eden-like cornucopia of my mum’s domain and would instead consist of some paving slabs and the occasional pot of basil. At this time of year there was a particular abundance. We had apple, blackberry and raspberry crumble with some of the fruit and helped ourselves to tomatoes. Elsewhere, kale, courgettes and beans were raging out of control. Very tasty. Oh, and there were some, like, flowers and stuff too.

My London meeting was in Smith Square, unlike previous gatherings in Farringdon. This brought me close to where I used to work in Millbank. I wandered in the general direction of the river from Victoria and was pleased, if a little surprised, that my brain had in some far-flung corner stashed the directions I needed. Past the branch of Next where I bought my beloved black boots, only now falling apart after five years. Right I turned by the incongruous old pub flanked by glassy office buildings. Past the Laughing Halibut and its excellent fish and chips. Past the school where I used to go for orchestra rehearsals. Past the Speaker pub (a sure sign I was getting close to Westminster) and past St John’s.

The meeting was surprisingly useful, and they fed me cheese.

Then it was on to Westminster tube station to get to the airport. Over the road where I once shared a zebra crossing with William Hague. Along the river, past Parliament – where the concrete barriers that appeared after my second week of work, on 11 September 2001, have been replaced by shiny black permanent versions with luminous yellow stripes – past the exit where I was once nearly run over by John Prescott. Past some particularly smelly Brazilian students.

I was fully back in to London mode, hurrying along looking important and tutting inwardly at the bumbling tourists blocking my way (once, and only once, did I try to jog across Westminster bridge). To be fair, the tourists too were fulfilling every possible stereotype: Japanese with cameras, Americans with burgers, Brazilians without deodorant. Then two things happened: first I tripped on the edge of a paving stone and had to slow down and look a lot less important, whilst feeling foolish. Then the guy selling tube tickets asked me if I knew which line I needed. Obviously I no longer qualify as a Londoner.

I love getting on the Jubilee line at Westminster, it is like the interior of a space ship with grey and steel pipes and stairs everywhere – like an Escher drawing. The DLR out to City it pretty good too, with views of the Dome (or O2 or whatever it’s called now), the Thames barrier and the Tate and Lyle factory with the enormous tin of golden syrup on the outside. Just think of the flapjacks you could make with that!

My flight was delayed, then made up time so I arrived at Edinburgh airport before Al had left to pick me up. He suggested I call him from the bus when it got to Haymarket and he would meet me. I agreed, while secretly planning to call when it reached the zoo as it always takes him six minutes to leave the flat and get to the car. The bus driver punched my return ticket and said welcome home, and I was.

Mid-week, I did something I always think about doing but rarely carry out: took a flexi day to go surfing. I had loads of hours owing and the waves looked good, so I borrowed Morag's board (really must get mine fixed) and hit the road with Al. After driving up and down the coast for ages we settled on Seacliffe, which I had taken against after being repeatedly dumped on my head there. However, the sand has shifted, the rocks are covered, and Seacliffe was producing lovely regular sets of 3-4 foot waves. I had a great time, catching loads. Only once did I nosedive and get whacked on the back on my head by the Bic - ow! Those boards are so heavy, it's still sore five days later. Still, that taught me to lean back just before popping up, so it wasn't in vain.

Weekend number 2 was in Duror, a collection of approximately three houses near Ballachulish. We drove up in Norman the van, arriving in time for a late dinner of spag bol prepared by Al's friend Darren. We were staying in Darren and Jane's little lochside house, along with them, Clova the baby, Topper the dog and two other couples. Quite a houseful! We were sleeping in the veranda-conservatory where two walls of glass meant we had great views in the morning (once I'd put my glasses on).

On Saturday, after consuming vast amounts of bacon, but no egg because Al ate it all before I could get any, I joined an expedition across Loch Linnhe. Darren had recently bought a large open canoe, to which Al, Callum and I were assigned. Daz had his sea kayak and another couple had brought their little river kayaks. We had no trouble paddling to a beach on the far side, where we built a fire from tons of driftwood and cooked and ate sausages. As we were doing so, the wind got up and it was decided that Cal would be better off returning with the friends who had driven and walked to meet up with us. That left Al to do the hard work of not letting our canoe turn side on to the not inconsiderable wind swell, while I paddled desperately but ineffectually at the front. The waves were nowhere near as big as I would tackle when surfing so I wasn't really worried (plus we were wearing life jackets, obviously). Only afterwards did the reaction of the others, in their more manoeuvrable craft, reveal that we could quite easily have capsized! Luckily by then we'd drunk all the beer so that wouldn't have been lost.*

Back at the house, I'd offered to cook dinner so spent the rest of the day peeling and chopping and covering everything in goose fat. Periodically the others would come in and do bits of washing up or potato peeling, hoping to get their share of chores in before the rugby! We had pumpkin soup and roast lamb with all the trimmings and it was great. Sadly the rugby was less great, but I thought the Springboks deserved to win.

Sunday was spent reading the papers and eating more bacon and playing with Clova, who can do the most amazing aquarobics moves whilst lying on her back. She has also just started to acknowledge Topper, who patiently puts up with her grabbing handfuls of his fur.

We headed back via the Real Food Cafe at Tyndrum. I love this place, where the fish is always fresh and they have the great idea of offering half portions: just what a greedy girl like me who will eat everything on her plate needs. And they sell ginger beer and amazing tray bakes as well.

That's me more or less up to date. Aquarobics yesterday with the girls: only six or seven in the class so Small French Instructor obviously decided we were hard core and worked us like maniacs. We did some new moves and I felt happily tired afterwards. Luckily Ray was put to work making delicious tartiflette to revive us. Also made a pact with Mo to make running dates - we're both useless at doing exercise unless we have the pressure of meeting someone else so we've decided to start with a gentle loop around the Links next week. Of course, the hour changes before then so no more light evenings: boo. Might try and do a run or gym session tomorrow, anyway.

*The canoe wouldn't have sunk as it has floatation devices. But it would have been difficult to drag to shore.

Ballater 2

Rob replied about my running. He said of the reasons I've given for hill running, he said B and E were good reasons and the rest minor justifications. He also suggested pyramid sessions, which is food for thought. Have I actually managed to go running again since Ballater? Of course not, but I did take my running kit on a lovely weekend trip away. It likes to get out and about.

Back to Ballater. After our run we watched a film, and then headed out looking for a suitable walk. We drove around a fair bit before coming across a perfect walker's car park at what I think was Invercauld estate. There were several walks marked and we chose the shortest, which was four miles (again, I think - it's all so long ago now...). There were a few sign posts along the way with interesting facts about the landscape, an abandoned lime kiln and a pretty summerhouse overlooking the big house and hills beyond. here, the gorgeous autumnal view was spoilt only by noise from the road. The valley seems to act as an amplifier so that you could hear every engine, which was a shame. But there were no other walkers and we completed the circuit in splendid isolation. Al took lots of pictures.

We fancied dinner out so took the van in to Ballater to the Green Inn. Post Three Chimneys, this was my second encounter with a 'restaurant with rooms'. Not expecting it to be busy on a Thursday in October, we hadn't booked. A mistake as it was full, but luckily there had been a cancellation so we got a table. The decor was a bit like being in someone's living room - lots of terracotta wallpaper and china figurines. But the food was fantastic. I had bouillabaisse and venison. Could have done with a few more veggies with the venison, but the meat was perfect. A highlight was the pre-starter mushroom cappuccino, and the desserts were also good. I ordered the fig tart more for the accompanying brown sugar ice cream than the tart itself but was pleasantly surprised.

We walked home, being responsible sorts, which left us to walk back in the next morning to get the van and head for a nearby riding stables in Glen Tanner. The weather forecast had been terrible so we'd planned a day in the lodge and spa, but having woken up to bright sunshine, an outdoor activity seemed called for. So I'd called up the stables and spoken to a jolly posh woman who assured us that it was a jolly lovely day for a ride.

Al had been once before, on which occasion his brother-in-law fell off, and was assigned the same horse: Bob. Most stables have a big, slow horse for adult learners and Bob was that horse. I was worried I'd end up on a pony as usual, but instead got a great little piebald called Felix, about 15 hands. It was just the two of us and the instructor, and he kindly took us on a slightly different route so that I could canter ahead. Before long poor Felix was gasping as we cantered up the steep hill, no doubt feeling much as I had during my run the day before. But he was game and keen to go again after a short rest. We even jumped some of the bigger drainage channels across the track, and Al got a short canter too. Great stuff.

We wandered round Ballater afterwards. Al had expressed a desire for toad in the hole with onion gravy and mushy peas, so I bought the ingredients and made what the packet assured me was the equivalent of 12 small Yorkshire puddings worth. By the time I'd cooked it all I didn't feel much like eating it, but luckily Al did.

Only then did we realise that we had less than an hour till the pool and spa closed - we were leaving at 7 the next morning and we hadn't had a swim. I dragged Al along and we had the pool to ourselves for a 20 minute swim. He tried to persuade me that the pre-sauna shower was nice and warm but I am not stupid and avoided its freezing spray.

Then we cleaned up, went to bed and got up at 6 to be back in Edinburgh for a school open day. It was Morag's party that night, and it was lovely to catch up with everyone and to feel like I'd been away and still had a weekend to play with. Bliss.

Ballater 1

I've called this post Ballater 1 because there's no way I'll get it all written up before I have to go to dance class, but I need to make a start before I forget what I actually got up to!

We set off in Norman the van last Tuesday, making it to Craigendarroch, next to Ballater, in time for dinner with Al's folks. They have a time share in a lodge, which is basically like a very posh version of Centre Parks. It was nice and quiet - no kids, but lots of bunnies and red squirrels. I basically flaked out that night, having worked like a demon to get stuff done before going away. But the next morning saw us restored enough to join Al's dad on a lovely walk. We did a route that was about the same distance and terrain as McLeod's Maidens on Skye, though it was circular instead of out and back, and it wasn't raining as much! In fact it hardly rained at all. It started in woodland, then cut through to another valley - apparently the cut-through was a rare example of a valley formed by water melting out of a glacier rather than the ice itself. Al had fun telling us all about glacial geography. The washed away stream bank revealed a type of deposit (micrite?) that was typical of having melted out of glaciers because all the rocks were different sizes. And kames, which is where pools of water form inside a retreating glacier and leave a heap of deposit at the bottom. See, I was listening!

Al also pointed out that all of this was just theory and no one knew what really happened. He told the story of his geography lecturer who spent 10 years studying an unusual circular pattern of rocks in Iceland. Was it some sort of frost circle? No, it turned out a 1940s expedition had used them to pin down their tents.

Anyway, we looked at the glacial deposits and also stopped to admire an all terrain vehicle left by the track - complete with fresh blood: it was culling season for the red deer which overrun these hills. We saw two deer who had managed not to get shot, making great leaps across the heather. A lovely sight, but then so are the patches of land fenced off to protect them from the deer - the increase in vegetation when it's kept away from the munchers is massive. We also saw a small brown bird which we later identified but I now can't remember what it was. It and its mate bobbed up from the heather presumably to distract us from a nest. And we heard Capercaillie. We didn't see any that day, but saw some no the drive home.

The walk finished alongside a gorgeous river, with yellow and orange-leaved trees surrounding slabs of rock that sent water cascading downstream. At one point there was a disused fish ladder next to a tumbling waterfall. Beautiful.

Back at the lodge I took advantage of the bath while Al fell asleep. We had a lie in the next day but when we did get up it was to run up the Craigendarroch hill behind the lodge. It was another gorgeous route through the autumnal trees, but very steep. Before long the path became steep rock steps, each as high as my knee, and I was walking (albeit swiftly) rather than running. However I was still the same speed as Al who was running but taking teeny steps as a result of the slope! Hard work: got the lungs and heart going and proved, as if I needed it, that it is my cardiovascular fitness rather than my little legs which I need to work on. it was only 10 minutes to the top, where we were rewarded with a view across the hills and a bench. Then a 20 minute run down the other side (steep downhill) and back round (gradual uphill). We probably climbed about 200 feet in all, which is nothing. Sad to see how unfit I am at the moment, but exhilarating to get back out there. Must do more Arthur's Seat runs and get off the roads this year.

In fact, while we're on the subject, I'll set down my aims: to run the 2008 Edinburgh marathon in under 3 hours 45 minutes and/or faster than Al. My strategy is to improve my speed training. I want to do more in-between races - at least two half marathons and some 10ks - to really check my pace and give me milestone targets. So I need to do at least a 1 hour 40 half, preferably 1 hour 35. And I'm going to do more hill running. Because a) it gets me off the roads so saves my knees and other joints b) it is more interesting and you get better views c) it gives the cardio benefits of sprinting without the joint strain d) it avoids repetitive injuries like my ITBS because the surface is rougher and e) it really hurts so it must be good for me.

Rob, you are my running guru. If you're reading this let me know if you agree!

Told you I wouldn't have time to finish this. Tune in later for more walking, plus horse riding and a great restaurant recommendation!

Aquafit

Just a quick catch up before I head off up to the wilds of Aberdeenshire (or somewhere) for three days. Went to aquafit yesterday - God it's good for me to have people to go with. Halfway through the afternoon I got a tentative email from Mo asking if I was still planning on going to the class, to which I replied with much more gusto than I felt. Truth is, I was secretly hoping everyone else would pull out and I'd have an excuse to collapse on the sofa instead. It turns out she was thinking exactly the same thing but luckily our mutual refusal to be the first to drop out meant that we both got there. And once we were in the water it was the usual fun, though, and I was glad I'd made the effort, even though lots of new people took up the middle ground, leaving me with a choice of floundering in deep water or not getting enough resistance in the shallow end. I wish they would organise the class by height or something.

The thing about aquafit, I've decided, is that you get out what you put in: you can make it harder by speeding up or increasing resistance, or just coast along (which would be a bit of a waste of time, but I swear the woman in front of me yesterday barely moved all class). It's never going to be a full on, high energy workout, but it probably burns more calories than Bodybalance and is a good stretch out too. It was great to feel the ache in my arms after two days' surfing. Also, I got to show off my bruises and Morag was obligingly admiring of the one behind my knee.

Packed last night for my little trip: including swimming, hiking and running gear. I'm taking my trail running shoes as Al mentioned a hill he had run up - gulp! I haven't run at all for three months and certainly not 'up' anything. Maybe I'll just hit the spa.

Surfy weekend

Before I get into the surfy stuff, I just have to have a little rant. I headed into town on Friday to buy a couple of CDs: specifically, I was after the Mozart and Faure Requiems. Now I fully acknowledge that classical music tends to play second fiddle (so to speak) to pop. But we're talking about two Classical FM favourites here: it wasn't as if I was looking for something obscure. I schlepped all the way down Princes Street to Virgin to find their entire top floor closed and, when I finally tracked it down to not where the signs said it was at all, the classical music section had become a jumbled rack at the back of the basement. There was no Faure at all, and the Mozart was all mixed up so that despite three different little tabs announcing the Requiem none was to be found. Other composers had been mixed in seemingly at random and there was a depressing amount of 'Classical Chill Out' and 'The 50 Best Opera Anthems Ever' type stuff.

I huffed off to Fopp, which was, as ever, a delight. Its classical section was no bigger but was beautifully arrayed, easy to find and well ordered so that I found both CDs in seconds. They deserve my money and ongoing custom. Incidentally, who is running Fopp now? Was it bought over by someone? I do hope it survives.

And so to surf. Went out on Saturday with Conrad, a friend of Al's who has the surf bug but no car - I remember how frustrating that can be. We were heading for Coldingham but stopped off at Pease for a look and were tempted in. It's not often you see that 'corduroy' effect outside a surf magazine so to watch the waves lining up to infinity at one of my local breaks was pretty special. Unfortunately, once you're up to your neck in them they look less inviting. I guess they were about 6 foot, which isn't massive, but felt more than big enough. There were no real sets, either, just wave after wave, with no time for a breather.

I made it out the back once at the north west end of the beach and as soon as I was out there (having spent 15 minutes battling through the white water) my only concern was getting back in again in one piece! There was also an angler at that end and I didn't want to get tangled up in his line and shouted at as the rip was pulling me his way. So I headed back out with the river, which proved a much easier way to get out. I caught a few on the inside here, though the high tide meant you had to be careful not to end up on the stones of the riverbed. More than once I had to bail to save the bottom of my board from a scraping.

Conrad was charging it. He hasn't been surfing long and doesn't really stand much but was right out there going for the big waves! He has a bright yellow board and at one point I saw it do a spectacular spin up into the air as he nosedived. I was very impressed at his fearlessness. After a couple of hours we'd both had enough and I was sporting a lovely blue bruise on my thigh having been whacked with my own fins, so we retired tired but happy.

Yesterday I did make it to Coldingham, with Rob as my surf buddy. It was worth the drive, with that corrugated look but more regular sets and mellower waves. The surf school and body boarders were crowding the beach but there were only about six of us out back. I caught three gorgeous waves: 4-5 footers, taking the drop and cruising. One was even a backhander, though mostly because I had to steer around a beginner. The sun was out, there were cormorants diving all around us, it was great. Off in the distance you could see a ferry chugging along the skyline and flocks of birds forming long, wiggly vees in preparation for winter journeys.

So that was a brilliant day. Not even the fact that when I came in I discovered a massive ding on my board could dampen my mood. Seriously though, I don't know how I did it but there's two cubic inches of foam missing from my tail. Mind you, there's also a superior raspberry bruise behind my left knee and I don't know how I got that either. Maybe I had some sort of near death surf experience and wiped it from my memory.

Maybe it was a shark!

Or, more likely, the crack that I didn't repair let water in which made the foam swell and weakened the already thin and crappy glass. I swear that board dings when you breath on it. But! I am happy because I paid the deposit for my new baby yesterday. I can borrow Al's board while my old one is fixed and then take my new darling out in the winter swells. Maybe my old board knows that I don't love it any more and that's why it broke. Except I do love it - the main thing I don't like about it is that it dings so easily! And that it doesn't duck dive. Well, I can't sell it now - it can't be worth more than £20. I'll just keep it to play about on.